#wp5 beach bear | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chiimeramanticore · 1 month

Text

Part of the Band - Chapter 22 - Old Habits, Fresh Starts

Chapter summary: The gang goes to Showbiz to sign up as the venue's band. Beach Bear reunites with a friend. Dook tells an embarrassing story. A/N:

I may have been gone for four months but I assure you. this fic only dies when I do I don't have anything special to say for this chapter lol so notes from me are short today. here's hoping it won't be another 4 months until I update again 👍

Chapter word count: <- Chapter 21 - Chapter 23 -> Read it on AO3!

The restaurant is still preparing for opening day by the time the band arrives. The place smells strongly of paint, and you can't turn a corner without almost knocking someone over with supplies in their arms. Still, the group makes their way in and manages to find the cat they spoke to at the copier store.

"Hey, it's you guys!" He says upon catching their eye. "I wasn't sure you'd actually show up. But, ah– I am glad you're here, of course! I assume you're here to sign up to try out."

"Try out?" Mitzi asks.

"Sure," the cat says. "You guys aren't the only band who wants this stage, y'know. Nothing wrong with a little healthy competition, right?" He chuckles, though it comes out a bit tense. "I'll, ah, take you to see the boss."

The cat leads the group down a hallway toward the manager's office. They pass by a kitchen, and another room that seems to just be an open space.

"What's that?" Dook asks.

"Oh, that'll be the game room," the cat tells him. "We're expecting a bunch of arcade cabinets to come in soon."

Dook shoots an excited glance to his left, his gaze being met by Mitzi. She looks equally excited about this.

"Bet you guys'll get Space Invaders?" Mitzi says.

"Bet I'll cream you in it," Dook says to her.

"You wish!" Mitzi giggles.

Finally, the group stops outside the manager's office. The cat turns to them. "I think he's still finishing up with another group right now, so give him a minute first. I gotta go worry about these painters we hired who act like they're allergic to tarp." He bounces on his feet once, then turns to leave.

Beach Bear snickers. "Good luck, uh... I don't think you ever told us your name."

"Oh! Call me Crusty," the cat calls back. "Good luck with the boss!"

"Call him Crusty," Dook murmurs. Then, to Beach Bear, "Sounds familiar." Beach Bear scoffs, playfully nudging Dook.

The hallway they've all been led into is narrow, and not exactly comfortable in a large group. Thankfully, it's only a short while before the door to the office opens.

"Finally," Beach Bear says, approaching the door. He moves to step inside, only to be caught face to face with someone trying to leave. A mouse, with brown fur and blonde hair, only barely comparable to Beach Bear in height by way of the heels she's wearing.

"Mini?" Mitzi says, but she doesn't get a response. Mini and Beach Bear have locked eyes, and neither seem to be able to break the uncomfortable silence that follows. That is, until Beach Bear's mouth twitches into something resembling a confused smile, and he laughs.

"What are you doing h–?" He glances behind her, seeing a small group behind her also waiting to leave. A dog, a gorilla, a wolf, and... another polar bear. His smile quickly fades.

"I have other stuff going on," Mini replies calmly, quietly. "I hope you don't think my life revolves around you."

Beach Bear's eyes are transfixed on the other bear. "I... don't," he murmurs.

"I should be asking what you're doing here," Mini continues, still just as quiet, as if this conversation isn't for others to hear. "We signed up first."

"...Healthy competition," Beach Bear finally pries his eyes away and back to Mini. "Least, that's what Crusty said."

"We didn't know there was gonna be another band," Dook tries, but goes equally ignored.

Mini chews her lip for a moment, looking Beach Bear up and down. "You could let us out."

Beach Bear seems to be sizing her up just as much as she is him. "...You look good," he says. There's nothing sarcastic in his voice when he says it, but her expression finally sours anyway.

"You could move," she reiterates, a bit louder now.

Beach Bear steps aside, but then reaches an arm out, blocking the doorway. He glances back toward the other bear, but addresses Mini, "Who's the new guy?"

"Name's Bosco," the bear replies. His voice is deep, and he carries a perpetually sour expression on his face. Beach Bear bites his lip, a failed attempt at hiding his smirk. After another knowing look at Mini, he finally moves aside fully, letting them all out. Dook watches the group pass by him– Bosco is tall, taller than Beach Bear. Is he meant to be a replacement for him? Then, he looks toward Mitzi. She seems as surprised as anyone else... did she not know what her sister was planning?

"Well, ah–" He starts.

"Hey, what's with the hold up here?" A rat stands impatiently in the doorway. He's stout, about Mitzi's height, and is holding a fat, smoldering cigar. "You guys the next group or what?"

"Uh, y- yes!" Billy Bob stands. "Yessir. We're the Rock-afire Explosion, and–"

"Save it." The rat returns inside his office, waving a hand behind him for the rest of the group to follow.

The office is a small, smoky room, with stacks of paperwork and other little messes strewn about the desk and the floor. The walls are a dark olive green. A window on the right wall has its blinds pulled tightly closed. A paint can sits by the wall, left open. It seems even this place hasn't been exempt from the chaos of construction. The boss's desk sits at the center-back of the room, with a plush leather chair to match. The rat assumes his position in the chair, flicking his cigar over an ashtray. At the front of his desk is a name plaque: "Chuck E. Cheese - Chief Entertainment Officer."

"So," he says. "Real ragtag kinda group you guys got here. What kinda music do you do?"

"Rock and roll," Beach Bear answers.

"Well, hey, not entirely," Billy Bob says. "I might wanna write some country music, too."

"And I wanna sing pop music," Mitzi chimes in.

"Can't go wrong with a little soul, too," Fatz adds.

"Alright, alright!" Chuck says. "I'm puttin' you down as 'eclectic'." He doesn't move to write anything down. "Besides, having a multi-genre-capable sort of band works for us, needing a cover band and all that."

"A huh?" Billy Bob says.

"A cover band?" Chuck says. "Didn't any of you read the flyer?"

"That wasn't on the flyer," Beach Bear says.

Chuck pulls open a drawer on his desk and slaps a copy of the flyer onto the table. "There," he says, a finger pointing toward some small text along the bottom edge. "Says we're looking for a cover band. Is that gonna be a problem?"

"No problem at all," Billy Bob says quickly. "We're all fine doin' song covers, aren't we, guys?" The rest of the group all murmurs awkward agreement. "See? No problem."

"Alright, alright," Chuck mutters.

"Any other fine print we might've missed in there?" Fatz asks, half sarcastically.

"Oh, we can go through all the terms if you folks wanna," Chuck responds, fully sarcastic. But intent on following through, he opens another drawer and retrieves a stack of papers, slapping them down on the desk in a similar fashion. "Basically outlines the pay, the hours, the clientele–"

"Is there something special about the clientele?" Beach Bear asks.

"Sure is," Chuck says, "they're human."

The room goes quiet for a moment, everyone apparently at a loss for words. Then, after a beat, Mitzi says: "Why?"

"My mother was half human herself, on her father's side," Chuck says plainly.

"Really?" Dook says.

"No," Chuck says. "But we are still a human-friendly establishment. Not exclusively humans, mind you! But, y'know, they'll be around. That a problem?"

"No problem," Beach Bear says this time. "We're fine with humans." No one protests outright, but the air hangs a little tenser in the room.

"Good," Chuck says, and the tension finally eases. "I'm assumin' you're all willin' to work nights and weekends and what-have-you?"

"Of course," Billy Bob says.

"Great." Chuck opens a third drawer and pulls out a clipboard with a form on it. "Whichever of you is the most literate, come fill this out." Everyone looks at Fatz– save for Fatz, who looks at Beach Bear.

"What?" Fatz says. "He's the English major."

Beach Bear rolls his eyes and approaches the desk. He takes the clipboard and a pen from Chuck and moves to the side to fill it out.

"While he's doing that, any of you have any questions for me?" Chuck asks the rest of the group.

"...Is your last name really Cheese?" Mitzi asks.

"Your last name is Mozzarella," Dook says.

"Oh, right," she whispers. "What's the E stand for?"

"Entertainment," Chuck replies.

"That can't be your real name," Dook blurts. Chuck only responds with a smile.

Thankfully, it doesn't take much longer for Beach Bear to finish filling out the form. He hands it triumphantly to Chuck, who looks it over.

"What'd you say your band was called again...?" He squints, holding the paper an inch closer. "The Rock-afire Explosion?"

"That's us," Beach Bear says.

"Hm. Dumb name."

·–—–·

"So... Humans, huh?" Beach Bear says. The ride home has been pretty silent between the two of them, and Beach Bear only speaks up once they've pulled into their driveway.

"Yeah," Dook responds. "What do you think?"

"Ah, I don't care," Beach Bear says. "They look different, sure, but us working on stage doesn't really mean we'll have to interact with them. It'll be fine. Why, what do you think?"

"I dunno," Dook says. "I don't think humans are bad... I just don't know much about 'em."

"They're just people," Beach Bear assures him. "They're probably more scared of us than we are of them, ha."

"Should they be?"

"No! Of course not. But, I dunno... I guess I get their perspective. If I created a new form of life and it ran off and started doing its own thing, I'd probably be a little freaked out about it too."

Dook ponders this for a moment. "You don't think they think we're, like, monsters, right?"

Beach Bear laughs. "Probably not you. You're a big cuddly puppy dog. Me, though? I don't think most humans will ever even see a real polar bear in their lives."

"Have you seen one?" Dook asks, and Beach Bear shakes his head. On this note, they both leave the car and move into the house. Beach Bear heads to the kitchen to root around for snacks, while Dook wanders to the couch. He sits sideways, keeping an eye on Beach Bear.

"What if I do somethin' embarrassing?" Dook asks.

"What do you mean?" Beach Bear replies, his head inside the fridge.

"Like, on stage, in front of the humans. What if I say somethin' dumb?"

Beach Bear is quiet for a second before responding, "What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?"

"...Huh?"

"What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?" He repeats, finally moving to look at Dook. He shuts the fridge and moves toward the couch, soda can in hand.

Dook stutters a few times, unsure how to respond. It's not something he was planning to recall today. He's not even sure what his most embarrassing moment is. Beach Bear joins him on the couch now, sitting to his right.

"I can go first, if you want," he offers.

"I didn't know we were takin' turns."

"Sure. Like..." He thinks for a moment. "Mine was in the eighth grade. I had a crush on this girl– her name was Mindy." Beach Bear begins to describe his classmate, and Dook feels himself growing... disappointed. Of course Beach Bear likes girls. Had he been assuming he'd ever have a chance with him? Of course he doesn't. He finds himself withdrawing from the story, something about Beach Bear wanting to impress her during a school talent show and doing a poor job.

"Alright, your turn," Beach Bear says, and Dook blinks.

"Uh..." He'd already forgotten he was supposed to tell a story, too. "For me, it was..." He's still drawing a blank. "...It was also a girl. I, uhh, I wanted to impress her, so I..." His eyes meet Beach Bear's, who's watching him intently. He's so earnest... It's so unfair. "...So I joined her band," Dook says. "We were young, so the band didn't work out. And... turns out she didn't even like boys. So I never had a chance, anyway."

"Man," Beach Bear says. "That does suck."

"Why'd you ask me to tell you that?" Dook grumbles. He feels his face growing hot– he really has embarrassed himself.

"Because," Beach Bear says, putting a hand on Dook's back. "If you say something silly while we're on stage, I guarantee you it won't be as embarrassing as our most embarrassing moments. So you're gonna be fine!"

Beach Bear laughs, and Dook feels some awful mix of desire and shame. He wishes he could slap Beach Bear's hand away– how could he touch him like this after all but rejecting him? Yet at the same time, he wishes the moment could last forever, feeling the warmth from his palm bleed into his own body. It's selfish, it's greedy... it's humiliating.

If he can't keep it together, it could start getting in the way of the band, and cost them their job at Showbiz. He can't let that happen– not just for his own sake, but for everyone's in the band. So in that moment, Dook quietly makes a resolution to himself: he must swallow his feelings for Beach Bear, for good.

3 notes · View notes