Drunkenkissesatdusk - Cecil James - Tumblr Blog

I REALLY need to talk to someone about dinner in america, like I'm going to get sick if I don't

ARE YOU FLIRTING?

pairings — simon (dinner in america) x reader

warnings — swearing, simon may get a little mean idk yet, finally not an already established relationship, a little oblivious reader and a pretty blatant simon, tiny bit of projecting (just to say the reader likes riot grrl music), one mention of smoking (and a scene where they do smoke weed i’m sorry it’s a part of his character forgive me please)

summary — working at a record shop was supposed to be fun and relaxed, yet you (specifically you) have a regular customer who sometimes asks for recommendations and seems to have a staring problem.

notes — okay so hey… i watched dinner and america… this is my literal longest thing written sorry

i. the first time you met Simon

━━━━━━━ IT WAS QUIET, the silent hum of music flowing in from the vinyl player. it was connected to speakers, filling what would have been an unbearable silence, which would conjure a consistent ringing in your ears. you didn’t want that.

you were used to the dragging and seemingly endless Mondays at the record shop. most days did seem quiet, minus the days there would be some real shows of people who can’t sell physical copies and people who can’t sing. you hated it, but you loved working with music.

besides, who’d pass up being able to play whatever record they wanted through the entire store?

you wouldn’t.

flipping through a comic you grabbed from the dwindling comic section, the door rang. briefly looking up, a man walked through. he seemed pissed off, but clearly wasn’t mad at you.

you could see the top of his head at the punk rock section, and didn’t let your gaze linger. the comic - what one you chose, you didn’t seem to remember the title of - was somewhat capturing.

you didn’t like the female character, you didn’t like the male character either (you didn’t like any characters), but you had nothing better to do. if you had been in high school still, you’d probably be doing homework hunched over the front counter.

“excuse me?” you looked up, a police officer with his shiny badge was standing in front of you, and you could see the guy crouched on the floor. you’d never lied to an officer of the law, but everyone starts somewhere.

“hey; what’s up? we just got a new order of Metallica, if you’ve got somewhat good music taste.” you grinned. the officer didn’t, and your face fell again.

“i’m lookin’ for this man.” he slapped a flyer poster down, you looked at the page. Simon, whoever he was, was clearly in need of a haircut.

“so’s a haircut.” you scoffed, sliding it forwards and shaking your head, “sorry dude, no Simon’s here.” the officer glared at you and looked to a corner suddenly.

your eyes flashed to who you’d guess to be Simon, crouched behind a rack. hurriedly, you waved for him to lay flat. dropping your hair seconds before the officer saw, he gave you a hard nod and left.

opening the employees only entrance to behind the counter, it wasn’t hard to find him laying on the ground. “i’m guessing you’re Simon?” you hummed, standing over him with your arms crossed over your chest.

“who are you?” he spat. after a brief introduction, you walked away from him. sliding to the riot grrl section, your hands seemed to automatically find a Bikini Kill album. you grinned at walked back behind the counter.

you didn’t see Simon afterwards, he’d left out of the front entrance and walked somewhere. you were reading your comic again.

ii. second time meeting him, and he stays longer.

━━━━━━━ FRIDAYS, the only days that your manager opened the stage in the back of the building for live performances. typically it was packed, and you’d have to remove a few drunk teenagers and break up a few couples from having sex right then and there, but it seemed emptier than before.

you found out that quickly that you’d spoken too soon, as a flood of people came in and the back door bands used buzzed. you groaned internally - and externally - and opened the door. flashing your customer service smile, you pointed them to the back.

there was a small fluster of background noise after everyone went to the back and flooded that area.

you already missed your silence.

“hey, you the worker from Monday?” Simon, familiar in the second cluster of people, asked you when he separated from the hoard. you nodded, biting back a yawn and cracking your back when you finally stood up straight.

“not gonna go listen t’the band?” you slurred as you fought back a yawn again.

“nah, not yet. those assholes don’t know how to play.” Simon scoffed. you grinned tiredly.

“almost every band that plays here doesn’t know how to. i wish we sold alcohol here, i’d love to drink right now.” you hummed, tapping your hand against the table. “or coffee.” you muttered. the muttered phrase was meant for just you, but Simon seemed to have heard.

he didn’t say anything else, spinning around and walking to the back.

iii. meeting after rude customers

━━━━━━━ YOU DIDNT REALLY REMEMBER what day it was. but you were standing behind the same counter like before, as you did nearly every day of the week.

“excuse me?” the woman was blond, wearing high-heel stilettos and a short pink skirt and matching juicy couture top, “you sold my son this, and he is not allowed to listen to whatever soon-to-be-drug-dealer drugs you put in this music. i want a refund.” she annoyingly chewed her gum, loud nails clacking against her glasses when she went to readjust them.

“sorry ma’am, no refunds.” you huffed.

“that’s just… unacceptable! you have to give me a refund.” she exclaimed.

“dude, i literally can’t. im sorry but im not allowed to.” deadpanning her, your eyes - donning a bored look cast through her eyes - met her sunglasses. you could see your expression, uninterested and tired. she lowered them to glare at you.

“i don’t care what the hell your rules say, give me a fucking refund!” she exclaimed.

“dude can you not yell? it’s not in my hands.” you scoffed.

“give me a fucking refund!” she screamed. then the door rang (only you seemed to hear it) and you could hear a slightly familiar thudding footsteps approaching you and this woman and her awkward looking son.

“christ lady, shut the hell up and accept that you aren’t getting a damn refund.” Simon overstepped her, cutting her off and practically forcing her away from you and the counter.

you grinned small, leaning against the back counter. it didn’t take awhile for the woman to give up and walk off. her son silently followed behind her.

a silence followed afterwards, you waited for Simon to say something and you assumed he was waiting for you to say something. neither of you did for a little, and you silently cursed yourself out for not having an album spinning at the moment.

“people do that often?” Simon reached into his pocket, shuffling around in it until he produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. you cringed silently.

“nah, only when i’m super lucky.” you huffed. Simon brought a cigarette to his lips and flicked his lighter on. promptly, he lit the cigarette and took a drag from it.

“call that lucky?” he raised an eyebrow.

“ask a lot of questions?” you retaliated, exiting the front counter and finding yourself in the riot grrl section again. after you found an album, you opened it, prepared it, and put it on the record player.

with music in the background, you let another tsunami of silence flush over the two of you. it wasn’t awkward since you were more focused on unpacking a newer shipment of vinyls.

the store had recent had a flush of customers and bands playing, which helped you get a raise, but didn’t help your slight social awkwardness. you managed to cope by not hanging out with people outside of work anymore.

with your sudden interest switching to the new vinyls, you didn’t notice Simon leaving.

iv. coworkers and being hit on

━━━━━━━ AS MUCH AS IT SEEMED YOU DIDN’T, you did have coworkers. a few high school students and then a few older middle-aged guys. despite that, you didn’t really like most of them.

you liked the peace that came with single-person shifts, which were mostly what was worked, but events that had multiple bands coming up meant there’d be more than one worker.

you didn’t have to go into work until evening.

but that evening, you were displeased to see the most irritating coworker of yours by far. Chase, a middle aged man who still lived with his parents and was “voluntarily celibate”, was consistently hitting on you.

you didn’t like him, and you made it very obvious. sometimes you were so blatant you thought any child could understand you clearly. Chase was worse than a child.

not to mention, you’d grown accustomed to seeing Simon on most of your shifts, and it had been awhile since he’d shown up. you were a little worried, but you didn’t know him all that well regardless.

you still worried.

during the later half of the shift, the one that included the bands showing up and having to spend all your shift breaking up fights, sex, and so much more you never wanted to talk about anymore.

“hey,” Chase said with your name afterwards, “y’know we could go catch a drink after this.” he offered. you stared at him blankly. you clocked in 5 minutes ago.

“no.” you deadpanned, resting your already beginning-to-ache head against the cold counter. Chase was on the other side, but was still talking to you.

when the door opened, and you could hear the familiar stomping of Simon’s boots, you grinned just a little. you could hear him practically storming closer to the front, as Chase continued to blabber on and on about going out with him.

Simon called your name, and you rose your head. “cmon, i wanna talk to you.” he didn’t look at Chase, just at you. you groaned dramatically, going to slam your head down. a hand on the counter where you were gonna let your head thud against stopped it.

Simons hand led to his body, and his eyes were waiting for you to go with him.

so you did.

you had 30 minutes, and this would count for your break instead of you just taking it later on. you’d probably hate yourself for that later on, but now that you weren’t being hit on by Chase and there were no mean customers, you were happy.

“you smoke?” Simon held up a pre-rolled joint.

“no, i haven’t.” you shook your head.

“wanna try?”

“sure.”

twenty minutes later, you were lying on your back on the blanket you laid out to sit on. Simon was beside you, still sitting up. with the affects of the weed passing over you, your sudden need to have your hands on someone else sent your hands to draw shapes on Simon’s back.

he didn’t seem to notice, or care, and let you carry on.

“where have you been lately?” you asked carefully, your words softly spoken with a grin across your face and eyelids drooping to nearly being closed.

“out.” he hummed. you didn’t bring it back up, letting his words be the only explanation. “you got a boyfriend? girlfriend?” he asked. you shook your head, you didn’t have a relationship because most of your time had unfortunately been devoted to the record shop.

“do you?” you asked him right back.

“nah.” Simon mumbled.

“hey, breaks over.” Chase said, his head popped out of the door. you groaned dramatically, letting your body go lax and not moving.

Simon grinned, his head turned to look at you. every other body part was still, except for your hand - which you kept on a consistent movement drawing a star over and over again.

when he stood up, you frowned as your hand dropped. he reached down again, whisking you from the floor and helping you stand.

for the rest of the night, Simon stayed in the shop until you were done with work and about to walk home. without you noticing, he began walking with you and another joint was shared.

once you made it home, you unlocked the door and let you and Simon in. it was an apartment complex, and you led your guest alongside you to the elevators, which you used to find your apartment.

you unlocked that door too, and let Simon in and closed the door behind you both. “y’hungry?” you asked him. he shrugged, which you took as a ‘yes’, so you began making a box of mac ‘n’ cheese.

Simon took it upon himself to explore your apartment in that moment. you didn’t stop him, letting him look around and walk through every room. after some time, you called him back over and handed him the bowl of food, sitting down on the couch.

after eating, you and Simon found yourself basking in the soft glow of the moonlight on your balcony. it was calm, and there wasn’t really anything happening, seeing as it was around 12 a.m. at this point.

you could’ve fallen asleep out there, the guy you brought with you sitting separated from you by the door, a choice he made himself. you didn’t bother telling him he could come closer, if he didn’t want to sit by you originally then he didn’t have to in the end. you were fine with it.

“i’m gonna go, alright?” Simon said after an hour or so of sitting outside with nothing really happening. you nodded, weakly and tiredly waved goodbye.

he was gone after that.

v. record recommendations

━━━━━━━ YOU DIDN’T SEE SIMON FOR a few weeks after that. you didn’t expect to entirely, he was a little flaky like that, but you at least thought he could tolerate you better than dropping from the face of the earth suddenly.

you spent awhile alone at work again, standing behind the register listening to music and doing stupid stuff, it grew more and more boring.

you missed Simon’s presence. it was the one thing that differed from your typical workday which made everything a little more tolerable.

rather than rest on pondering the “what if”s of this whole situation, you’d found a rather interesting pass time. you began listening to more albums in an attempt to expand your music taste.

even that was in vain - it never worked.

after a week, you gave up the final sliver of hope and stopped wishing. you happily grew more adjusted to spending shifts without anyone with you, and it became easier and easier to go to work.

the third day after what you’d dubbed “The Acceptance” (you had nothing better to do, and were now clinging onto anything that could make it all more interesting) the door chimed and you could see the familiar face and hear the familiar stomping.

“hey, welcome in. do you need help finding anything?” if he wanted to be flaky, you could be petty and treat him like a normal customer. you held up a faux smile, throwing on your “customer ready” face.

Simon stared at you, and you patiently waited for him to do something, say something. but he didn’t. he continued to stare, which grew slightly more irritating.

you huffed internally, cussing him out in your mind while you were at it, spinning on your feet and walking to the side where boxes of new shipment lay.

pulling one up to counter, you grabbed the box cutters and opened it. a new set of the most sold album. you didn’t expect these to last awhile.

“excuse me?” a father with his son walked up to the counter closest to where you were opening boxes to restock the inventory.

you looked up, “yeah what’s up?” you set the cutters down and walked to the front counter.

“do you guys have anymore Korn albums? specifically Follow the Leader.” the father asked. you hummed, walking into the back after quickly excusing yourself. walking back out, album in hand, you were surprised to see Simon still standing there.

you gave the father and son the album, checked them out, and sent them out with a smile.

“did you need something, dude?” you finally broke the silence, back turned to Simon as you kept unpacking box after box.

you didn’t hear anything for a minute, and you prepared to say something else. “that genre you like, give me a recommendation for a band.” his voice was rough, and he sounded hesitant.

you turned around again to stare at him, sighing and complying. you gave him a Bikini Kill album (Pussy Whipped, specifically) and checked him out. as you went to say goodbye, he stomped off.

vi. admittance

━━━━━━━ THE NEXT TIME YOU SAW Simon, was a week later. you’d grown even more used to his absence, and no longer felt as bored as you originally did. you felt the same as before Simon showed up.

it’s like he never walked in.

until he did, the first day you met him and now.

“has anyone flirted with you?” he demanded as soon as he got to the counter. you stared at him in mock-awe.

“seriously, Simon? you turn into a disappearing act like you’re goddamn Houdini, but now you can walk in here and use that type of tone?” you rolled your eyes. huffing, you shook your head tiredly.

“has anyone flirted with you?” he repeated his question. your anger subsided into confusion.

“pretty sure, probably not seriously. why?” you hesitated to answer at first, genuine curiosity running through you like your own blood.

“that explains it. when are you off? or going on break?” he asked.

“i get off in an hour, and my break was like twenty minutes ago. why?” you took a step closer to the one thing stopping you from walking straight up to Simon.

he shook is head, “i’ll be back in an hour, then.” he muttered, turning around and stomping out.

the hour that you had left was dragging on suddenly, and your body practically shook with nerves and insecurity and one too many thoughts for the rest of the day.

you tried everything to get rid of it, attempting to listen to music (your thoughts were louder), attempting to read a book (the words moved when you tried focusing, like they were shaking with your nerves), and trying to work on inventory (there was nothing to unbox).

once it was over, and you were clocking out, you were surprised to see Simon driving a blue truck. he waited for you, as you hesitantly approached the car. with a single honk of his car and a mean glare, you got in quickly.

he hardly waited for you to get in before driving off. you didn’t get scared or anything, you just braced yourself and got comfortable in the plush seats.

“who’s truck is this?” you quizzed.

“my friends.” he bluntly spoke, leaving no room for any other conversation.

it didn’t really bother you, the silence was comforting and now that you were with Simon, your previous nerves and feelings had been dropped entirely.

after what seemed to be around an hour, Simon pulled onto a desolate dirt road, that switched to a untouched grassy trail. your relaxation turned into confusion. was he about to kill you? you expected you’d live a few more years, but maybe you were wrong.

he parked near a cliff, and got out. you went to follow him, but he closed your door before you could. you watched him in confusion as he circled the car and opened it for you.

you looked at him, even more confused than before. this was not like the Simon you had been talking to in the past.

“who are you and what have you done with Simon?”

“shut up and come the fuck on.” now it sounded like the Simon you knew, you grinned playfully and got out.

“are you taking me here to kill me?” you questioned carefully.

“why the hell would i do that?” he turned to you, confusion written across his face.

“no clue, not every serial killer needs a motive.” you tapped your temple after saying that, before pointing at him.

“what the fuck.” he muttered.

“you choose to bring me here!” you exclaimed.

“clearly, i made a mistake.” Simon complained, watching as you walked closer to him.

“why did you bring me here?” you finally asked, folding your arms over your chest and patiently waiting for his answer.

“isn’t it obvious?” he scoffed. you shook your head with an eyebrow raised. what was supposed to be obvious? you waited for him to continue.

“jesus christ. i fucking like you, dumbass.” he emphasized the insult at the end. you rolled your eyes before stopping. it was like everything around you practically did the same thing - stopped.

you stared at him long and hard.

“you’re lying, right?” you hesitated to break the seemingly ever-lasting silence, but what was done is done, and Simon was the one rolling his eyes.

“no, i’m not. are you really this dense?” he was getting mad now.

“well, sure.” you shrugged one shoulder, letting your arms unfold and fall to your sides. he scoffed - which seemed to be his favorite thing to do. it didn’t help how awkward you were.

sure you had been mad at him, but now, thinking back, you could feel the undertones of yearning for his care, and yearning for a relationship. you sighed, looking down to regain your confidence before looking back up.

“if it makes you less mad, i like you too.” you hummed with a sly grin.

masterlist — reminder that asks / requests is open!!

me (this relates to this weeks cook that i’m working on)

i just watched dinner in america im a changed man

i swear guys i’m trying to cook but school got insanely more busy and stuff

expect smth soon… 😈🙏

Jason, reading a newspaper: "Holy shit. Lex Luthor's name is Alexander? I had no idea..."

Tim: "What, you thought his parents just named him Lex?"

Jason, shrugging: "Well, yeah. Parents are always calling their kids dumb shit. Look at Dick."

Tim: "...You know Dick is short for Richard, right?"

Jason, setting his paper down: "What."

i’m sorry, jason just looks like a guy who man spreads like way too much. he sits next to you at a concert? good luck trying to be comfortable because his leg is gonna be all up in your space. want to relax on the couch? too bad, jason needs that room for his legs. oh, the batkids have to squish into the backseat of a car? yeah… no. jason kinda needs that whole seat to himself…

I may be fucked up in the head but at least I'm tucked up in the bed

no capes au dick and jason referring to tim as gala kid, before he’s adopted because he was the only other kid at the galas and they forgot his name.

jason post coma: what the heck bruce you adopted gala kid??

dick: his name is tim

jason: oh fr?

bruce: jason please be more sensitive his parents died

jason: omg welcome to the club

dick laughing: that’s what i told him!

I think it'd be funny if Martha and Thomas wayne were brought back to life somehow and they saw how poorly Bruce was treating the batkids and whipped him into shape like dragging him down by the ear like "now how would *you* like to be treated like garbage? You wouldn't like it. Apologize now."