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*TW for use of homophobic slurs*

Sean's POV:

Stocking the bar is among my least favorite jobs because it's all brute strength and I am not an extremely beefy, strong type of guy. Of course, I have tried to grow muscles since I started working at eighteen, but my arms decided to stay noodle-like. I can lift the things, but I do not reap the results that I so desire.

Luckily, I have Miles and Will.

Will is one of my favorite coworkers, since he's always willing to jump to work and he never expects me to do everything just because I'm living with Miles. One of my old coworkers that was here when I first started always made backhanded comments about getting me the job and Miles wanting something else in return and expected me to do the majority of the work. Of course, Miles was livid, so he and the bar manager, Jennifer, hired Will from another bar that was looking to cut staff and hours.

He's an extremely polished bartender and knew exactly what Jennifer and Miles wanted, so even though I went to school, he helped me out when I was learning. Will has never been cocky or rude, and we often joke around while at work.

He's bisexual and if he didn't have a super sweet girlfriend of five years, I would definitely try my luck with him. He's hot and has a great personality, and that's a couple of the qualities that I look for in a guy.

"Sean, do you want to prep the fruits so I can do the restock?" Will asks as I hand him a heavy box from our shipment to put in the pantry. "You look like you're breathing pretty heavy."

I give him a thumbs up. "I'm good, and yes, I'd love to prep the fruit."

"Use those dainty twink fingers!"

"Oh, fuck you," I comment, opening the walk in fridge and grabbing the citrus fruits that I always start with because they hold for the longest time and can be prepped in advance.

Will laughs again, flashing me his so-called "award winning" smile. "I don't think Annie would be too happy if I let my coworker fuck me."

"No, and I respect her too much to let that happen," I say, cleaning my paring knife so I can slice up the fruits.

The bar doesn't take long to prep, so we are ready to open at six, as we always do. Our security guy, Chase, is at the front and begins to let people in. The lights are already a little dim and music is playing as people file into the club. The DJ is a cool guy and his music always keeps us entertained.

I work from five until one in the morning, whereas Will works five to eleven, and Jennifer comes in at nine and works until three in the morning when we close. That way we have enough people at our peak, which is usually ten until midnight, and it bleeds over to one and two at times.

Miles comes out of his office around six fifteen to help us finish setting up the bar. He always pitches in and spends his time walking around and making sure that everything is running smoothly. He also has to make frequent visits to the bathroom to make sure no one is having sex in the bathrooms because he has a strict policy against that. Of course, people can leave together because we cannot control adults, but we all keep an eye out to make sure there's no suspicious activity, such as drugs or harassment.

We have signs up in all of the bathrooms that have random drink names that have a different meanings in case someone is feeling uncomfortable and needs to secretly tell us that they need an Uber or Lyft called. Thankfully, Miles is a great judge of character and can usually tell if someone is suspicious so it's not often that someone feels threatened, but it's happened before.

I go through the night serving light drinks, as we serve lighter beverages so we don't risk people getting wasted, and both Will and myself are fully trained on how to see if someone has drank too much.

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