dancing in the dark

@pitifulgerald

gerald pitts. dead poets society.

108 posts

"Okay, ixnay on the leather pants, but 80s style crop tops? Then you'll be drowning in buss." Chuck would have liked it placed firmly on the record that while he had always endeavoured to encourage and build his friends up, he wasn't much of a wingman so really there was no pressure. Mostly because his few attempts at wingmanning had ended with him sucking or being sucked and it dawned on him that maybe there were ways in which one could in fact be too desirable. "Language, Gerald," he teased, his grin beyond shit-eating. "Oh, are you counting? Hm?"

"I could do a crop." He lifted his shirt up, just a little above his belly button, "Like.. about there, probably." As much as he appreciated how his friends each nudged him outside his comfort zone, he knew that nudging didn't come with any expectations or pressure either. Chuck wasn't the best wingman anyway, if they were going that route, but he did have a way out of getting Gerald out of his head. "My language?," he joked back. As if Chuck hadn't just spent the last ten minutes colorfully describing his dick to a room full of strangers. "Oh yeah I've got a new tally to add now. I keep it on the wall by my bed, right next to my pillow."

"Time for a makeover?" Chuck almost seemed too eager, though they'd been friends for longer than they hadn't by that point so obviously he didn't actually care. If he had, his first port of call would have been to give Pitts a decent haircut, but alas they'd all had their parent-dictated bullshit back in the day. What mattered most was that they'd found poetry and the freedom that came with it. "If you get up there?" Chuck stepped back, hand on his jutted hip to survey the man before him. He was the last person to believe in a one size fits all definition of sexuality, but that girl had to be blind if she couldn't tell Gerald was a card-carrying gay. "Well if she doesn't get it, I'll help nudge her along-" Chuck's hand struck out, gripping Gerald's collar and yanking him in for a kiss. Truly, it was the least Chuck could do for a friend being hunted across the bar. "Please tell me that wasn't your first kiss," he asked when they parted, expression as shitheaded as ever.

"Not if you put me in leather pants again. I'm still chafed from the last time," he said, brushing past Chuck's excitement at the idea. They'd been friends through a series of unfortunate haircuts and even more questionable fashion choices so he knew he couldn't take offense to it, not when Chuck had seen much, much worse. "What?" Gerald stared back at him expectantly, ready for whatever snarky observation he was bound to make. Sure he wasn't exactly butch but he liked to think he was at least straight passing. Chuck grabbed hold of his collar before he could fight it and kissed him with no time for Gerald to process it. "Fuck off," he laughed as he pushed him away once they parted, like they were just playing around. "That's not even the first time you've kissed me."

#truly he's doing so much for the community #chuck

Chuck appreciated his friends' support in all of his wacky endeavours, especially when it came to his poetry. A live reading night at some ill-equipped bar wasn't exactly five star but it was something. They all knew the feeling of having something to say and not being able to say it any other way, so even in a room full of people he'd never feel judged if his boys were there. "I'd say it's camp, but yeah, I think they're just trying too hard to say what they think people want to hear, honestly. Like yes, we get it, the world has gone to shit but it's okay, you can take ten minutes off to wax poetic about your man sucking it clean off the bone." Not that it was any different to any other day with Chuck, but he did genuinely believe in the seeking of freedom in any and all ways. "You sure you're not gonna go up?"

"Is it?" His friends all seemed to have varying criteria for what was and wasn't camp, and it'd caused many a disagreement, but he still didn't think whatever was happening on that stage tonight was it. "Fuck trying too hard's like my whole thing too. I'm gonna have to find something else now." Although he was always hesitant to share his writing, it was through poetry that he gained the freedom to express himself, without his usual armor of jokes. That was the scariest part of it, the sheer vulnerability, and that's why it was usually just for him. It didn't have to be very good, even if his friends would support him either way, it served its purpose as a creative outlet. He shook his head, "Probably not. Plus this girl keeps looking at me from across the room, and I don't want to break her heart. If I get up there she's gonna figure out I'm gay."

"... and that was my new piece, dedicated to all the people who will never get the chance to gag on my beautiful-" The rest of Chuck's sentence was inaudible to the bar, the mic dead in his hand. Of course the sound girl had cut him off, his luck having been pushed to the limit the entire time he'd been on stage. Not that he cared, he'd already had his fill of the spotlight, attention-charged and buzzing from the freedom his poetry afforded him. As he came off stage, he handed the mic to the next performer and looked around for his people.

"You're censoring him!," Gerald shouted from his spot in the crowd, the rest of the guys not far from him. The couple times he'd gone up at one of these things it was only because someone literally, physically shoved him up on stage. As nice as it was to feel included he much preferred to observe, rather than perform, and even then he was sure he'd find some new exciting way to embarrass himself still. He waved to Chuck as he got off stage and met him halfway. "A lot of these people.." he lowered his voice, "well they're not very good, are they."

"I know... I just didn't expect to live long enough to find out," he laughed, though it wasn't entirely a joke. He'd intended on burning bright and fast and now he was on the other side of it there was no huge revelation, just the quiet truth that life went on. "Oh shit, we're doing Pride gifts now? You need a vacuum?" he gestured to the back seat as they got back in the car. "Actually... I did hear of something that fits the bill going on in the city... Since you're feeling so brave and all. I think we need to swing by your place and get you dolled up though. You know half of getting yourself in the right headspace for these things is being dressed for the occasion."

"Yeah," he sighed, cracking a smile, "Never really thought this far ahead either." While Chuck assumed he'd live fast die young, Gerald always knew he was destined to a long, boring life, the kind even a mid-life crisis couldn't save. He tried not to think about it. "No," he laughed. "Right, sure, but let's temper our expectations here. I definitely don't own... whatever it is you have in mind."

"'Happy Pride', I say to myself as I slide my new vacuum cleaner into the back of my car..." Chuck shook his head to himself, a small wrinkle of distaste in his brow as he considered his trajectory of what most would call personal growth. "I remember when I used to basically wipe June off the calendar... Cocaine's a hell of a drug, and so on... I think we need to go to one of those parties where we throw tomatoes at people in gimp suits and call it art."

"You...?" Gerald shook his head, stopping that thought before he could finish it. Of course he knew a party like that. "I think you can go out and keep a clean apartment, they're not mutually exclusive," he teased, shutting the trunk to Chuck's car. "What if... my Pride gift to you, I'm really brave and go to whatever weird 'it's-not-sex-it's-art' party you want."

"I think so, yeah. This place is like all about relaxation and exercise and shit. I've taught some clients here before." Simon's smile grew when she agreed. "You see the vision, hot and sweaty and hi, like being stoned in the middle of summer on the beach. One of my favorite feelings." He stayed quiet for a moment, just floating with her there and thinking about how nice it was. Simon was usually always jumping from thought to thought, feeling to feeling but lying here with Gemma he was actually just focused on how chill it felt. That was different for him. He wanted to say something sweet about it but he couldn't find the words, that had always been Otis's strong suit so instead he kissed the top of her head as he did his best to slowly paddle them towards the stairs with one arm. "Are we even moving or are we about to fall in?"

"So you're a regular. Yess, but without the sunburn." Even when Gemma was still she wasn't really still, her thoughts racing at a mile a minute, fingers fidgeting in little micro-movements. This was about as close it got though- well, not counting any of the times she'd gotten so high she couldn't feel her legs. That was just scary. She giggled when Simon kissed the top of her head, breaking the rare bit of silence between them. "We're moving," she said perhaps too confidently, then attempted to gauge how far they were from the edge. "I don't want to tip us over but I think we need to get off."

"I mean, I could blackmail you," he offered as an alternative, though there was no alternative to the fact that he wanted her to jump with him. "I'll tell your man you're... a serial pool pooper. That you love the thrill of risking being caught." Still, he knew his chances were slim so by that point he was just enjoying being a pest. That was the magic of Vaughn, nothing was ever any deeper with him than the desire to have a good time. "Yeah– Ra-ra-rat sushi..." he trailed off, always confident even when he was so, so wrong. "Ooh, shots! You want one? We should get one for Walt too..." he narrowed his eyes and surveyed the party for their baldy headed bestie, "he'll probably need one to wash down the chlorine and dick taste."

She shot him a look, challenging him to go on, as if she hadn't already made a habit of humiliating herself. "That's not a secret though? Like everyone knows..," she trailed off then broke into a grin and swatted at Vaughn. If not the words at least he seemed to have the dance down, from what she remembered, and she tilted her head as she tried to follow along. "Yes." Gemma clapped her hands together, happy to move on to the next side quest. "I swear I just saw him... Wait, dick, who's dick, what do you know?"

"Yeah I think he's gonna run a marathon soon which is kind of annoying but I guess we'll have to suffer," she joked, knowing that they'd probably go all out to cheer him on just for him to finish in under two hours. "Sugar? Milk? We've got it all," she offered as she filled a mug and placed it in front of Gemma. The Rapp siblings had splurged on a pretty expensive coffee machine so Mae felt like a barista most mornings. "How was the party last night? I didn't make it out but Otis sent me pictures. Mostly to make me feel bad I wasn't with him but you know. It seemed cool."

"Yeah so that's insane," she joked back, figuring her and Mae could agree on that. "Love it for him though and I mean- he probably won''t make it his whole personality. Both is good. If you don't mind." Gemma offered her a smile as she brought the mug closer to her. "Fun and kind of cold, I don't think you missed much. I'd say we're running out of ideas a little but somebody could throw a party at an active construction site and people would still show, so."

Walt turned around as he heard an all too familiar voice asking him if he was cruising. The accusation just brought a grin to his features, as the owner of said familiar voice just knew him too well. "I'm not not cruising." Walt laughed, as he found himself face to face with his better half. "But, no I'm currently cruising. It's literally 30 degrees out here and all the hotties are inside... I'm not opposed to being the first face any new attendees see, though. Means I get first dibs." He said with a nod. "How was the sauna?" He asked with a sly smirk as of course, he'd peeped that his favorite girl and the hunky hunk she was currently seeing snuck off. "You didn't fuck in there, did you?"

She wagged a finger his way as if to say she knew it, grin taking over her features. "But you could be. If the opportunity presented itself." She pulled her jacket closer to herself, as if Walt had just reminded her how cold it was. When he asked about the sauna she gave him a knowing look back. "Warm. Sweaty," she laughed. "There was no fucking, you know how I feel about sex in public places, it freaks me out. We just smoked and like made out a little."

"Unnecessary and dramatic is basically my family crest," he pointed out as if he had no choice in the matter. It was what it was and, well, he'd never been all that great at thinking for himself unless it involved misbehaving. "But if I go first you're just gonna run. I know you, Gem." At that point he would have gone along with anything to get her to play along so coming up with a routine was probably the most normal idea that could have eventuated. "Sol is the real dancer between us but I do know one..." he released her from the bear hug only to grab her by the wrists and start doing the Just Dance version of Rasputin– though if his humming was anything to go by he had the lyrics so, so wrong.

"This is true." If her family had a crest it'd be anxious but in a kind of funny way, so like a chihuahua or one of those pet monkeys that has to wear a diaper. "Nooo," she refuted, though hardly convincing as they both knew she'd mostly definitely make a run for it. A routine was something she hoped would distract Vaughn long enough that he'd forget about the diving board all-together. She didn't think she'd have one so readily prepared. "That's... Is that how that goes?," she said of the tune he was humming and started to mirror his moves.

Gemma was more than a little stoned coming out of the sauna at the aquatic center- which meant the temperature shock of hot to warm to freezing once she got outside was really going to fuck her up. If she squinted she could make out her favorite buzzcut just ahead of her and called out to him. "Oh my god, wait," she stopped just a few feet from Walt, then lowered her voice, "Are you cruising?" @t-andwood

"He went for a run," Mae explained as she heard the footsteps approaching the kitchen. "I told him he should wait til you wake up so you weren't in bed alone but he said he would be like the Flash and he had goals to meet." She shook her head and laughed. She finished putting sugar in her coffee before turning back to finally look at Gemma. "You want coffee?" @pitifulgerald

Gemma froze when she realized it was Simon's sister in the kitchen and not him. No big deal of course, she just wished she'd put on pants first. "Right right," she nodded. "He is really fast so that's fine honestly." She smiled at Mae once she turned around, having moved to hide her bare legs behind the counter. "Yeah sure. Thank you."

"Boo! Tomatoes, tomatoes!" Vaughn advanced on Gemma, using his significant height advantage to envelop her in a bear hug. Not that he expected to get very far, but he still started shuffling her toward the diving platform. It was one of those moments where it became clear that he was certainly his fathers' son. "Come on, if we die at least we'll die young and sexy."

While Vaughn shuffled them towards the diving boards she tried to side step the opposite direction, even if she knew it was no use. "Please don't say we're going to die, that's just really unnecessary and dramatic." Her shoulders relaxed, not one to ever put up too much of a fight, about anything. And she was easily peer pressured. "You have to go first, or maybe we do it at the same time, waiiiit. Like synchronized swimming. We need a routine."

"I mean of course. I'm really liking our chances of survival here." Simon held onto her tightly, doing his best to keep the floatie steady as she climbed up. "Woah, you're kind of a pro at this," he told her, moving his arm to lay across her waist so he could stop her from slipping off. "Sup," he told her with a laugh before leaning in to kiss her. "Much better." Simon was always used to having a good time but somehow with Gemma the good time had gotten impossibly better. "Alright, so snowed in, pool full of sharks, what's next? Do you think there are like bad affects to hot boxing a sauna? I wonder if I'd pass out or not."

"Really?" Gemma thought she was about as nimble as a polar bear but she managed to make it up. Once she felt secure enough she smiled against his lips then turned ever so slightly, settling into his side. For as self-conscious of a person as she was, a lot of that noise faded to the background when she was with Simon. That wasn't to say she she didn't get embarrassed ever- but they could make out in broad daylight without much regard for anyone else. "There's a sauna here? I feel like that'd be fine, or even just smoking in there would probably be awesome. We should do that."

"Woah, snowed in at the pool. Kind of a mind fuck. One crack of glass, boom," he said, making a sound as if the roof was gonna fall in on them. "Freaky. Feel like we could melt it somehow. You definitely could with how hot you look in that bathing suit. One stare," he told her and pulled his best blue steel face, "and you'd save us all." He let out a dreamy sigh before reaching out for her hand. "You wanna get up here? I feel like we could do it without flipping over."

"It happens all the time around here, doesn't it. You think we'd learn." She chuckled at the sound he made, grin stretching across her face as he complimented her. "And we'd have to huddle for warmth of course." Cautiously she took his hand, sure there was no way to gracefully join him, and pursed her lips as she considered her best approach. "We can try..." Gemma hesitated a moment longer before she scrambled up the float, figuring it was better to get up quickly than risk throwing it off balance. She ended up sort of on top of him, not straddling exactly. "Okay," she laughed as she looked down at him. "Hey."

"I'm just saying, this place is big enough they gotta bring fish from the aquarium for a field trip here, right? Like imagine how fucking fun that would be for them." Simon turned to look at her from where he had been lying on a large floaties. "Imagine they just drop the sharks in here for shits and giggles." @pitifulgerald

"The fish would love a field trip, they so deserve that." She flipped over from floating on her back and waded closer to him, chin resting on the edge of his floatie. "That's like Hunger Games level stuff. With everyone gathered here too... Actually, and I don't even wanna put this into the universe, but imagine getting snowed in here."

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