Ubriacarsi.

As the night progressed, Frank learned that though Mikey was consistently friendly to his tables, even in the face of rudeness, he did not particularly enjoy having them as much as he put on, nor was he as deaf to their condescending tones as he pretended. However, the place to express this, Mikey had told Frank, was in the kitchen because at the very least, he seethed, throwing together a table's salads (who, incidentally, had told him to his face that he should probably have gotten a hair cut before coming in to work that day), if they were looking for a rise out of him, he always made it a point not to give them what they wanted.

Also, he added in a considerably quieter tone, if someone had a bad experience, even if it was their mood, not their server, that had caused it, they were much more likely to call and complain. And, Mikey told Frank, you did not want to get called into his father's office to explain a customer complaint. Even if you didn't do anything wrong, it was still a half hour rant of your life that you would never get back.

However, as irritable as some customers could be, they weren't all that bad. Mikey introduced Frank to several of what he called his 'regular' tables, who apparently stopped in every Saturday and requested him by name, all of whom seemed pleasant enough. Members of Mikey's extended family also stopped in and he was forced to leave Frank at their table as they asked him everything from his age, to his future plans, to his political views. Mikey had stopped by all of his other tables before Frank could find his way away from the conversation, and that was only because he spotted Mikey with a tray carrying that seemed to be carrying at least eight plates and no tray jack (a metal stand to set large trays of food) in front of his table.

Frank excused himself as politely as he could and rushed forward to set the jack up for Mikey, then helped him distribute the food accordingly and followed him back to the kitchen before he let loose.

“Jesus, your family talks so freaking much... I mean,” he glanced quickly up to Mikey to make sure he wasn't offended, then continued delicately, “they're really, really nice, don't get me wrong, but you'd think they were writing a book about me or something.”

“Aw, that just means like you,” Mikey teased, ruffling Frank's hair before he started traying up another table's order.

“Must be a Way thing,” Frank rolled his eyes, taking the tray of food that Mikey pushed into his hands.

“Could be. Like, genetic attraction to pheromones or something... or maybe they can sense your attraction to them. If I remember correctly, it was you who was going on about how good I smelled last night.”

Frank's cheeks reddened, but they were already leaving the kitchen at this point in the conversation so he waited until he had followed Mikey in a complete circuit of his tables and were approaching the bar before he said anything.

“If I remember correctly,” he said in a hushed voice, “it was you who was giving me shots to loosen my lips. And it's not my fault that you smell delicious.”

Mikey just laughed, as he pour soft drinks for his tables. “I guess I'll call it truce there and take the compliment. You are gonna come over again after work, right?”

Frank took the tray of drinks that Mikey now held out to him, and they both delivered drinks to separate tables. When they met back with the empty glasses that they'd collected from tables, he answered, quietly: “I'm gonna have to call my mom and let her know, but yeah, I am. Do you mind if I call her on break? I know we're not supposed to bring our phones in here or-”

“You're allowed your phone on break. But yeah, definitely. We can take it lighter on the drinks at work and have the rest of the night to drink at my place afterward.”

“Sounds good,” agreed Frank.

But he and Mikey were headed back to the kitchen and there were tables to be taken care of so the conversation gradually depleted into only the bare amount needed so that they could get all of their orders out on time with as little fuss as possible. But by eight thirty, when Mikey's last table was cashed out, Mikey told Frank that the servers who would be leaving after the dinner shift was over would be taking over the rest of the tables and that they were free to take a fifteen minute break before they started their next shift back on the floor.

Frank followed as Mikey led him outside. He assumed they were going to have a cigarette, but the older boy continued around to the back of the building, away from any other potential employees on break, and checked the area for others. When he saw that the coast was clear, he pressed Frank against the bricks of the building, gripping him by the fabric on his work shirt as he kissed him.

Mikey's mouth on his was about the only thing keeping Frank from moaning loud enough for it to reach the parking lot. He felt Mikey's tongue on the back of his teeth. Frank bit down softly as the boy's tongue left back for his own mouth and a few moments later, his and Mikey's tongues were moving rhythmically together. How long this lasted, Frank was not sure. He was slightly lost in he kiss and it was only when Mikey pulled back, panting slightly, that his eyes opened lazily only to focus on Mikey's lips hovering only inches from his own.

“You were going to call your mom and let her know you were staying over tonight, weren't you?” he asked, slipping his fingers under the hem of Frank's pants, who shivered in anticipation at his touch.

“Y-yeah,” Frank stammered, clearing his throat slightly as he pulled a bit further away from Mikey. He felt like he was snapping out of a daze. “I mean, yes. I um...” his cheeks were hot again and he knew perfectly well that this came from his realization that Mikey had taken him behind the building to show him that there was more of that coming after work if he successfully cleared the night with mother. “I think I left my phone in your car though.”

“Alright,” Mikey nodded, giving Frank a last quick kiss before he led him into the employee parking lot, where they passed Celia, the blonde bartender, smoking a cigarette. Frank wanted to sink into the cement of the parking lot as he chanced a look at her and saw that she was smirking, her eyes fixed on the red mark that Mikey had made on his neck hours earlier.

The phone call with his mother was quick, but it left him in a slump that he couldn't explain to Mikey. He had hoped, that like most mothers, she would at least have put up a protest to him being gone for the entire weekend without warning, however, he walked away from Mikey, who had been listening to at least Frank's end of the conversation, as his mother told him that it was fine that he wouldn't be home and that she would prefer that he didn't come home that night actually. In fact, she'd met someone, she told Frank, and he might be staying over from time to time, so it might be best if he let her know when he what times he would be home. Mikey took Frank's crestfallen expression as a hint and walked off to go chat with Celia as Frank finished his phone call.

Mikey was also polite enough not to ask Frank about the call. Instead, as they entered the restaurant again, he asked Frank if he'd shown him the back room yet and lead him through as set of double doors when Frank gave a short 'no'.

“We call this the banquet room,” Mikey explained as he led Frank up a set of stairs into a small room with several tables on the floor and slightly neglected looking bar at one end of the room. “We rent it out for private parties from time to time. We get a lot of birthday parties, Christmas parties, uh... that sort of thing.”

Frank nodded, but he didn't really say anything. The euphoria from their kiss behind the building was long-gone and he found that he simply could not stop dwelling on his mother's behavior, though, he conceded, it wasn't exactly new behavior for when she found a new boyfriend. And it wasn't like he hadn't been kicked out of the house before, but to feel like he was being kicked out for some skeezy dude that was probably coming over to bang his mom was pretty disgusting to think about.

“So, what's up with you?” Mikey asked after a few seconds. “She didn't tell you that you couldn't...”

“She doesn't care,” Frank's voice broke as he said it. He turned from Mikey with the pretense of observing the room instead of hiding his red eyes. “So whatever. Guess it's cool if I come over. Do you work tomorrow, or...”

“Yeah, at three,” replied Mikey, taking a few steps closer to Frank. “It's about the slowest day we have though and I get pretty bored since I only usually have a few customers from open to close since I'm behind the bar. I could probably sneak some alcohol into your drink if you wanted to keep me company.”

Frank nodded, but he didn't say anything. Mikey wasn't fooling him. He knew that he was being invited out of pity, but he was undoubtedly grateful for the invitation regardless of its origins. There were several things making his eyes red now, and just below the fact that his mother did not seem to care to see him was the fact that Mikey seemed to care much more than anyone else ever had, and he'd hardly even known him for two days. And now he was in front of him, about to cry over some stupid bullshit and he felt like an absolute idiot.

“My parents don't really come down to my room,” Mikey continued as Frank stared pointedly at the opposite wall, “they kind of just let Gerard and I do our own thing. So if you wanted to stay over for a little bit... Frank...” he prompted as these words were not acknowledged. “I'm sorry you feel like she doesn't care, but, I do, you know, so...”

“Yeah,” Frank said finally, his lips flexing slightly into what could have been a smile. “We should get back to work though, shouldn't we?”

Mikey watched him for a few moments, then nodded, his hand pressing onto Frank's spine as he steered him back down the stairs, probably, Frank supposed, because he knew that he liked his hand there so much. “I think you can probably start taking orders for the cocktail tables, at least until it gets busy.”

Frank finally looked to Mikey, quite impressed, at the amount of reign that he was already giving him. “But you're still going to be following me, right?” he asked nervously, “I mean, I think I can do it, but I never really got to memorize all of the liquors that we have, and I'm really only sure about two beers on tap. I know there's Budweiser and Bud Light, and I think Miller Lite, but I don't know about the other ones... I think there's Ob-er-ron or something like that, and-”

“I'll still be following you,” Mikey chuckled, taking his hand from Frank's back as they re-entered the main part of the restaurant. “But you've got most of it down anyway. Especially for your second day.”

“Okay,” Frank let out a deep breath, steadying himself. He considered telling Mikey how much his support meant, but stopped himself. He wasn't the type to get gushy and Mikey didn't seem to be either, so he cleared his throat, leaning against the service station as he waited for the tables in he and Mikey's section to be seated. “I just want to make sure that I don't fuck this up.” He chanced a small smile at Mikey. “This is the best job I've ever had, you know.”