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iiseult · 26 days ago

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Jerry Pascal x reader: My Name is Leroy (pt. 2)

CWs -> fluff, suggestive flirting, flamethrowers, some violence

Word count -> 3.3k

The next day, you decided to push your luck and go pay Jerry a visit at the gas station. You had no idea whether he’d be working or not, but when you pulled into the parking spot nearest to the front window you could just make out the top of his dirty-blonde head over the counter. You grinned and put it in park, walking through the front door.

Jerry looked up when he heard the door open and once he saw who it was, a smile spread across his face. He put down his Highlights magazine, the spot-the-difference puzzle he had been working on already forgotten.

“Hey, Y/N! What brings you into this fine establishment?” he asked, a hint of excitement in his voice. Once you reached the counter, you leaned one elbow against it, resting your chin in your palm.

“You,” you said flirtatiously, smiling.

Jerry’s heart fluttered. He mirrored you position, leaning his chin on his palms and letting his eyes rove over your face appreciatively. Ah, what the hell, he glanced down at your chest, too– he couldn’t help himself.

“You came all the way over here just to hang out with me?” he said, the surprise evident in his voice.

“Yeah. Also to steal from you,” you said, grabbing a bag of pretzels from a nearby display and tearing it open. You offered him one and he took it with a quiet “thanks.”

You stared at each other as you both munched in silence. When you made eye contact with him you gave him a nice big smile, your eyes crinkling in the corners, and he swallowed thickly, unable to look away. He felt his heart rate quicken a little as he gazed at you, his mind a little foggy for a second before he blurted,

“Your eyes are really pretty.”

This time, you didn’t miss a beat.

“Thank you. Your eyes are pretty, too, y’know.”

His chest filled with warmth. He leaned forward on the counter, trying to get a little closer to you, grinning goofily.

“Really?” he said, a dumb little chuckle escaping his lips.

“Oh, yeah. You’re pretty,” you added, hoping your hints were obvious enough.

Heat crept up the sides of his neck and a mixture of nervousness and excitement bubbled in his stomach, making him feel like he could melt into a puddle. He swallowed again, but he held your gaze, resting one of his hands on the counter next to yours.

“You’re making me blush,” he confessed, his voice low and softer than usual, fighting the urge to somehow break the mounting tension between you. His eyes flickered down to your lips.

“Aww, Jerry,” you cooed, inching your hand closer to his on the counter. His breath caught in his throat as he felt your pinky finger brush against his. The way you said his name sent a shiver down his spine, and the way you closed the distance between your hand and his made his confidence grow.

“You know, I…” he trailed off, his eyes lingering on your lips.

Just then, the shrill sound of the front door squeaking cut through the air, making both of you whip your heads in its direction. An older man dressed in professional attire entered, nodding to you in a friendly manner before disappearing into an aisle. You jumped back a bit and cleared your throat, trying not to look like you’d just been shamelessly flirting with the cashier.

Jerry cursed when he saw the man, his heart rate picking up again. But it wasn’t just because he’d been startled.

“Uhhh, Y/N, would you come here for a second?” he said, his voice betraying a hint of concern. He didn’t take his eyes away from the aisle the man had disappeared into for one second. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he slowly reached one of his hands underneath the counter, feeling around for something on one of the shelves. You picked up on his unease and nodded, joining him behind the counter silently, your brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” You whispered, following his gaze to the man in the aisle, who was harmlessly regarding the off-brand candy options and stroking his chin like he was deep in thought. Jerry barely even blinked as he leaned closer to you, speaking quietly out of the side of his mouth.

“Uhh, that guy over there…his name is Kieffer. And he’s…gonna try to kill us. But don’t freak out! I have a plan.”

He slowly pulled his hand out from under the counter to reveal that he was clutching a small, gleaming pistol. You clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle a gasp.

“Oh my god, Jerry, you’re not gonna shoot him, are you?!”

Despite the fact that you were very familiar with the gas station and the dangers that working there entailed, you’d never had to actually kill another person, and quite frankly, the idea did scare you. Jerry immediately registered the fear in your face and panicked, not knowing what to say. No? Of course not? Yes, but it’s okay because that’s not really Kieffer, it’s actually just a mimic of him created to destroy Jack and anyone else who ever helped him protect the gas station? He decided on something in between.

“Maybe…?”

You grabbed the pistol out of his hand and threw it across the room.

Kieffer began walking slowly towards the counter, a bag of gummy worms in his hand. Jerry grit his teeth and turned to you, grabbing your shoulders, his voice suddenly full of urgency.

“Listen man, I know it sounds crazy, but just hear me out. That dude over there is not actually Kieffer. It’s a clone, and it’s literally going to murderize us in ten seconds. And you just threw our only weapon into Timbuktu. It’s totally cool though, I already forgive you,” he said, winking, “But I’m gonna need you to stand back and let me handle this, okay?”

You nodded mutely, choosing to believe him just in case he was telling the truth. He flashed you one last Hollywood-worthy grin before vaulting over the counter and rushing towards Kieffer face-first with his dukes up, bellowing his battle cry of “cowabunga!”

Kieffer immediately dropped his gummy worms and his face twisted into an ugly, malicious expression. He lunged forward, but Jerry was too fast. He managed to slip to the side, dodging Kieffer’s arms and landing a solid punch to his face, sending him stumbling backwards with his hands clapped over his nose. A wave of adrenaline washed over you as you watched them fight, wishing you could do something other than taking shelter behind the cash register.

Jerry continued to fight with the ferociousness and unpredictability of an unhinged maniac, screaming out his own comic-book sound effects as he dodged, punched, kicked, and even bit his attacker. Kieffer growled and managed to somehow get a hold of the back of Jerry’s jacket. You gasped as he was lifted off the ground, kicking and punching the air, and because it was all you could think to do, you grabbed the first thing from the counter your hand could find– a roll of quarters– and whipped it at Kieffer’s head.

The roll of quarters doinked right into the back of his head and bounced off, rolling under the soda machine, and a look of mild irritation crossed his face. Jerry’s eyes widened. But it distracted Kieffer enough to let Jerry tear himself out of the man’s grip, stumbling back a few steps.

“Great shot!” He yelled, grinning back at you over his shoulder. You smiled proudly and gave him the thumbs-up.

“I played softball for a week when I was a kid.”

Then Jerry launched himself back at his disoriented assailant and delivered a vicious uppercut. It somehow only managed to stun him for a second before he was right back on his feet again, lumbering towards Jerry. You bit your lip. This fighting could go on forever, and it looked like Jerry was starting to get tired. You knew you had to do something. But what? Your eyes scanned the store, looking for something, anything that might work. When they landed on a can of lysol, an idea suddenly struck you. You grabbed it and began running towards Kieffer.

“Move, Jerry!”

He was in the process of trying to land a punch when he heard your voice. He turned around just in time to see you barreling towards him, wielding your can of disinfectant in one hand and a lighter in the other.

“Oh, fuck yeah!” he cheered, and threw himself out of the way, accidentally landing on a chip display and sending it crashing to the ground. He groaned, rubbing his elbow.

As soon as you were close enough, you flicked on the lighter with your thumb and braced yourself, lining it up with the lip of the spray can and pressing down on it, aiming towards Kieffer. Immediately, a giant ball of heat and fire burst forward from your makeshift flamethrower with a loud ‘WHOOSH,’ blasting him all the way into next Tuesday and singing the hair off your arms. He howled in pain as he went down, flailing and thrashing in a futile attempt to put himself out.

“HOLY BALLS, THAT’S AWESOME!” yelled Jerry.

You cringed at the sight, but didn’t look away completely, wanting to make sure he was really dead, and eventually, the flames died down enough to reveal his meager remains– a small black pile of ashes and a couple charred clumps of flesh. The wall behind the steaming pile was now sporting a charming Kieffer-shaped outline of scorch marks. The floor was littered with bags of barbecue flavored potato chips; fallen soldiers. The place was really in shambles, and everything smelled like burning hair.

“My God,” Jerry breathed, hearts dancing in his eyes. You yawned, dropping your can of lysol.

“I could really go for a cherry icee right now.”

***

Ten minutes later you and Jerry were sat behind the counter with your feet up, enjoying your icees, when Jack walked into the gas station.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the state of the place. It looked like a complete and utter war zone; human remains on the ground, the stench of boiled blood in the air, and worst of all, his carefully-crafted chip display lying dead on the ground. He blinked a couple of times, trying to make sure he wasn’t having one of those hallucinations again, and then slowly turned to you and Jerry.

You laughed at something Jerry had said and turned to look at who entered the store.

“Oh, Jack!” You cheered. Jerry raised a nonchalant hand in greeting.

“‘Sup, buddy?”

Jack put his hands up imploringly and flapped his mouth open and closed a few times like a fish in disbelief.

“What the fuck happened?! Were you two reenacting trinity test sight?!” He demanded, practically shaking with rage. You pursed your lips and looked over at Jerry, hoping he would know how to explain this. He took a long sip of his icee before replying, in the calmest voice possible,

“Oh, you know, the usual. Kieffer attack, hand-to-hand combat. It’s all good now, though.”

“Yeah, we scorched it,” you piped up through a mouthful of bright red icee, grinning.

“Yeah, she turned a can of lysol into a flamethrower and lit that bastard right up. It was, like, so hot,” Jerry elaborated. You grinned proudly.

“I learned it from TikTok.”

Jerry chuckled again and looked at you with an enamored expression.

“Of course you did, sweetheart.”

He leaned a little closer and lowered his voice teasingly, as if sharing a secret.

“You know, you look sorta sexy wielding a flamethrower.”

You giggled and kicked your feet.

Jack let out a loud huff, still standing in the middle of the store, now with his hands on his hips.

“Who’s gonna clean all this up?” he asked, irritation in his voice.

“Well,” Jerry began, wincing and rubbing the back of his neck, “My shift ended two minutes ago, so…”

“I don’t even work here right now,” you added, tossing your empty cup into the trash, “although I guess I can pick up some of those chips that fell.” You gestured weakly over to the overturned display. Jack frowned.

Jerry watched as you stood up with a grunt and walked over to it, bending over to grab the rack and set it back up. You began picking up items and shoving them back onto the shelves. He leaned back in his seat with a little smirk, enjoying the view.

“I really admire your…work ethic, Y/N,” he called. You giggled again.

Soon enough the chip display was good as new, although perhaps not as artfully organized as it had been originally. You ambled back over to your chair and sat down with a satisfied sigh.

Jack watched you in despair, pointing to the scorched walls and pile of overcooked Kieffer on the ground.

“That’s great,” he said dryly. “Now what about the rest of the place?!”

“But Jack, it always looks like that!” you whined. Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and looked over at Jerry, his eyes pleading. Jerry sighed.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stay back and help you clean this place up.”

Jack let out a long sigh that sounded almost a little more like a hiss.

“Thank you.”

With that, you slapped your thighs and got to your feet, stretching.

“Welp, that’s all for me tonight. I best get back home for supper,” you said, patting your pockets to make sure you had all your things. Jack just rolled his eyes and went to fetch a broom from the storage room.

“Aww, well it was nice having you come by. Don’t you be afraid to come back out here another day, you,” Jerry said, beaming up at you. You grinned.

“Bye, big boy.”

With that, you turned on your heel and sauntered toward the door, pausing for one second to yell out a quick goodbye to Jack before disappearing outside, leaving Jerry stunned.

“B-big boy?” he repeated, his heart going a million miles a minute. Jack walked back into the room, broom in hand, a scowl on his face. He shoved it into Jerry's hands, pointing towards the pile of ash. Jerry leaned against the counter, a dreamy look in his eyes as he stared at the door. He clutched the broom tightly in his hands.

“She called me big boy,” he mumbled, a goofy grin spreading across his face.

“Uhh, Jerry? You’re drooling a little there, buddy.”

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