fandomtownies | Luke's, Thursday

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Luke's, Thursday

It wasn't actually the first time Priestly had worked the diner in weeks ~~despite the lack of posting by his mun~~, but due to a complicated dispute with one of his distributors -- Vincent had apparently set up a contract with a hyperintelligent shade of blue that was rather put out by the fact that Priestly didn't have any advanced degrees or extra letters after his name -- it was the first time he'd managed to work the front in awhile.

It was nice to know that none of his employees had managed to trash the place yet, though his anti-authority streak wondered if that meant they weren't trying hard enough.

It was also the reason why he was sitting crosslegged on the counter, a straw sticking out of his mouth, a food magazine open in his lap, his laptop on one side of him showing a list of Baltimore-area colleges, and his phone, awaiting texts from Dinah, on the other.

He was multitasking, okay?

Today's specials
Duck Soup
Fried Green Tomatoes
Ratatouille
still hiring! "normal" people need not apply

Luke's was open.

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From the Waitress, perhaps.

He won't keep linking you to IMDb, I promise.

"You tryin' to say I'm not normal?"

Yes, Dean. Yes, he was. Because you weren't normal in the slightest.

Priestly gave him a once over, then smirked faintly. "You going to try and say otherwise?"

"Well... I wouldn't say I had the average life, but..."

"You sleep with a machete," Priestly said. "And a copy of Busty Asian Beauties. Among what I'm sure are other things I really don't want to know about."

"I don't sleep with that magazine."

DAMN IT, DEAN. BOUNDARIES.

"I'm going to have to burn that couch when you move out, aren't I?"

"Might be best," Dean replied. "And do you really want to wake up in some messed up dungeon unarmed again?"

"Nope," Priestly said. "But I also don't want to wake up with my hand sliced open."

Or other, more delicate bits.

"I'm a restless sleeper."

"Knifes have sheaths, you know."

Not the ones Priestly was used to.

"I'm a very restless sleeper."

He really wasn't.

"Uh huh." Dean rolled his eyes. "I put up with students yesterday. I think I deserve a burger."

Meaning he just wanted an amazing burger.

"You're teaching now," Priestly noted. "Doesn't that make putting up with students kind of your job?"

Which wasn't saying he wouldn't make Dean a burger.

"Not the annoying ones."

"They're teenagers," Priestly said. Because from his lofty age of 21, he was so far from being an annoying teenager, himself. "What you want on it?"

"Surprise me." Whoa there, high praise for your skills, Priestly.

"Man, you are just asking for a mad scientist laugh," Priestly said. He hopped down from the counter and started back towards the kitchen, then paused. "Remind me, are you pro or against pineapple?"

"Is bacon or ham involved with it?"

"Do you eat anything without bacon on it?"

"...coffee?"

PUT BACON ON HIS ICE CREAM, PRIESTLY.

THEY HAVE THAT, YOU KNOW.

Priestly just shook his head with a roll of his eyes and headed back into the kitchen. "Step aside, Cookie, the master's come to work! Where's that glaze we were talking about . . . ?"

He returned about ten minutes later with a piping hot, fragrant burger on a plate with some fries. "One jalapeno cheeseburger with grilled onions and, yes, bacon."

And a worcestershire-coffee glaze. That hyperintelligent shade of blue sold the most interesting condiments.

Oh, like Dean was focusing on that glaze. It was flavor country!

"Seriously, it needs to be legal to marry this burger," Dean replied with a happy sigh.

"Pretty sure it's frowned upon to eat your spouse. Well, in a food way, anyway."

"She understands," Dean assured him.

"Oh yeah," Priestly said. "That's totally normal." He slung his dishtowel over his shoulder. "Hey, when we gonna do the gun training or whatever?"

Shhh. It was okay, burger. He didn't understand your love.

"When are you free?"

Hey, he made that burger. He was that burger's god, okay?

Priestly never claimed to be normal, himself.

He shrugged. "Assuming we don't have any more weird, excessively evolved distributors wanting to eat my head, pretty much any time, I guess."

Dean nodded along with that. "Well, I got a lead to look into this weekend. We can do it after. Unless you wanted to tag along and see how it goes."

"A lead, huh?"

Dinah was going to kill him for this.

"Yeah, that could be cool. I mean, if you're up for a rookie tagging along."

"It's a pretty simple salt and burn. I'll have Sam come along to keep an eye on you if you want."

Yes. A babysitter.

"Hey," Priestly said, frowning. "I don't need your giant brother hovering over me."

Sorry, Sam.

"You sure? Might get a little hairy."

"Hey, I've lived on this island for years. I've handled hairy."

Frequently by dying, admittedly.

"If you say so." He was going to make sure you had all the salt ever.

Hey, Priestly understood the importance of salt.

As a condiment, anyway.

"Cool," Priestly said. "We're going to hunt a -- uh, what are we hunting? It's not icky, is it?"

Yep.

"A ghost. I hope you're good with a shovel."

"Ghosts can be killed by shovels?"

"Nah, we're gonna dig up a grave." FUN TIMES. PACK A LUNCH.

Priestly wasn't positive, but he thought maybe grave desecration counted as "icky".

"Well," he said finally. "I guess that's one way to keep in shape."

It's been a long several weeks.

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Luke's, Thursday

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OOC