Chapter Text
“Two burgers, one vanilla milkshake, and a thing of fries!”
The order is called out, loud as usual from your chef Paul. He slides the tray full of food onto the serving counter and taps the nearby bell with the end of his spatula, it’s cheery ding echoing around the diner.
“Got it! Thanks Pauly!”.
It’s all instinct the way you skate over to the counter and effortlessly scoop up the tray of food up, balancing it with one hand as you turn as skate to a table only feet away. There’s a gaggle of teenagers there crowding the booth, their smiles bright and their laughter loud. One of them is polite enough to say thank you as the others immediately reach for the food as soon as you settle the tray down on the shiny metal table.
Working here never got any less magical.
Even if it had only been around two years since you’d first been hired, the enchanting nature of Sal’s Diner hadn’t dimmed in the slightest. After clearing a now empty table, sliding the discarded burger wrappers and cups onto a tray and carting them into the back, you pass the faded old jukebox in the corner, a familiar song thrumming out of its speakers. You hummed along absentmindedly as you skated back to the serving counter.
”Richie Valens, again?”. Paul groaned, resting his head in his hand, elbows on the counter. He wasn’t as big on the diners kitschy theming the way you were, more likely to roll his eyes when the twentieth Elvis song of the day would play before it even hit the afternoon rush. “I swear I just heard this twice, it hasn’t even been an hour!”.
You shrugged, trying your best to not look guilty. The song was one of your favorites! Of course you were going to play it anytime you had a spare minute to queue it on the jukebox.
♫⋆｡♪ ₊I had a girl
Donna was her name
Since she left me
I've never been the same｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ
The bell above the diners front door loudly dinged and you nodded at Paul in lieu of goodbye, kicking off on your skates to go snag a menu. The customer was going to settle in your favorite spot, the coziest booth right by the diners big windows, facing the street so you could sit and watch the cars go by while sipping on a chocolate malt.
“Welcome to Sal’s! What can I-“.
In a split moment, that happens so fast you don’t even register how you go from upright to falling, you trip over your skates. It’s rare, after countless years of experience and loving roller rinks even as a small child, but with your clumsy nature it’s never an impossibility. You brace yourself, arms instinctively shooting out to attempt to catch yourself lessen any injures, when you crash into something warm instead of the cold black and white checkered tile.
”Woah there little mama! You almost went crusin’ for a bruisin’ there”. Firm arms are wrapped strongly around you, catching an armful of waitress and you look up to see just who saved you from your mortifying would’ve-been trip to the floor.
The most crystal clear blue eyes you’ve ever seen gaze back at you. They’re so pretty that you lose touch with reality for a moment, getting lost in the depths of the shimmering periwinkle. Dark furrowed eyebrows are right above them, obviously weighed down with worry as they peer
”-alright?”.
You blink, trying to ground yourself. “Uh…”.Reality comes slamming back into focus as you realize you’ve been lost in this strangers eyes and didn’t even hear them speaking to you. You steady your legs underneath you, skates uncrossing and you take a step back, dusting off your waitress uniform. “Yes! I’m fine! Great actually, thanks to you”. You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and hope your face isn’t as flustered as it seems.
The stranger just smiles, his eyes crinkling as he does so. “No problem-o, just glad you’re okay”.
He sits back down in the booth and hits you with a beaming grin. You immediately find yourself returning it. You fumble to hand him the menu you had grabbed just a few moments ago, handing it to him and watching as his eyes dart around it. His mouth moves, silent words passing through his lips as he reads. He doesn’t even seem to know he’s doing it.
As he’s distracted you take a moment to unabashedly gawk at him. He’s got those bright shining blue eyes of course, but there’s also pink plump lips with a cute little beauty mark right near the top, a long sloping nose, strong firm jawline, and the literal cherry on top is his spiraling hair, the dark curly locks slicked back with what looked like enough hairspray to last one person a lifetime. It was a classic look as if he walked right out of Danny Zuko’s group of cronies from grease. Or even better than the cronies, as if Danny Zuko jumped right out of the tv screen from 1978!
He was even dressed the part, a black leather jacket hung off his shoulder, a plain white tee was clinging tightly to his chest, and straight crisp blue jeans seemed to perfectly fit his legs, cuffed at the ankles and revealing black matching sneakers.
“Can I get a vanilla milkshake and a, one of them cherry’s right on the top? And a thing of fries to dip em’ in please”. He flicked the menu up between his fingers to hand it back to you, and when you took it he used his now free hand to carefully slick back any possible flyaways. It was a useless endeavor considering his hair was perfectly flawless.
“Coming right up”.
By the time Paul is sliding the order over the counter, the jukebox has already moved past Richie Valens, and is settled on Johnny Tillotson crooning about dreamy eyes. You skate past it and back the booth thankfully without any stumbling this time. It’s as seamless as it ever was when you settle the tray down on the table.
”Is that all I can getcha?”.
The man paused, his hand frozen in the air midway to his mouth with a fry perched between his fingers. His crystal clear eyes glanced away for a moment as if he were wrestling with his answer before he finally says. “Well… I wouldn’t mind some company”. He grins a bit conspiratorially. “But I’d hate to take you away from your work”.
You blinked in surprise, before glancing over to where Paul is doodling on an order notepad and the group of teenagers is causing a ruckus but not anywhere near rowdy enough for Paul to have to kick them out. It’s a split second design, and as you hustle to pick up the extra fluff of your skirt and shimmy into the booth opposing him, you can’t help but think you’ve made the right choice.
“Sure, why not. I can bum a for a few”.
The man blinks like he really wasn’t expecting you to take him up on his offer, but the surprise on his face is quickly taken over by a charmingly gleaming white grin. “That’s swell. I’m Johnny by the way”.
You smile and introduce yourself right back.
“Say, you ever try dipping your fries in your milkshake? I swear it’ll change your life!”. Johnny adds when you shake your head no. “Honest to god, it’s the best. You’ll never eat fries the same again”. You’ve seen other people do it but you either never remember to try it when you’ve got both items or never have both items to begin with when getting lunch. Johnny’s looking up at you, gleaming blue eyes oddly pleading and you immediately feel yourself caving and giving in.
”If you vouch for it, I suppose I’ll try it just this once. But it better be the living end”. You snag a french fry and go to dip it in the fluffy foam top of Johnny’s milkshake. It feels a bit overly intimate to do with someone you quite literally just met, but Johnny does nothing but eagerly nod as you do so.
It’s good.
Like melt in your mouth, sweet and savory, good. You instantly crave more, and Johnny seems to notice as he laughs. It’s a loud and buoyant thing that instantly makes you want to smile, so you do. It’s a sheepish one, and he just nods at you.
”Go on ahead, I don’t mind. Really”.
You're sure the employee guide would discourage taking food straight from an employees plate- not that you and Paul hadn’t split a basket of fries together on slow days- but the combo of fry and shake was so good and Johnny was offering, so you bit down any reluctance and reached for another fry.
“Just one more”. You say, dipping again and nearly melting at the flavor.
Johnny grinned, his gleaming white smile was dazzling. “I’m just glad you like it. I don’t think I’ve ever gone a week not ordering this. I can’t believe you’ve been livin’ your entire life without it!”.
”Me either. What a fool I’ve been”. You ruefully shook your head with a chuckle.
Johhny’s goes to say something else the loud ring of the serving bell and Paul’s shout interrupts him. “Two hotdogs and a malt!”.
You immediately set about getting to your feet, instinctively after years of rushing to and fro to deliver orders quickly. You pause only for a moment to turn to Johnny and say: “I’ll be right back!” before you skate down the diner aisle and scoop up the loaded serving tray.
You’d been so distracted by Johnny you hadn’t even seen the new customers come in! It’s an older looking couple, wearing similar work uniforms, and they smile when you slide the tray down and send them a returning grin. Before skating back to the serving counter you stop by the table of teens and grab and discarded wrappers and empty cups. They don’t seem to be anywhere ready to leave given how they hardly acknowledge you.
Paul gives you a knowing look as you go to clear the tray of trash and dishes. “Getting a bit cozy with the clientele there, huh?”. He says, moving in tandem to hand you a coffee pot that you use to refill one of the regulars coffee mug, the man smiling behind his newspaper as he thankfully breathed in the smell from his now steaming cup.
”It’s called customer satisfaction, you should try it”. You playfully shrug, entirely nonplussed. You’d seen Paul try- and fail- to flirt with customers before. If the place had a consistent manager maybe you’d both be reprimanded but your manager tended to go between barely-present and nonexistent. No complaints there.
Paul just shakes his head and waves you off.
Finally, you head back to Johnny’s table, only to find him staring out the window and tapping his fingers on the table in what can only be the rhythm of a some sort of melody.
”Song stuck in your head?”. You ask and he turns to see you surprised. He seems to belatedly realize that his hands had been moving unconsciously and he withdrew it from the table, going to fidget with the straw in his empty milkshake glass instead, clearly embarrassed.
”The jukebox’s got a ton of hits, Chuck Berry, Connie Francis, The Harptones. I could go on. You want me to queue anything up? On me”.
You offered, going to thumb one of the nickels you always kept in your apron pocket just for the jukebox just for this occasion, but Johnny just shakes his head. His dark curls hardly moved an inch as he did so, no doubt held in place by an entire can of hairspray and grease.
“No, no. Just uh, lost in my own head a bit there”. He laughs it off. “This place really seems to keep you on your toes, don’t it?”.
You shrugged. “Eh, this is nothing. You should see us during the lunch rush. ‘Specially in the summer when all the kids are outta school”. You leaned forward with a grin. “This one time, I had to serve half a dozen tables right on Fourth of July weekend, you wouldn’t even believe how chaotic that was!”.
“On those skates and everything? You’re kidding!”. Johnny leaned forward too, matching you, and you both huddled together over the table as if you were lovelorn teens about to share a milkshake.
“Of course! No other way to serve so fast”.
”Gosh, I’m so clumsy just on my own two feet. Forget putting wheels on em’. Is today the first spill you’ve ever had?”. Johnny asked and you bit your lip, embarrassed. “Not that it was a full on spill considering my, er, heroic actions”. He preened a bit, and you couldn’t help but think he looked good doing so.
“Unfortunately no. But normally I can at least catch myself or prevent any spills. When I first started, I ended up wearing a milkshake within my first week”. You ruefully shook your head, a bit taken by nostalgia. “But practice makes perfect”.
Johnny paused before a boyish grin appeared on his face before he asked. “Well, I gotta ask… what flavor milkshake was it?”.
And you laugh so hard that you nearly develop hiccups.
You didn’t realize how much time flew by as you chatted with Johnny, with occasional breaks to serve customers and buss tables; But all too soon you realized Johnny had finished up his food, tray now devoid of food and milkshake glass long empty, and it had been far too long with you sitting during your shift. The overhead bell door jingled loudly as if to single an end.
“I really oughta split”. Johnny said, after a long moment of gleeful silence. A shame, he’d only just barely started sharing a story about himself with you. For as much as Johnny could ramble on and on, he seemed to only ever say just enough about himself to not seem secretive. But you got the feeling that there was much more underneath the surface than he was letting on.
“I’ll walk you out?” You offered, strangely feeling not ready to say goodbye just yet. “Well, skate you out I suppose”. You add with an awkward giggle, and Johnny doesn’t protest, rambling on how superior vanilla milkshakes were to chocolate.
There’s a moment where he lingers by the door, hand reaching for the handle before he paused and turned to you. “Are you gonna be workin’ here tomorrow?”. He asks in a rush, as if he only just barely managed to bring himself to ask.
You immediately nodded. “I’m here all week”.
He smiled tentatively. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
A matching smile broke across your face. “Absolutely”.
He fumbled with the door, dragging his eyes away from you to pull it open, before finally slipping out with one last wave, the doors bell jingling signaling his departure.
You watched as he disappeared down the street, and let out a deep sigh that was only interrupted by the jukebox suddenly switching tracks, the previous song fading out only to be replaced by the all too familiar sound of Richie Valens, and Paul immediately groaning: “You gotta be kidding me!”