Krabby Patties
guess who’s trash for an underappreciated boy? It’s me!
Title: Krabby Patties
Fandom: X-Men
Pairing: Mortimer “Toad” Toynbee x Reader
Description: (Y/N) has been friends with Mortimer for ages, but once he leaves to fight in Vietnam, they never hear from him again. They start to worry that he may have died in the line of duty, until their favourite diner gets a new fry cook.
Warnings: language (have you learned that I curse like a sailor yet?), mentions of war and discrimination, more evidence of me being a comma freak, scenarios based (very closely) off of this scene
A/N: There’s so little Mort content oh my god. I honestly love this character so much and I was hella mad when he was in DoFP for a total of what... 30 seconds? My boy Mort deserves better okay? And you know how it is: if there’s not enough content you want, make it your damn self. So, this is me, making the content I want by my damn self. Enjoy
It was the fourth of July, and your house was buzzing with life. As per annual tradition, your parents held a huge barbeque with too many people for your small suburban property to hold. Your dad had invited his friends from work, who all brought their spouses, and a few of them brought their kids; your mom had invited the members of her ‘book club’, who all brought their spouses as well. You had invited your friends, but only one could make it- not that you minded. Mortimer was your best friend and he had lived at your house more than he had lived at his own. He had come to every event your family held, mostly because you invited him to every single one, so it wasn’t a surprise he came to the barbeque as well. He hadn’t partied like everyone else though; he had spent most of his time helping you carry platters out into the backyard or dealing with the children, careful not to run into any of your parents’ friends. It broke your heart, but he was very much aware of how his appearance made others feel- whether they were mutant or not. Because of this, he often avoided the actual party part of the party, and opted to help you with organization or hide in the basement with you and goof around freely. At this particular party, Mort was inside with you, until your mom had asked for help carrying out food to the porch; Mort had volunteered to carry the raw sausages and burgers out to your dad at the grill.
“Heya Mortimer! How ya been?” You dad had asked cheerfully.
“I’m good, sir, how are you doing?”
“I’m alright!” your dad smiled before gesturing towards his friends, “Have you met the boys?”
“No, sir, that’s ok-”
Mortimer was ignored as your dad hollered to his friends, “Hey, fellas, come ‘ere! There’s someone I want you to meet!”
“Dad!” You scolded your father as you put a comforting hand on Mort’s shoulder.
“Relax, button, I’m just being polite. Boys, this is (Y/N)’s friend Mortimer. Mortimer, these are my friends from work.”
Mort waved shyly, but both of you had noticed the grimaces on the faces of the men before you. You started to make some excuse to pull the two of you out of the conversation, but your dad spoke up once again.
“These two have been friends for forever. Hell, kid’s practically part of the family at this point.”
You both blushed at that, but your attention was taken when your dad’s friend Bill cleared his throat, “So, uh, Mortimer. You and (Y/N) are the same age? What do you plan to do now that you’ve graduated high school?”
Mort sent a nervous glance between you and Bill before answering, “Well, actually, sir, I will be signing up for the military as soon as possible.”
“Really? Going over to fight with our boys in Vietnam?”
“Yes, sir, once I get the opportunity.”
Bill had been intrigued, but you had sat there slack-jawed, staring at your friend. You hadn’t been sure if you’d heard him correctly. Vietnam? He had just said that he was shipping himself off- halfway across the world- to fight in a war. You had been proud of him for wanting to serve his country, but so many questions had run through your head at the same time: what? When did he decide this? Vietnam? How long would his deployment be? Did he have to do training first? How long would that take? What kind of battalion would he be put into? Do they even divide troops into battalions? Would they be like people here and consider him expendable or a lesser soldier because of his mutation?
Would he even make it home?
You couldn’t stop asking questions, but at the same time, you couldn’t speak either. You had just stared, and sat around, and stayed silent. Anything to avoid bringing it up again. You had brought it up again though, in the driveway after all your parents’ friends had left.
“Are you really going?”
“Yeah, I am.” He sighed, immediately knowing what you had been referring to, “I just can’t help but feel like this is the only way I can actually do something with my life, you know? Make something of myself, despite... this.”
With that last word, he had gestured to himself, causing you to sigh and grab his hand, “That’s not true, Mort, but if this is what you want to do, I’ll support you.”
He had smiled at that, “Thanks (Y/N). I’m gonna miss you.”
“I’m gonna miss you too. Write to me?”
“I’ll try.”
“Just be safe out there okay?”
Mortimer chuckled, “I can’t promise that.”
“Mort...”
“Okay, I’ll try.” He smiled, “I still can’t promise anything though.”
Before you could answer that, he had given your hand a squeeze and walked away. That was the last time you saw him before he shipped overseas, and you still hadn’t seen him since.
It was nearly two years later, and you hadn’t even heard from Mortimer. You’d sent letters like you’d promised to, but you never got a response. You didn’t know if they never made it to him or if he never made it long enough for them to get there- you didn’t want to know which it was. You kept your days busy and your mind occupied in the meantime. Part of you keeping busy was frequenting a local diner that had quickly become your new favourite. As per your schedule, you worked your butt off at your job, and walked to the diner as soon as your lunch break started. Today, your boss had given you the rest of the day off, and the diner had a different vibe to it when you walked in.
“Hey, (Y/N)! Usual spot?” a young waiter, Charlie, greeted you.
“Yes, please, Charlie. Hey, what’s going on? It seems.. different in here.”
“We got a new fry cook over the weekend.” Charlie explained, starting to lead you to your usual seat, “He’s been here for three days and folks already love him.”
“What happened to Raphael?” you asked, curious about the last fry cook.
“He became the manager.” a deep voice, the voice of Raphael, answered.
“Raph, congrats! You got a promotion?” you cried.
“Yes, I did. Thank you, but I suppose now you’ll have to spend your lunch break with the new guy instead of me.” Raph smiled, helping you onto a barstool at the diner counter, your usual seat with a clear view to the kitchen, “Let me introduce you. (Y/N), I’d like you to meet-”
“(Y/N)?” a familiar voice cut him off, and you turned to look at the fry cook before you.
“Mort?” you smiled, watching as he maneuvered out of the kitchen to hug you over the counter, “When did you get back?”
“About a week ago. I’m so sorry I didn’t call but I figured you’d’ve changed your number over time or forgotten about me.”
“Forgotten about you? Mortimer, don’t be ridiculous, I thought about you every day!”
Raph chuckled, turning away, “I’ll leave you two to talk.”
After he left, Mort looked at you in surprise, “You thought about me? Every day?”
“Of course.” You nodded, “I wrote to you every day too but I guess you didn’t get my letters.”
“What? No, I didn’t get any letters.”
“Good thing I typed them. I can read ‘em to you later if you’d like.” he smiled and you continued, “So, new job, huh? How’s the transition from soldier to krabby patty chef?”
Mortimer laughed as he went back into the kitchen, talking to you through the window, “Did you seriously just call them krabby patties?”
“Of course I did. What else would I call them? This way I get to call you SpongeBob.”
“Don’t you dare!”
The two of you joked around for a while, him cooking and you picking away at your meal, trying desperately for the moment to last forever. However, your time was cut short as a waitress went behind the counter and returned a barely-touched plate to Mort. He gave her a curt look, glancing between her and the plate of food.
“Something wrong with my burger?” He asked.
“Just a couple of dumb day drinkers is all.” The waitress replied sheepishly.
“Well, what’s their problem with the burger?”
“It’s not worth it.” She insisted.
“What’d they say?” You stepped in, adjusting yourself against the counter.
“He said... the burger...” She drew out her words, clearly trying to not say.
“What did they say, Darlene?” Mort pressed, trying to get her to spit it out.
“He said the burger might be diseased.” she finally snapped.
You squared your shoulders in rage. You were used to people saying shit about Mortimer being a mutant but this had taken it too far. You reached around Darlene and grabbed the plate, sauntering over to the table she’d come from.
“(Y/N), wait!” Mort called after you, before muttering under his breath, “Aw shit.”
You reached the table and cleared your throat to get the patrons’ attention, “Excuse me, gentlemen, who ordered the hamburger... with disease?”
Two of the men giggled like schoolgirls at that, while the third spoke up, “I ordered the hamburger deluxe.”
“Well, sweetie, in this diner a hamburger deluxe comes with fries, lettuce, tomato, mayo, and disease!” At that last word, you raised your voice, gaining the attention of the entire diner, “Anybody got a problem with that?”
“Yeah!” the man spoke up again, “I’m an American, and I got a say in who makes my food. I’m not eating anything made by some diseased mutant freak!”
You rolled your eyes and leaned against the table, using your arms for support, “Well, honey, it's too late for that. Mutants have been breeding your cows, raising your chickens, even brewing your beer long before he walked his sexy ass up in this shit. Everything on your god damn table is diseased.”
“You still ain’t making me eat no diseased burger.” the man insisted, sneering at you.
You leaned towards him angrily. “All you gotta do is say hold the disease.” you grabbed the burger’s top bun and used your newly-discovered mutation to heat it up, “Here, eat it.”
You smashed the bun in his face. His friends got up to defend him, but you punched one and kicked the other, silently thanking your father for those self-defence lessons. The two friends were knocked out and you turned to the third, picking up the plate and pointed towards the kitchen.
“Bitch, you come into his diner, you’re gonna eat his food the way he fucking makes it! Do you understand me?”
With that, you threw the plate at him, “Tip your fucking waitress.”
You turned back to walk the way you came and you were met with a round of applause and a couple of high fives. You went to sit back down at the counter, but Darlene ushered you outside, explaining that she convinced Raphael to give Mort the rest of the day off and that he was waiting for you. You walked out the thin glass door to find him standing on the sidewalk, looking out at the street.
“That was really something in there.”
“Yeah, well.” You shrugged, “Some people need a bit of force in order to learn their lesson.”
Your best friend chuckled, “Thank you, (Y/N). You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate you standing up for me.”
“Of course, Mort.” You smiled, stepping closer to him, “I care about you. I’m not about to let some asshole talk about you like that.”
“Thanks (Y/N).” He smirked, “When did you get your powers?”
You stared down at your hands, “I dunno really. One day, I was at a low patch. I was sitting in the dark, worrying about you and if you were okay and if you were ever coming home, and then my hands warmed up. Just my hands. I looked at them and they were glowing. I couldn’t explain it.”
“You missed me so much you developed a mutation?”
“I guess so.”
He was quiet for a bit before he smiled at you, “I love you too.”
You smiled back, “I know. I love you more.”
He laughed, and then paused for a second before turning his head and looking down behind him.
“What are you doing?” you asked.
He stayed silent for a bit before turning back to you, “Do you really think my ass is sexy?”
You laughed, rolling your eyes in response.
“No, I’m serious. Do you honestly think my ass is sexy?”
“Yes, of course, I actually think your ass is sexy.” You replied with a laugh, “Now can you drop it?”
Mort nodded, thinking, “Oh, well, thank you. Your ass isn’t half bad either.”
“Mortimer!” You groaned, a hint of a laugh added to your voice.
“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry.” He laughed, hands half-raised in surrender, “Hey, you wanna go catch a movie?”
You smiled, leaning over and grabbing his hand, “That depends, are you gonna make me a krabby patty afterwards?”
You both laughed at that, as Mort put his arm around you and walked you to his car. You weren’t sure yet which movie you were going to see, but you were certain that this was the start of something beautiful.
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