Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy)

Six Drunk Princes

Night had fallen by the time the six princes made their way into the tavern. With hoods pulled up over their heads and their faces smeared with dirt, they could only hope they simply looked like a group of travelers.

The tavern was packed to the brim as they slipped inside, lively conversations and laughter filling the air. Osmund's gaze fell to a red-haired barmaid carrying a tray of drinks. She leaned forward as she placed the tray on a table, revealing just how low cut the neckline of her dress was.

Osmund's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "That's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he gasped.

Avery gave him a nudge. "You should talk to her."

Osmund's face went bright red. "What?! Me?! I couldn't possibly!"

"Well then, let's get you some liquid courage." Avery flung an arm over his brother's shoulder, waving a hand at the woman. "Oi, miss! Can we get a round over here, please!"

The redhead smiled at him, giving a small nod before turning towards the bar.

Osmund buried his face in his hands. "Why'd you do that? You know I can't talk to girls!"

"C'mon, it's not that hard," Avery said with a smirk. "Besides, if you don't, she'll end up leaving with Wheeler."

"What?!" Wheeler squeaked. "Why would she leave with me?"

"Oh, come on. We've all seen the size of your hands." Avery gave him a hearty slap on the back. "Everyone knows you're packing."

Mortified, Wheeler shoved his hands behind his back, suddenly feeling incredibly self conscious about them. "My hands aren't that big," he mumbled. "And I'm not even interested in gir-- I mean, uh..."

"Oh, I get it," Bartram said, adjusting his glasses. "She's not your type."

Desperate for a way out of this conversation, Wheeler nodded frantically. "Yes! Exactly!"

"Oooooh," Avery cooed, wiggling his eyebrows. "Then what exactly is your type?"

Crap, out of the frying pan, into the fire.

"I guess...err..." Wheeler squirmed under his gaze. "Uh...maybe someone rude and snarky, but secretly super caring, and could both physically and verbally beat your ass, and you'd just say thank you after, and..."

The other princes were staring at him, confused. Wheeler's face paled, realizing with horror that instead of saying a type he'd just started babbling traits of a certain demon.

"Uh...but y'know," he stammered, "that's just, err...a preference. I guess, um...blondes are cool."

"Yeah! Blondes are the best!" Avery cheered.

Wheeler sighed in relief.

"Here's your drinks, boys," the redhead said, returning not a moment too soon. As she handed glasses to the princes, Avery gave Osmund a little shove forward.

"Um...h-hello, miss," Osmund stammered, his face going pink. "I just, um...I wanted to say...I think you're very pretty!"

"Awww," the woman said with a smile. "Now aren't you sweet." Her gaze flickered to the cup she was handing him, suddenly holding it up, out of his reach. "I'm so sorry, dear, but you're too young to drink this. Maybe I could get you some apple juice, instead."

Osmund blinked. "I'm twenty three."

"Oh my god," the woman gasped in horror. "I'm so sorry." Frantically, she handed off the rest of the glasses before immediately scurrying away, leaving all parties, especially Osmund, looking absolutely mortified.