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Oh god, it was that couple again. The two that always came in every week, standing a good foot away from each other, and leaving throwing these looks at each other that just said they would be fucking in the parking lot in a few moments. Well, those looks and the word of the security guards that have caught them more than once.
One of them always grabs a cart, but it’s inevitably abandoned. Of course, you decide to tail them on their little adventure through the wonderful Wal Mart world you are held hostage in for 30 hours a week. It was at least a fairly consistent show. This time, they end up not saying a word until they hit some shelves in electronics. Last week they at least browsed through the shirts, muttering heatedly and pinning each other way too intensely for a few shoppers walking in the door only a short distance of 20 feet away.
“You need some shirts, they’re getting so worn, holes just settle down looking for a home. Sollux, your shirt is that one stretch of road all the homeless holes in the apartment seek out to beat each other up for free space,” the short, loud dude had started last week. The tall guy, who you can recognize as Sollux at this point, only responded by towering over him and murmuring something you had no hope of hearing, but the little guy just reached behind him, not breaking eye contact to throw a few pairs of pants into the cart. You really don’t know how to describe it, but there was this intimate, almost awkwardly sexual air about the motion that always seems to set the tone from their first interaction to their departure.
It takes a while, but for once KK, as Sollux always calls the smaller dude, isn’t the first to pipe up this time.
“KK, we’re running out of thpace for our downloads, we should really look into getting another exthternal,” he says, just loud enough for you to hear. You busy yourself with pulling all the misplaced items off the shelves around them and putting them back in their rightful place only to find them halfway across the store at the end of your shift… or the day, whichever comes first.
“Jeez, you’re the last person I’d expect to even consider buying from a Wal Mart of all places,” KK hisses. Sollux leans down on his friend(?)’s level.
“Like I would, there’th better equipment for better pritheth, I’m jutht conthidering,” he all but purrs back at him. Really, watching them is just a more than special kind of show and you know you aren’t the only one who’s spotted them. They linger in each other’s faces and move on, the gap between them significantly smaller. You notice at least two other employees not so discreetly moving along with them faster than you can manage as your try to do a passable job reorganizing before following suit.
“Chairs? Are you high?” The unmistakable voice of Sollux’s angry black haired companion drifts to your ears. They’re shuffling through the mash up of the more cheaply made furniture, Sollux pushing a chair aside, across from the table from KK. He leans forward on the table, taking the same stance as his friend.
“What’th wrong with not wanting you to drip whatever the hell you’re eating all over my keyboard when you aren’t complaining that your legth ache from thitting on the floor at the coffee table?” He bites back, “It’th a good invethtment, we’re going to eventually have thomeone remember we exitht outside pethterchum. God forbid they show up, we'd have to conthider getting a table.”
“Even if we do, none of these poor excuses for indoor furniture is going to cut it,” he actually grabs the front of Sollux’s jacket and you are more than intrigued. The same can be said of the other employees trying to hide behind whatever they can and still get a good view. Pretending to work isn’t even a passing concern, things are getting good now. As he speaks, he practically hauls him onto the table.
“It’s just not practical, if we’re going to spring for some furniture, we’re getting something that’ll actually match the kitchen or is generic enough to go with wherever we’d plan on moving after the crapshack we’re in now,” he breathes against the taller guy’s mouth, giving the area around them a glance that promptly makes everyone have a mini heart attack and turn away before you just barely miss him planting an intense, sloppy kiss to his companion’s mouth.
“You needy bitch,” Sollux groans against his lips when he pulls away, “You aren’t thinking about anything elthe in the apartment are you? Thince when did ANYTHING we have actually match? Our firtht bitth of furniture don’t fucking matter. We jutht need to at leatht have all the pietheth there to begin with.”
“And that’s why we can’t have nice things, asswipe,” KK growls and practically throws him back across the table. He quickly walks around it while Sollux is still tripping backwards, straightening his glasses in the process. KK is back in his space, one arm around his waist and the other gripping the front of his shirt. You hurry to the next department as he whispers something you can’t hear, pressing against the taller guy. You don’t want to be another person who ends up cornered by a red faced angry KK demanding to see a supervisor over some “god damn degenerate employees who can’t do their actual jobs and instead knock over clothing racks on people trying to browse in peace,” nevermind that said supervisor is actually leaning on the unseen side of one of the shelves the next aisle over, peering through one of the smaller gaps in the stuffed animals housed on them.
They breeze by as you're straightening shoes, making a beeline to the larger appliances and ducking between the forest of refrigerators, bickering heatedly about needing to get some food that actually can last in the sorry excuse for an ice box the landlord is pawning off as a proper refrigerator. You wonder how much you really know these two from how much they argue and strangely seem to get off on arguing about every day household concerns.
Maybe you’ll follow them to the grocery store one of these days.
“I never UTHE the fucking thing, we have an agreement!” Sollux complains in annoyance. KK rolls his eyes and groans.
“That is no excuse, that is never an excuse,” they’re making a detour through the washers and dryers, “There is a lint trap, you clean the damn thing out. If you don't, the clothes will not be dry AND the lint will get set on fire. Come on, you have encyclopedic knowledge on your fucking computers, but you can’t remember these simple tasks literally every other human being in the country knows?” KK is more fired up this time, he’s getting progressively more animated as the journey wears on.
“You do the laundry and you forget to clean out the trap. In exthchange for me actually moving the disheth from the think, to the dishwasher to the cabinetth,” he makes a clear gesture for each step of the process he’s describing, “I don’t even touch the fucking dryer!” KK doesn’t seem to like that answer and actually does grab him by the coat and haul him down on one of the dryers.
“Ohhh no! There was lint in there, buttmunch, and I sure as hell didn’t leave it there,” dear god, on some days you are glad you transferred to this store, “You filthy slob of a whore, you can’t even be bothered to put the fabric softener in when you start a load,” Sollux is pinned to the dryer, his way too long legs splayed out with KK situated between them. He picks up and slams Sollux against the dryer, drawing out a groan along with some sympathetic pained hisses from some of the voyeuristic employees, “What do you do next time?”
“I… I put in the detergent and the thoftener…” Sollux wheezes, getting a nod of approval.
“And when you put it into the dryer?” His hands let go of the collar of his coat, slipping beneath it to his sides.
“I empty the lint trap!” He answers hurriedly, a look of what can almost be fear when KK’s face darkens a little at the prolonged silence, “And… a, uh… a…” he stutters for a few moments, giving out a surprised yelp when the shorter guy grips his sides.
“Last chance…” KK mumbles darkly.
“Dryer sheet!” Sollux manages to answer loudly. KK nods in approval before abruptly picking him up and slamming him back against the dryer. Sollux groans, “Ugh, KK, why?”
“Don’t touch my fucking laundry pile ever again,” KK growls and oh god, yes, they’re going for it.
“Excuse me?”
Oh for FUCKS sake…
“Yes, may I help you?” You say in a tight, cheery voice as you turn away from the weekly event that is KK and Sollux coming in, not buying anything, and just skirting this side of public nudity (though certainly being publicly indecent) to help the woman who just tapped you on the shoulder. She looks desperately lost and absolutely horrified with the fact that she just got your attention. As a muffled groan graces your ears, you figure it’s about time to corral her wherever she’s trying to go and hope someone takes care of the mess of hormones and housekeeping behind you.