|All OF A Twitter Over Sneakers
Author: DawnSister PM
Mitchell and Sage: good friends with a lot in common: a love of writing; a love of observing behaviour and of course a love of sexy sneakers. Some mild language, one F word. Reference to gay relationships, M/MRated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Friendship - Words: 2,028 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 5 - Follows: 1 - Published: 04-14-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3013507
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N This is an interlude. A little bit of fun, that came to me whilst watching two friends interact on Twitter. They know who they are, but I shall not name them to spare their blushes. I do have their permission to use their words though. This may be a couple of one shots; but not a story, just a hello, and an appreciation of the fun they have together. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.
All of a Twitter over Sneakers
"Hey." Sage Rune sat down in the usual booth, in the usual diner, at the usual time,
"Hey." The usual voice greeted back, although not with the usual cheeriness,
"'sup?" she asked, her dark eyes searching the young face of her friend for almost sixteen years now.
They lived next door to each other, and though there was an age gap of three years, she was eighteen, he was fifteen, they had discovered a mutual joy of writing that had brought them together to this diner almost every weekend for the last three years, to people watch, make notes and collaborate on stories,
"Oh, I dunno, the usual shit." Her friend and writing partner, Mitchell Priestly, looked up from his coffee and note pad with large, sad, hazel eyes and sighed,
"Check out the sneakers I just ordered online." Sage showed him a photo on her phone in an attempt to cheer him up. He seemed a little down today: more than just a little.
Mitchell gasped, running his fingers through his short, brown hair, his sadness almost immediately forgotten in his enthusiasm for the picture he saw before him. He grabbed the phone from her hand and drooled, quite literally, all over it,
"Oh my god they have got to be the sexiest sneakers I have ever seen." He made a small, needy whining noise as he snuggled the phone to his cheek and stuck out his tongue to lick his lips, "I want to snog those sneakers."
"No, gimme my phone back, Mitchell." Sage reached for her phone, used to his sudden and extreme mood swings, but Mitchell had longer arms, she gave up and sat with a scowl on her face, though her eyes were twinkling. She didn't particularly want him to lick her phone, but at least he had cheered up. Mitchell looked at the photo again,
"I take it back," He said wistfully, a sad puppy dog expression on his face, and Sage sighed with relief, "I don't want to snog these sneakers I want to fuck them." Sage snatched the phone back quickly,
"You are not going to defile my innocent, virgin sneakers." She said with shock and mild disgust, but also laughing helplessly at his ridiculous statement, "that is disgusting and perverted and the gayest thing I have heard you say so far." Mitchell laughed a maniacal laugh,
"I just get gayer by the minute." He pursed his lips and gave her an exaggerated flutter of his eye lids as he posed, making her laugh even more, "Mitchell's Gay 101," he sang in his brassy, singsong voice, "When you see sexy sneakers you must make mad passionate love to them." He blew a kiss across the table to her phone,
"It's time you came out, man," she told him decisively, brushing a stray, dark curl from her forehead, "and started looking at the market instead of hanging with your best friend/ next door neighbour/ older sensei." She gave another helpless chuckle though, "And then maybe you would stop wanting to shag inanimate objects and actually get laid yourself."
Mitchell hung his head, "I know, I know, it's hard though." Sage raised her eyebrows, "Not like that," he gasped, "Now who's the perv?"
"Ok, I know what you mean," She held up her hands in defence, "but you at least have to start thinking about talking to guys instead of just looking and moaning to me that you haven't found the right one."
"Are there any in your year?" he asked hopefully,
"Mitchell, I'm a senior, and you know what seniors are all after don't you?" she regarded him with a knowing glance over the rim of her coffee cup,
"You're not." Mitchell observed, and she sighed,
"I am, I just haven't found the right guy yet."
"And neither have I so get off my back, but seriously, are there?" He leaned forward now and Sage began to realise the source of his initial downer. They had had increasingly more conversations about this over the last few months. Mitchell, however was still a little too young, in her eyes to be thinking about dating anyone, let alone a senior, despite her suggestion that he should "get laid",
"You are such a conundrum and so contradictory." She told him. He was, and she had to admit to sometimes feeling a little frustrated with him. He refused to come out to his school friends, having only come out to her. He hadn't even told his parents, although she suspected they might have an inkling and also suspected they might be fine with the whole thing. All that secrecy yet he was asking her about guys she could hook him up with,
"I know," Mitchell sighed, "I'm in sexual, closetary turmoil here."
"Is that even a word?" she smiled, affectionately,
"We're writers," Mitchell told her, airily, "we can make up words and readers will just understand and accept them in context because we are so awesome."
Sage nodded her head and laughed in agreement.
They sat in silence for a little while; sipping their coffees and watching the clientele come and go. They were both gathering data for their collective stories and they both knew it as their eyes met across the table after both watching one particularly interesting looking guy. They both smiled,
"So what about him?" they both said at the same time and then burst out laughing,
"How do we know if he's gay or straight?" Mitchell asked; his brow furrowing as he studied the guy's back. He had taken a stool at the counter and was ordering a drink, coffee by the looks of it. They kept their voices low since he was directly across from their booth.
They could only see his back. He looked about eighteen, was tall with dark hair and very good taste in jeans and shirt. He also had on some very sexy sneakers a fact which did not escape either of them. Mitchell grabbed Sage's hand,
"Girl, look at those sneakers." He whispered, hoarsely, his eyes rolling in ecstasy,
"Oh my god, I know, they are sexier than mine." She chuckled back,
"Did you see his face? Is he good looking, although I don't care because I'll be looking at the sneakers? Man I want those sneakers, with that guy inside them and I want him to leave them on."
"You are a dirty little pervert, Mitchell Priestly and I think you should wash your mouth out. You should not be thinking those things at fifteen."
"Why? I'm fifteen and I'm thinking them. If I'm old enough to think about it I'm old enough to act on it."
"So go talk to him." Sage sat back in her chair. Mitchell paled suddenly; he hadn't expected that,
"No." he said, quickly, frowning and shaking his head furiously,
"You are sitting here, fantasising about having his babies, or at least his sneakers, now go talk to him or I will and you'll have missed your chance."
"I'll have missed my chance anyway, because he cannot possibly be gay, I'm not that lucky. Plus he'll just think I am a pushy little sophomore with delusions of grandeur."
"You are gorgeous, six foot two and delectably sexy, if you weren't gay I would seriously consider dating a younger guy, now stop putting yourself down, stop putting objects in your way and go over there and talk to him."
"No, I can't, I wouldn't know what the hell to say."
"Just ask him his name, ask if he wants another drink and ask if he wants to drink it with you?"
"Ok, then what?"
"Then tell him you think he's sexy as hell and you want to shag his sneakers." Mitchell snorted into his coffee, choking slightly,
"I can't tell him that." He glanced covertly over at the counter, trying to suppress another snigger, "Oh damn he's gone." Mitchell slapped the table in disappointment, craning his neck to see where the guy could have disappeared to, because there was no way he could have finished his coffee so quickly. Mitchell's quick brain was already working out that the coffee cup was also gone so therefore the guy had simply moved and not left, since the cup would still be standing on the counter. The girl serving today was not that quick at clearing up,
"Looks like we missed our chance." Sage mused sadly, shrugging and giving Mitchell a sympathetic look, which she hoped wasn't patronising,
"Missed your chance with what?" They both looked up startled. The guy from the counter was standing at the opposite end of their table. They both stared open mouthed, "Hi Sage." He said, brightly,
"Bo?" Sage exclaimed with obvious delight, "Hi, wow, I didn't recognise you, you've coloured your hair."
"Thought I'd go back to a normal colour for a while, might change it again soon though, I get bored looking at myself."
"I'd never get bored." Mitchell muttered. Bo gave him a candid look,
"Cute." He said, then turned to Sage, "Gonna introduce us?" his dark eyebrows raised in query,
"Boaz Marl, this is Mitchell Priestly, he lives right next door to me. I've known him since he was a tiny baby…"
"Sage, how could you?" Mitchell asked in a screechy, high pitched adolescent voice: her reference to his younger age obvious and irreversible. Bo did not give any indication of hearing or being bothered at all at the reference and did not change his mildly interested expression,
"You're a sophomore right?" he asked Mitchell and the younger boy took a few seconds to realise he was being addressed directly,
"R-right." Mitchell said, a little unsure and suddenly very shy,
"You play in the school band, French Horn if I remember rightly."
"Y-yeah, you do." Bo sat down beside him smiling and Mitchell felt his face heating up almost immediately,
"You know what they say about French Horn players don't you?" he asked, in a casual, almost whisper.
Sage sniggered but looked away covering the snigger with a cough. Mitchell glared at her, not for any reason except that he suddenly felt out of his depth with a senior flirting with him after he had just fantasised about having sex with the guy's sneakers. His blush deepened to crimson and Bo's chuckle a deep, resonant sound, sent shivers down Mitchell's spine,
"I don't know what they say about French Horn players," Mitchell said a little too snappily, trying desperately to claw some control back into the conversation, "Why don't you tell me?" Bo leaned in a little closer and the almost whisper became a full whisper, so low that Sage couldn't hear it even though she was straining to. Mitchell heard though, only too well,
"They say it makes you a good kisser." Bo whispered and Mitchell's blush deepened even more, if that were even possible, "Now." Bo said a little louder, and with laughter in his tone, causing Mitchell to jump, "What was it you were saying about my sneakers?"
Mitchell groaned and face palmed in embarrassment and Sage just laughed hysterically. It certainly looked like they got their answer about Bo's sexual preference and they didn't even have to ask.
A/N Thanks for reading. I had fun writing it. I'll get back to my other stories now.