I’m Going To Write Something For Jack X Spencer From Tales From The Gas Station… They Live Rent Free

I’m going to write something for Jack x Spencer from Tales from the Gas Station… they live rent free in my head. I have to. (Imma call them Jencer as coined by multi-lefaiye)

Here’s a(n unedited) snippet of what I’ve written so far:

The first time it happened, it was only a few minutes to midnight. Early enough for Jack’s shift to still be considered starting but late enough for absolutely nobody except for the odd passerby to walk in through the doors. With a good ten-something hours to go and few, if any, customers, Jack was content to sit slouched back in his chair with his ear plugs in and book in his lap.

An irritated hand flashed over the pages of his book, waving at him.

Jack frowned as he looked up. His ear plugs weren’t that good, surely he’d be able to hear if they just called out his name…

He froze as his gaze met the face of the man in front of him. Bright red hair styled up and an annoyed scowl set across strong features. Spencer fucking Middleton.

Jack’s hand instinctively darted out to grab the gas station landline, only to be stopped by Spencer, who aggravatedly pulled the phone away from him and took it off the hook. A sign that the phone line wasn’t cut and that, if Jack could find the time to pull it off, he could call O’Brien.

The psychopath’s mouth started moving, as if he was speaking, but Jack couldn’t hear anything he was saying.

“What?” He asked, and Spencer’s full body heaved with the force of his sigh. The psychopath gestured with his hands to his ears and that’s when Jack remembered his ear plugs. Right.

After debating the pros and cons of actually hearing the psychopath out, Jack reluctantly took them out. He set them on the counter where Spencer swiped them off onto the gas station floor. Well, Jack was never going to use those again.

“About time,” Spencer snarled. “Who the hell wears ear plugs at work?”

“You would too if you could hear the shit that happens at this place,” Jack muttered.

“What?” Spencer asked, and when Jack didn’t respond, he just shook his head. He then shoved his hand into his pocket and Jack braced himself for whatever it was going to be. It was way past the running away phase.

A poorly wrapped sandwich was tossed onto the table in front of him.

Jack flinched before staring at it, confused, and then looking back up at his arch nemesis.

“What?”

Spencer looked at the sandwich and then at Jack pointedly. Jack just furrowed his brows down at it and stared. For a while. Waiting for whatever torment Jack had planned for him tonight.

“Oh just eat it,” Spencer snarled, and Jack blinked up at him blankly, wondering if Spencer really thought he was that stupid, before pushing it back towards him.

“No thank you.”

“Why not?” Spencer demanded, having the audacity to actually look offended.

“I’m allergic to poison.”