Drabble based on the idea that Bane is actually still Tom Hardy-hot under his mask and just pretends to be disfigured. AU.
This was originally posted to my tumblr, oh, about a week ago? Thought I'd post it up here as well.
Disclaimer: I do not own the character of Bane, nor do I own Tom Hardy. More's the pity.
"Break's over, Em. Better hop-to before Donna finds your lazy ass back here!"
Em scowled and playfully flipped her co-worker the bird. "Yeah, yeah." Shrugging on her uniform vest, Em brushed the vending-machine-cookie crumbs from her pants and plodded on back to her station.
Of course, there was a customer fiddling around at the self checkout unattended. Donna, the head cashier, gave her the evil eye as she strode past. Em could only sigh. Shiiiit.
It was the graveyard shift, although in a 24 hour megamart like this, there was always someone who needed frozen pizza or greeting cards no matter how late or early it was in the outside world. Em had learned that "normal" wasn't just a relative term, it was a ridiculous one—especially in Gotham.
"Need some help?" She asked, coming up behind the man trying to use the machine. His back straightened at the sound of her voice, and Em's thoughts stalled as 'whoa shit big dude' flashed through her head. Understatement—he was enormous!
Then he turned to look at her and Em felt her jaw drop in surprise as another realization hit her: the guy was slap-your-mother gorgeous.
His eyes crinkled at the corners and a low, lightly accented voice issued forth from his full lips: "If you don't mind."
"Ah…no…" Em cleared her throat, suddenly self-conscious of her dark circles and slightly greasy hair. Why was fate so cruel, sending a god like this into Walmart at 2:30 in the morning?
"Eh-hem. You, uh, you wanna start here," Em indicated the screen above the scanner, with its large 'press here to start' button clearly visible. Why were the pretty ones always so dumb?
The man raised a hand to jab at the panel, and Em couldn't help but notice his fingers, long and thick and scarred across the knuckles.
"Okay, great. Now you just swipe your stuff over this part." Em grabbed the first of his items from the belt, a spool of heavy-duty wire, and glided it over the scanner. It beeped agreeably.
"I see," he murmured, and Em felt a tingle shoot up her spine. Lord have mercy.
The man watched, unblinking, as Em shook open a fresh plastic bag and dropped the spool into it. "That's about all there is to it until you get to the payment bit."
"Thank you for your assistance," he replied, and Em only had the strength to hold that scalding gaze for a moment before looking away. Her eyes were drawn to his other items instead.
Holy shit.
He had raided the home improvement and automotive aisles, apparently. Everything from antifreeze to nails, rope and wax and rubbing alcohol, a stack of plastic ponchos and several kinds of oil and lube…what the hell kind of party was this dude throwing?
And how could she get an invite?
"Want me to, um, grab you a cart for all that?" She mumbled, torn between her desire to bask in this man's otherworldly beauty and the urge to bash her head into a wall out of sheer flustered embarrassment.
"I suppose," was his distracted answer, his attention focused on the screen as he scanned items and watched the order total increase. Em coughed into her fist and scurried off.
By the time she returned, cart in tow, her intimidating customer had already scanned and paid for all of his items. She blinked and took a quick look at the computer, but it was silent and cheerfully blinking 'press here to start.' Huh.
"Wow, that was fast," Em quipped, turning the cart around as the rusty wheels squawked in protest.
The man simply nodded, and Em thought it strange how his face hardly seemed to move except for his expressive eyes. Jesus, if she was that disturbingly hot she'd never stop smiling!
He loaded his bags into the cart as Em stood aside, shifting from foot to foot and feeling awkward.
Finally he clamped both huge hands on the handlebar of the cart, preparing to leave. He nodded once at Em in farewell.
Last chance last chance last chance, her brain screamed.
"Wait!" Em yelped, flushing. He paused and looked at her, lovely face blank.
"Um, will you, uh, be back again sometime? I mean I kinda…I wanna see you again," she admitted all in a rush. This was so humiliating, but why not try her luck? Stranger things had happened in this town.
The man observed her, squirming and blushing but standing her ground, before at last saying "You will."
And abruptly leaving, his cart squeaking as it struggled to stay ahead of his long-legged strides.
Em felt light-headed. What did that mean, exactly? Dammit!
"What the f—Em!" Donna shrieked. "What happened to this unit?!"
Em spun around in time to watch the screen of the checkout her nameless dreamboat had been using flicker and turn blue as a horrible bip-bip-bip-bip noise filled the air.
Later they would learn the computer had been corrupted, and all the money emptied from the machine. All that remained was a half-printed receipt for a spool of wire.
Em kept it.