nanowrenlet (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nanowrenlet) wrote2003-11-23 05:30 pm
nanowrenlet) wrote2003-11-23 05:30 pm
(no subject)
It was a day pretty much like any other, except for the bitter fucking cold and, oh yeah, the Post-It in Justin's pocket with the restaurant's address on it. Monique had gotten one, too, and when Rube had passed them out he'd given Justin a look that had been not so much worried as maybe expectant, and asked Justin if he wanted Rube to tag along. Justin told him no, they could handle it. He could handle it.
C. Schultz. Monique had M. Daniels, also known as Morgan-the-idiot-host, and at 1:02PM he and Curt Schultz were going to die. And they -would- die as scheduled, because as much as Justin liked Curt and respected him and even thought he was kind of hot, he knew better than to mess around with his destiny.
Of all the things Justin had bucked the system on and given Rube no end of grief about, the actual reaping had never been one of them. His early experience with an expired soul had honestly freaked the shit out of him and maybe made him take Rube's warnings about that sort of thing more to heart than he would have otherwise. Justin didn't skip appointments and was rarely late; well, with the exception of the elevator accident last August and under the circumstances Justin thought he should get a fucking pass for -that-. Throw in a little reaper gossip and a hands-on demonstration of the ripple effect, in the form of a weekend spent working clean up after one miraculously "saved" soul caused the sudden expiration of about four dozen others... no. Justin might mess with his friends' lives at times if he thought it was needed, but he didn't fuck around when it came to death.
Curt was going to die that afternoon, and as his friend the best, kindest thing Justin could do for him was to pop his soul before it happened. He paused about a block away from the restaurant, pulled out the Post-It and triple-checked the time, and then crumpled it and tossed it into a storm drain.
Unfortunately, Justin's resolve didn't make work any less -weird-. He didn't mean to keep watching Curt out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn't seem to keep from doing it, and wondering. He looked okay, were his customers giving him shit, was he pulling good tips? Justin kept having to stifle the urge to just flat out ask him, Are you having a good day today, Curt, are you happy? It wasn't as if whether he was or wasn't made any difference, he wouldn't be any less dead in the end, but the urge was still there.
Justin heard Curt's laugh, suddenly, over the rest of the lunch crowd's noise, and it made him feel a little better. He heard the front door jingle, too, and when he saw Monique walk in and take Morgan's offered hand, he checked his watch and decided it was as good a time as any. He made it to pick-up just ahead of Curt, and when he passed Curt a plate of lasagna his fingers brushed the back of his friend's hand, and he smiled.
The restaurant, the soda fountain manufacturer and their respective insurance companies would fight about it later, but everyone who had actually been there would agree it had been a random, senseless sort of accident. Just one of those things.
Curt jammed his hands into his pockets. "What a fucking way to go, huh?" Everyone had been evacuated from the restaurant and they stood mostly milling about in little clumps on the sidewalk, waiting to give statements or get rides or just... waiting because they didn't know what else to do.
'I've seen worse' never went over well in these situations, so Justin settled for a sympathetic nod. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I guess so. I didn't even feel it, though, is that because of you?"
Justin lifted his shoulders, sheepish, and grinned a little. "Yeah."
"Thanks a lot, man." Curt nodded his head to the sheet-covered stretcher being carried out of the restaurant. "That would've hurt like a bitch."
"Well, that's sort of what we're here for."
Curt chuckled and shook his head. "And you moonlight as a waiter. Knox always used to say, you had some big -thing- you carried around with you all the time... no one could have guessed it was this big."
Justin didn't know what to say to that, so he just stood next to Curt and watched the police and the EMTs do their thing. Off to one side, Morgan was trying to hit on Monique. He'd never been very bright.
Curt sighed finally. "Guess it's time to be going."
Justin had been looking over the dispersing crowd, and his eyes caught on Knox and Eric, sitting together on the curb. Huddled was maybe a better word for it; Knox was curled protectively around his lover, who was wide-eyed and possibly a little shocky. Eric had been standing not five feet away from Curt when it happened, and a flying piece of CO2 tank had left a shallow score across one cheek. Justin got that sick-fluttery feeling in his gut again. "Yeah. I think maybe you're right. Listen," he turned back to Curt and smiled. "Would you mind if Monique took you the rest of the way? I need to stick around here for a bit."
Curt nodded agreeably. "Sure, no problem. You take care, huh?"
That was just like Curt, polite to the end. "You, too." Justin watched as Curt joined the other two on the sidewalk, and waved as they all started to walk away. He made his way over to Knox and Eric and squatted down on the pavement behind them. Someone had given them a thermal blanket, which Knox had wrapped around Eric to try to warm him up, and Justin grasped a corner of the cloth and tugged it further up Eric's shoulder. His hand brushed Knox's, who lifted his head and gave Justin a relieved, grateful smile. Justin sat with them until it was okay for everyone to go home.
[1023/1023/42143]
C. Schultz. Monique had M. Daniels, also known as Morgan-the-idiot-host, and at 1:02PM he and Curt Schultz were going to die. And they -would- die as scheduled, because as much as Justin liked Curt and respected him and even thought he was kind of hot, he knew better than to mess around with his destiny.
Of all the things Justin had bucked the system on and given Rube no end of grief about, the actual reaping had never been one of them. His early experience with an expired soul had honestly freaked the shit out of him and maybe made him take Rube's warnings about that sort of thing more to heart than he would have otherwise. Justin didn't skip appointments and was rarely late; well, with the exception of the elevator accident last August and under the circumstances Justin thought he should get a fucking pass for -that-. Throw in a little reaper gossip and a hands-on demonstration of the ripple effect, in the form of a weekend spent working clean up after one miraculously "saved" soul caused the sudden expiration of about four dozen others... no. Justin might mess with his friends' lives at times if he thought it was needed, but he didn't fuck around when it came to death.
Curt was going to die that afternoon, and as his friend the best, kindest thing Justin could do for him was to pop his soul before it happened. He paused about a block away from the restaurant, pulled out the Post-It and triple-checked the time, and then crumpled it and tossed it into a storm drain.
Unfortunately, Justin's resolve didn't make work any less -weird-. He didn't mean to keep watching Curt out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn't seem to keep from doing it, and wondering. He looked okay, were his customers giving him shit, was he pulling good tips? Justin kept having to stifle the urge to just flat out ask him, Are you having a good day today, Curt, are you happy? It wasn't as if whether he was or wasn't made any difference, he wouldn't be any less dead in the end, but the urge was still there.
Justin heard Curt's laugh, suddenly, over the rest of the lunch crowd's noise, and it made him feel a little better. He heard the front door jingle, too, and when he saw Monique walk in and take Morgan's offered hand, he checked his watch and decided it was as good a time as any. He made it to pick-up just ahead of Curt, and when he passed Curt a plate of lasagna his fingers brushed the back of his friend's hand, and he smiled.
The restaurant, the soda fountain manufacturer and their respective insurance companies would fight about it later, but everyone who had actually been there would agree it had been a random, senseless sort of accident. Just one of those things.
Curt jammed his hands into his pockets. "What a fucking way to go, huh?" Everyone had been evacuated from the restaurant and they stood mostly milling about in little clumps on the sidewalk, waiting to give statements or get rides or just... waiting because they didn't know what else to do.
'I've seen worse' never went over well in these situations, so Justin settled for a sympathetic nod. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I guess so. I didn't even feel it, though, is that because of you?"
Justin lifted his shoulders, sheepish, and grinned a little. "Yeah."
"Thanks a lot, man." Curt nodded his head to the sheet-covered stretcher being carried out of the restaurant. "That would've hurt like a bitch."
"Well, that's sort of what we're here for."
Curt chuckled and shook his head. "And you moonlight as a waiter. Knox always used to say, you had some big -thing- you carried around with you all the time... no one could have guessed it was this big."
Justin didn't know what to say to that, so he just stood next to Curt and watched the police and the EMTs do their thing. Off to one side, Morgan was trying to hit on Monique. He'd never been very bright.
Curt sighed finally. "Guess it's time to be going."
Justin had been looking over the dispersing crowd, and his eyes caught on Knox and Eric, sitting together on the curb. Huddled was maybe a better word for it; Knox was curled protectively around his lover, who was wide-eyed and possibly a little shocky. Eric had been standing not five feet away from Curt when it happened, and a flying piece of CO2 tank had left a shallow score across one cheek. Justin got that sick-fluttery feeling in his gut again. "Yeah. I think maybe you're right. Listen," he turned back to Curt and smiled. "Would you mind if Monique took you the rest of the way? I need to stick around here for a bit."
Curt nodded agreeably. "Sure, no problem. You take care, huh?"
That was just like Curt, polite to the end. "You, too." Justin watched as Curt joined the other two on the sidewalk, and waved as they all started to walk away. He made his way over to Knox and Eric and squatted down on the pavement behind them. Someone had given them a thermal blanket, which Knox had wrapped around Eric to try to warm him up, and Justin grasped a corner of the cloth and tugged it further up Eric's shoulder. His hand brushed Knox's, who lifted his head and gave Justin a relieved, grateful smile. Justin sat with them until it was okay for everyone to go home.
[1023/1023/42143]