THAT BURGER || ROBBIE&JOHN
“Well, knowing the problem is the first step to change,” he reminded him playfully. Not that Robbie actually wanted him to. He was funny and unpredictable and even if it verged on way too obnoxious and embarrassing at least Robbie wasn’t getting bored. Robbie flipped John the bird. He knew his nails weren’t a problem. Honestly, who would complain about someone taking good care of themselves and actually put the effort into their appearance. At least he didn’t look like John who could’ve slept, wrestled pigs, and rolled in manure in a shirt and debate about wearing it the next day. Robbie beamed as he pulled out of the giggly kiss. He was pleased in himself getting the reaction he wanted from the man. “Barstool, huh? Does that mean you’re gonna liquor me again? ‘Cause if so I’ve got some requests to make before I let you eat some of this poundcake.” He smiled as John put all this on chivalry. Coming from an almost exclusive back-seat background Robbie knew chivalry most definitely was dead and there was no way a peasant like him was following a knight’s code. “Or I could just thank yoooou,” Robbie gushed as he pressed a nice wet Great Aunt Muriel style kiss on his cheek. He might as well give him more shit if he already felt uncomfortable. What was the worst that could happen? John’d go back to treating him like all his other fuck buddies?
Ossowski loosed an obnoxious, mocking cackle. “And you think you’d bomb as a comedian! Whew!! I’m crackin up over here!!!” He slapped the wheel with a hand, laughing much longer and much harder than the situation called for. Naturally. But Robbie’s gesture went largely ignored, John instead choosing to wipe some of the caked sweat from his face onto his t-shirt (which was still perfectly clean and wearable, if you asked him). “That’s an option, yeah; even though I definitely never agreed to some quid-pro-quo rimjob shit...” His brows furrowed as he processed his last sentence. “Metaphorical shit, obviously --- you so much as toot and I’m gonna hafta beat the literal shit out of you, them’s the breaks,” he sighed, put-upon. At this point, Ossowski wasn’t really sure he’d have the heart to. Regardless he winced as Robbie smooched him, face scrunching inwards. “Duuuude,” he droned, wiping cheek against his shoulder as he stifled a grin, “it’s just dinner, you gotta chill out. I’mma end up drivin us into a wall if you keep it up. Which would, like, kind of suck considerin I would fight a bear for a burger right about now. An under-the-table-tugjob’s worth a thousand thank-you mamaw kisses, bro, c’mon.”
