Chapter Text
You never really paid much attention during your job. You were going to get fired soon (yesterday you'd served a woman gin and she wanted a martini). This was not your fault, you had the most boring job in the history of all universes. So when some cute nerdy looking kid walked in, sat down at the bar and ordered a coke, you were surprised to find yourself noticing. Like, really noticing.
You served the coke and then leaned your chin on your leather clad palm, your elbow digging into the cold marble of the counter.
"Hey kid." the kid in question, who had been looking the other way, gave a squeak of fright and nearly tumbled off his chair. "Don't have a seizure. Just tryin' to be friendly here, not slice your neck open."
"Oh um, well... gosh." He said huffily,making what you were pretty sure was a pout. You didn't quite think it was purposeful.
"Do I know you, kid? You look kinda familiar."
"I don't kn-" he was interrupted by a girl who could easily have been his twin, who grabbed his hand and dragged him out onto the dance floor. A pounding bass beat was playing.
You were just about to take a break, holding a pack of cigarettes and flicking your lighter absentmindedly. He headed towards the doors and you found yourself hurrying towards them as well, though you usually stood out back.
Halfway there, you realized how unbelievably stupid that would be. This thought, however, had very little effect on your scurrying feet.
You pushed open the doors, greeted by a blast of chill night air. Lighting a cigarette, you leaned casually against the brick wall at the front of the club, observing the spraypainted "kill the capitalists" which you were currently standing on.
The kid was leaning against the wall a bit farther away.
"Not enjoyin' the club, eh?"
"Well it's a bit too... Noisy."
"Yeah, kid, I guess it is. So what's your name?"
"What?"
"Your name. Moniker, title, whatever the fuck you wanna call it."
"I heard you it's just-"
"What, your mommy told you not to talk to strangers?" Well that was a stupid thing to say. Jesus fuck Dirk, where was your usual wit and charm?
"It's John Egbert." There was a note of defiance in his voice, as if he was daring you to make fun of him for it.
"Dirk. Dirk Strider." You think you might have grinned a little bit, which was pretty fucking stupid and you knew it. This whole thing was pretty fucking stupid anyway. What exactly were you gaining by sorta hitting on some teenager?
"Well... Uhm... Nice to meet you, Dirk." You absentmindedly stamped out your cigarette. John rubbed the back of his neck and smiled, sort of.
"So, you live round here?" You kind of just blurted that out. Why were you being so damn uncool?
"Uh, yeah. I work at the cafe down the road," he sighed. "I play piano too. You?"
"I DJ here sometimes. Mostly I'm a waiter though." You neglected to mention the puppet porn. Yeah. That was heading into... territories you think this John kid wouldn't be down with exploring.
"Oh, um, cool." This conversation was almost painfully awkward.
"So, the chick your girlfriend?" You almost slapped yourself. Why did you give a flying fuck?
"No! She's my sister! I'm not really... with anyone at the moment." He stared at the ground, his cheeks and ears beet red. Which was kinda cute, though you weren't sure why the fuck he was embarrassed.
"Me neither." And here you were, Dirk Strider, openly discussing your relationship status with some cute but nerdy teenager you met at a bar. This was getting to be so similar to the plot to a bad romance movie. You almost wanted to just profess your undying love for this dude, because if it kept following this plot, shit like that would happen anyway.
You did not, however, do any such thing. You had some filter. That idea went in the "no, please no" pile.
"I gotta get back to work. Maybe I'll see you later." You said, clearing your throat.
"Yeah, maybe." He replied. You clapped him on the shoulder and then left.
Back inside, you threw off your suit, changed into your normal outfit, and wrote a hurried note explaining why you had to leave early. Ailing relative or some shit.
John was still out there when you got back outside, so you went up to him, pressed a crumpled piece of paper into his hand, said, "Call me." And ran faster than should have been humanly possible out of there.
Your name is Dirk Strider and you are pretty damn sure you are the stupidest fuck ever to set foot on this earth.