(A/N: Tied into the headcanon I posted on tumblr that Seeker powers and Titan summoning burns crazy amounts of calories {aka energy} and after missions Seekers need to scarf down as much food as possible to replenish their body.

Also, six Seekers plus drive thru fast food? Yeah I needed that situation in my head.)

Drive Thru

"Hello!" Dante smiled at the very bored looking young man at the order window. The elite Seeker had his elbow hanging out the front window as he leaned over to order. It was late, actually on the cusp of being early, but after a hell of a mission that took forty-seven nonstop hours, no one on the team was really on a normal body clock.

The employee blinked slowly and let out a long sigh. "Welcome to Burger Busters, may I take your order?"

Unfazed by his attitude, Dante rattled off the usual post-mission order. "Could we get twelve double cheeseburgers, six chicken crisper sandwiches, seven large fries, and…Zhaal, you want anything besides the fries?"

Zhalia pulled one of her earbuds out. "Huh? Oh. Two crispers and two triple stacks. Thanks, babe."

"No problem. Sorry, so that's eight chicken crispers and two triple stack burgers–"

Den's head suddenly popped up between the two front seats. "Oh! Do you guys have those apple pie things?"

"This isn't McDonalds, sit your ass back down." Zhalia put her hand on Den's face and pushed him away, sending him tumbling back down the middle walkway of the van.

Not a second later Harrison replaced his brother, cheeks looking even more gaunt than usual in the ghostly white lights of the drive thru. "Can I get forty nuggets? With honey mustard?"

"And fifty nuggets with honey mustard and sweet barbeque, please." Dante added. At the questioning look Harrison gave him for the increased number the detective just shrugged. "Cherit likes their barbeque sauce."

Den whined from where he was stuffed behind Lok and Sophie's middle seats in the van. "Hey! Why did Harrison get to ask for stuff?"

Zhalia rolled her eyes. "Because he's scrawny and you get fifths every time Dante makes sandwiches." She again put her hand on the invading face and shoved it back. "Put your damn seat belts back on. I'm not cleaning your face prints off the windshield again. Sophie, Lok, make sure they buckle up."

"Aye-aye, madame capy-tan." Lok saluted and turned in his seat to push both the Fears boys into their respective sides of the back row and clip them in, ignoring their protests and more than a few slaps to the back of his head.

Dante kept the broad smile plastered on his face as he looked back to the frizzy haired youth at the order window. "Aaannd I think that's everything. Thanks," He squinted at the young man's nametag, "Michael."

Michael blinked again and creaked his order screen to face the crowded van. "Uhh…this correct?" After six months working third shift next to a university campus, not much surprised him anymore.

"Yep, looks like everything!"

The monitor squeaked again as it was turned back. "Your total is seventy two pounds and ninety five pence." The youth droned. "Please pull up to the–" He stopped midsentence, pressing the button on his headset with the same sleepy energy that infected his voice. "What? …Okay. Okay. I'll tell them." He lowered his hand and looked at the Seekers with dead, food service worker eyes. "Yeah, the boss says you guys have to park while the stuff gets made." He blinked twice, long and slow as he contemplated spicing his late shift up a bit. "And he says you lot are probably bloody kooks."

"Your boss is not wrong." Sophie muttered, scrolling through her phone. She pulled her credit card from the back of her case and passed it over Dante's shoulder without looking up. "Here. Put it on mine."

After a few awkward moments trying to first slide, then tap the chipped card, Dante paid and pulled into the reserved space for pending orders and turned the engine off. It was silent for a short time before Zhalia pulled her earbuds out again.

"The sad thing is, that's not even the most food we've ordered in one go."

Lok grinned. "Two hundred thirty eight Euros and eighteen cents. Foundation record." He kicked his legs out as far as he could without hitting the back of Zhalia's seat and fold his hands behind his head in smug, juvenile satisfaction.

Dante shook his head and chuckled. "Plaque on headquarters wall and everything."