tuggoffelees oneshots

seventy two: bar, part 1 (theres a hamilton reference in this one idfk)

uh misto and tuggs don't know each other and yea

misto pov
victoria invited me, pouncival, and etcetera to go to the local bar, of which, is very small, in our very homophobic town. pounce, vicky, and cettie are the only other people who know i'm gay. and, thank god, they are some of the ones who aren't closed-minded assholes.

oooo the things i wish i could say to certain people in my family—

victoria pushes the door to the bar open, and holds it for me, then i hold it for cettie, who holds it for pounce.

she leads us up to the bar, and flags down one of the two bartenders. "hi, can i get a—"

"i'm sorry, i'm going to need to see a piece of identification," he says, looking at all of us suspiciously. "from all of you."

luckily, pouncival, who's the youngest of us four, just turned twenty-one! congrats pouncey!

i dig my driver's license out of my wallet, and hold it up for the bartender to see.

after he'd seen all the proof, he smiles politely at vicky. "what were you saying?"

victoria orders her drink, then pounce; then cettie, who may or may not have flirted with him a little bit.

i'm still squinting at the menu board thing when he asks "what can i get 'cha?"

"a lemon drop." that was the first thing i read, so i said it. "please."

soon, we all have our drinks, and cettie finds us a table. "really, misty?" she scoffs playfully. "a lemon drop?"

i roll my eyes at her. "it's good," i protest taking a sip. "also don't call me that."

cettie opens her mouth to retort, but then her jaw drops even more, almost in amazement.

i turn around towards the door, only to see the prettiest boy i've ever laid eyes on. he has a black leather jacket with a dark grey shirt underneath, and tight black jeans with rips in them.

     i gawk only for a second, then i grumpily turn back around. he can't be gay; he looks too... straight. well not that he looks straight, but he just... isn't gay. he can't be.

unless he's just masc.? i shoo the thought away. he's not. there's absolutely no way.

people— probably some of the bar's regular customers— say things like "ayyy my man!" and "what is up dude?" and other stupid things drunk men say.

a few people even embrace him. there's something about the way he hugs them though...

i quickly take another sip of the drink, trying to clear my head again.

"i'm gonna go talk to him," cettie says, setting down her cup on the table.

victoria grabs her arm, pulling her back down. "let him come to you," she chides, turning to look in his direction. "watch and learn."

     cettie and i watch intently, while poor pouncival stirs his drink with the straw.

     victoria waits till she catches the new guy's eye, then she smiles, looks away, looks back at him, smiles again, bites her lip a little, looks him up and down, then looks away for good. all in a matter of like, ten seconds.

cettie squeaks, and hisses "he's coming!!!"

all of us look at him, probably at the exact same time. great.