InsaneJournal

Have you got a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?
Who: Bo and Petie
When: Early Septebmer
Where: Always, where Bo works
What: Random Encounter
Raints/Warnings: Low/None
Status: Complete



Even though she tried to hide it, Petie’s mother had been crying. He’d gone to see her, but as soon as he’d opened the door after being invited in, she’d turned to look over her shoulder with a forced smile, her eyes pink from tears and dark with sleep deprivation. Petie hadn’t let on that he knew, but he’d kissed her forehead before he’d left. He needed to get out of the house where he could breathe without feeling like he was suffocating.

Bars weren’t exactly his scene, but even though he’d left the house without seeing anyone following him, Petie spotted a few reporters nearby. They were chattering and didn’t seem to notice him yet. He didn’t want them to either. They’d follow the deaf son of the dying gay senator anywhere, so Petie ducked into the nearest establishment, drawing his hoodie over his head as he did.

When he walked inside, he was surprised to find himself in a club. He’d always thought it was a restaurant for some reason and he hoped he didn’t get carded. So far, he was all right. He sat at the bar and lowered his hoodie again, giving his hair a rumple. In his dreams, he was allowed wine, but here he was neither allowed wine at home, and he certainly wouldn’t be allowed it in a club so he hoped there was something non alcoholic to drink.

The Dreams were coming still--sometimes the ones she’d already seen, and sometimes others, new ones, but all with the same theme. She was some sort of a face-sucking fae, a Succubus, and she fed off of the chi of others.

Bo was on shift. She came wandering over to the guy who was… probably just shy of the legal drinking age. She squinted a little bit, and then leaned against the bar near where he was sitting. “What can I get for you?”

It must have been law that bartenders be good looking. Petie couldn’t help the flirtatious smile he gave, but otherwise, he didn’t seem very happy. He signed lazily, tiredly. He couldn’t hear her, but she spoke very clearly and it was very easy to read her lips. “You don’t happen to have milkshakes, do you?” he asked, his thumb and forefinger pressing together, then releasing as if dropping a cherry on top of a drink. He had no shame in being underage, might as well enjoy it while he could.

A grin broke out across Bo’s features. It was one she couldn’t help, but she didn’t mind. “Milkshakes?” She repeated after him, raising an eyebrow at his question. The kid was freakin’ adorable. “Yeah, we’ve got milkshakes.” Sort of. She could put something together. They had ice cream, ice and a blender. “What kind? Please say chocolate.”

“Chocolate,” Petie answered, smiling bigger. “How’d you guess?” He’d wanted strawberry, but there was no harm in making someone, especially a someone who looked the way she did, feel a little special.

Bo gave a little laugh. “Because chocolate and vanilla are pretty much the only choices in this place. We’ve got vanilla ice cream and chocolate flavoring. It’s Ghirardelli, though, so it’s good stuff.” She winked to the young man at the bar. “Sit tight. I’ll be back in a flash.” And she was off.

The blender and things were at the far end of the bar, and she started putting together a masterpiece of a milkshake for him.

No strawberry then. He would have been shit out of luck anyway. That was what his father would have said, that he was shit out of luck, or up Shit Creek. His father said shit a lot, and the funniest part was when he’d learned to sign it. Even during public events, he would sign it to Petie who would giggle and wonder who else caught onto it.

Petite watched the pretty bartender girl. Her fingers were slender and deft and her body looked strong. She made a good bartender, then. When she returned, Petie gave a broad grin as he looked at his milkshake. There was even a cherry on top. Petie brought the tips of his fingers to his lips, kissed them, then spread his fingers out. Magnifique, he was saying. His first interest was the cherry, which he took off the top. It was bathed in whipped cream, he could definitely appreciate that. He let the sweetness fall against his tongue, then gently bit the cherry from its stem with his two front teeth. He may or may not have been looking flirtatiously at the bartender.

Petie was cute. He was nearly jailbait, but he was really cute. Bo grinned at the kiss to his fingers, leaning against the bar near where he was sitting. She tossed him a little wink when he ate the cherry. “Good stuff?” She asked, her eyes moving from his lips to his eyes and back down again.

“Perfect,” Petie answered, then placed his lips around the straw to pull in some of the chocolate as he looked around the place. There were no photographers. There was also a scant number of patrons. For this time of day, Petie guessed the lushes just hunt around until the night crowd came in. He looked back at the bartender, smiled, then offered over his hand. “I’m Petie,” he introduced himself.

“Hi, Petie.” It was slow enough in the place that Bo could focus her attention on him for a little bit. The other customers at the bar all had their drinks and snacks, and some were watching a sports game on the television, the rest were mingling, doing whatever it is that people at a bar do. Bo’s hand came forward to shake Petie’s, and she gave him a bright smile. “I’m Bo.” Of course, she’d been moving around at least every six months, and never paid much attention to tabloids, so she had no idea who Petie was. Might be a breath of fresh air for the kid who spent so much time avoiding the paparazzi.

Most of the time, Petie went unrecognized, but recently, it was getting worse due to his father’s worsening condition. He wasn’t famous, he was just a senator’s son and who paid attention to that? It wasn’t as if Roland were a King or anything. Petie shook Bo’s hand, then made a gesture of a bow and arrow being shot. “That’s your name symbol,” he told her. It was pretty cool.

Thankfully the place was quiet, Bo was having a good time talking to the kid. Chocolate Milkshake. Adorable. “Oh yeah?” Bo asked, then repeated the sign after him. Her arms and hands weren’t as experienced, didn’t move as smoothly as his did. “Is that... sign language?” She asked, noticing the little device on his ear.

The chocolate milkshake that was currently being devoured through the straw. It wasn’t the greatest chocolate milkshake in the world, but it was pretty damn good, even to the standards of a Prince. He nodded, grinning around his straw. “Mine’s boring,” he said, pulling his mouth away from his straw to demonstrate that his name was just the letter P, but it was accentuated a little, making him look more like a gangsta throwing up symbols.

Bo gave a gentle laugh. "I like yours!" She said, then tried to mimic his sign. "It's butch." It may have been flirtatious.

“Butch!?” Petie pulled a face. Wasn’t that a lesbian term? He was a man! Ah well, at least she was flirting and he didn’t mind flirting so much. In fact, he liked it a great deal. For a moment, he pulled in his bottom lip with his teeth and watched Bo, half smiling at her. Then, “Have you got a boyfriend?” he asked. “Or girlfriend?” It was 2013, no need to be presumptuous about one’s sexuality, most especially when his own father preferred the same gender. And, sometimes, so did Petie.

Bo laughed harder at the face he pulled. She shook her head. "Not at the moment, no." She raised a playful eyebrow as she flirted, unable to stop herself. Flirting was part of her nature now, along with the hunger. "Why? Are you interested in applying for the job?"

Having not expected that response, Petie let out an airy chuckle and ducked his chin downward, his eyes still on Bo. “Maybe,” he answered. “I’d have to get to know you a little better first, though.” He knew she wasn’t being serious so he could tease back. Flirting was fun, most especially when the girl tended to flirt right back and Bo certainly knew how to do that. It was one of the things that Petie liked about older women, they were much less shy.

Bo chuckled herself, and gave him a once over. Not old enough to drink, but old enough to vote? He was legal, anyway, and younger men had all the stamina in the world. She was grinning as she looked at him. “What do you wanna know?” She asked, flirting. It was fun to flirt. She honestly didn’t mean much by it--she was just having a good night and sharing a smile with a kid who looked like he needed a friend.

“For one,” Petie said, polishing off his cherry by eating the steam as well, “whether you prefer flowers or something a little more creative, because if I’m going to take you out, I’d rather not be embarrassed.” It was all in good fun, a little scenario banter. She was cute and there were no photographers. What was the most important, though, was that it was taking his mind off what he had left at the hospital.

“Oh, creative all the way,” Bo said, grinning as she nodded. “Flowers are nice, but all they do is look good and then die. I prefer things that are a little more useful than that.” She lifted her rag to wipe down the bar near where another patron was sitting. The other patron gave her a smile, left a big tip, then headed out. Bo pocketed the tip before turning back to Petie.

She did have a lovely smile which probably earned her some good tips. Petie would just have to tip more when he left. He could tip a grand if he really wanted to. He was even in the mood to, after seeing his father, and just like that, there were those thoughts again. He shoved them back down, forcing his own smile. Who could be sad while drinking chocolate milk shake from a straw anyway? After he swallowed, he said, “So if I bring, say, a Spiderman figurine, that would be acceptable?” He was joking, of course, but he still thought it was better than flowers.

A laugh. “I love Spider-Man.” She said, giving a nod. “That would definitely score you some points. Creative and original, I’d say.” She turned when another patron called out for her down the bar. “Hold that thought.” She said to Petie, then moved away so she could pour a drink and flirt with another customer. It was getting a bit busier in the bar as the minutes ticked by.

Petie watched her as she busied herself and decided that he needed to go now before one of these people realized who he was and called on photographers. He dipped into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet. Before Bo could see him, he tucked what he owed underneath his milkshake glass. On his way out, he dropped the cash he had in his wallet into her tip jar, five crisp one hundred dollar bills; he kept a fifty for himself. He ducked out quickly, hiding his face as he passed another group of photographers on his way to catch a cab.