I'm Just Passing The Time (Peterick Stripper AU)

Just Let Me Perfect It

{Another fun history fact with your local Skittle nerd!

Cigarettes & smoking wasn't linked to cancer or health problems until the 1950's (after the time our fic here takes place) so that's why it's kind of a casual thing being thrown around.

Remember, this is in the 20's-30's depression & prohibition so there's still about 20ish years till they figure out just how bad they are for ya health

Back to the fic!

~Skittles Out~}

"I'll snag one from my friend's jacket." I shrugged.

The Punk just continued to rest his head against my leg. He looked tired, but still stunning to me. I pushed my fingers through his hair and he looked up at me.

"Oi, yeux whiskey?" He asked softly. His eyelids fluttering at me.

"I need up if you want a smoke." I said in an equally soft tone.

He sat up and tilted his head at me, letting his blond hair flop to the side. I stood up, suddenly feeling the cold breeze to my exposed crotch. I quickly pulled my underwear back up before pulling up my pants as well. He just smiled at my waistband.

"Much better than the first impression..." He mumbled, licking his lips again.

I didn't reply, just extended my hand to help him up. He took my hand, but looked at me confused. "No more time alone together?" He asked, beginning to trace his finger along my chest. "You did pay quite handsomely..."

"Consider it an apology for last time." I said, looking at his eyes that were currently paying no attention to mine. The blue gems were focused where his finger traced, half closed and a hint of tiredness about them. I brought my hand up under his and lifted it away from my chest, holding it tightly. His gaze shifted to mine and I couldn't help the slight grin that tugged at my lips. "C'mon. Shall we?"

He nodded, the tired look never leaving his eyes. I pulled him along, out of the booth and into the open room. I could see the brown haired boy barely tugging Brendon into a booth by his shirt, giggling. Good. That gave me more time with The Punk.

I mean...Just to make sure he wasn't out smoking alone... It was dangerous at night.

The Punk followed silently behind me as I pulled him out of the main room and into the area by the stairs that we stored our coats. He simply stood by as I rummaged around Brendon's coat pocket, finally finding his hidden smokes.

"Lite me up." The Punk smiled when I handed him the cigarette.

"Right here?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Shouldn't we go outside."

"Whatever you prefer, yeux whiskey." He replied with the cigarette between his teeth and a shrug. He gestured to the stairs and took my hand. This time, he lead me.

"Leaving so soon?" Dallon asked as we walked around the bar after coming up through the secret hatch.

"Nous serons de retour." The Punk replied.

"D'accord. Fait attention." Dallon nodded. He just smiled at me with another nod before walking over to a glass of water that sat on a table across the room.

The Punk pulled me out the door and to the side of the building, in a dimly lit alley. The night was coating us in a thin layer of fog, almost inviting shady behavior.

"Lite 'em up." He said sweetly before pushing the cigarette out of his mouth towards me with his lips. I just shook my head and brought out a match.