If You Just Listened // Arthur Fleck x Reader // SLOWBURN

Chapter 1 - You're New Here. I'm Not.

You leaned against the door frame, the smell of cigarettes and cheap bar food filling the air. Your eyes watched the man on stage but your mind was elsewhere, completely zoned out.

    You didn't particularly like this job. The comedy was repetitive, insulting, and often just plainly not funny to you. Your co-workers weren't the friendliest people. And to top it off, you often caught your boss, Mike, with his gaze trained directly on your ass, as if he wasn't even trying to hide it.

    'No wonder the interview was so short.'

    You scoffed at the thought, straightening yourself out as another group of guests approached the entrance. You'd only been working at Pogo's for less than a month, and you quickly learned that most people working in the service industry weren't exactly seen as people, per say.
    No, by now you'd come to expect people to walk right past you before you could ask them, "Hello, how many in your party?" You didn't jump anymore when a drunken hand found its way on the back of your pencil skirt. You were used to being the target of ridicule when you brought over the wrong drink. But hey, the bills were paid, and when an arrogant business man found you attractive, you were sure to get a hefty tip. Of course, the harrasment that ensued to get your number wasn't fun, but money is money.
    You walked the group of friends to their table and quickly made your way back to the entrance, not noticing as your fellow host, Owen, walked up behind you.

    "Busy night tonight, huh?"
    You raised your eyebrows, and turned to him, your mind practically half asleep.
    "Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess." You yawned and scratched the back of your neck. "No more seats now, right?"
    He shook his head. "Maybe one or two. You barely squeezed that last group in." He nodded towards their table, then turned his attention to you, his head tilting. "You're looking tired, didn't get enough sleep last night?"
    You shrugged. "I mean I just did a double shift, and I did closing yesterday too. How much sleep could I have gotten in that time slot right?" You chuckled, still watching tonight's comedian absentmindedly. It was nice to have an actual conversation with one of your colleagues for once. Maybe tonight's the night you finally make a friend at this job.

    You pick your tone up, trying to come off as cheerful as you were when you first joined the crew. "How many times has this guy made the same joke about roleplay? I swear, I've heard it, what? A hundred times by now?" You shook your head, scoffing. "It's a miracle people don't get tired of this stuff." You turned to Owen, putting on your friendliest smile.

    Not surprising.

    He was eyeing a woman at the bar, who was clearly with a partner. You doubt he heard a single word of what you just said. You sighed, and turned back to the act. You had come to expect most (if not all) of your interactions at Pogo's to be this way, but you were still disappointed nonetheless. You wished you could say something. Like, 'hey asshole, how about you stop gawking at random women like a fucking teenager and actually try to hold a conversation?' You smiled to yourself. 'Wonder how he'd react to THAT.'

    But speaking honestly, you weren't the confrontational type by any means. You even worried about coming off as rude when turning down drunken men who would badger you for hours. You looked down at your feet, disappointed with yourself. Maybe someday you'd be brave. But until then, you had a shift to finish.

    You watched the on-stage comedian like a zombie. His jokes went in one of your ears and right out the other. You couldn't even force yourself to laugh if you tried. Maybe the night would go by faster if you just looked at the clock.

    One minute.
Tick, tock-
    Two minutes.
Tick, tock-
    Fifteen minutes.
    Tick, tock-
    Half an hour.
Tick, tock-
    Fourty five minu-

    "Excuse me?"
    The voice took you out of your trance. You quickly turned to the man standing in the doorway, blinking a few times to bring yourself back to reality. You cursed yourself for being so inattentive, wondering how long he had been waiting there. You put on the best service smile you could muster, and excused yourself.
    "Sorry," you nervously chuckled, "Long night. Table for one?"
    The man nodded and smiled, holding a very worn notebook to his chest. You looked at it, wondering what this guy was doing with a notebook at Pogo's of all places. It's not like there was anything noteworthy about the comedy here.

    "Okay, it's a bit packed right now but if you give me a minute, I'm sure I can find someth-"
    "There's no seats." Owen turned, his attention miraculously coming off the woman he was eyeing at the worst possible time.
    The man looked disappointed, his brows raised in a pleading expression. "Are you sure? I'll even take a seat in the back-"
    "You deaf, buddy? No seats." Owen snapped. "Zero."
    The man suddenly covered his mouth. He looked like he was desperately trying to hold in a coughing fit.

    You were completely shocked by Owen's behavior. In what universe would it be alright to treat a customer like this? Why couldn't he wait  to be an asshole whe you weren't around? If Mike saw this happen, you'd be roped into it.
    You would definitely be roped into it.
    'Shit.'
   'God, Owen, why are you like this?'
    You were bright red in embarrassment, praying not to be associated with your coworker's behavior. You wanted desperately to turn to Owen and say, 'Hey. Shut up. You're a host. Your job is to be polite.'

    But that isn't what happened. Instead, you turned to Owen, your eyebrows raised, doing your best job at faking astonishment. "I'm so sorry, sir," you began, your eyes slowly leaving Owen and returning to the guest. "My colleague isn't usually like this, you'll have to excuse him. It's been very busy tonight." The man slowly lowered his hand from his mouth, a few small coughs escaping him. They almost sounded like... laughter?

    Whatever, it didn't matter. What mattered is that you fixed the situation. Quickly. You looked around, standing on your toes, scanning the room to find a seat. You sighed in relief as you spotted a single empty table in the center of the club. You turned to the man, mouthing 'come on' and gesturing for him to follow you.
    You quickly set up a spot for him, pulling his chair out and seeing that he was comfortable.
    "Can I get you something? A drink? Some snacks? It's on me for the trouble back there."
    He shook his head and smiled at you, placing his notebook in front of him. He opened his mouth as if to say something... but didn't. You thought it was a little strange, but took no note of it.
    "Okay," you whispered, not wanting to interrupt the current act. "Let me know if you need anything."
    He stared at you for a few seconds... a few seconds more than you were used to. It was definitely making you uncomfortable at this point, you were having a hard time matching his level of eye contact. He opened his mouth to speak again. But again... he didn't. Instead, he just smiled and nodded. You began to turn around and head back-

    "Thank you," he finally whispered.
    You turned to him, smiling out of politeness before rushing back to your position, happy to escape the awkwardness of that interaction.

    Owen stood there, watching you with an annoyed expression as you walked towards him. You raised your eyebrow at him, mouthing 'What?'
    Once you reached him, he moved both of you out towards the hallway entrance. He turned away from the club and faced you.
    "What's your problem?" He snapped.
    You tightened your lips. You hated hostility. Your hands began to sweat with nervousness. Although you wanted to tell him off, you knew it wasn't in you.
    "I was just watching your back, man," you assured. "Imagine if that guy complained to Mike." You shook your head, "it would've looked bad for you."
    Owen squinted down at you, his arms crossed. "Yeah, whatever man." He sucked his teeth. "I've been here much longer than you, alright? And that guy?" He nodded his head towards the man with the notebook. "He ruins the mood every time he comes here. Drives people away. He's a freak."
    You lifted your hands in in innocence. "Well how was I supposed to know? You just interrupted me like-"
    "You're new here," he snapped. "I'm not. Don't go over me again."
    You watched him walk away, your expression souring.
    'Fuck you, Owen.'
    The thought was so vivid in your mind, you swore you said it. You wished you could say something, you wished you had the courage. The guy looked normal, maybe a little weird, but normal for the most part. How were you supposed to know he was a weirdo?Owen was just a dickhead who couldn't handle not being in charge for once.
    You took a deep, shaky breath, regaining your composure.

    Slowly, you walked back to your spot.