Work Text
Randy could always feel Bensons eyes on him. His dark gaze seemed to constantly track him beneath his ball-cap, mouth working like he was licking his teeth clean. Randy would say hello every shift and Benson would tip his head at him, always silent. But never unkind.On and on it went, through shitty shifts and good shifts, it never changed. He’d look up from mopping or wiping tables or dealing with customers and Benson would be there. The strange thing was that he’d never avert his gaze immediately. They’d meet eyes and he’d sigh through his nose, one big deep breath. His chest would rise and sink and then he’d go back to what he was doing- but eventually he’d always feel that prickle against his back, the tingle that had him hyper aware of what and how he was doing something. It made him.. nervous. More so than he normally was.“Bradley. You listening? I really mean it I think you should think about it.” Hardy interrupts his thoughts- the fucker. He’s been talking about the idea of promoting him to make himself look better to his higher ups. Mentioning how hard working he is, how he could have a future. Hardy didn’t give a fuck about anyone but himself. He nods along, not caring to make a commitment. Just what he wanted- a fast food job forever. Jacking off in the back office while meat rotted and lettuce wilted. The American dream. He goes back to what he’s doing after their chat. Which is to say getting bullied by his younger coworkers and re-cleaning whatever messes they make while they tongue fuck on the clock. Chris has his hat on backwards like a douche bag, his girlfriend has a trashy outfit on complete with a barely tied top and fishnets. In a fucked up sort of way they belong with each other.Chris comes up and fucks with him, scruffs his hair and asks if he sucked off their boss. Asks if they’ve been talking about him. Benson watches in- actually pauses what he does and stops to watch. Chris gets loud again. Vulgar. Vaguely homophobic while also standing too close to be strictly straight. Then he shoves the fucking day old plain burger in his fucking face.
“Chris. Stop.”
“What?”
“You should stop now.”
Randy stops listening after that, Bensons still staring despite having Chris in his face, his left eye twitches as he cracks his neck. He can feel the heat in the back of his throat, in his nose. His eyes burn as he tries not let the tears drip past his waterline.Bensons staring him down and he can almost hear what he’s thinking. Pathetic. Fucking do something. He doesn’t. Benson leaves with the tell tale jingle of the bell at the top of the door and Randy’s left to eat the rancid burger. He can see him outside, untucking his shirt and lighting up a cig. He can hear the porn playing from Hardy’s office. He eats the burger quietly, even as it churns his stomach with every bite. Then the bell to the door chimes. He looks up. Bensons got a hunting rifle in his hands, takes aim at Chris and suddenly blood splatters across the entire restaurant. He can feel a drop hit his face. Just like his dream. Only this time all he can think great another mess to clean up. Jess is screaming so loud he’s shocked she doesn’t run out of air. Hardy comes in, and then immediately tries to run- leaving them for dead. So much for being a team player. He ignores it all. He’s watching Chris. Clawing at the table like getting up is gonna help the multiple rounds that’ve been unloaded into his chest. Randy doesn’t move. Just accepts his fate as he hears Hardy get shot and then watches Jess get shot- rather reluctantly. For a moment he thinks- at least they went first. He wouldn’t have to deal with them for the last moments of his life. Small blessings. There’s a blood soaked cig hanging out of Bensons mouth when he rounds the table and heads straight for him. Randy can’t seem to get more than half an inhale in, can’t stop his limbs from trembling as his brain sort of shuts itself down. He can feel spit and snot and sweat all dripping down his face. He can taste the iron in air along with the taste of the rotten burger that’s now threatening to leave his stomach. He feels fucking bitter.“Help me move these two to the back.” Benson says to him. He can barely hear- there’s still the ringing in his ears from the yelling and the piercing sound of the gun. There’s blood everywhere. He’s got his fingers in the air. Counting like one would to a child. If I reach five you’ll be standing in timeout so long you’ll get tv static in your legs. They drag the couple to the freezer and pile them on top of Hardy. He think that’s what happens anyway.“Where’s your phone?” Bensons in his face again. He’s taken his hat off and his eyes almost look darker. He’s bigger than Randy had ever noticed. Maybe they’d be the same height if he didn’t have such a hunch but as he is now he has to strain his neck to look into Bensons eyes. He’s got blood in his eyelash and brow. Another smear across his cheek and the shell of his ear. He’s got the classic silver rings in his lobes, a Louisiana boy through and through. He raises his eyebrow out him and Randy finally remembers he’d been asked a question. He mumbles that it’s in his coat without thinking and in a flash Benson is gone. He makes for the door with a flurry of quiet foot steps and reaches for the lock. Bensons on him like an animal gone rabid, curled around him and huffing down his neck like a bull. “You do that again and I’ll use your vertebrae as wind chimes. Got me?”His throats gone dry, the hand holding his against the door is gripped so tight his veins have popped up. Maybe his skin just looks translucent under the fluorescents. They’re breathing in each other’s air they’re so close. “I wasn’t.. I was just. Locking the door. I was gonna close the blinds.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but he knows it’s true. He would’ve locked the door. He knew there’d be no escaping Benson. They needed to clean up. He can see the man thinking, feel his sigh against his back. He thinks maybe if they were just a bit closer he could hear his heartbeat in his chest. Benson grips his chin and angles his head and finally they make the eye contact he’s been avoiding.”Oh yeah? Then what?”
“Then.. we clean. Drop the bodies out in the bayou. Sink their cars. Bleach all the blood and.. then we’ll burn these uniforms. Carry on like normal. Leave a voicemail on Hardy’s phone. Tomorrow we’ll call Hardy’s boss and tell them that no one’s shown for work in two days.” Bensons breathing has gotten heavier behind him. Then he’s laughing. Cackling into his ear. Grinning at him like he made the sun rise today. “Un-Be-Lievable! You’ve thought about this before huh? Lucky me.” He realizes Benson has a bit of an accent, more rough than what he was used to. His mother had trained his own out of him from a young age. His heart starts beating faster and he wonders if Benson can feel it. Somehow his shaking has eased, his tears dripping silently. He takes almost mechanical breaths. “I.. haven’t. I just..” He doesn’t know what to say, tries to think past the fog and find the right answer but can’t seem to grasp anything more than the bare basics. His work place is dirty, he should clean it. They’re understaffed so now they’ll be shut down for the day. Him and Benson are covered in blood and should probably take their clothes off before they stain.Bensons still staring him down but it feels different than it had before. It’s like he’s surveying him, looking right through him. He smiles down at him- seemingly seeing what he wanted.“Yeah, yeah I get it. I think this is a good situation. For the both of us. You help me. I help you. You scratch my back and I.. ya’know.” He doesn’t know. He just swallows against his dry throats wishes and nods his head. Benson eases up, pats him on the back before steering them towards the back with a tight grip against his neck. It’s more comforting than it should be.