So I was just reminded of the Buff Beaker ficlet I wrote in the Discord last summer, and idk where else to put it so here it is-
Whenever Ms. Bitterman would ask Bunsen how that new hire was working out, the bouncer, he'd answer that he was doing a great job. He didn't say anything about the one problem he had with him. That one huge problem. Two, actually - huge and thick and covered in tattoos. Bunsen couldn't stop staring at those arms.
Bunsen had to admit to himself that he was being a little more strict with the guest list these days, just so he had an excuse to call Beaker over. All he wanted to do was watch those long, firm muscles bulge as Beaker picked up a patron like a ragdoll and tossed them against the trash cans.
Bunsen knew he couldn't let this go on. He had to do something about it.
He spent an excessive amount of time picking out the perfect protein drink, with all the right ingredients and chemicals. It was as if he'd been some kind of nerd in another life or something.
Bunsen worked up the courage to approach Beaker on his break, and he handed it to him. He tried to sound casual. "I thought you could use some refreshment."
"MEEP," Beaker grunted, and Bunsen could only hope that was a thank you. Beaker chugged it in one gulp, then crushed the can in his hand before tossing it away. Bunsen had never envied an inanimate object so much in his life.
Beaker took the marker that Bunsen was holding, the one he used to draw the X on the hands of the patrons. Beaker scrawled something onto Bunsen's hand, tossed the marker away, and strode off before Bunsen could even see what it said.
It was his phone number.
