Late Shift
A ltww fanfiction.
Can be interpreted as gen, or Waldo X reader. Also a little bit of Waldo x detective in there.
You sigh, drumming your fingernails against the counter. Yet another late night spent closing after all your coworkers have gone home- no doubt to cozy beds, hot dinners, welcoming loved ones and lovers- and here you stay, sweeping the floor for the fourth time this evening.
You glare up at the clock, willing it to move faster. There’s still another four hours left in your shift, and with your luck, each minute is going to feel like eternity. Worse yet, it’s a slow night. The only customers you served were a giggling pack of preteens, arms loaded with chips and candy, and a really sad looking middle aged person in a trenchcoat who bought cigarettes and nothing else.
Scanning the storefront and noting the distinct lack of customers, (no one comes into this shithole past five anyway.) you take out your phone. You’re well past the point of caring if they catch you leaning instead of cleaning. (At least your manager is chill.)
You mindlessly scroll for a few minutes. Your feed is chock full of the usual- pointless, junk content, ai generated slop, depressing news, and hateful bastards spewing out the most vile rhetoric their pea-brains could conceive. You definitely don’t need the added mental stress of reading it, what with all your current troubles- rent being late, your cat and her recent appetite problems… (she needs a vet trip, and you definitely can’t afford it.)
So in other words, nothing new. You swipe over to another app, flicking through your notifications, snorting at a meme here and there- when you have the distinct impression you’re being watched. You glance up instinctively for a moment, expecting to see nothing there- just your imagination. Instead, you’re greeted with a long, lanky torso perhaps six inches away from your nose. Clothed in a bright red and white sweater, nonetheless.
You flinch back, completely stunned by the intruder. How in the world did they get so close without you noticing-? Especially in an outfit like that?
“I-“ you stutter out, too startled to compose yourself. You drop your phone in the confusion, then mentally curse yourself. You sure hope the screen didn’t crack. “I’m so sorry- uh, sir.” (He’s a customer, after all. You should be polite to him.) you look up at him, offering a friendly customer service smile, then falter. First of all- he’s almost unnaturally tall, and gangly as a scarecrow. Weirder still is the grin he wears- broad and straining, as if seeing you made his day. (And he’s carrying a walking stick… who carries a walking stick in this day and age?) His hair is black and greasy looking, thankfully hidden by a hat that matches that abomination of a sweater.
He cocks his head at your words, grin somehow stretching further.
“It’s no trouble.” He says. “So sorry to interrupt your break.” He bends to pick up your phone off the ground before you can get to it, and holds it out to you. You take it, noting with some relief that the screen is in one piece.
“Oh- no, no, I wasn’t on break,” You clarify, embarrassed to have been caught slacking. “Just… uh… figured, since no one was here-“
He chuckles a little. “Oh, I see how it is… boss makes a dollar, you make a dime…”
You laugh nervously, praying this guy doesn’t tell on you. “R-Right, yeah… again, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”
He watches your face intently, as though you were a particularly interesting little bug.
“I’ve never understood the fixation on technology,” He says, not unkindly. “It makes it so hard to… notice things. Wouldn’t you agree?”
You have to admit, he’s right. “That’s true… I have a bad habit, I guess.”
He winks, eyes sparkling with some mischief. “So do I.” You have the feeling you’re being left out of some big secret, and cock your head, a little confused. Still, you smile and nod at him.
“Anyways..” You stutter, “Is there anything I can do for you, sir?”
After a moment, the strange man pulls something out from behind his back, holding it out to you. Upon further inspection, it’s a red envelope. You flip it over, noting the lack of postage.
You look back up at him. “Is this… for me?”
“Yes… but not quite. I have a strange request, you see.” Tilting your head, you let him continue.
“Someone very… special, comes in here every so often. They buy a pack of cigarettes?”
Well, very few people come into the shop nowadays, and you can count the number of people who buy cigarettes on one hand, so you nod. “Um… okay?”
“You’ll know them by their trench coat. Dark circles under the eyes.” A sort of spell washes over him. “Strong, commanding voice… well spoken… distinguished grey to the hair… a scar on the ring finger-“
This is getting weird. It sounds like he’s describing his ideal date, really. “Uh… right…” the description sounds familiar, anyway. You’re certain one of your customers has to be the person in question. “I think I know who you’re talking about. I think I saw them earlier.”
He looks satisfied with this, and steeples his fingers together, walking stick hooked over his elbow. “I was wondering, then, if you would do me a little favor.”
“A… favor?”
“You see,” He continues, “Most of the time, I would find a bit of… dangerous cancer in the area to pass on messages for me. But the powers that be have told me to abstain.”
You blink.
So.. working the night shift does tend to bring in an odder brand of person now and again, and this isn’t your first time being rambled to about some weird subject matter, usually from the depths of the internet… but this is new.
However, you’re no stranger to being polite to weirdos. So you smile, nod, and act like he isn’t being crazy. “I see.”
“So in that case… I need someone to pass on a message for me.”
…You have a bad feeling about this. Even as he holds the red envelope out to you, your heart begins to pound.
“In return… I will give you…”
Oohhh fuck. Yeah, this isn’t good. Here it comes.
His other hand reaches out. Oh god. It’s probably a bomb.
You instinctively brace for it as you reach out and take the red envelope, cringing as he holds out his other hand to reveal…
A neat stack of bills, bound together by a rubber band?
Incredulously, and with some hesitation, you take it at his prompting. Looking up at him in shock, then down at the money, you flip through it with your thumb. It’s a stack of twenties, over an inch thick. There has to be over a thousand dollars here-
“That should cover, oh, a month or so of rent I’d assume?” He asks, breaking you out of your trance. “I’m not familiar with the local economy in these parts.”
“I-It’ll cover… it’ll cover all of it.” You stutter, totally astounded. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” You thumb through it again. They’re not fake. You can tell at this point. In disbelief, you grab the counterfeit pen by the register and swipe one. It’s real. They’re all real. “Oh my fucking god-“
“So, that’s sufficient, then.” Waldo clarifies. Shocked beyond words, you nod.
“Good. I was beginning to think I’d wasted my time with that stockholder I encountered…”
You’re not even going to pretend to understand that. “And… and all you want me to do is just… give this person the letter?”
He nods. “More specifically… the next time they come in to buy cigarettes, give them that instead.” After a moment's thought, he continues. “I’d like them to kick the habit… it’s such a filthy thing, really… not that I can point fingers. I have a few filthy habits of my own.” He chuckles, amusing himself.
“And I’d like them to be around a while longer. You know how it is, don’t you dear?”
Blushing slightly, you nod. As he’d spoken, you had counted through the stack, surmising it’s actually more than you expected- there are a few hundreds stuffed in there. Not only will it cover at least two months rent, you can pay for your cat's vet trip.
You have no idea what to say. This random guy decided to change your life for a letter? A letter he could have easily sent in the mail. Whoever he is, this guys great in your book.
Seeing that his task is finished, he pats you on the head (to your immense confusion, it feels like being pawed at by a lion. There’s a lot of strength behind that thin, wiry hand.) and taps his cane on the floor. You feel bad for judging him earlier. Slightly embarrassed, you blurt out- “I-If you ever need any more letters delivered, uh- just let me know, okay?” You blush, but it’s true. You’ve done worse jobs for less money.
He smiles at you, as if noticing a particularly unique rock, or some other interesting natural formation spotted by a well seasoned traveler. “I’ll consider that.” He says with a grin. “Of course, I have to keep my dear… ‘friend’ on their toes. But who’s to say? You could be useful down the line.”
Practically vibrating with excitement, you nod eagerly. “Whatever you need. I’ll be here as always.” And you’re going to make damn sure you get this letter to this person. Anything to stay in this guys good graces.
“That’s excellent.. I’ll thank you again. But now, I’d better be on my way.” He looks up, as if scenting the air. “I have a good feeling my friend will be back here. Very soon.”
You raise your eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure they were in here earlier. They already bought a pack.”
He snickers. “They smoke when they’re stressed. They already- I mean, I’m sure they’ve probably finished it by now.”
Wow. From the sound of, they do need an intervention. “Well, I’m happy to help.” You look down at the red envelope. “By the way, what was your name-?” You go to look up at him but-
He’s… gone?
You look around, totally disoriented. How did he leave so quickly? You crane your neck, but you can’t even see him walking out in the parking lot.
Another thorough glance at the wad of cash indicates you’re not hallucinating, and this isn’t a dream. So what the hell-?
You’re startled again by the bell hanging over the door chiming as another customer enters. You snap out of your trance- especially when you see the familiar trench coat.
Your grip tightens on the red envelope, and you smile in preparation.
You have a good feeling you’ll see the strange man again.
