MOTIVATION? WOAH!
CW // intrusive thoughts, (the narrator is more of a voice in his head but i think it counts) lots of swearing
FUN FACT - This chapter has dialogue that alludes to racism somewhat jokingly! Groovy! /sar
(I'm latino, so technically I can make those jokes, since they're just about being latino/hispanic, or more specifically, being Mexican.)
He/him for Jack, any pronouns for Dave :]
—
Jack sat down in the cheap booth seat. He was wearing his finest suit– albeit the suit itself not being 'fine' in any way– to see Dave. The 'elusive aubergine' as he called himself. Jack made sure to look as presentable as possible. (The Narrator had offered him the choice to wear a ratty tee and jorts, but he was better than that.) He combed his short hair back, applied extra orange makeup, and even washed his hands for once!
[That's...gross, how you never wash your hands.]
The Narrator had told him. Jack simply shook his head, gave the broken mirror a thumbs-up and smiled. His two front teeth were gone, and it was visible whenever he smiled. His face fell slightly, and he closed his mouth.
Anyway, he waited ever so patiently for Dave to get to the restaurant. It was a Mexican restaurant, because Dave had expressed wanting to eat something 'exotic' a few weeks ago.
[Maybe he was just implying for you to buy him a kebab.]
Jack screwed his eyes shut, trying to silence The Narrator. "Shut up," He whispered.
[...]
[fine, prick.]
Jack opened his eyes as his mind cleared up again. He heard the door to the establishment open, followed with the sound of windchimes. "Yo!" A New York accent called out. "Can I get any service around 'ere? I need to see my tangerine!" Dave whined. Someone quickly assisted the cryptid-looking man. "What do you need help with, sir?" The busboy asked.
"Have you seen an orange guy, about yea tall, creepy grin on his face, always talkin' to himself, looks like a hunky twink?" Dave looked around, his voice rather loud. "Oh, um, yeah, booth 6, to your left."
Dave quickly snapped his head to his right.
"Over here, dumbass!" Jack got up and waved a hand. Dave looked over, and upon seeing Jack, he beamed and rushed over, practically crashing into the booth.
"Oh, shit, whaddup, Old Sport!"
"Oh shit, whaddup, Dave!"
They laughed over how the atrocious aubergine had crashed into the booth for a bit, then calmed down. "Where'd ya bring me to, sportsy? What is this place?" Dave asked, leaning closer to Jack, his dark purple neck stretching a little. Jack cringed at the sight. "This place is called, uh..." He sneakily glanced over at his phone and rapidly looked up his location. "Oh, this place is called 'Tortillas con Freddy Fazbenderian.'" Jack smiled awkwardly.
"You brought us to a fuckin' Freddy's location for our date?" Dave asked. Jack cleared his throat. "Well- yeah- but no killing kids this time, okay? It'll seem..." Jack trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence. "Aw, c'mon, we're colored! It won't be like that!" Dave cracked a smile. "Yeah, but we're orange and purple. Y'know what- nevermind- um- what do you want?" Jack stumbled over his words, waving his hands around dismissively. "I dunno. I jus' got here. I don't even got a menu." Dave sat up straight and looked over the booth for a waiter. "They're right here, Dave. A waiter gave me two before you got here." Jack yanked at Dave's sleeve. The aubergine moved over and took a menu.
Dave was dressed...as best as he could. His greasy hair was put in a messy ponytail, he had a mostly clean lavender button up, black pants, and loafers. He looked tired and thin. There was a barbeque sauce stain on his shirt, and that irked Jack so so so much, but he said nothing. Jack noticed he was staring and knocked himself out of his daze.
"So, Dave-"
"What the fuck is a que- queso- quesadidya-? Quesadilla? Am I saying that right? Sport, what language is this shit in?"
Jack squinted. "Uh, well, we're at a Mexican restaurant, so I guess it's in Mexican, I don't fuckin' know." He shrugged.
"What the hell am I lookin' at right now?" Dave muttered to himself.
"Letters, dumbass."
"Well, jokes on you, Sportsy! I'm illiterate! So shuuut uuuup!"
Jack rolled his eyes. "Do you know what you want to eat yet?" He asked. "Sport, I don't know half the words on here." Dave groaned and put his head in his hands. "You know half? Damn, I thought I would have to read this out to you." Jack chuckled. Dave swatted his hand. "I still don't know what a quesadilla is." The purple skittle complained. "It's like a cheese sandwich with olives and other stuff."
Before Dave could complain further, the waiter walked by.
A tall suited phone head. A Nokia phone with a band-aid across his screen. "SWEETHEART" The band-aid read. The waiter had a thin frame, fumbling with his hands nervously. His suit was neat, give or take a stain or two.
[Guess they have phone heads here too.]
Jack shook away the thought.
"Hi, I'm Randy, and I'm Randy for y- Uh- I mean- I'm Randy, and I'll be your waiter for tonight." The Nokia headed stammered out.
Jack simply nodded at him and smiled. Dave didn't look over. The aubergine now looked irritated again. "Can I get you two anything to drink?" The nervous one asked. "I'll take a water, thanks." Jack said. "I'll have a beer." Dave replied, not looking up from the menu. Jack rolled his eyes. The Nokia nodded and briskly walked away, repeating what the two skittles asked for under his breath. "Water and a beer, water and a beer, water and a beer, okay, Randy?" He whispered.
"Sportsy." Dave said.
"Yeah?"
"I thought you said we were at a Mexican place."
"We are, Dave."
"Then why the fuck are they speaking American?"
"..."
"..."
"Dave. Why do I bother bringing you anywhere?"
"Cuz you love me!" Dave chirped with a grin.
Jack rolled his eyes again and looked back at the menu. "Okay, so what do you want to order, Davey?" The orange looked up. "One sec." Dave was now looking at his phone. "The fuck are you doing?" Jack put down the menu. "Looking up what quesadilla means."
"I've told you like three times now!"
"Nuh uh, you only said it once. And you were very vague, dearest Sport."
"Dave, I swear to-"
"Oh! I got it! It's like a cheese sandwich with other condiments and such."
"That's exactly what I told you, Dave."
A brief silence. "One of these days, Dave, one o these fuckin' days, I'm going to snap." Jack muttered. Dave smiled. "I love you too, Old Sport." He said keenly. "So, I guess you want a quesadilla?" Jack sighed.
"Oh, nah, I want a burger."
Jack looked up from his menu again. "Then why did you spend 15 minutes bugging me on what a fucking quesadilla is?" He looked incredibly annoyed. "I jus' wanted ta' know!" Dave lifted his hands up defensively. "Oh my fucking god, okay- okay- okay. Fine. Sure. Order whatever you want, Dave."
Soon, the waiter came back. "Are you two ready to order, or should I give you two another minute?" Randy asked. "I'll have a burger with no tomatoes." Dave said. "Just get me a damn quesadilla." Jack waved his hand dismissively. He rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Sure! Will that be all?" Randy asked after writing down the order quickly on the tiny notepad in his shaky hands. "You guys have dessert?" Dave chirped. Randy nodded and listed off the desserts available, to which Dave simply said, "nah, nevermind."
By the time they were finished with their food, Jack was exhausted from dealing with Dave. Sure, he loved his aubergine, but God damn, was he annoying.
They carefully snuck out of the restaurant after paying with some civilian's credit card. They tipped Randy nicely, since, well, it wasn't their money! Jack walked out hand in hand with his skittle of a boyfriend.
When they got to Jack's house, the orange burrowed himself into his bed. He closed his eyes and expected to just sleep by himself, but a thin yet warm figure joined him. "Dave..?" the tangerine man whispered. "I'm still here, Old Sport." Dave simply pulled him closer. "I thought you went home." Jack mumbled and rolled over, cuddling into the purple man's chest. Dave did not reply. He cracked a smile after a few seconds.
"Sportsy?"
"Yeah?"
"I still don't know what a quesadilla is, to be honest."
"I hate you so much."
They laid in silence. Jack looked like he fell asleep already. Dave closed his eyes. "I love you too, Old Sport."
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If I missed a CW/TW, please let me know so I can fix it ASAP. It's not an issue and I would much rather "overtag" than accidentally trigger someone else. (Also, nothing's "stupid." If someone needs a tag, I'll add it.)
Word count -- 1,469