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marmie-noir · 8 months ago

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Magic Mike Audition

TW: A real jerk of a customer, minor injuries, I feel like shirtless Mitch is a warning? Nothing crazy this time ya'll.

Per usual not edited, please forgive any mistakes but I had written this by hand and then typed it up.

Also, if you were the human who said something about Sunny wearing Mitch's clothes, this is obviously inspired! I can't find the note/info in my activity because of the boop madness but TYSM!!

I glanced up as Ann approached, a small frown out of place with her normally chipper attitude. “What?” I asked, straightening with a stack of dirty plates balanced on one hand, glasses in the other. Our bus boy had called off and it had been super busy, Mitch barely even getting out from behind the bar to help us out on the floor. At least the tips were nice if nothing else, the people seeing how we were swamped with two waitresses, no buser, and one bartender.

“Guy at 10 is an ass.” She muttered, looking over her shoulder. I followed her gaze and spotted a middle aged man mean mugging her. “What is his problem?” I asked, glancing back at her as we walked to the kitchen together. She began punching an order into the POS screen back there while I cleared the plates I had brought back, lining them up in the sturdy plastic tray prepping to be washed. The young dishwasher gave me a thankful smile and I returned it. He was a nice kid Mitch had just taken on, sweet by shy.

“Says he hates redheads.” Ann snipped, the sound of her nails hitting the POS screen a loud tapping noise in the kitchen. I frowned, seeing that she was very clearly a loud and proud redhead, her pretty hair pinned out of her face but in no way hidden. “Want me to take him?” I offered. I didn’t really mind difficult customers and if his issue really was redheads then problem solved.

She glanced at me, fingers pausing over the poor screen she had been abusing moments before. “You sure?” I gave a small shrug. “Sure, why not. You’ve had a few jerks today, share the love and all that.” Her grin was immediate. “You are an angel. You hear that, Keller? Sunny is a real angel!”

Hearing her say his name I looked back to find Mitch was in the kitchen at the pick up window getting a few orders for his customers at the bar. He paused, glancing between myself and Ann before sending me a half smile. “I know.” He said, grabbing the plates full of food. “But why do you think she is?”

Ann gave me an amused look, always a little entertained that Mitch was never shy about complimenting me. “Because,” She said, wrapping up the last of her order, the few final clicks of her nails on the screen sounding somehow more satisfied. “She’s jumping on one massive asshole grenade.” Flashing me one last smile Ann breezed out of the kitchen, obviously lighter now that she had been relieved of table 10.

“Darlin’.” Mitch said, a plate balanced on each hand, looking down at me but giving nothing away. “Explain.” “Table 10 told Ann he doesn’t like redheads so I’m gonna take it from her.” I said, smiling at him with a little ‘shoo’ motion. “I’m a big girl, cowboy. That food is gonna get cold if you keep standing here pesterin me.” “Sunny.” “Mitch.” I said his name with a smile on my lips. “You can see me from the bar. Now git.” “You tell ‘im girl.” Charlie called from over the pit grill, making me laugh as I left the kitchen as well.

Ann of course had been right. This guy was an absolute dick. A whole fucking bag of them really. Not only was he rude, but he was also picky, a tragic combination in a human. His beer had to have three orange slices, three, he had repeated at least six times while I write it down with the patience of a saint. His fried pickles had to be extra crispy, and his ribs had to be drowning in sauce. He spoke in a condescending, slow tone, pausing to ensure I wrote down every one of his words as if they were scripture. And the douche canoe made sure to let me know that he had absolutely no issues sending food back. Shocker.

I went to the back to grab the pickles when they came up, dropping them at his table before checking in with my other tables as I was covering half the dining area. He didn’t kick up a fit so I thought I was in the clear.

I was wrong.

I heard Charlie hit the little bell that let us know that some food was in the window. Knowing mine was up next I went to the back and spotted what could only be described as a plate of bar-b-que sauce, ribs barely visible with the amount of sauce. The plates had a raised edge so quiet a bit was on there, but he had been very insistent he wanted them swimming and those ribs were damn near doing laps.

I grabbed the plate carefully and the other plate with his sides, as they obviously couldn’t go with the ‘swimming’ ribs. “Thanks Charlie!” I called as I walked out, beelining to table 10.

I slid the plates before him with a friendly smile, not betting on a tip but trying to still be polite. Glancing up I noticed his beer with his three orange slices was nearly gone and I paused. “Would you like ano-” “What is this?” He cut me off, looking down at the plate at what I would personally call bar-b-que soup at this point. “Oh,” I said, brushing off his interruption. “Those would be your ribs, and I had your sides put on another plate. Does it not look right?” I asked, knowing full well this was exactly what he ordered.

“Do you think this is funny?” He snapped, eyes lifting to focus on me now, clearly not pleased. “Do I look like I’m laughing?” I asked, looking down at him as my hands rested on my hips. I was polite to a point, didn’t mind working with customers on their weird requests, but this guy was just the absolute worst. I was kind, but I was no doormat. “You ordered exactly what is in front of you. If something looks wrong I can fix it, but you’ve got to tell me.” His face turned a shade of red I’d never seen, skin blotchy with his brows pinching together. He slowly stood, glaring down at me before doing something I hadn’t been prepared for.

Putting his hand under the lip of the plate the asshole flicked it towards me, the lake of sauce and ribs splattering against my front as the plate fell to the floor. It shattered loudly, the ribs falling next as I stood there. The sauce was hot, not to the point of it being dangerous, but it didn’t feel pleasant. “Oh no.” I heard someone say but I was already moving.

“Alright asshole, come here.” I growled, hands falling into fists as I went to swing. A cool hand wrapped around my upper arm, stopping me mid strike and I wrestled against Ann’s hold. Luckily for this asshole Ann was scrappy, stronger than she looked, and she began to pull me away from the jerk who looked far too smug. “Let me- Ann! Let me go!”

“Let Mitch handle this one, Sugar.” She whispered to me, pulling me to the back. I looked back at the asshole of a customer only to see him getting literally dragged out to the parking lot by Mitch whose face reminded me of thunder clouds right before a violent storm.

“God damnit.” I cursed under my breath, marching to the back without a fight as the target of my rage was out of sight. Ann followed after me, a little like a nervous bird fluttering about for a few moments before finally settling on trying to get some sauce off my front with a handful of rags. There was just way too much, I felt it smear on my skin, the sweet smokey scent filling my senses. But it gave her something to do, and distracted me, irritated I hadn’t even gotten a punch in.

There was a tense few moments of Ann basically smearing still warm sauce on my shirt before she glanced up. “M’sorry, Sunny.” She murmured, bright eyes dropping back down to the mess she was really only making worse with her efforts. Her tone and expression sucked the anger right out me. I deflated, a long sigh pulling from me before I shook my head. “Ann, no. Hey.” I gave her arm a squeeze, thankfully not leaving any smears on her. Someone had to be able to handle tables while I got cleaned up, not both of us could be 90% sauce after all. “That guy was gonna be a jerk no matter what. That isn’t your fault, okay? It’s fine. I’m not hurt I’m just… sauced.” I admitted, nose scrunching slightly at the unpleasant feeling.

“Perfect good waste of my sauce, too.” Charlie chimed in, sounding grumpy. Ann and I exchanged a look before cracking up. “What? It is!” Mitch walked in, hands fisted at his sides, pausing in surprise to find Ann and I both laughing. I’m sure he had expected to have to come in and handle a demon (me), but really nothing bad had happened. Least he didn’t grab my ass. Seeing us both unharmed and apparently in good spirits he moved closer. “Ann, tables.” He ordered, still a bit tense.

“On it boss.” She said, winking at me before handing me the sauce smeared rags and heading back out to the dining area. Mitch didn’t look away from me, taking in the mess that I was and the way Ann had certainly not helped. “C’mon.” He said, gesturing with a tilt of his head towards his office.

I followed after him, careful not to accidentally bump into him or the walls. The moment the door was closed Mitch reached out and plopped me down on the edge of his desk with no warning. The feeling of his hands on my hips, lifting and then lowering me had my eyes widening slightly and I looked up at him.

Before I could react or say anything he spoke first. “You okay, darlin’?” He asked, hand lifting and thumb brushing against my cheek. I felt something smear and knew that I had sauce there too.

“M’okay.” I murmured quietly, looking up at him. “Sauce was a little hot but not too bad. I’m mostly mad.” I admitted. That got me a half smile which was a vast improvement.

His fingers lingered on my cheek a moment before falling to the hem of my shirt. “Course you are fine, what was I thinking?” He muttered mostly to himself, amused as he started to peel off my shirt. Mitch was careful, ensuring that the shirt didn’t get anything into my hair or smear it on my skin more than it already was. I let him knowing I would have struggled and made a larger mess. Plus, there was no saving the shirt with how drenched it was.

He tossed the shirt into the bin and it made a spat noise that had me frowning. Together the two of us cleaned the sauce with Mitch getting most of it, grabbing the package of baby wipes Ann kept in her cubby for emergencies. She swore they were the best make up removal wipes ever but hadn’t tested it myself. Worked wonders of bar-b-que sauce though.

‘At least I wore a plain bra.’ I thought, thankful that the simple black bra wasn’t in danger of being ruined. If one of my cute pale ones had gotten sauced I would have been pissed. Mitch gave me one more once over and I noticed that some of my skin was a little pink and sensitive. Guess the sauce was hotter than I had felt. I wasn’t too bad though, more annoying almost than anything, a dull pain. Mitch’s touch was unbelievably soft though, fingertips glossing over my skin gently as he helped to clean me up. It was nice, and while I wouldn’t voluntarily step in the way of flying plates in the future, I didn’t mind getting this kind of treatment from the man looming over me. On his desk. The very desk where he had me falling apart just last week.

As if reading my thoughts Mitch’s eyes slid up from the middle to meet mine, the zing of awareness coloring my cheeks slightly. He let out an amused little exhale, lips quirking up, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he took a little step back, tossing the used wipes into the bin as well before grabbing the first aid kit.

Without the heat of his larger form close I felt goosebumps race up my arms and I frowned, glancing around the office to see if I could find a spare shirt to borrow for the rest of my shirt. Normally Mitch had a few shirts with the bar's logo on it for people to buy, but hadn’t ordered any in a hot minute.

Mitch came back with the kit, settling the little metal box next to me on the desk before popping it open. “Lean back a little, I want to get some burn cream on your stomach.” He said, pulling a little packet of said cream from the kit, eyes on the pink skin of my abdomen. “I don’t need it, honest.” I tried to reassure him, not wanting him to go through all the fuss. Mitch reached out silently, his hand gentle as he pressed against my collarbone so I had to lean back, my arms holding more of my weight. “Humor me.” He said in that honey laced tone that had me nodding mutely, looking up at him all doe eyed. “Good girl.” He praised, voice low and sweet, the words rumbling from him into the small space between us. Then he began to apply the cream to any part of my skin that was looking a little irritated or pink. It was cold, I sucked in a little breath that had his pretty blue eyes jumping to my face to check in. Seeing that it hadn’t been a pain induced sound he smirked before continuing. His touch was gentle, borderline adoring even, rubbing little circles with a light pressure as the cream soaked into my skin. It hadn’t been a bad burn but it had been a little sore, almost like a sunburn. Still, I was touched that he insisted on taking care of them, as non-serious as they were.

His hands slid up my bare sides, palms a little rough on my skin in the best way, his thumbs rubbing soothing little circles along the way. I was smiling, watching his hands glide over my skin before glancing up at him through my lashes. This man either had no idea how handsome he was or he didn’t care, even now in this moment with those thick lashes and deep blue eyes. The way his hair fell a little from his hat, or the way his lips were just slightly parted as he concentrated on me. Focused. It was addictive, having his complete and total attention. “It does feel better.” I admitted, earning another smile from him. Mitch leaned in, giving me a chaste kiss before straightening, his warm hands leaving my skin. I nearly pouted, wanting to continue to be spoiled with his care and attention. Then he took me by surprise, reaching instead to undo the buttons of his flannel. I blinked at him, confused as to what exactly he was doing. He paused, seeing my confusion, but instead of answering the obvious question he flashed me that teasing smile before taking off his hat and sliding it onto my head, pulling the bill low so it blocked my vision. I adjusted it with a huff, uncaring it if mussed my hair. “Not that I don’t appreciate a good show,” I started, watching him undo the next few buttons a little slower than before. Flirt. “But wanna share why you’ve decided to join me in the shirtless club?”

“Well,” Mitch said, smiling as he shrugged the flannel off. He set it next to me on the desk, leaving him in that deliciously semi-fitted black t-shirt. The kind that hugged his biceps just right and showed the strength of him without being uncomfortable, the material soft and hanging just right on his form. God bless whoever invented that cut of shirt. “You aren’t working shirtless, much as I would appreciate the view, I don’t really want everyone else getting an eyeful.” “While I don’t disagree, that doesn’t explain why you are doing a Magic Mike audition right now.” He pulled his shirt off in one practiced move, grabbing the back of the collar and lifting it over his head and then off his arms. It left his hair a little mussed and he let out a laugh at my comment, his free hand reaching up to smooth his hair back once more. My mouth was so dry, eyes slightly wide as I took in just how absolutely sexy that was and how tempting he looked right now.

Seeing me at a loss for words made him a little smug and he reached out, attempting to put the shirt on me. “I-Mitch, I can wear a bar shirt, you don’t have to.” I stammered out, cheeks a little warm, meeting those familiar blue eyes that had warmed with humor and a slightly less innocent heat.

“Don’t have any, Sunshine.” He said, taking a half step closer, one of his thighs splitting mine and resting against the edge of the desk as he got even more in my space.

Christ but did he look good. Mitch wasn’t packed with muscle but he was still obviously strong. His arms were thick, body trim with very little extra weight, slightly softer in the middle. His pants were a little low too, that fancy silver buckle of his gleaming even in the low light of the office. I was far too distracted by the fine line of dark hair that traveled down his lower stomach to disappear into his jeans that when Mitch pulled his hat off my head and back onto his own I jumped, surprised. It had me blushing, looking up at him as he let out a pleased laugh, fingers brushing under my chin teasingly. “Darlin’, you keep looking at me like that and poor Ann is gonna have to run the bar alone.” He teased while a very real spark of heat lit in his dark eyes. I swallowed before letting out a huff, lifting my arms to allow him to pull his shirt over my head.

Mitch was bigger than me so the shirt was obviously oversized on me. The sleeves weren’t tight around my arms, and the material bunched near my hips. It wasn’t unflattering, it just didn’t look as good on me as it did on him. It smelled like cigarette smoke and bar food but under that I caught a whiff of his body wash and cologne, the fabric still a little warm from his skin. Something about that made my skin tingle, hand lifting to gently play with the collar of the shirt as I looked up at him.

“Little big but it’ll do.” He hummed, leaning back slightly to adjust his hat once more, blue eyes scanning over my figure to take in how I looked in his shirt. From his expression Mitch Keller really liked me in his shirt. A lot.

“Thanks.” I mumbled, distracted by the scent of him right under my nose. I watched him grab the flannel once more and slide his arms into the sleeves, starting to do the buttons up once more. I reached out with a grin, helping him do the buttons up, fingers brushing his skin with a faux innocence. Without the t-shirt under the flannel a small patch of his chest hair was visible. It felt naughty for some reason, the little bit of previously hidden skin peaking out of the collar of his shirt. It didn’t help that he rolled up the sleeves to his elbows.

God, I was a lucky lady.

Watching him roll up his sleeves unashamed I caught sight of something out of place and frowned, reaching out to gently grab at his right hand. Lifting it up so I could see better in the garbage lighting of the office my eyes lifted to his. Mitch’s knuckles were bruised, a few slightly split open. Clearly from when he’d dragged that jerk out to the parking lot. Not that I’d guessed they’d had a civil conversation, but seeing physical proof of what Mitch was willing to do for me? It made the butterflies in my stomach fill up my whole body and I felt like warm butter, ready to melt if he so much as touched me.

“Thank you.” I said softly, pressing a small kiss to the back of his hand, ever mindful of his injuries. “For always saving me.”

“Y’don’t need saving, Sunny.” He responded, voice low and warm. “But I’m glad I get to.” I smiled at that, holding his hand in one of mine while the other dug around the first aid kit. “Lemme patch you up and then we can both go save Ann.”

“Alright, Darlin’. Whatever you say.”

More Mitch and Sunny here

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