aka Lolitics is my 6th sense
Welcome to our glorious sixth post.
That's right: 6! But let's move on to not bore you with interesting facts ;)
All fills for prompts of the earlier prompt posts go in the post the prompt was posted in. No re-posting or splitting up prompts and fills.
Otherwise it will get very chaotic.
Places of interest:
1) Unfilled prompts can be found on ( Read more... )
That's right: 6! But let's move on to not bore you with interesting facts ;)
All fills for prompts of the earlier prompt posts go in the post the prompt was posted in. No re-posting or splitting up prompts and fills.
Otherwise it will get very chaotic.
Places of interest:
1) Unfilled prompts can be found on ( Read more... )
Darkness was creeping into the park. By this time almost everyone had gone home, but there was still the lazy squeak of swings from the children's playground, where three sixteen-year-olds with nothing better to do were sitting around and arguing.
"You said Gordon was coming," moaned Peter, who looked a bit like he had forgotten to shave. Either that, or he was attempting to cultivate some kind of facial hair, which was an idea too horrible to contemplate. "And we've been sitting here for about half an hour, and I bet he doesn't even show up, even though you said he would."
Tony shrugged. "Yeah. He said he was coming."
"Well, evidently he's not, which is fucking typical," Peter scowled.
"Who cares?" cut in Alastair. "He's a wanker anyway. And if he came he'd bring his mates, and they're just -" He groaned, which was the only sound capable of describing the boys in question. Tony and Peter nodded; they weren't fans of Gordon's mates, either. "I mean, what's up with Balls, even? You'd think he never learnt to speak English..."
"Oh, Ali, d-d-don't be so m-m-mean," Tony sniggered, to general guffaws. "Yeah, you're right, anyway. He kind of is being a wanker, lately. Peter only wants him to come because he lo-oves him," he teased, smirking in Peter's direction.
Peter turned pink. "I do not."
"You do." Alastair ruffled Peter's hair fiercely, nearly startling him off the swing. "You want to be his girlfriend."
"I'm not even a girl!"
"That why you're growing a beard?"
Humiliated, Peter patted down his hair. "It's not a beard, even." He carefully brushed a finger against the beginnings of what was destined to be either a wonderful moustache or a horrible disaster. "Besides, I wish Gordon would come, and then you two jerks wouldn't be ganging up on me."
"Yeah," sighed Tony. "I kind of wish he'd come, as well."
This remark was followed by a pensive silence from all three boys. What Tony said was always held in high regard, even if it meant nothing; he was the oldest by a few months, and had been in a pretty good band once, and was probably the smartest out of their friends - all of which combined to make him the obvious leader, the one they wanted to sit next to on the bus. Even if they didn't like him that much.
Before long, the slow click of bicycle wheels disturbed the peace in the park. The gate to the children's playground swung open and a few dark figures came through. Two were pushing bikes while a third rolled gently along behind them, standing up on the pedals of his own bike. The gate clanged shut behind them.
"It's the moron brigade," Alastair muttered. Through the twilight, they could see the glow of a cigarrette end bobbing up and down as the figures drew closer. "I hope you're happy now that your boyfriend and his mates are here, Mandy." Peter just gritted his teeth.
"Hey," called a familiar Scottish voice.
"Hey," grunted the three by the swings by way of reply.
With no apology for lateness, Gordon propped his bike up against the railings and stared at the ground. Charlie took a drag on his cigarrette and exhaled in Tony's general direction, scowling while Ed climbed off his bike and let it drop to the ground. "How's it going?"
"Okay," shrugged Tony.
"Yeah," agreed Peter. "All right."
"Really shit," Alastair chipped in, and was met by general nodding and mumbling of approval.
The six of them stood in silence for a while, the swings creaking back and forth, until Charlie dropped his cigarrette and ground it out his his foot. As he reached into his pocket for another, Peter sighed and got to his feet. "This is crap. I'm going home."
"Whatever." Tony didn't even look at him.
Alastair frowned and tugged at Peter's sleeve. "Come on, don't leave me with these, Peter. Besides, I thought you were waiting for Gordon to get here..."
"I was not!" snapped Peter at once, tugging his arm away. He glanced nervously at Gordon to see if he'd react; Gordon just looked briefly and disinterestedly at him before directing his gaze back to his shoes. Glad that no-one could see his blush in the darkness, Peter pulled up the hood of his coat and mumbled, "Whatever. See you tomorrow."
"Yeah."
"Yeah, see you tomorrow, Peter."
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LOL at your description of Peter's facial hair attempt--'either a wonderful moustache or a horrible disaster'
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I WANT MOAR (preferably with moar making out ngl).
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t. This is quite, quite perfect! Poor Peter and his facial hair and crush (/pets him).
There really needs to be more of this, with Tony mocking Ed's stammer and Ed knocking him six ways to Sunday.
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There really needs to be more of this, with Tony mocking Ed's stammer and Ed knocking him six ways to Sunday.
YES. I have been thinking of writing more anyway; will see if it works out. :)
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(the other thing I want is for Peter to respond to Alastair's teasing by saying 'yes I am gay, so what' and going off to snog the dishy Latino exchange student...)
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