vigorli

author: zebraljb
rating: up to nc17
disclaimer: an au but with no claims to real life knowledge of Vig or Orli
note: written for the vo_xmas challenge for an AU where Orli is top

“You’re late.”

The barking words, though expected, still caught Orlando unawares. “Christ, Sean, scare me to death!” Orlando exclaimed, one hand over his heart. “Were you lurking here, waiting to do just that?”

“No, because then someone would have to cover your shift.” Orlando’s manager glared at him. “You’re five minutes late. Get in there. You already have someone at the counter.”

“Okay, okay,” Orlando muttered, hurrying in the back door of the restaurant. He quickly clocked in, tying the black apron around his slender waist as his eyes scanned the schedule. He knew he’d be closing, but it was always nice to know who he’d be working with. “Fuck,” he muttered, realizing that not only was Sean Astin, the pickiest manager on the payroll, working until close, but he was stuck with another unwanted coworker: Kate Bosworth. She had an immense crush on him, and spent most of the shift flirting with him instead of working. He didn’t encourage it but could not bring himself to out and out refuse her. She was sweet, in her own way.

Orlando hurried out of the kitchen and into the dining room of the small family restaurant. He enjoyed his job, though at times it really wore him down. He worked five nights a week, plus every other Sunday morning, and attended university during the day. He stopped to pick up his pager, made sure his pens all worked, and headed for his first customer, a smile on his face.

Two hours later, the smile was almost gone. There were three servers on that night, and they were all running at top speed. Even Sean had to come down from his high horse to bus and set tables. There was a pro wrestling match that night at the nearby arena, and everyone arrived at once, expecting to eat immediately. Orlando was stuck with a bunch of rowdy men in the back of the room, a group of five men his own age whose purpose in life seemed to be to harass him endlessly.

“Hey, we need more water!” One of them called.

“In a minute,” Orlando said hurriedly, running a hand through his curls to push them off his face. “Hot fudge sundae, diet soda, cream of mushroom soup,” he muttered to himself.

“Bloom, what did I tell you about your hair?” Sean snapped in passing.

“Yeah, yeah, tie it back,” Orlando said. “You’re just jealous you’re losing yours,” he mumbled when Sean was out of earshot.

Orlando returned to the table with a pitcher of water. “Here you go, guys.”

“We need ketchup. This is empty.” Another man waved the empty bottle in the air. Orlando looked down at the table, where a huge pile of ketchup sat on a side plate. He sighed.

“Of course, sir.” He returned to the service area to grab another bottle.

“How’re you doing?” Kate asked as she flew by. Orlando groaned and rolled his eyes. “I understand,” she said sympathetically, eyeing up the back table. “Hey, how about a drink after work? We’ll need it.”

“Sorry. I have to get up early tomorrow,” he said with an apologetic smile. He returned to his table.

“Did that cutie just ask you out?” One of the men said.

“Uh, just for a drink. Anything else?”

“You said no?” Orlando shrugged. “What’s wrong with you? You some sort of queer?”

“If there will be nothing else, I’ll leave your check. You guys have a good night.” Orlando dropped the check onto the table and left without another word.

“Table four’s been waiting, Orlando!” Sean yelled.

Orlando stopped walking, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He desperately wished the ground would just swallow him whole. It was nights like this that he wished he had stayed in England. He turned the corner, a weary greeting on the tip of his tongue. He stopped short as table four came into sight. He stood a bit taller, straightened his apron, and wished that he hadn’t wiped his hands all over it for the last hour.

The man at table four was a regular who came in every night. He was quite a bit older than Orlando, with piercing blue-grey eyes and a cleft in his chin. His hands were calloused and often paint-splattered. He had told Orlando that he painted to live, and Orlando believed it by the way he looked when he came in. His name was Peter, and Orlando had a crush on him as big as the Pacific. Orlando took a deep breath. “Peter…hi.”

“Hey, Orlando.” The man’s greeting was quiet, as always, but his face was open and kind. He was nothing short of courteous to Orlando, which was a welcome relief. Orlando often had customers who wanted nothing but a servant. It was nice to be treated as a human being simply doing his job. “You look busy. I can wait.”

“No, it’s fine.” Orlando shot a look over his shoulder as his back table broke into raucous laughter. “Hot tea?”

“Am I so predictable?” Peter looked slightly embarrassed.

“You do always get the same thing, but I like to ask. I never know when you might surprise me.” Orlando spoke lightly, trying to keep a firm check on his feelings. He didn’t want to out and out flirt with Peter, but it was hard sometimes. Peter was just so damned nice.

“Our Orlando isn’t bothering you, is he?” Sean glided over, speaking in an oily-sweet voice. Orlando rolled his eyes and went for Peter’s tea.

“Of course not, Mr. Astin. He’s just being his normal friendly self. He’s genuinely nice. That’s what keeps me coming back,” Peter said pointedly. Sean got a bit flustered and went away.

“Thanks,” Orlando murmured as he came back with herbal tea, hot water and a mug. “He’s been on my shite…I mean, case, all night.”

“Looks like it’s been a bad one,” Peter said sympathetically.

“Oh, if you only knew.” Orlando whipped out a check and a pen. “Usual?”

“I think I’ll go out on a limb. How about a corn muffin with my chili?” Peter smiled up at him, eyes sparkling.

Once more, Orlando placed a hand over his heart, though this time he had a smile on his face. “Be still my heart. I may pass out from the sudden shock.”

“Hey, pretty boy, we need more water!”

“Chin up,” Peter said, meeting Orlando’s gaze. Orlando smiled and nodded.