Cliché

+

—

"Racooninnit"

Tommy

Tw: Rude behavior, mentions of fighting

Notes: I spent so long writing and planning this for all the people who requested more Tommy stuff, and honestly I could not be more proud of it <33

Song: "Brave As A Noun" By AJJ

—

Dedicate to Lee and Peachums

Tommy hooked one of his fingers around his tight uniform collar, feeling the scratchy fibers scrape against his calloused thumb pads. With a soft grunt, he tried to fan cool air into the fabric of his stained and greasy button down shirt, but to no avail. Before he could even make any progress with the temperature change, a voice yelled in his ear.

"Order up for car nine!" It screamed out, along with the sound of a tinkling bell being rung. The words seemed to add another layer of eye bags under Tommys eyes, piling more and more weight the longer he stood there.

Tommy sighed heavily and skated over to the source of the noise; that being a busy kitchen with thick white steam filling up the crowded air. He skidded to a stop with his brakes loudly, holding his hands out in preparation to grab an order.

Out of nowhere a pair of arms loaded the blonde boy down with platers overflowing with burgers, fries, and sodas. Grunting almost inaudibly underneath the weight, he steered around to go skate off. The flimsy paper separating food from red tray fluttered noisily in the efforts of his movement.

Gravel and stray pieces of littler skirted around the edges of the swiftly rotating wheels on said boys skates. The worn out, red-ish orange quality of the shoes looked sickly in the beating sun. The once bright and neon color had been sucked clean of its original quality thanks to years of wear and tear.

Tommy winced as the sharp edge of leather cut into the side of his feet. He wanted desperately to take them off, but he knew that his boss would end up yelling at him again for "not following the dress-code" or some dumb shit.

He scoffed inwardly, thinking about the last time that had happened. Five dollars had been knocked off his next paycheck because of that. (Which he was pretty sure was illegal, but Tommy didn't have enough shits to give at this point. Pay was the last of his problems.)

Once more skidding to a stop in front of some beat down car, Tommy watched as a tinted window rolled down to reveal a group of four. Just some wasted looking teenagers craving a quick pit stop for fast food at the nearest place.

The usual.

"Here's your order." Tommy mumbled with the best smile he could muster. A few twenty dollar bills were thrown at him before he could blink, and off the rumbling vehicle sped.

Sighing with half lidded eyes, he bent over to the ground and began picking up the loose pieces of paper. Dusting off the grime from the floor, Tommy stood up again and skated away.

As he went back to his original position of leaning on a counter of condiments protruding from the side of a brick wall, Tommy scanned over his workplace.

It was a small thing. Smelled of grease and poor food, but after months of walking around in the joint he had gone nose-blind to it.

The diner-restaurant-food thing was mostly an outdoor establishment. A small, cloudy piece of plastic covering hovered over a bundle of nasty green colored benches. Four brick walls (one of which Tommy was currently standing cross-armed up against) came together to build the kitchen in which he would skate back and forth from for hours at a time. The rest of the area was filled with painted parking spots. Cars would pull in, press a button on these individual stands next to their window, order, and then leave.