who? (Trans Wilbur)

thirteen | "technoblade please don't get me fired, i have bills to pay"

warnings: shark week, self-harm (scratching/torn skin), mention of (hypothetical) pregnancy, dysphoria

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"Wait, you work at the shitty burger place a couple blocks away? The ones that always make you feel like you're gonna die just from the grease?" Techno confirmed.

"Actually, it makes you feel like you're gonna die from inhaling the scent," Wilbur corrected, adjusting his nametag. "I think I'll walk today, don't really feel like sitting on the bike seat at the moment."

"Okay, try to not die while there," Techno replied. "What would your Twitch subs think?"

"How do you know about my Twitch subs?" Wilbur asked.

"Tommy told me," Techno answered, shrugging. "I even watched some of the VODs. The five-hour one kind of made me a bit concerned, and that coupled with Tommy kind of kicking my shins until I agreed to come led to this."

"Okay, well, I guess I'll be back later, then. Gotta go, you know, get money so I can pay my bills," Wilbur said, grabbing his keys. "Try to not ruin my apartment, if you don't mind."

"No promises," Techno said dismissively.

"The landlord will have my ass if you dent the wall, Techno," Wilbur said sternly. "It's just a few hours, don't do anything to insane. At least try to do your anarchist business in the parking lot."

"At the moment, I don't have any anarchist business," Techno replied. "But go. I won't break your door."

"Wow, that's so comforting," Wilbur said dryly. "Bye." He shut the door behind him, leaving a wild Technoblade on his own in the apartment.

Wilbur walked quickly on the sidewalk, around the block to where he worked. He had quickly adapted to be able to smell the grease before he even turned the corner, so he knew it wouldn't be too long of a walk.

Inside, his work day was pretty normal, save for a few moments where he froze from the surprise of a cramp. Customers weren't being much more of assholes than usual, and the stench was of normal strength.

As Wilbur was slowly cleaning a table, he leaned his weight of it for a few moments. He felt suddenly exhausted, forced to lean most of his body over his arms and onto the diner furniture while he waited to regain enough strength to keep working.

As he straightened his spine and ran his hand through his hair to ground himself, he thought he must've been having a stroke due to the blur of pink in his periphery. He looked towards the shape to ensure he wasn't hallucinating something, only to be met with a rapidly approaching Technoblade.

"Your ass almost passed out," Techno said, scarily quiet.

"What about it? Happens all the time." Wilbur shrugged, scraping a stubborn stain of ketchup. "Besides, I thought you were staying home."

"And let you out alone after the mess I walked into yesterday? I'm sure." Techno glanced around the restaurant warily. "While I'm here, is anyone giving you shit? I can knock a nerd out before I take you home."

"Take me home? Why would you-"

"Wilbur." The manager whose name Wilbur never cared about had appeared. "Talking to friends during work hours, huh? This guy more important than the waiting customers?"

"You want me to serve customers and wipe tables?" Wilbur retorted.

"I want you focused on your job," the manager snorted.