TERRIBLE STING, TERRIBLE STORM

Rebecca: That is no way to live, Sonny :(

Rebecca: Hear me out, if you think that just maybe you wanna get out, I can set up a date for you?

Sonny: A date?

Rebecca: I don't know why you stay with that asshole.

Rebecca: You deserve someone better, honestly.

Sonny: Let's call it a business arrangement.

Sonny: She bought a cat.

Sonny: While I was at class.

You know, Laine was just thinking it’d been a long time since he’d been covered in someone else’s beverage. And why not today, a day that has been perpetually annoying since he woke up this morning, to break the cycle? It’s only fitting, of course. And he was already scowling about how long it took to get this damn chai in the first place, so might as well continue to have a reason to frown.

He almost snaps at the poor grovelling person who even searches for paper towels or something to clean them up with. As if there are just… street paper towels in jolly old England. But the apology tears him out of his grumpiness, and he sighs instead.

“No, it’s fine. I was just goin’ home anyway. I can just throw this in the wash.” It’s an abysmally tiny washing machine and dryer set, which makes him grouchy all over again, but even in his bad mood he knows that isn’t this guy’s fault.

“Are you okay though?”

His nose feels tender to the touch, but not broken, thankfully. Gingerly, Sonny moves it, testing.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just-” He bends to scoop up his books, putting them back into the bag. “Just embarrassed, mostly. Can I get you a new drink, at least? Since yours is... sort of all over our shirts?”

His shirt is some expensive looking button up, far too large for him, billowy in a tasteful sort of way, sleeves rolled and edges hanging loose.

“ that doesn’t sound like the answer you wanted. “ link grimaces as he looks about,” i just meant it makes you look tall. uh, uh.. graceful even. “ the older man tried to explain, his smile spreading so fully, an unabashedly across his lips as he gestured to the clothing around them. “ you’d probably make any of these things look great. honestly. truthfully. “ upon hearing the younger man’s name, link’s smile couldn’t help but return as he leaned onto one of the rotating racks, his considerable height stretching across it with ease,” well it’s a pleasure to meet you sonny. skinny jeans? oh, i mean, i don’t know. i know they look the best on people who aren’t like me, you know- with hamhocks for legs.”

“I’m trying to look short, unfortunately. Tall and graceful are the only two looks I have, thus far, and I’m looking to try something new.”

He looks around as Link gestures, smiling faintly. It’s a nice sentiment, at least.

Equally if not even more distracted, Lars was ghosting down the sidewalk, coffee in hand, nose buried in his phone, reading some ridiculous Buzzfeed article and trying to make sense of all the slang.

He hadn’t had time to look up before books were flying and coffee was soaking both his and his collider’s shirts, his phone skittering across the pavement. “Scheisse.” He didn’t not have the same presence of mind to hold his tongue, clearly. 

“Clearly, you were not.” As if he wasn’t also a guilty party.

“This is…nothing. A cheap shirt, have one back at house. Your’s looks…worse off.”

“Oh, it’s ah-” He looks down at his shirt - Ralph Lauren, he thinks, something Piper bought him. He’s happy to see it go. 

he’d been lost in his own little world, completely unaware of the person that had been watching him. turning at the voice, the tattooed man raised a brow before breaking out into a grin and chuckling, “go for it,” he said, “but i swear if you win that blue one and you steal it, you’ll have to witness a thirty-one year old man cry.” maybe he was into that. dexter stepped aside, gesturing his hands to the machine, “maybe you’ll have better luck than i’m having.”

“Steal it? Why would I steal something I’m trying to win for you?”

Shaking his head slightly, Sonny stepped in front of the machine, producing a pound coin from his pocket. He took a moment to look over the machine, as though calculating how to best get the one Dexter wanted, before putting the coin in.

“ no they don’t make you look fat. they make you look like a giraffe. tall, lanky. model like. a gazelle really. me? no i wasn’t staring.” link cleared his throat just ever so slightly,” no i’m fine, just, dry mouth. not cotton mouth if tha- look i have foot in mouth disorder, it’s a hereditary disease, and we can’t trace where in my family i got it but. hi. i’m link. “

“Oh, hm.” Almost imperceptibly, he frowns. 

He always looks like a giraffe. He’d been looking for something that perhaps made him seem less lanky.

Looking up long enough to see the walk signal illuminate, Sonny crosses the street, turning the corner and - sure enough, as one would figure in a situation like this - running smack into someone. It’s a mess all around, his books falling to the ground, the one he was reading smacking him in the face, and, the icing on the cake, a wet feeling spreading on his chest, a coffee or drink of some kind that his poor victim had been holding, now all over both of their shirts.

“Oh!” He doesn’t curse, but it’s a near thing, biting his lip to stop himself. 

“I’m so sorry! I- God, I wasn’t even looking.” 

“If you’re here to tell me smoking is unhealthy, I’ll be sure to add it to the list of things I’ll eventually give a fuck about.” It wasn’t like he smoked all the time. Truth be told, he smoked when he was STRESSED. It helped him get a grip on his surroundings and right now, he had a lot on his mind. He exhaled the smoke through his nose, leaning back against the chair he was sitting on. Most people enjoyed being inside. Grayson was the exact opposite. He wanted to be outside. He wanted the fresh air, even if it meant drawing attention to himself. “You going to sit across from me or just continue to stare?”

“I don’t mean to stare.” 

The patio’s a nice place to sit, which is why it was always so crowded. The chair across from Grayson is the only one available that Sonny feels even remotely comfortable sitting in, despite the fact that Grayson’s frighteningly pretty, and Sonny’s having a very hard time taking his eyes off of where Grayson’s lip wrap around the filter of the cigarette. 

being quite new to brighton still, there were lots of places that dexter had yet to explore and the pier had been one of them. there was a reason why he had been avoiding it though, because if there was one thing the man couldn’t resist (well, aside from the obvious) then it was arcade machines– especially the claw games. he refused to believe that they were fixed in any way, instead dead certain that he had a knack for it. on a quiet afternoon though, the tattooed men ventured across the pier and into the large arcade, immediately settling his eyes on the claw machine filled with plush dinosaurs. he needed one. popping a pound coin into the machine, he had just managed to make a blue dinosaur budge closer to the collection hole and almost seven pounds later he was teetering on the edge just waiting to fall. “oh that were terrible,” he nudged the claw down too early, knocking the dinosaur back into the pit of his friends, “and i’ve ruined it! i’ve ruined it!”

He’s been amusing himself for a while with watching the poor man struggle. It’s more fun than going home to Piper, and more entertaining than staring at his coursework like he’s meant to be doing in the coffee shop down the street from the arcade. 

A little secret never killed anyone.

“Do you mind if I try?” By nature, Sonny is a soft-spoken person, but over the din of the arcade he’s hardly even audible, standing at Dexter’s elbow and looking at the mound of stuffed animals.