Punk! (Hobie x Reader)

Teenagers Scare The Living Shit Outta Me!

  The pizza is fresh and the words roll for hours.

  "Most of our info is public, except our base and our identities, of course," Cap says, setting down his sixth pizza crust.

"Yup, we got a bunch of gigs and offers but the cops are on our asses like their lives depend on it. That's mostly because Hobart bashed in the president's head," she was on her computer, looking at blueprints and maps and records of something.

The band laughs, Robbie finally relaxed, so he's among us.

"How long have you guys known each other?" I ask, grabbing another slice.

I look up at Hobie, again. Those piercings are at fault for distracting me. His hair. His face. I don't know.

He makes eye contact, relaxes his eyes more, and smiles down at me, arms crossed.

I smile. Uncontrollably. Embarrassingly.

"If they keep making googly eyes, I'm going to vomit," Robbie mugs.

"We are not—." I start.

"What are you on about!?" Hobie.

"I was just looking at the computer screen," I lie.

"She was," he nods, confident.

The band bursts into laughter, Cap claps when he laughs. Ri tries not to laugh. Robbie does his worst.

"Looks like Gwen's got some competition, huh?" Robbie says and continues to laugh.

Gwen? Of course, he has a girlfriend.

Hobie reads my expression.

"Cut the shit you twat," he defends. "I'm takin' ha home," he webs Robbie's mouth as he walks out of the room.

Before I follow him out I whisper to the band, "Gwen?"

Ri finally turns away from the screen and shakes her head at me.

What does that mean?

I look around and the eyes of the room aren't on me. They're focused on something behind me.

"Shit." I sigh. I turn to Hobie, who's looking around and trying to seem oblivious to what I said. "Let's just go," how embarrassing.

Outside he steps to me, preparing to swing.

"Wait," I touch his arm.

He stops. "What's the mat'er?"

"Can we walk a bit?"

"Sure. I don't believe in consistency anyway." He shrugs. Then he looks down at my hand on his.

The spikes on his cuff are dull in my arm. I slide my hand into his, now that I can see his skin since he's out of his suit.

"Straight into it den?" He teases, nervous.

"You like it," I wink, looking back up at him.

He nods his head, approving while keeping his eyes on mine.

We start to walk, hand in hand.

Oh, I do like him. Absolutely. For sure.

"How ya likin' da band so fa'?"

"They're great. They're just teenagers."

"Heh, I feel ya on dat one, dey don't got much home trainin' like you,"

I laugh. "You're all amazing people nonetheless."

  "Dats true," he shrugs, then he locks our fingers with a squeeze. "Dit'o,"