geniuswithasmartphone | Luke's Diner, Thursday

Ugh. That jerky white kid was back at the house again this morning. After the...issue...that had arisen when Alec, Jerkface, and Weird Girl had woken up sharing a bed, Alec had been more than happy to spend all of yesterday avoiding them, even if that had meant participating in the paintball thing. But he hadn't had any of his fake credit cards or IDs on him, so he'd ended up going back to the house last night.

To find Jerkface also there. Ugh. And he thought Weird Girl might have been around, too, but she was fast and kinda creepy, so it wasn't like he'd gone looking.

So Alec was out of the house as soon as he was up (at the crack of noon!), casually swiping one of the expensive laptops that had been lying around. Maybe if he could hack into that (maybe? HA!), he could get himself an ID and a cash stream and away from the house. Before Jerkface could decide to beat him up for, like, existing or whatever.

The sign on the restaurant's window caught his eye:

Today's Specials
Yeah, we know you don't have money. Come in and get a meal and pay us back next week. Unless you're Eliot, Hardison, Miguel, or ~~Kanan~~ Caleb. You gotta work.
Spaghetti and Meatballs
Crockpot Chicken Noodle Soup
Shrimp Fajitas (You're welcome, adults)

Free food? Ish? Alec was going to worry about why he was singled out later. He was going in to peel some potatoes and get a huge helping of spaghetti and meatballs.

[Content Warning for a physical fight in the Eliot/Hardison thread with underlying homophobic tones. Please practice good self-care when deciding whether to read, my dears.]

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And Alec just kept talking, because he had a smart mouth to go along with the rest of him.

"Not what..." he said, trying not to whimper, "you looked like...you wanted to say...yesterday morning."

He was going to die, but at least he wasn't going to die backing down from some homophobic, redneck bully.

Eliot was going to hate himself later. He kind of hated himself right now. He was too angry for words at this point, just letting out an abbreviated roar.

And he just. Kept. Punching.

Even Cristina couldn't be sustained on coffee and cigarettes alone, so she ended up at the diner after the coffee shop, looking for food.

"What. The. Fuck." She took a beat to just stare, then picked up her nice, big, heavy anatomy textbook and swung it at the angry white guy's head. "Get off of him! Oh my god!"

It was always the angry white guys, wasn't it?

Alec was curled up, trying to protect his head with his arms and his stomach with his knees, just waiting for it to stop. He'd run out of trashtalk to say and was mostly struggling not to cry.

You know. Out loud.

The commotion finally made its way back to the kitchen, where the rest of the staff made their way out to stare, horrified.

Cook tried to grab hold of Eliot. "You're gonna thank me for this on Monday," he grunted.

Eliot reeled from the blow to the head (he hadn't built up his crazy endurance yet, either) and let himself be dragged, even as he stayed spitting mad. "Lemme go! That son of a bitch had it coming!"

He would probably be too busy hiding to thank anyone on Monday.

"For what, being black?!" Cristina stood protectively over the kid on the floor and raised her book again. "Jesus, all I wanted was a snack, and instead I'm witnessing a fucking hate crime!"

Alec picked himself up a little bit, spitting blood onto the floor. "He jus' don't like me tellin' folks we were naked in bed together," he said, hoping people weren't noticing the tears rolling down his face.

Yeah, fuck you, Jackass, if you didn't think he wasn't going to make that sound as dirty as possible.

Eliot let out another roar at that and tried to break past the cook and now the dishwasher, his fists already swinging.

"Shut up, you little freak!"

Well. At least he wasn't using any specifically homophobic slurs?

"Ah," Cristina said. She raised her book at Eliot again threateningly as the kitchen staff dragged him away to throw him in the freezer, then looked back at the kid on the floor. "You need better boyfriends."

"Ugh, like I'd ever date that asshole," Alec said, reaching up to touch his face and wincing. "It was jus' how we woke up yesterday. He freaked out."

Alec had also been freaking out, but not like that.

"Am I bleedin' bad?"

"Man. All I got was a swanky hotel room full of medical journals and tequila." She set her book down on a nearby table and offered Alec a hand. "Not super bad. Unless you've got a clotting disorder or something."

"Wanna trade?" Alec grumbled. He didn't like alcohol much--or at all, really. Tasted gross, make folks mean, made folks stupid--but alcohol never beat him up, either.

"And end up with Honky McTemper over there? Hell no. He's not my type."

"I don't think he's anyone's type," Alec muttered. "Who's interested in America's Next Most Wanted?"

"Him? Way too high profile." Cristina shook her head. "He'll go back to Podunk, Arkansas or wherever he's from, get some dead end factory job, and eventually go down for beating his wife. All the while moaning about what hot shit he was in high school."

"Nobody cares you were quarterback in high school once you go to college!" Alec yelled towards the freezer. He doubted Jackass could hear him but it made him feel better. Especially since he was still sniffling. "I hate that guy. And all the guys like him."

"Maybe he'll blow out his knees and get addicted to painkillers. That'd be pretty funny."

"An' then his whole stupid town finds out cause his bathtub methlab explodes," Alex grumbled.

Luke's Diner, Thursday

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