fandomtownies | Luke's, Friday

Entry tags:

Luke's, Friday

Priestly was feeling a little bit . . . odd today. Nothing he could quite put his finger on, but his temper was definitely shorter than usual, especially with the kitchen staff.

"Really?" Priestly picked a shrimp out of the seafood paella the cook had whipped up and flicked it across the room. "Everything in here is overcooked. Are you an idiot? You can't even handle a dish like paella?" The busboy opened his mouth, probably to point out that, well, paella was pretty damn hard to make properly, but Priestly silenced him with a glance. "You! Go stand in the corner."

"But --"

"Corner! Go! I'm just going to have to do this myself!"

Today's specials
Cauliflower souffle with brown butter
Salmon Wellington
Cronuts

Luke's was open. But, really, with that attitude, it wouldn't be any wonder if he was on the losing end of any love triangles.

[and OCD free, she said belatedly.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"What's up your butt?" April wondered, strolling into the diner with a water gun over one arm. Feel free to ask, Priestly.

Or not. It might be safer to not.

"My incompetent staff," Priestly growled. Ooo, there could be an inter-office relationship subplot! He nodded to the gun. "You going to war or something?"

Look, AUs could have anything. It was best not to assume.

"Got you this," she said, and she tossed it over to him. Her aim was... decent, but there was still a chance it would hit the floor if Priestly's reflexes weren't at least passably good.

The water gun was filled with frozen yogurt.

"Want me to freak out the staff for you?" she offered.

Priestly caught it easily -- he could do a lot of things better, today, even if not being an ass wasn't one of them. "Sweet!" He hefted it in his hand, then popped up into what the fic writer thought was a great gun stance, including holding the gun sideways. "And hell yeah, they could use someone to whip them into shape. I'd do it myself, but they might get a little too excited by that, if you know what I mean."

"I don't," April said, but she swept her hair behind her ears anyway and set off toward the staff.

She leaned over the counter and growled (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHh_9Gs0Sio), in a low, dangerous voice, "Hey, maggots. Priestly told you to get your asses in gear, and if you don't do that, I swear to god I'm going to murder you in your sleep. I know where you live - Serendipity Place, right? I'm gonna get a melonballer and scoop your eyeballs out and eat them, and you're going to have to get dogs to drive your blind, eyeless faces around. Do you understand me?"

With that, she leaned forward and kissed the busboy on the forehead, then shoved him backwards. "Do it."

Then she strolled back to Priestly, wiping her mouth off on the back of her hand. "Think it worked."

Priestly was just kind of staring in aw at that. "Yeah. Yeah, I think maybe it did."

"I'm pretty good at that kind of thing," April assured him, and she reached to reclaim the water gun from him just for a moment, so that she could shoot some fro-yo at the busboy's retreating back as motivation. "Happy to help."

"That was definitely impressive," Priestly said. "For a girl."

You know, 'cause he was an asshole, today.

April raised an eyebrow at him. "And you're pretty wimpy and useless," she said. "For a fella."

"Hey," Priestly said, snapping instantly to pissed, 'cause HIS MANHOOD, OKAY? "I'm an artist."

"You're being awfully fucknuggety for an artist," April noted mildly.

"All artists have tempers," Priestly said. "And egos."

That explained all of it. Really it did.

"Dude, show, don't tell," April said. But the temper wasn't putting her off that much, really. She was kind of just rolling with it. "Obviously my eyeball melonballer thing goes for you too if you annoy me."

Priestly rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm going to have to close this place down until I get more reviews on it, anyway."

Wait, what?

"...Okay."

What, did he think she was going to ask for elaboration? Actually, she thought he was weird for telling her at all. She was giving him a creepy look now.

". . . So you going to review the place, or what?"

HE NEEDED FIFTY REVIEWS OR HE WAS SHUTTING THIS PLACE DOWN.

"No." Hey, he was being mean.

It was the undiagnosed brain tumor. Those things could make you do anything.

"Well then what good are you?"

April just eyed him for a moment.

Then - "Hey, can I get that water gun back for a second?" she asked, moving to try to reclaim it even before she was done speaking.

Priestly held it up over his head, out of her reach. "Nope."

NO REALLY, SOMEONE PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE.

Yeah, but Priestly, look at her scary deathglare face.

She didn't say another word. She thought she could intimidate him into handing it over.

Then, of course, she planned to squirt frozen yogurt at his crotch. Obviously.

Priestly only waggled the gun in the air, grinning like this was clearly a fun game. Brain tumor dickitude was apparently immune to death glares.

She might just have to knee him in the balls, instead.

Oddly enough, April had that same thought! Except not kneeing him. No, she was just going to grab and squeeze.

Sorry, Priestly.

The strangled squawk and stricken expression would probably be deeply satisfying to any number of people he'd managed to be a dick to, today. The kitchen staff, for one, offered up polite applause.

Priestly dropped the water gun. When she let go, he'd be collapsing to the floor.

April crouched down, purred, "Stop being such a fuckface," and squirted some frozen yogurt right in his face.

And she wasn't even under the influence of fan weirdness.

Then she threw up her hands, bellowed "Ludgate out!" and exited the diner.

Priestly collapsed onto the floor in her wake.

Then, approximately five minutes of lying curled and miserable, he finally managed to let out a slow, high-pitched "^{fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu. . . .}" not unlike a balloon with a slow leak.

That so didn't count as a review.

"Dude, I just spent the last ten minutes crying over a car commercial. Something freaky is happening here."

Look, Dean was very pretty when he cried. The fans knew this.

"Your face is going on here," Priestly said, because apparently this scene now called for comic relief. And that was comedy.

Roll with it.

"...did you drink the koolaid?" HE WASN'T OKAY WITH THIS, PRIESTLY.

"Dude," Priestly said. "Seriously? Kool-aid? This is a high quality eating establishment I'm running here. There's souffle on the specials menu."

"I dunno, man," Dean shot back. "You're kinda pulling a Gordon Ramsey on that poor guy before."

"That poor guy is a little bitch," Priestly said. "And Gordon Ramsey can suck it."

Don't worry, all of this terribly OOC behavior would be explained away by an acute case of ~~plot device~~ terminal brain tumors by tomorrow night at the latest.

NOOOOOOOO!

"Dude, this seriously isn't okay," Dean snapped, already feeling the tears starting up. "Oh god, seriously?!"

Priestly snickered. "Who's got your balls in a vice?"

"I will destroy everything you love," Dean said through the tears. The manly, manly tears.

"Uh huh. With the power of your girly tears?"

Priestly was going to have to apologize to so many people when this was over.

YOUR DAMN RIGHT HE WAS!

Dean pushed him away, running from the diner to cry in the Imapala. It was the only place he was safe!

Priestly pointed and laughed.

And inwardly wondered why no one had punched him in the face, yet.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Luke's, Friday

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject