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Happy Hour

Chapter Text

The party kept Happy busy. There weren't enough people trained for valet parking to keep up with the rapid influx of cars, which meant pressing the chauffeurs into service as well. This made Happy nervous because his employer wanted him available at any time for driving duty. With the party in full swing, though, hopefully he wouldn't notice.

Happy's luck was not that good. He had just climbed out of a truly luscious red Lamborghini when a fist connected with his face.

"I told you to be on call! I needed to go out and apparently everyone thought it was more important to park cars so I had to drive myself. How do you think that made me look?"

Happy licked blood off the corner of his mouth. He was an accomplished boxer. He could have pounded this arrogant creampuff into the pavement. It would be no challenge at all, which was rather the problem.

Happy held his tongue and his temper. Silently he resolved to start looking for a new job tomorrow. Again. Rich people tended to be dicks.

Just then a hand descended on his employer's shoulder. "There you are, I've been looking all over for you, just the man I wanted to see. Come with me and I'll tell you all about my cool new project, it is literally cooler than you will believe -- have you heard of cold fusion yet? No? Well prepare to be amazed!"

Happy watched in stunned disbelief as he was rescued by a slender young man in a tailored suit and a goatee, who apparently did not need to breathe between sentences. Nobody could stand against that onslaught.

A discreet tap on his shoulder brought Happy back to the part of the world that actually involved him. "Do you need to call it a night?" the lot supervisor asked.

They were desperately shorthanded, because the boss was a cheap bastard. "No, thank you," Happy said. "I'll just duck around back and ask one of the house girls to loan me a bit of cover-up. I'll be fine."

Happy was fine. He might not get beat up for a living anymore, but he still knew how to take it. He cadged some makeup, concealed the spreading bruise on his jaw, and went back to work. He parked cars and smiled at guests. The tips were good.

Several times, Happy saw his rescuer again. He was charming and elegant in a way that utterly disarmed his victims, sweeping up one person and then another in whatever mad scheme drove him. Dainty hands fluttered in swift, expansive gestures. It was captivating to watch. Happy was perhaps staring more than he should have.

The young man stared back, his dark eyes alert and mischievous as a ferret. His gaze caught on the swelling bruise at Happy's mouth, not at all fooled by the concealer. Then he winked at Happy and went back indoors.

Happy had a ferret once. The aptly named Lucifer delighted in stealing his socks, chewing through the tub of ferret chow, and climbing up people's pant legs. Lucifer had also once tackled him while Happy was trying to get dressed and then proceeded to crawl into Happy's left boot to kill a scorpion hiding inside. Lucifer later got him kicked out of a nice apartment when the landlady found out about the ferret, but Happy didn't mind.