Chapter Text
Many people have nightmares about sleeping through their alarms only to wake up late and arrive at some important event without pants. It is a rare occurrence that such a thing actually happens, however. Unfortunately, sometimes exactly that does happen and it can leave one feeling as if the entire world is against them.
That was the precise situation Marcus found himself in. The flashing 12:00 on his alarm clock told the story of a power outage sometime in the night, one that he had clearly slept through. He’d always been a heavy sleeper and his body and mind reacted to thunderstorms like a triple dose of benadryl.
Tripping as he pulled his shoes on over what he hoped were clean socks, he frantically swore into the phone, “I’m already on my way, sir! Yes, yes, no! I’ll be right there! I’m sorry!”
Slamming the phone back into its cradle on the wall, he bolted for the front door. He couldn’t believe he was going to be late again. Three days in a row! At least the first two times had been mildly excusable.
His car had broken down on Monday, so what could he do? Walk or take the bus. He didn’t feel like arriving to work soaking wet and out of breath, so bus it was. That ended up being a mistake as well, as he’d gotten on the wrong one and ended up on the opposite and slightly worse side of an already bad town. He’d had to run all the way to work, miraculously avoiding getting run over, and made it in time to finish the last hour of his shift before being guilted into covering the entirety of his coworkers to make up hours.
Tuesday had been… bad. He’d woken up before his alarm, excited that he was going to be early, only to be detained and questioned by police about the murder of one of his neighbors down the street. That had been fun. At first there were suspicions that a Slasher had appeared in the area, but further investigation proved it was a domestic dispute gone wrong.
Almost slipping on the rain soaked steps as he hurried out the front door, Marcus barely heard his elderly neighbor’s -and landlord's- greeting.
“Morning Mrs. Eddis,” he called back.
“Marcus, your pants?” she asked, sounding entirely unsurprised. She’d lived next door to him for the past four years and nothing he did seemed to shock her anymore.
Looking down, he was mortified to find he had in fact forgotten his pants and was facing the day in nothing but boxers and his scrub top.
Spinning around, he yelled, “I’m so sorry!” as he bolted back inside. What a fucking way to start the morning.
~~
Marcus’s day only got better from there. Crashing through the front door of the veterinary clinic out of breath and soaked in sweat thanks to the humid weather, he didn’t notice he was interrupting something as he panted, “I’m here, Mr. Richards! I’m sorry, I know I’m late again, I just-”
A hand clamped down on his shoulder, spinning him against the counter. The barrel of a gun pressed against his nose and he slammed his mouth closed. Were they being robbed? Again?!
“It’s okay, he’s one of mine,” Mr. Richards sighed. His boss didn’t even sound concerned, considering one of his employees had almost had his head blown off. If anything, he just sounded annoyed.
The gun disappeared and Marcus was released. Still, he stayed put against the counter, bracing himself with his hands as he attempted to hide how badly his legs were shaking.
“Marcus, go get me ten bottles of xylazine. Quickly, boy. Go!”
Dipping his head, he pushed off the counter. As he was passing by the man who’d just had a gun in his face, the front of his shirt was grabbed and he found himself being held in place. Once again beginning to worry about being given a new breathing hole, Marcus took the chance to surreptitiously study the man gripping his collar. He wasn’t that much taller than himself, but he was built like a brick house. All square features and hard muscle, his scarred face told many stories; Most of them looked painful and it was obvious his nose had been broken more than a few times.
Not bothering to look at him, he addressed Richards instead. “You’re sure you can trust him? He seems… flighty.”
“Marcus has worked for me for the past four years. Do you think he’d still be here if I couldn’t trust him? He’s slow but he knows how to keep quiet.”
Glaring at him suspiciously, the man finally let go. He didn’t look particularly happy about it, but he didn’t try to argue further.
Not sticking around, Marcus hurried to the back. His fear had already been replaced by irritation and he knew if he didn’t keep himself in check he’d say something stupid and get himself in real trouble. It wouldn’t be the first time, but it could absolutely be the time it got him shot.
Digging out one of the special boxes they used for the illicit side of business, he carefully fitted each of the ten bottles of xylazine into foam slots before closing it up. Throwing a handful of wood chips into the box to cover the false bottom, he grabbed a pair of hamsters out of a nearby cage. Sealing them in, he carried it back up front and put it on the counter.
The stranger glared at him the whole way, his hushed conversation with Dr. Richards ceasing immediately. Almost shoving Marcus aside, he sneered, “Your trusted bitch just brought me mice, not horse tranquilizer. Are you sure he’s not blind as well as dumb?”
Marcus seethed quietly. People often made snide comments about his eyes; One nearly the color of copper, the other so light blue it almost looked white in the right lighting. Usually he’d tell them to fuck off and die, but he knew better than to speak out against one of his bosses clients. Especially one who’d just had a gun on him…
“It’s a preventative measure,” Richards assured him. “You’re at a veterinary office after all and you didn’t bring in a pet.”
“Right,” he muttered, casting one last venomous glance at Marcus. “Do you want me to bring back the… guinea pigs?”
“Those are hamsters,” Marcus griped, despite knowing better. God, people were stupid.
Dr. Richards slapped him across the back of the head hard enough to make his ears ring. Addressing the customer, he offered an apologetic smile. “Don’t mind him. Assistants are better seen and not heard. He has plenty of other work to take care of while we finish up the details.”
Taking the not so subtle hint, Marcus ducked into the back of the clinic. He preferred the company of animals to people anyway.
~~~~