players: Chuck, Texas
word count: 970
summary: Chuck laments being a weenie and not having a girlfriend (namely Claire); then he kind of laments on ever telling a friend (namely Texas) his girl troubles.
a/n: My friend asked me ever-so-nicely to help out with writing an idea she had so she could draw it for another friend.
He sighed heavily again, slumping and staring at his hands. Twisting his fingers together, he tried to let his mind wander, but it kept wandering back to the same place.“Hey, Cameron!” Texas bellowed in greeting, slapping Chuck on the shoulder and causing and undignified sound of surprise to blast from the blond’s lungs. “What’s up, man? I thought you’d be off with Mike, screaming like a little girl as usual.”
Chuck knew he didn’t really mean anything by it. Texas was just an honest idiot.
“I didn’t feel like it,” he answered lamely. His heartbeat returned to a regular rhythm that only jumped up again when Texas leaned over the back of his seat and looked close at his face. So close their noses almost touched and Chuck could see himself in dark, scrutinising eyes. “T-Texas, you’re really clo—”
“Okay, something’s up.” He hopped the back of the bench and sat facing Chuck, arm tossed over the back. “Tell Texas all about your troubles.”
It was tempting. Sometimes, Chuck really wished someone would just sit and talk with him or allow him to vent, but he didn’t want to look any weaker than he knew he already did, so he stayed quiet.
But here Texas was offering, and he was actually being quiet for longer than a nanosecond, apparently waiting for Chuck to spill his guts.
So he did.
“It’s Claire,” he gushed, dreamy and deflated at the same.
“The dark chick with the hair?”
Texas nodded. Slowly, he asked, “Uh. . . what about her?”
“I just—I just want to get to know her.”
“So why don’t you?”
“I can’t. I don’t know how. . .”
The other Burner laughed boisterously and clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s easy! Just talk to her!”
Chuck’s ears grew hot. “N-N-No! I-I can’t!” His hands fluttered uselessly in the air, trying to physically grasp the words to express his feelings of inadequacy and nervousness. “She’s just so wonderful and gorgeous and totally out of my league.”
“That’s a very downer attitude, Casey. How d’you know she’s out of your league? You’ve not even talked to her. You could totally just go up to her like ‘Hey, I’m Carl. Just one of the smartest and coolest Burners in Detroit. After Texas. You’re a pretty girl; we should totally go for a ride sometime.’ And then just sweep her off in your ride all old-movie suave-like. Ka-chaw!” Texas chopped the air for emphasis.
“Yeah. . .” Chuck drawled nervously. Somehow, that didn’t sound like a good plan. It didn’t even sound like a plan, more like a bad movie plot from the 1950s. “Even if I ever did manage to talk to her, and she ended up kind of l-l-liking me. . .” His ears could not possibly get any redder. His voice lowered, not wanting to be overheard even though no one was around. “I don’t know how we’d even, you know, date or,” his cheeks became hot at the fantastical thoughts of him and Claire together, “kiss and stuff.”
Texas chuckled. “What? Dude. You just get together and do it!”
The heat from Chuck’s ears and cheeks spread over his entire face, igniting to a bright carnation pink. “I wouldn’t even know how!” he admitted. His words tangled together and were nearly unintelligible with the added embarrassed mumble.
Texas blew a quick raspberry, dismissing Chuck’s embarrassment. “Not to worry, Cindy. Let Daddy Texas teach you.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Things were definitely getting uncomfortable. He jumped when Texas suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him down so they were face-level, and spoke with a conspiring tone, “You wanna get this girl, right? I am totally the guy to help. Trust me, man.”
Chuck was too busy calculating the figures of probability in his head to deny the offer completely.
Texas stood and assumed the professional stance of a teacher before the booth. “First off, there’s many kinds of kisses.” He praised the notion with a dramatic sweeping of his arms before bringing them together to count off on his fingers. “There’s Nimitaka, Sphuritaka, Ghaditaka, Samachumbana, Thiryak, Uddrandha, Avapeeditha, Aakrishta. . .”
“H-How do you know these‽” Chuck interrupted. He was pretty sure nothing Texas was spewing was even English.
Texas blinked at him, eyebrows drawn together incredulously. “What? Doesn’t everybody?” He shrugged and continued ticking off fingers, not actually count. “Then there are Eskimo kisses, Shaba kisses, butterfly kisses, belly kisses, back kisses, French kisses, upside-down kisses, reverse kisses, back-seat-of-the-car kisses, air kisses, aunty kisses, the Kiss of Judas, kiss of Death, Hershey Kisses. . .”
Completely red-faced, Chuck sat silently and let all the words wash over him. He never knew there were so many different kinds of kisses. The prospect of ever doing any of them with Claire dwindled the longer and more graphic Texas’ list became.
“I’m too freaked out to even ask what some of those even are,” he admitted stiffly when Texas finally finished his list.
“Just start with the basics, Corey. Put your lips together like this,” he pushed his lips together in an exaggerated duck-bill. “Then you put your lips on hers; like this,” lips puckered again, not quite as ridiculously, he bent at his waist and kissed a very bewildered Chuck on his mouth.
And then things got intense, and they did it on the table of Jacob’s diner.