Supernatural Imagines & Preferences ^Completed^

Richer Than Me (Misha×Reader)

   Prompt: "Let me help you." 

   Being at work was the absolute worst part of your day. You hated the restaurant with its snobby customers and fancy decor; you hated that the staff was only paid about ten dollars an hour, making you feel like you were less than everyone who came in and out of the restaurant, and you were. You lived paycheck to paycheck, while they all had enough money put away to last them a lifetime. They were also very degrading. You were treated like shit by the customers constantly. They would treat you like you were eight, saying things extremely slowly so that you could get every minuscule change that they wanted to their order, right down to the exact number of pieces of broccoli they wanted with their steak. It was mentally and physically draining. 

   You had been rushing to all of your tables and getting everyone's order as precise as possible. It was only you and two other servers that night, so you had upwards of 15 tables when you would usually have only 7 or 8. You used the way people were dressed to remember which table was which. Table 4 was "funny blue scarf", and Table 9 was "boring yellow high heels". It was something you had been doing subconsciously since you started the job a few years back, when it was a lesser known restaurant and only about .2% of the New York population knew you existed. You got all of your dishes for "funny blue scarf" and hurried over to the table. You smiled as you placed down the orders. 

   "Would you like anything else," you asked to the table. They all shook their heads, thanking you as they started to eat their food. You immediately went back to the kitchen, finding all of the dishes for "crazy floral dress", which was Table 7. You grabbed their two orders of steak, making sure the one had exactly the same number of each vegetable in the medley, something you tried to count quick enough so the food wouldn't get cold. You carried it out, placing it in front of them and smiling before going to the table that was next to theirs and cleaning it for the next group to come and eat. You went to the next table, taking their order and scurrying off to put it in and then grab the "boring yellow high heels" order. You did just that, rushing back to the table. As you turned a corner, you bumped into a man, one of the plates falling off of the tray, clattering. The entire section looked towards you as you bent down to pick up the food and broken plate with tears in your eyes, thanking another waiter for bringing you over a trash can. The man rolled his eyes and stepped around you, not bothering to take an apology. 

   "Let me help you," said a voice from behind you as you saw brown loafers step into your view. A hand reached down to help pick up the rest of the broken glass and food, then finally helping you to stand on your feet without dropping the rest of the order. 

   "Thank you," you mumbled as you sniffled, wiping a way the tears and looking at the man. his bright blue eyes smiled at you as he nodded his head. 

   "It's not a problem. Just be more careful." You and him both chuckled at the last part of his sentence and then he was walking back to his table while you were walking back to the kitchen to request another dish made. The chef rolled his eyes but got to working on it anyway. You went back out to see if anyone was sitting at the table you had just cleaned and you noticed that there were three men sitting there, laughing. You walked up to the table, introducing yourself and smiling a tiny bit as you saw the man that had helped you put on a wider smile as you took his friends' orders. 

   "And for you," you said to him as you stared into his bright blue eyes. He stared back into yours before stumbling over his order. 

   "I-I'll have a, um, a chef's salad with ranch in-instead of...uh Italian dressing." His voice got quieter towards the end of his order as he got sucked up into your eyes again. "I'm Misha, by the way." You smiled as you replied with a quick "hi" and read back all of their orders to them to make sure you got them correct. Once they all nodded, you went to put the orders in and to finally take the order to the yellow heels table. You apologized for the wait, giving them all of their food, getting silence in return. You ran around like a mad man for the next ten minutes, taking orders, delivering orders, and giving checks. You finally got Misha and his friends' orders, taking it as quickly as possible so you would have the most possible time to talk to him. 

   "Here you guys go," you said as you placed all of their orders in front of them, looking directly at Misha. "Do you guys need anything else?" 

   "Could I have a refill," one of them said as he pushed is hair out of his face to be able to make eye contact with you. You nodded, grabbing his empty cup. 

   "Diet, correct?" He nodded as you smiled and went off the refill it. As you were walking back to the table, you were stopped a few times, people asking for checks. You placed the drink down and immediately went to get the checks for the three tables: crazy floral, big green purse, and red loafers. You dropped of the checks, saying you'd be back to grab them in about 5 minutes. You checked in on every other table, getting even more requests for checks. Once you dropped them all off and collected all of the money, you had only Misha's table left and then your shift would be over. They were laughing and talking for about 2 hours at this point, and even thought you really wanted to leave, you didn't want him to. He seemed sweet, and he was extremely handsome. You sighed, wiping your hand on your shirt to get out the small wrinkles that were on it from sitting down. 

   "Ready for your check," you asked as they nodded. "I'll be back with it in a minute." You went over to the cash register, clicking on the items in the program until you got the total. $280.95. Fuck, how do people afford that? That was as much as you made in one week, not including tips. You put the receipt in one of those black leather wallets and walked over to the table, dropping it in the middle, not knowing who was paying. They each pulled out money, putting it in there as you stood there and rubbed your eyes. 

   "Keep the change for yourself," Diet Coke guy said as you smiled. "Come on, guys. Have a lovely rest of your night." 

   "You as well," you replied as you started to walk back to the register, wanting to do the math on how much you were getting in tip. 

   "Hey, (Y/N)," you heard. You turned around, seeing Misha nervously wringing his hands. "Could I maybe, uh, have your number so that I could get to know you better? It's alright if you don't want to, I just thought I'd-" 

   "Yeah. Give me one second," you said as you pulled the little notebook and pen you had in your apron. You jotted down your name and number, ripping it out of the little book and folding it. You placed it into Misha's hand, a smile forming on his face. "I'm free Sundays." 

   "O-okay." He hurried off with blush overtaking his face as you went to the register to put the money in it. You smiled as you walked out of the restaurant and felt your phone buzz, knowing that it had to be Misha. You were beyond excited.