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Restaurant Mishap (Scomiche)

This prompt is from the lovely @alternativegrace on wattpad and @/ OTPideas on funny. If anyone has requests, comments, questions, or concerns, please DM me or leave it as a comment:)

The restaurant was emptier than usual. It was so empty that it almost seemed quiet, only a few conversations drifted through the air. That was, until a rowdy group of boys burst through the door. The hostess, my best friend Celine, shot me a desperate look before seating the loud group. She began to walk toward me, so I tried my best to look busy, but it didn't work. "They're all yours." She joked, clapping me on the back.

I groaned and walked over to the table. "Hey guys! My name's Mitch and I will be your server this afternoon. May I start y'all off with something to drink?"

"Get us all water Snitchell." One of the boys ordered. All I could do was nod as I turned away and listened to them mock me. They mocked my appearance, my name, even my use of the word "y'all". I could feel my temperature rising as I returned with the waters.

The boys continued on yelling and disturbing other customers, but it was nothing I could stop. Teasing continued, but I was unfazed; I guess that's what my four years of high school were for. I returned to the boys' table to check in and refill drinks. As I was filling a water, I heard the boy closest to me yell "oh no!" Very sarcastically. The next thing I knew my black jacket was covered in red salsa. I was silent with rage. The boys' laughing intimidated me and any responses I could think of fled.

Suddenly, a tree of a man stepped in front of me. "What the hell do you think you're doing‽" The group was mute. "I'm trying to enjoy my day off and now I have to deal with this shit!!!"

Then the one who poured the salsa on me spoke up. "This is none of your business man." The tree's eyes lit up with fire.

"NONE OF MY BUSINESS‽‽‽" He screamed. "IM THE GODDAM MANAGER! THOUGHT I'D ENJOY A MEAL AT MY F***ING RESTAURANT! YOU BETTER PAY FOR THIS FOOD AND GET OUT, AND DON'T EVER COME BACK!" The man grabbed my wrist and pulled me away. He stormed over to a stunned Celine and whispered "make sure they pay" before dragging me into the bathroom.

The bathroom was a single occupancy so he locked the door behind us. "I'm so sorry you had to deal with that shit." He said as he rolled toilet paper around and around his hand. I just sat quietly as I was locked in a bathroom with a stranger and frankly I was scared. After wetting the mound of toilet paper he looked up at me. "Oh wow," he shook his head, "I'm so sorry. I'm Scott." Scott offered his empty hand, and after we shook, he began dabbing at the salsa on my jacket. "I worked as a server for years, I totally understand how irritating people can be." I giggled at how true that statement was, and Scott looked up.

"I'm Mitch, by the way." I said softly.

"I see." Scott chuckled, and gestured to my name tag. Oh right... I am an idiot. We sat in silence for a few minutes as Scott expertly scrubbed at my jacket. "Y'know what I give up!" He announced, throwing the wad of toilet paper in the trash. He took my jacket off, with minimal struggle because I didn't know what was happening for a second, and placed it on the sink. Quickly he slipped his jacket off of his shoulders and over mine.

"You don't have to do this." I said, raising my arms in gesture. The sleeves of his jacket came far over my hands, making me look like a child. We both had a good laugh over that. Scott began to pull out his wallet. "No please don't." I asked.

"Money for your jacket to be cleaned." He said calmly.

"I have a washing machine. Please don't." I pushed the money back towards him.

"Money for the waiter because I know they didn't tip." Scott insisted, offering the money again.

"I don't want your money!!" I yelled.

"Fine." Scott grumbled, shoving the bills back into his wallet.

"But, I could use your number."

"Oh really?" He smirked.

"Ya know, incase intimating teenagers come back. And I mean, how else will you get your jacket back?" I giggled, and he smiled.

We left the locked bathroom and Scott went to the front desk, retrieving a business card and a pen. He scribbled "Scott Hoying: ***-***-**** 'the manager;)'" on the back of the card and shoved it in my hand. All of a sudden he was gone, and all I was left with was a blushed Celine staring at me from across the room.