mickey chuckles. he can be a thug. he can shake a more than a few motherfuckers down— but THIS CULTURE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND HIM. made up words to classify himself. THE BEST DAMN BOTTOM. “ okay okay. so you got a friend that thinks you wanna play with a rough and tumble street boy? a little thug action? you’re cute, country boy. if you got a fetish for trash I’M DOWN TO PLAY. “
“I’m not sure what he was thinking but he must think we’d get along. Or he wouldn’t have set us up.” A fetish for trash? What was Trent thinking about this arrangement? Well–obviously–one of the boys at Dalton that knew him best must have thought something was going to connect the two. Now, it was time to test his theory and figure out WHAT it was. “Come on. It’s one night. If it works,” he shrugged sharply, “Great. If not? At least we gave it a go.” A thumb motioned over his shoulder in the direction of his car and he arched an eyebrow. “Mind if I drive? There was a spot that came to mind when I texted you. I just hope you like it.”
A grin pulls at his lips. He’s sure Blaine could just join in and take a swing himself – or a slap even if he feels like going easy – but that was against his character, wasn’t it? This was just ridiculous all around. He pats Blaine’s shoulder before moving away to start sorting through the dusty junk that was stored down here. “Simple enough. At least we’re not breaking any laws here. Unless we’re trespassing, but I doubt there’s security checking.” He says jokingly, opting to shake off the atmosphere of the basement as much as possible with some humor.
Him? Join in and take a swing himself? Not unless they were doing it in a totally different situation. Where anyone could take a swing and no one would say a word. In fact, they enjoyed it. Which he didn’t know Ian enough to talk about yet. Picking at the cuff of his right sleeve with his left hand–Blaine watched as Ian parted from them and went to rummaging through the dozens of dusty boxes, broken furniture and otherwise creepy stashed piles of whatever covered in dust and cobwebs. Not wanting him to feel like he was the solo participant in this–he crept over to a stack of boxes (subconsciously keeping close to Ian as he did so) and started through them. Carefully. “You don’t think anyone would notice if we were down here do you? I mean–technically–it could be trespassing but.. I really don’t want to get in trouble for a stupid DARE.” And the box slammed shut. Hard. Nope! Nothing in there! Definitely not a mass of cobwebs he was NOT going to stick his hand in. No way!
He snorts and shakes his head a little. There’s no backing down from a challenge, it’s a matter of pride. Stupid, stupid pride that he himself doesn’t recommend letting dictate choices but hey, he’s a Gallagher. “I kinda hate your friends too.” Ian notes as his eyes follow the largest spider he’s ever seen– this had better be worth it. Still, he’s smelled worse things, and chances of being bitten by anything just for being down there were pretty low. “If I get some crawling thing on me I’m punching someone in the face when we’re out of here, just a heads up.”
“Normally? I’m completely against violence,” unless it’s properly organized and follows a set of strict rules as to who gets hurt and how much but he leaves that out, “but this time I might make an exception and live vicariously through you. If that happens. Which it better not. To either one of his.” Long fingers twitch and curl into themselves. He’s fidgeting and doesn’t care if Ian notices. There’s no other way to work his nerves out and if he keeps them contained? They’d lose this bet and it’d be his fault. “All we have to do is find some supposedly stashed note in this mess to prove that we were here.” It was no fair that the other Warblers got to come down here during the day time to hide the letter. If there was one and the group of boys weren’t pulling both their legs. Should that be the case? Ian might get a request to swing two punches. Not just one.
“Remind me why I let them talk us into this? There’s like zero chance I want to even think about what it’s going to be like the further in we go.” How’d he let them get put in this situation? Yes. It was supposed to be ‘all in good fun’. Fun?! Whoever had the idea that this was fun? Was a really messed up individual. “We could just tell them we did it?” Though Blaine’s aptitude for lying convincingly would probably need a hell of a lot of work if they were going to pull that off. The repercussions if they didn’t weren’t seeming so bad as he watched a spider the size of a kitten crawl up the wall. A gloved hand rose to trace the backs of his knuckles across the tip of his nose as he sniffed the stale air. “I hate my friends.”
pianokeysandbowties back up 