Who: Tommy and Bret, Glibt, Marijuana, and Mark. Offscreen Harvey Milk. What: Date night, complete with chaperones. Where:Resto. When: Monday evening. Warnings: Language, alcohol use, drug references. Notes: Was completed over gdocs and has been updated with character names in the comment subject lines.
The show itself, American Idiot, had been rather uneventual, aside from a slight mishap when it came to seating; Marijuana had angled to sit between Tommy and Bret before Glibt had quickly made sure that didn't, Glibt between the two mortals and Marijuana grumbling as he sat next to Tommy at the end of the aisle. The show itself, well, it hadn't necessarily been Glibt's thing, and Marijuana had spent most of the intermission bitching about how Green Day had sold out, but Tommy loved it, hanging onto every note and trying to dart little glances of happiness and affection across Glibt to Bret whenever Marijuana was busy forming his fingers into the chords of the songs that had come after 'Green Day had sold out'. The drive to the restaurant wasn't eventful either; Tommy rode in Marijuana's car and smoked at least three joints anxiously - father and son would pass Visine back and forth before getting out - and Glibt rode with Bret, mostly silent with his stomach twisting as they pulled into the parking lot. "Bret..." Glibt murmured before they left the car. "He's going to need you even more after tonight, especially since I won't be able to help as much as I'd like." And that was the only warning Glibt would give in regard to what was coming and, once they were all out of their cars, he allowed himself a slight smile as Tommy gave Bret a loose hug, the godling not caring that Marijuana narrowed his eyes dangerously at the two of them.
But Marijuana, as they walked into the restaurant, seemed almost cheery as he slipped his necklace - a silver pot leaf with an emerald at the center - under the collar of his dark green dress shirt, cheery enough to try to ruffle Tommy's hair. The godling ducked away at the last second, though; Bryn had helped him smooth it back into a ponytail with clear little pins hidden away underneath to keep any stray strands from falling into his eyes. And as they were seated - Marijuana beside Tommy, across from Glibt, who was beside Bret, who was across from Tommy, with a chair set at the end of the table for Mark, who would be close to Glibt and Marijuana - Tommy fiddled anxiously with the black tie that hung over his light blue button-down, eyes darting to Marijuana, worried at how deceptively cheerful and pleased with the situation his dad looked, then over to Glibt, whose face was a serene mask of calm to hide the fact that he didn't approve of what was going to come whenever Mark arrived. Tommy could tell that something was wrong. Marijuana never looked that cheerful when he was angry unless he knew that the source of his anger was about to be in pain and the thought that his dad might want to cause him pain made Tommy wish he could have another joint or ten. And then he looked at Bret and felt comforted just by the sight of his boyfriend, although he would always feel guilty for putting the mortal through nights like this one. No one deserved to have Marijuana look at them like they were a particularly amusing chewtoy.
But maybe everything would be okay; Tommy would hold tight to that rather futile hope. He gave Bret a shaky smile from across the table, his foot nudging against Bret's just slightly, out of view of both Marijuana and Glibt. "This place is really nice, Bret! Have you ever been here before?" Being upbeat and chipper, that was key, and even though Tommy felt anything but upbeat, he could pretend.