Chapter Text
When Stanley gave up the mask, he knew it would be back to normal life. No more fighting crime, no more over the top romantic deeds, and no more loud, eccentric, green-faced Stanley to woo a certain golden-haired singer. He knew Tina had meant well when she said she loved him without the mask, but he couldn't help but feel it was all for the sake of pity. Only a week had passed since Stanley gave up the mask, but that week had been a living hell.
It began on Monday. The alarm clock blared, jerking Stanley out of the first good dream he'd had in ages. Grumbling under his breath, he slammed his fist onto the offending machine until it shut off. He sighed, closing his eyes again and sinking his head back down on the pillow. He was too tired for this. He was always too tired for this, he had to get up at five in the morning for God's sake! Really living the dream here, working at a bank for an asshole boss who ignored him despite him having worked there for six years. Just as he was about to sink back into the depths of sleep, a loud bark and a wet tongue against his ear tickled him, making him laugh.
"Milo, no!" he whined, turning to face his dog and gently pushing him away. Milo barked again and nuzzled his owner's face before jumping off the bed. Stanley sighed. He definitely wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, so he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his face. He reached down to grab his shoes and slipped them on over his socked feet, then lumbered into the living room area of his apartment to grab the rest of his clothes. Changing into the suit was no problem, but when Stanley searched the couch for a tie to wear, he couldn't find any of them. Maybe he'd stuck them in his closet? He had seven, one for each day of the week, surely at least a few of them were clean. He ran over to the closet and opened it. His mouth fell open in horror. Each of the ties, from the one Tina had complimented that day in the bank, to the blue one that had been a gift from his mother laid on the floor in tatters. He fell to his knees, taking some of the ripped up shreds in his hands.
“What? How…?” Stanley’s voice trailed off as Milo ran back towards him, the torn remains of another tie hanging in his maw. Stanley scrambled to his feet. “Bad dog! Very bad dog! What do you think you’re doing?!” Stanley grabbed the tie. Milo, the poor thing, thought it was another game, just like with the frisbee or the keys. “Let go! Drop it!” Stanley shouted, yanking at the tie in Milo’s mouth. The dog yelped, dropping the tie off and running away with his tail between his legs. Stanley’s heart plummeted.
“Wait...Wait, Milo, come here, boy. Daddy’s sorry,” Stanley said, trying to keep his voice even, his hands falling to his sides. Milo just whined again, crawling under Stanley’s desk and hiding. He sighed, getting back to his feet. He looked at the tie in his hands, then back at his dog. With a huff, Stanley put on the shredded tie. Mr. Dickey was not going to be pleased. Glancing at the clock, Stanley grabbed his briefcase and rushed out the door. Mrs. Peaman came out of her apartment and yelled something at him, but the fear of continuing his trend in being late to work and the consequences of it made Stanley block her out and rush down the stairs. He hailed a cab, hopping in quickly and giving the address to the driver. Unfortunately, his streak of bad luck hadn’t ended just quite yet.
“Hey...ain’t you the guy that robbed the bank I’m takin’ you to? You still workin’ there?” she asked with a thick, New York accent, raising a thin eyebrow as she looked at her client through the rearview mirror. Stanley’s mouth went dry. He tried to stammer out a response, but the driver had already made her decision. She slammed on the brakes, sending Stanley crashing into the passenger’s seat in front of him. He cried out in pain, clutching his face as his now broken nose began to bleed. “Get outta my car, you bozo!” she snapped. Stanley tried to give her some sort of payment, but she just reached back and opened his door, pushing him out into the street. Stanley managed to grab his briefcase, but he fell face-first into the street, mud, trash, and water mixing on the ground to smear his suit in a questionable concoction. Stanley groaned in frustration, but there was no time to go back. He got to his feet, running through the streets in a desperate mad dash.
By the time he reached the bank, he’d bled onto his shirt, had more water and mud splashed onto him by passing cars, and his hair was a haphazardous mess. He took a shaky breath, straightening his tie, and walked into work. His knuckles were white on the handle of his briefcase as he passed by his coworkers, who in turn stared at him in disgust. A few exchanged hushed words and snickers. Stanley wished for nothing more than the ground to open and swallow him up as his muddy shoes left tracks on the pristine white tiles.
“IPKISS!” Stanley stopped dead in his tracks, letting out a long sigh and closing his eyes as the voice of his boss penetrated the now silent bank. He turned, plastering a smile on his face.
“Good morning, Mr. Dickey. Is there something you need?” Stanley asked politely. Mr. Dickey’s face was red with anger. He grabbed Stanley forcefully by the shirt and pulled him forward until they were nose to nose.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, seething. Stanley swallowed nervously.
“I...I-I just-”
“Quit your stammering! Look at you, you’re a mess! Go to the back and get yourself cleaned up, your clients are waiting!” Mr. Dickey let go of the remains of Stanley’s tie before stomping off to go yell at somebody else. Stanley’s fingers trembled slightly as he fixed his tie, clearing his throat and walking to the breakroom. He passed by Charlie who, upon seeing his friend’s ragged appearance, quickly redirected his client to another banker and followed Stanley.
“Geez, what happened to you?” Charlie scoffed, clapping a hand on Stanley’s shoulder. The taller man flinched and pulled away, making Charlie’s smile quickly fade. “Here. I got an extra suit. You need a tie too?” Stanely glanced at his friend, then sighed and nodded. Charlie began undoing his own tie and Stanley’s eyes widened.
“You don’t have to do that, I don’t want you getting in trouble too,” Stanley insisted. Charlie waved a hand dismissively, pressing his tie into Stanley’s hand.
“We both know he loves me. He just hates your guts. Take the tie, the suit’s in the corner, then just come out and get to work. I got a coffee for you on your desk, too,” Charlie said, clapping Stanley on the shoulder before exiting the breakroom. Stanley tried to get out a word of thanks but his friend was already gone. He sighed, shrugging off the soiled suit and putting on the one Charlie provided. It was a bit too small on the sleeves and pant legs, but it would do, and Stanley did the tie that he’d been given in the mirror.
“Good as new,” Stanley said with a grin as he passed Charlie while exiting the breakroom. Charlie winked and gave him two thumbs up. Stanley smiled a bit and nodded in acknowledgment, fishing his pen out of his pocket and taking a seat at his desk. This was fine. Everything was going to be fine. He had nothing to worry about! The mask was gone, Dorian was gone, and he hadn’t been fired. Sure, his life was back to its shitty self, but Stanley knew for a fact that it wouldn’t get worse. He definitely owed Milo an apology, though...