Chapter Text
“I just sat you at table twenty-five,” Maria called for him from the kitchen door, where he was currently hiding.
He sighed, putting back down the food he had just been able to start eating. Just his luck.
Well, that’s restaurant work, after all. Long hours of standing, and no eating. Maria’s quick and rushed words rang back in his head. Table twenty-five?
Huh.
Ladybug pushed open the kitchen side door and made his way back into the main hall of the restaurant. His uniform was askew, his tie long gone and his front shirt unbuttoned a few more times than protocol. It was a fancy place, yeah, but Maria usually let Ladybug change things up a little.
Back to the table twenty-five situation. He scanned the restaurant in search of the booth in the far corner, the one where Maria never sat.
Must be a special occasion, then.
Ladybug checked his watch. They had closed ten minutes ago, the restaurant only had a few patrons finishing up their meals.
Huh?
He did a double take along the restaurant to look for the familiar head of brown hair but came up empty. Ladybug made his way to the booth, where two men sat chatting. Taking his time walking over there, Ladybug studied the men that Maria let come in past closing.
And probably without a reservation, too.
At first glance, they looked like your regular patrons. Suits, one of them even had slicked back hair.
Then he looked a little closer. Rings on the fingers, piercings. The blond man's suit jacket was carelessly tossed to the side, sleeves rolled up, revealing a plethora of tattoos. His partner, sitting across from him, also had his jacket off.
Except this man had blood on his white shirt.
Why where a white shirt if you're going to get blood on it?
Ah, so, not your normal restaurant goers, then. Ladybug mused to himself.
Stopping in front of the table, Ladybug kept it short, not bothering with the normal introduction you’d expect from this type of place.
“What can I get you gentlemen to drink?”
The blonde one didn’t even bother looking at him, “Do you have whiskey?”
He’s British?
“We do,”
His short response got the man to finally look at him.
At which his eyes widened. Only for a moment, but Ladybug caught it. Did he have something on his face?
He probably wasn’t the ideal image of a waiter, especially in this place. His shoulder-length hair was in a ponytail, and he hadn’t shaved in a day or two so he looked even scruffier than usual.
“What kind of whiskey? Whiskey-sour, old-fashioned?”
“What do you recommend?”
“What kind of mood are you in?”
“A knackered one.”
Ladybug simply nodded and turned his attention to the other man.
“Water, please.”
Ladybug returned a few minutes later, having made the drink himself. He set it in front of the British man, and the water in front of the one with blood on him.
“What is this, then?”
“A manhattan.”
The man took a sip, nodded in approval, and turned his gaze back to Ladybug.
His eyes were a startling blue.
They left him a two hundred dollar tip.
-
It was almost a month later when they came again. It was twenty minutes past closing, and Ladybug was sweeping when he heard the door open.
Just as last time, the two were in suits. The smaller one, he noticed, was missing the blood.
As Ladybug set down his broom and made his way toward the door, he couldn’t help but notice the few inched he had on the blond man.
The man who seemed to notice this, as well, whose eyes raked up and down Ladybug's form. His companion elbowed him, and he elbowed back twice as hard.
A weird duo, these two were.
Just as he was about to go home, too.
Maria appeared behind him, handing him two menus, “Take these two to twenty-five, Ladybug.”
As he led them to the all-familiar table, the blond one spoke up. “Ladybug?”
“Her nickname for me,”
“Not much of a name, is it?”
His companion interrupted him, “Oh, please, Tangerine,”
“Lemon,”
What the hell?
Ladybug sat them, “What are we drinking today?”
Another two hundred dollars burned in his pocket as he made it back to his car, hours later.
-
A week later, was when he saw the blond one again. It was a Monday night, one of the slowest days customer-wise.
Ladybug was reclining in a booth, oh his phone, slacking off, much to Maria’s dissatisfaction. He watched as the blond man strolled in.
Checking his watch in surprise, Ladybug noted it was outside the time at which the man usually came. Only two in the afternoon, instead of eleven at night.
The time wasn’t the only outlier.
The man was without his usual companion. Strange. As Maria walked over to the front, Ladybug and the man made eye contact.
Maria sat him, strolling back over to where Ladybug was. Before she could open her mouth, he spoke, “You never told me what their, his, deal was.”
“They have… made a name for themselves.”
Ah. How had he not guessed before? He smacked his forehead lightly. Duh! Before getting into the restaurant, Maria was involved in more illegal activities.
At least that made sense.
“What kind of name, exactly?”
“Tangerine and Lemon, known as The Twins,”
Not what he meant, but, okay.
Wait, “They aren’t even-”
“Obviously. Now, go greet your goddamn table. He asked for you specifically.”
“What?”
“I was going to give it to someone else, give another server a chance to make some money,” she paused, “when I told him that his waitress would be right over, he told me he wanted Ladybug.”
Okay. Weird.
“Well, money is money.”
Leaning on the unoccupied side of the booth, Ladybug gestured to Tangerine, “Where’s your friend?”
“Just me today, love.”
Okay. Double weird.
Along with three hundred dollars, Tangerine left a card with a phone number written on the back.