Hair gelled back, shiny shoes tied tight, white collar scratching at his skin, made worse by the bow-tie sitting on his neck. Stomach in knots. 

The first time Jeno had ever been into The Sign of the Dove was for a job interview. The second was right now, during the pre-shift staff meeting. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted one of the chefs preparing a steak for the manager's staff meal. Jeno had perused the menu before sending in his application; that steak cost as much as what Jeno usually spent in a week. Maybe two. 

"Alright everyone, this is our new server Jeno. Introduce yourself," the manager called. 

Jeno raised his hand. "Hi, I'm Jeno." 

"Great. Everyone ready? Doors open in two minutes! Go go go!" 

Bartenders, line cooks, servers, hosts, busboys dispersed, except one slim-faced, black-haired fellow server.

"I'm Doyoung. Kun's having me train you." He stuck out his hand and Jeno shook it. The way Doyoung glanced at Jeno's hand made everything worse: was his grip not tight enough? Was his hand too sweaty? "You've served before, right?" 

Jeno blinked, attempting to make his way through the fog in his head. "Uh-" 

"You must have, or you wouldn't have gone hired. How long have you been serving?" 

"S-six years..." 

Doyoung's eyebrows furrowed. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-two." 

The stern expression on Doyoung's face disappeared. "Okay, okay. Is this your first upscale place?" 

Jeno grimaced. "Yeah..." 

Doyoung slapped Jeno's back, a little too hard. "Alright. We'll make it work. Follow me." He speed-walked away and after a pause, Jeno trotted after him. 

After showing him the POS system, Doyoung raised his eyebrow. "Let's meet some customers. Come on, our section is on the other side." 

Doyoung maneuvered his way between the tables and chairs like an old pro, and Jeno followed like his diligent little puppy. This place had multiple rooms; and the kitchen and hosts and computers were all over, spread out, like jogging through a maze. Nothing like the counter and kitchen places Jeno started off at, his breath hitching in his throat as his eyes darted here and there. And of course Doyoung walked way fast (as any good waiter would, just not one doing training).

When Jeno finally reached his side, trying to hide his panting breaths, Doyoung gave him a smile. "Here's the thing about this place. You're gonna get your rent's worth in tips in one night, and the next some wall street guys are going to take the piss out of you for a quick laugh. We're jesters for those people, but you know, we're here to make money. So you gotta take it, and you gotta shmooze. If you want the money to be worth it." 

"Gotta...shmooze." 

"Some of the rich people that come in are nice. Some are s. Oh, like that guy right there!" Doyoung pointed to a balding middle-aged man in a suit. "He owns the Yankees. Looks like he's in our section. Hurry up; you're coming with me." 

Waiting tables is all about the hustle, the bustle, the hurry, but just for today, in this brief moment, ignoring Doyoung's words for half a second, Jeno took his time. He let his eyes drag over the ornate ironwork along the doorways, the brick walls and meandering rooms, the potted plants hanging from ceilings, the ancient Greek style statues and the pristine white table cloths and the scent, oh that fancy restaurant smell of bread and red wine and Jeno knew that in this world, he'd made it. 

But Doyoung gave him a look so Jeno trotted along. 

The world fell into a blur as Doyoung made small talk, all smiles. Seemed like he reserved them for the customers. Jeno put his own on too, burying the nerves as deep into his stomach as they would go, trying to catch what the gruff, grey-haired man was ordering when they eventually got to that. 

One moment, Jeno was introducing himself, the next, they were done. "Let's go," Doyoung whispered in his ear before Jeno could even blink, and off they went, back to the POS. 

"Show me what you wrote down." Jeno shakily handed Doyoung the man's order, and finally, he received a smile of his own. "Good job. I think you'll be okay." Doyoung slapped his back, but this time Jeno didn't flinch. 

Each second Jeno poked at the POS system the button-pushing got faster and faster, scrolling through the seemingly millions of different screens but it still wasn't fast enough for the customers (or Doyoung). Jeno looked up at Doyoung, wide-eyed, and Doyoung sighed (more at himself than anything). 

"It'll get faster, once you remember where everything is." And he was tugging Jeno along. 

The blur seemed to never stop, cut by moments of anxiety-induced static from ups and moments where he needed to actually talk and just, everything. Jeno thought his feet hurt but he wasn't sure; he could barely feel it. By the next moment he even thought to look at the clock, three hours had passed. 

"I introduced you to about five of our most important customers tonight, do you remember their names?" Doyoung asked hurriedly, in a brief moment of relief (grabbing a new set of forks). 

"Y-yes, absolutely," Jeno breathed out. 

"You're lying. It's alright, just try to keep them in your head. It's better to say nothing than the wrong name anyways. In a week or two some of them will expect you to know." 

"Th-that fast?!" Jeno cried. 

"The customers pay for reverence. You're lucky if all they ask of you is respect."

Jeno sighed at that.

"Oh yeah, and take a look at the menu tonight or tomorrow. Try and get it memorized. If you don't know everything about every menu item they'll be pissed. You need to know where the ing chickens come from even. You won't think they'll ask, but they will. Oh yeah, and have you met the sommelier? You'll need to do training with him. On the wines and all that. It sounds terrible but you'll get to try five hundred dollar bottles of wine. And you'll still get paid to get wine drunk in the back, basically."

Jeno's head spun, but he cleared his throat and gave Doyoung an obedient nod. 

Doyoung ignored him, perusing their section. "Another important one, left corner seat. Alone." 

Doyoung power walked to the man and Jeno trailed behind, and when Doyoung stopped, Jeno froze. 

"Hello Jaemin, how are you this evening? I'll be your server tonight." 

"I'm pretty good. Busy day, but I'm free now. I'll have an old-fashioned; something to take the edge off." 

"Alright, we will have that right out for you sir." 

Just as the pair were about to walk away, Jaemin poked his head around.

"New server?" He gave Jeno a crisp smile. 

"Y-yeah. I'm Jeno." 

"Jaemin. Nice to meet you." Jaemin held out his hand, giving him a businessman's handshake. His face had the softness of youth, but everything else told Jeno he had to be in his late twenties. The black suit he wore fit a little too well. 

"N-nice to meet you too." Jeno stood there until Doyoung tapped his shoulder, whisking him away. 

"He looks so young," Jeno said quietly to Doyoung as they made their way to the bar. "Younger than the other important guys." 

"He is young. Right around your age, I think." 

"Wait, seriously?" 

"Mmh-hmm. His dad is some sort of CEO. He works pretty high up in his company. Nepotism central, but at least he works. Most rich kids don't even bother." 

Jeno nodded and hummed. In that single second Jeno had stopped moving Doyoung was already five feet away so Jeno trotted after him, hair flopping in the breeze of fast movement. 

Doyoung led Jeno to the bar. "One old-fashioned please!" 

", man, not now!" The bartender yelled back. Jeno could see every seat taken, those sad older men in their stiff suits and heads turned down squished between the blonde girls in little sparkly dresses practically screaming in laughter. 

"No, Johnny, now! I need that old-fashioned now!" 

"Seriously? off, Doyoung. Gimme a minute."

"But it's for Jaemin," Doyoung whined. 

Johnny sighed. "Twenty from his tip and I'll do it." 

"Come on, I'm already sharing with this ing kid tonight!" Jeno grimaced, but nobody noticed. "Okay, ten." 

"Ten can't even buy a ing cup of coffee!" Johnny yelled back, a cocktail shaker in each hand, yelling even louder than before. 

"Fifteen?" Doyoung begged, making pouty eyes at the bartender. 

Johnny slammed the shakers down on the counter and sighed. "Fine. Fifteen." 

"Thanks!" Doyoung answered, fake sweet. Johnny rolled his eyes but turned to the bottles of liquor, turning around only a few seconds later with one of the most beautiful-looking drinks Jeno had seen in his life. Jeno gaped at it and Doyoung scoffed as Johnny set two shot glasses full of...something on the counter as well. 

"As a thank you, for the cash. I'll need it by tonight," Johnny said. 

Doyoung took one of the shots, slammed it down, and picked up Jaemin's drink. "Hurry up!" 

Jeno, wide-eyed, turned between the shot glass and Doyoung. "We're allowed to drink on the job?" 

Johnny laughed, but Jeno wasn't sure if it was at him or with him. "Why the else would we work here?" 

"Kid, we don't have all day!"

Jeno took a deep breath and took the shot, not even finished before Doyoung started walking away. It burned, but some of the tension leaked out of his shoulders immediately.

"Thank you," he said to Johnny with eyebrows furrowed before chasing after Doyoung. 

After finally catching up to his trainer, Jeno looked up at him. "Would Jaemin really be mad if we were late with his drink? I thought you said he was nice." 

"No. But Jaemin's a damn good tipper. And you know, better service, better tip." 

Jeno exhaled, understanding, and they were back at Jaemin's table. 

"Here you are, sir." 

"Thank you, thank you," Jaemin mumbled, taking a sip and letting out a loud exhale. 

"Have you had a chance to look over the menu?" 

"Yes, yes..." Doyoung and Jeno took down his order, and he gave them a smile when he was done. 

"Is it your first day?" Jaemin asked, all eyes on Jeno. 

"Yeah, actually," Jeno answered, and he couldn't help but smile back. 

"Well...good luck." His eyes imperceptibly raked over Jeno, but he sure as hell noticed. 

"Th-thanks," he answered. Doyoung had already left, though, so Jeno ran back after him. 

Doyoung didn't say anything. But for half a second he made a face, one Jeno couldn't read. The expression faded quickly, though, and Jeno willed himself to forget all about it. 

Focus. He had a busy night ahead of him. So he slipped himself into work mode, trailed after Doyoung, and steeled himself for another six hours on his feet. 

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A/N: the sign of the dove was a real restaurant in new york city!! look it up if you wanna get a ~~vibe~~ of the story. I hope you all enjoy!