He's sure there's a few words to describe how lonely he was feeling right now. But the sentences won't form in Jeremy's head for some reason and he's perfectly ok with that.

Night has fallen and Fritz has bitten off more than he can chew by working overtime, taking both his, Mike's and even some of the Manager's hours just to scrape up some extra cash for this fundraiser he yapped about that Jeremy just can't seem to remember. But night has fallen, and here he was, at home. Alone.

And incredibly, utterly bored.

There was no homework to do, no chores or buddies to call up and have a decent chit chat with. Not like he would have done that anyway, considering it was nearing 2AM in the early hours of the morning and the stars were still fresh and sunrise wasn't for another couple of what feels like decades. That, and not to mention it was a Saturday, meaning there was no class and no work to later in the morning.

Unsurprisingly, even his own mother was out working a nightshift. A clerk job at a 24/7 store isn't much of a money maker, but it sure does eat up some one's time.

Speaking of which; that was about the fifth time Jeremy's glanced back at the alarm clock and the numbers still have yet to change. Bright red, digitized blinking digits just glaring at him from his end table, taunting. It was unnerving to say the least, but something else caught his attention from the corner of his eye, and his attention was directed elsewhere.

A phone, cheap but hardly ever used, sits about an inch away from the alarm, just within arms distance. It wasn't anything flashy or high-tech unlike what most of his peers would have gotten, but it was functional and that's all that really mattered. Sure, the scratches on the cover dawning a self-made picture wasn't the most appealing, but Jeremy's hand extended towards it anyway, palm wrapping around the object and pulling it back in under the covers with him.

The glow from the screen illuminated his face underneath he dim lights, emerald eyes darting slowly from each message in his inbox. All read, all old and forgotten. With a sigh, he taps his thumb against the buttons and begins to delete them, one by one until he slides across an invite received not too long ago, maybe earlier that evening. The sender is a contact that doesn't really hold down a full out conversation via mobile, but sure enough takes up most of his inbox with spotty text through out the day.

Jeremy huffs, and skims the most recent conversation.

Mike: r u hungry

Jeremy: Mom and I just ate a few minutes ago, actually. Why do you ask?

Mike: nm

A frown makes it's way to Jeremy's face, sending the old message to the trash. That was sent, what, seven hours ago? Something around that? Huh, time really did fly. He skimmed through the rest of his inbox, selecting delete after every word. Been there, read that, nothing new, nothing to entertain him while he was stuck in the spiral of boredom. Not a good combination with restlessness, either.

For split second, his finger hovers over the speed dial button and Jeremy pauses. His palm is frozen and his lips thin into a line. With one swift tap, he opens the text box and types a few letter, pressing send before he could change his mind. Blame the tiredness.

Jeremy: Are you awake?

A blank, blue little window popped up, only stating the confirmation that the text has been sent. Green glance towards the alarm clock again, just to correct the time on his phone with the current passage. It was accurate, unfortunatly.

Why did he even try? I mean, sure, Mike was as much as an insomniac as he was an asshole, but that doesn't mean Jeremy could have the privilege of texting him completely out of the blue, much less in the middle of the night when they're both supposed to be sleeping-

Mike: no

Scratch that. He was awake. And now Jeremy felt bad.

Jeremy: Sorry.

He's about to turn his phone off and criticize himself for the next couple of hours until the morn when suddenly the phone flickered to life again, a bright little window popping up. One new message.

Mike: what are you doing

Jeremy blinked, huffing. He hesitated for a moment before replying, unsure of his confirmation.Though, right as he goes to hit the send button, another message pops up, erasing his draft.

Mike: are you dressed

Emerald eyes widen in an almost comical question. That was a strange question to ask.

Jeremy: I'm in my Pajamas.

Mike: r u hungry

Once again, another unusual question. Given that it was the same as earlier and without much context behind it, maybe Mike was just as sleep deprived as he was. Jeremy wouldn't blame him, sleep texting wasn't that hard of a thing to do, and they're minds do tend to wander a bit...

Or maybe he was just over thinking this. Jeremy sighs, one eye open as he typed back a reply. His pillow wasn't as comfortable as it used to be.

Jeremy: A little bit. Why?

Mike: sucks for you

Jeremy rolled his eyes with a scoff, clicking the phone's screen off and turning his head to face his pillow. It wasn't much, maybe not a bit more soft than the mattress it'self, but it was cool against his cheek and neck. Turning over, brown haired splayed out across the pillow, just brushing over the tips of his ears.

This was perfectly comfortable, sleepy or not he could defiantly doze off like this. With the evening calm, and the room dark and his blankets warm, Jeremy finally found himself drifting away-

A blue light flashed across his eye lids and he pryed them open with a groan, bringing the phone back up to eye view as emerald squinted from the brightness.

Mike: do you want some mcdonalds

Jeremy mentally face-palmed.

Jeremy: It's almost 2AM, Mike!

Mike: what is your point

Jeremy: We should both be sleeping! They wouldn't be open at this hour anyway...

Mike: i call bullshit

Jeremy grit his teeth, quickly tapping back another reply before groaning as it's erased, another notification popping up in front of his draft and losing his progress.

Mike: get some shoes on we're going to mcdonalds

Jeremy: ???

Mike: i want nuggets jeremy i'll pay god damn

Jeremy: What if I don't want to go?

Mike: too late i'm down the road

The nightwatch gives the text an odd, baffled look, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. Sure, as if the literal meaning wasn't surprising enough. But the thing was: Mike lived on the other side of town, and they've only been texting for a good ten minutes, give or take a few moments. There's no way he could have walked that much of a distance in such a short amount of time-

A sudden horror and disapproval filled the brunette, and against his better judgement, he quickly stamped back a reply.

Jeremy: ARE YOU TEXTING WHILE DRIVING?

Mike: no bitch look out your window

As if on cue, a faint honk noise sounded from outside, just drifting off from the direction of what side the driveway would be according to his house. And it's to this noise, Jeremy discovers, that he's already slipping on his sneakers and bolting from the bedroom to the front door, a sour look on his face.

Mike must have sensed the disapproval from down the street, judging by the smug grin that dawned upon his mouth. For someone who hardly never slept, he sure did seem relaxed, with his arms crossed and leaning against the car door, watching with a smirk as the nightwatch swung open the front door and stomped towards him, an amusing pout gracing his features.

"W-what were you thinking?" Jeremy spurted, frowning even more so as a low chuckle escapees the security guard's throat. "You can't text and drive! That's dangerous."

Mike shrugged. "Calm down. I only picked up my phone at red lights and stop signs; nothing would have happened."

The pale fingers grasping the cheap phone tightened. There was no way that was true, not when you consider the time span and the route that the man must have taken to have gotten there so quickly. It just didn't make logical sense.

"I don't believe you" The brunette's bottom lip pops up again, brows furrowing and adding even more so to his evident expression of disapproval. It was almost comical. "There's no way you could have gotten here that fast while texting me."

And to his abundant horror, Mike beats down another smirk and drums his fingers against his truck, tiny tapping noises against the driver's side window. "I may have ran a couple lights, give or take some."

If Jeremy had the energy, he would have buried his face into his hands and screamed in anguish. But he has to settle for creating the most disapproving unamused face that Mike has ever seen. Scratch the previous record, they were reaching all sorts of expressions tonight. "S-Seriously? Are you trying to get yourself k-killed?!" Jeremy exclaimed, his voice rising to a volume he wasn't sure whether his neighbors would be glad to hear. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking about how god damn hungry I was, dipshit." The older man snarled, unfolding his arms. "Do you want Mcdonalds or not?"

"It's 2AM"

"They're open 24/7"

"I don't have my wallet."

"I'm paying."

"W-well...What if I'm not hungry?"

"Get a fucking ice cream, then."

"...I'm in my pajamas."

Mike opened his mouth to deliver the quick retort as expected, but fell short, closing it when ice eyes left emerald and traveled downwards. The nightwatch was right: he was really clad in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants and some weird looking duck shirt with enough wrinkles in it that it could pass as somebody's damn grandmother.

But just as Jeremy thinks he's about give up on the argument, the man rolls his eyes. "You're wearing shoes and a shirt. That's good enough." He cuts the younger male off before he could say anything, roaming around the front of the truck and pulling out the passenger side door. With one dramatic gesture, he shoots Jeremy an half-irritated, half-entertained look. "Get in, princess."

"...You're crazy."

"Damn straight. Hurry up before I ditch your ass."

Mike's already hopped in the driver's seat before Jeremy could spit something back. Sighing, the nightwatch runs a hand down his face, walking around the vehicle and settling into the truck, pulling the door shut behind him.

The engine restarts with a crank at first, but roars to life on the second try. "What if my m-mother comes back home and I'm not here?" The brunette buckles in his seat belt, ushering for the security guard to do the same. "What if she freaks out?"

"I would tell you to stop asking dumb questions, but then you'd just ask me why." Mike scoffs, turning the keys to the side and pressing down on the gas peddle. The truck lurched forward in almost a hop-like fashion, almost sending him forward onto the dash. Ignoring Jeremy's smug giggle was easier than reaching back and pulling the seat belt over his chest, strapping himself in. "You have you're phone, right? Just text her or something. She'll be cool with this."

He hears a sigh of disbelief as they round the corner. "How would y-you know?"

"She likes me."

"Sure..."

Another giggle makes it's way up the nightwatch's chest, ticking him just as Mike swings his free hand over to lightly smack his face, playfully pushing his cheeks together and scrunching his nose up. "Don't 'sure' me. You're mom's pretty chill for an old lady."

"P-Pay attention to the road!" Jeremy laughed, bringing his hands upwards in a desperate attempt to shield his face. "And she's not old! She's just-S-Stop it!"

As if to make matters worse, the hand rubbing vigorously on his face moved to his ears in a a swift, sly motion, fingers catching the outside of his ear and pulling. A pinch shot down another wave of laughter, Jeremy working hard to remove the hold Mike had on him. "Oh my g-god, knock it off!"

"Say Uncle."

"The r-road-!"

"Say it..."

The security guard's grin stretched up his cheeks, eyes darting from the street to the squealing nightwatch seated besides him. He could feel feeble attempts of Jeremy trying to remove his hold on his ear, but it was no use, not with this kind of focus. Besides, he didn't even need both hands. One on the wheel and the other on the dork, this is his kind of ride.

Ok, that didn't sound quite right.

"Why are y-you such a jerk!?"

Jeremy felt the pinch around his ear close down harder and resisted a squeak, batting at the older man's arm. "Let go!"

"Not until you say Uncle."

Another laugh sounded throughout the truck. "N-No-"

"It's not that hard."

"Quit it!"

"Say Uncle."

"Mike!"

"I ain't Uncle. Try again."

Jeremy is literally three seconds away from throwing his dignity out the window and happily chomping on the security guard's hand when suddenly it's pulled away from him, leaving his ruffled hair and baffled face to move down to the gear shift, pushing the stick into place.

The truck comes to a halt and the nightwatch glances out past the glass, blinking at the realization. How did they get to McDonalds so quickly? He was sure the closest restaurant was a good ten minutes away, and they've only been on the road for what, five? It was illogical.

Green eyes narrow as Jeremy's thoughts think back to the uncle game moments before, the possibility of the charade being a distraction popping forward into his mind. "Did y-you run red-lights while I wasn't looking?"

Mike shoots him a grin for a brief second before it disappeared, turning off the engine and avoiding eye contact. "Nah, you're just paranoid." He unbuckled his seat belt, swinging it over his torso and bolting out the driver's side door before Jeremy could add another word in, leaving the nightwatch to frown in his direction midst the silence.

He turns back to his own door just in time to see the security guard pull it open for him, dramatically gesturing outwards. "Get going, Princess. I'm hungry."

Jeremy feels his frown deepen, scruffling his pajama's from his seat belt's hook. It retracted back into it's place and he stepped out of the truck, shooting the ever so grinning Mike a glare from the corner of his eye as he dusted himself off. "Don't call me that. It's silly."

"I think it's fitting, your highness."

The olderman snickers as the younger male bats at his arm, catching glimpse of a faint smile before the brunette was able to deflect it away.

Walking into the restaurant had a tint of awkwardness in it's motion, mainly because the cashier was looking dazed and tired just as the rest of the employees, blinking and tapping random buttons on their phone, oblivious to the newcomers walking up to the counter.

Mike impatiently taps his fingers against the counter, looking less than amused. But yet, the cashier's eyes darted up from the screen not to rest on him, but to stare baffled to the brunette the security guard tagged along with him. Or really, his choice of attire.

Jeremy felt embarrassment rush to his cheeks and his inner dialogue cursing him for allowing Mike to drag him out in such a dress. He looked so out of place, so disorderly, like he just crawled out of bed. Which, for the record, he really just did. But that fact didn't make him blush any less either.

To his relief, the cashier said nothing. "What can I get you two tonight?" They speak, shuffling their phone back inside their apron pocket. Jeremy quietly notes the friendly southern accent overlaying their tone and looks up from the floor. "Uh..."

"The usual."

Green eyes shift to the side, narrowing at the security guard suspiciously. As if detecting the notion, Mike glances down at Jeremy's figure before turning back to the employee, his mouth thinning into a line. "Throw a milkshake in there." He pauses, thinking for a moment. "Strawberry"

The employee gets a playful glint in their eye. "You sure you don't want a happy meal too?" They laugh, "Duckie over here looks like he could use one."

To Jeremy's shock and dismay, the person jabs a thumb in his direction. Even the tips of his ears reach a new peek of red when Mike's own laughter sounds beside him. "Maybe next time."

With a nod, the cashier slinks away from the counter and wakes up what Jeremy presumes to be the cook. But before they disappear into the kitchen, he catches them waving their hand outwards. "Go ahead and take a seat somewhere. We're a bit slow tonight." They gesture to the empty restaurant. "We won't have trouble find ya."

Jeremy gives a polite smile. "Thank you!" He says, watching them disappear. Mike is already walking away from the pair, sliding into a booth farthest away from the counter, next to a window. It's a corner booth as well, meaning all seats were connect. So naturally, propping his feet up against the surface didn't seem like such a bad idea.

By the time Jeremy catches up to him, the older man looks completely relaxed and unbothered, despite the smell of salt and grease in the air. "W-what was that all about?" The nightwatch demanded, timidly scooting in the booth to face across the security guard.

He gathers his argument. "Ordering for me? Happy meals and milkshakes?" He pouts, his voice low trying to avoid having his outburst float over to the ears working in the kitchen. "D-duckie?"

The only response he receives is Mike's smug grin. Jeremy rolls his eyes and sticks his bottom lip out, leaning up and over the table to swats the older man's shoes off the surface. "Stop that."

Silence is his answer once again, save for Mike's tongue sticking out of between his teeth. "Can it, pipsqueak. If I'm buying, I'm ordering." He chuckles, putting his feet down to rest underneath and on the tile, leaning back so his head is barely on the ends of the back of the booth. He looked ready to take a nap, Jeremy supposed. That might even be what he planned on doing.

It's ridiculous to the point where Jeremy's mind can't logically process it, but the sleepiness in his chest shoots a loopy smile up to his face regardless. "What if I w-wanted something else?"

"It's a bit late to change the order." Mike interrupts, "Besides, I'm broke as it is and the usual is what I know I can afford. It's good anyway, trust me."

At the mention of money tabs, pang of guilt flashes through Jeremy. "...Y-you don't have to do that, you know."

"Do what? Order for you?"

"Pay for the food, I mean."

Sensing the incoming guilt trip, blue eyes roll backwards and Mike scoffs, slinking deeper into the booth seat. "I wanted to."

"At least let me pay you back..."

You could practically hear Mike's tolerance for annoyance weaken. "You don't owe me anything. I'm actually surprised you came with me in the first place."

Jeremy wrinkles his nose in a playful manner. "It's not like you gave me a choice." He means for it to come out as a retort, but it's more of a giggle instead. "Are you always here late at night."

A playful grin returns to the security guard's features, his tone taking on a much sassier sense. "I fucking might be. Why are you asking?"