Title: We need drivers
Chapter 4 - Grabbing a bite
Fandom: Ocean's eleven
Pairing: Virgil/Turk (gen, but slashy theme implied)
Rating: PG
Summary: He can see that Turk has chosen the corner booth, obviously just to get the prettiest waitress to serve them, and by the looks of it he's already chatting her up. Virgil won't say anything about it, though. Virgil POV / Turk POV
A/N: We need drivers takes place during the first movie and is part of the Driving me crazy'Verse (which includes all three movies)
CHAPTER FOUR - GRABBING A BITE
Virgil wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He looks around the warehouse and spots his brother about twenty yards away where he's parking the lift truck. Virgil walks over to him.
"Hey", he says.
Turk climbs down from the truck and stretches his arms back, chest puffing out, back arching.
"Fuck", he mutters. "That thing really cripples you after a while…"
"I'm surprised you can even reach the pedals", Virgil says, out of habit more than anything. "You wanna go grab something to eat?"
Turk replies by doing a half-shrug half-nod, but that's a typical Turk-yes, so Virgil nods and they start walking towards the exit, side by side.
Turk claims that he's in the mood for sushi and Virgil insists on Italian, not that he cares that much either way, he's not really in the mood for anything, he's just hungry, but Turk only wants to get sushi because he knows Virgil doesn't like it, so it's a matter of principle really.
They stand on the sidewalk between the two restaurants and argue about it for a good ten minutes, before Virgil's had enough and suggests they both go get what they want as take-out and then they can eat outside.
"Outside? What on the sidewalk-?"
"No, not on the sidewalk, over by those benches for example-"
"I'm not eating outside, it's too hot-"
"We can sit in the shade-!"
"What shade-?"
Virgil throws his arms up in defeat. He's hungry, no he's starving, and yes it's fucking hot out, so he can think of a number of things he rather be doing than stand in the middle of the street and argue about this, with the sun beating down on him. Especially when he knows his brother is being difficult just to mess with him. He starts walking away, down the street.
"Where you going!" Turk calls after him, but he ignores it.
"Wait up-!" Turk calls out to him then.
After a minute he can hear his brother's footsteps behind him as he jogs to catch up with him.
"Go get your sushi!" Virgil yells without turning around.
"Look, I just don't wanna get Italian, when I know I won't have time to hit the gym later-"
Virgil snorts, that is so typical of his brother. Always working out, counting calories or whatever it is he does. He's worse than a woman. And it's just ridiculous because he's all muscles and broad shoulders, but he could move in to one of those claustrophobic work-out places and live on protein shakes until he looks like Rambo and he'd still be a short jackass with the IQ of a… Virgil doesn't even know, something with a low IQ, a cow or something.
"I don't have to get sushi, I just don't wanna get Italian", Turk insists. "Come on, stop being such a baby!"
"I'm being a baby? You just wanted to get sushi in the first place because you know I hate it!"
"You haven't even given it a chance, how do you know you hate it-?"
"I hate it, and even if I didn't hate it, I don't wanna get it right now, because I'm starving-!"
"Okay fine! We'll get something else, hey look here-!"
Turk stops and grabs Virgil by the back of his shirt to make him stop as well. Virgil swallows a huff, and twists himself free of his brother's grasp, but stays still and follows his line of sight.
"We'll go in here", Turk says. "You can grab a burger or something and I can get a salad, how's that?"
Virgil gives the joint a once-over, it looks like a café from the fifties, the décor and the waitresses' uniforms also look like they belong in the fifties. He eyes the picture menu with the specials on the sign by the door, and then he reluctantly nods.
"Alright", Turk says and starts walking into the place.
Something feels off. Virgil hesitates for a moment, thinking about it.
Did we reach a compromise?
He decides it must be the heat and the exhaustion they both feel, and starts walking inside. Once he gets in, he can see that Turk has chosen the corner booth, obviously just to get the prettiest waitress to serve them, and by the looks of it he's already chatting her up. Virgil won't say anything about it, though. He doesn't mind. It's a nice booth, not directly in the sun from the windows.
He slides onto the seat opposite his brother. It's comfortable too, he thinks. And his brother can flirt with whomever he wants, he could care less. But she better not neglect his coffee refills because she's distracted by it though, he could barely sleep last night and he needs the caffeine if he's going to have the energy to work late again tonight.
"Can I get some coffee?" he asks her, and realises a little too late that he just rudely interrupted her conversation with Turk, but again, caffeine comes first, so he doesn't care.
Turk shoots him a sidelong glance, but he doesn't start bitching about it when the girl leaves. Instead he leans back, arm casually draped along the top of the booth.
King of the world, Virgil thinks and grabs the menu.
Watching his brother glare at the menu like it alone is responsible for all the bad things in the world, Turk has to ward off both amusement and frustration, but also an embarrassing feeling of fondness at the whole picture, because when he's frowning and sulking like this, Virgil looks all of eleven years old and Turk blames it on nostalgia, but he thinks there's something cute about it. Cute like a pathetic little fur ball of a kitten, or a drooling mess of a puppy, not cute the way that skimpy waitress dress is cute or like the cherry-red lip gloss that the young woman a few tables over is wearing is cute.
He grabs his own menu and glances through it until he finds the salads. He hates fucking salads, they're so boring. But it's not like he's got his brother's metabolism and can eat just about anything all the time and still be as lean and graceful as a teenager. Or a ballet dancer. A girl ballet dancer. On the contrary, if he as much as looks at a bowl of pasta, he has to adjust his belt so it won't cut into his belly.
Turk slams the menu down on the table again.
Peggy-Sue comes back with the coffee. Her real name is Hannah, but she looks like a Peggy-Sue. She flutters her fake eye lashes at him when he gives her one of his best smiles. And she fills up his coffee cup first.
Turk looks over at Virgil. Sure enough, he looks like he's just swallowed a slice of lemon.
"Thank you" Turk says when his brother's cup has been filled as well.
"No problem", the girl twitters. "What can I get you to eat?"
"Double-burger", Virgil mutters.
"I'll just have a green salad", Turk says.
The girl's lips twitch, but then she looks between the two of them quickly and something changes in her eyes, like she's just thought of something.
"Thanks doll", Turk adds, a dazzling smile as a cherry on top.
"No problem", she says again, and she smiles back, but this smile is different, Turk notes, it's a typical waitress smile, polite, anonymous, guarded.
Then she's turned on her heel and walked away from their booth before he's had a chance to react. Turk leans out of the booth and looks after her, confused about what just happened.
Sitting up straight again, he looks over at Virgil to see if he's noticed anything weird. But Virgil's still glaring at the menu, even though they've already ordered, and Turk can't be bothered to deal with that.
They don't speak as they wait for their food, and they eat in silence when it gets to them. Peggy-Sue, Hannah Turk corrects himself, refills their coffee cups four times, but not once does she meet his eyes and her smile stays stubbornly polite the whole time.
It's not until she brings their check that the pieces fall into place. She puts the folder next to his empty plate before she grabs it, not in the middle of the table, and usually he wouldn't think anything of it, they take turns paying the check, Virgil and him, but what catches his attention is that where they always get separate checks even without having asked for it, this girl has given them one, and there's definitely no phone number scribbled down anywhere on it either. And then it hits him.
"She thinks we're gay", he tells Virgil.
Virgil just shoots him a dirty look.
"Do I look gay?" Turk insists.
"Yes", Virgil tells him, then he nods toward the check. "Are you gonna get that?"
"Yeah I'll get it", Turk mutters.
Virgil waits for him outside as he settles the bill at the counter. The girl actually looks him in the eye when she gives him back his change, but she's not fluttering any eye lashes, and she's not smiling.
"I hope I didn't offend him, I was just, you know, I thought…"
"What, oh no, don't worry about him!" Turk says and smiles at her.
She smiles back then, sweetly, not flirty by any means, but at least it's genuine.
"Well, he's a very lucky guy", she says.
Turk laughs, tips her and waves good bye from the door. He joins Virgil on the sidewalk and they start to head back toward the warehouse, falling into step next to each other, finding a comfortable rhythm. And not until about five or so blocks down the street does Turk realise he never corrected the waitress about him and Virgil.
End.