I was tagged by the lovely @alyssoid thanks so much for the tag friend! Last weekend I shared some Triple Threat group chat fun, so today I thought I’d share some Sunset Curve shenanigans (with a hint of Juke and Boggie) from the next installment of my Julie and the Lifeguards AU!
As always, no pressure, but tagging @phantomxarmy @onlygenxhere @floating-in-the-blue @60sec400 & @innytoes !
“Later Julie!” Luke calls after them, his voice coming out a little louder than he’d intended. Julie startles, but gives him a shy smile and a little wave over her shoulder.
“Smooth dude,” Bobby mutters with a snicker, Reggie giggling right alongside him.
“Shut up,” Luke grumbles, the tips of his ears growing red.
“Man they were like the nicest parents ever!” Reggie says with a wistful sigh. “Ray totally seems like the kind of dad who likes to barbecue, ooo I bet he has a great ribs recipe!”
Luke and Bobby give him a strange look.
“What?” Reggie asks with a shrug. “He just seems like the type!”
“Sure dude, whatever you say,” Luke replies, shaking his head in bemusement. “Let Bobbers SPF you up so you don’t turn into a lobster on us. You and Alex are on the next shift and you know he hates being late.”
“Well excuse me for wanting to be a responsible employee,” says the boy in question as he rounds the corner, sunglasses and baseball cap on, lifeguard buoy tucked under one arm. “Come on Reginald, you have three minutes, I’m not waiting for you if you aren’t ready and I will not be held responsible if a kid drowns in your section.”
“I’m coming Lex, jeez, keep your pants on,” Reggie grumbles before turning to Bobby and yanking his t-shirt off over his head. “Okay Bobbers, sunscreen me!”
Bobby blinks for a second at the sight of his suddenly shirtless best friend. It’s certainly not the first time and most definitely won’t be the last, but the suddenness still catches him slightly off guard. And look, while Reggie may not have Luke’s ridiculous biceps or even Alex’s drummer arms, he actually has an impressively lean physique hiding under all his flannels and signature leather jacket.
He’s also developed a sprinkling of freckles across his pale shoulders, despite the number of times they’ve all reminded him to apply sunscreen this summer. And though Bobby would never admit it to anyone, he can’t help but find those darned freckles charming.
“Reggie? Reggie?” There’s a hand in front of his face followed by a concerned pair of brown eyes not too far from his own. “You good man?”
“I’m sorry, what were you saying? I saw a dog and I stopped listening.”
“We were talking about favorite birthday parties growing up.” Julie repeats herself, rolling her eyes affectionately. “I wanted to know yours.”
“Oh, I never really had one,” he shrugs. “We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, but my sister always found ways to make it special. Like one year, she made a giant spiderweb of string all over my room that I had to follow to find my present. But most years, she made me a cake we watched the entire Star Wars trilogy together on her bed. She had this little plate that was only for Important Occasions and she always made a “me sized” cake to sit in the middle.”
“That’s really nice, Reggie. I love that,” Julie smiles at him.
“If I could have had a party though, I would have wanted a 3P party.”
“Is that that one slightly neurotic gold robotic?”
“Oh, good catch Jules, but no! The three P's: pizza-popsicle-pool party, duh!”
|-o-| [-o-] |-o-|
“Alrighty,” Luke slaps his thighs and stands. “Imma head out.”
He’d been here for all of twenty minutes, had barely said hello, and hadn’t even wished him a happy birthday. Reggie’s contemplating the best way to tell Luke he’s hurt but instead of heading towards the door, Luke starts to come closer to Reggie, grinning like a madman and bending down into his space and…what the hell?
“Ray? Ray?? Can you come back in here please?” His voice gets louder the closer Luke gets. “Your son-in-law is being weird again!”
There’s some sort of cloth tied around his face, obscuring his vision. The next thing he knows, fabric is being pushed into his hands and he’s being hauled up off the couch and guided in a direction only Luke knows.
“Put these on. And don’t take off your blindfold.”
“Put what on? How am I supposed to get dressed if I can’t see?!”
His hands are guided to strings and buttons. “These go in the front, don’t worry about buttoning the shirt. Now get dressed. We’re late.”
Late for what? He’s so baffled he doesn’t argue anymore. He shouts that he’s done, the room echoing tightly around him. Must be the bathroom.
“I was having a lovely father-son bonding birthday breakfast. I take it I don’t get a say in what’s happening to me anymore,” he sighs as Luke guides him by his shoulders through the Molina house, which by extension, was also his house thanks to Ray taking him in during those last tumultuous years of high school.
“Nope!” Luke responds cheerfully.
“Whatever happened to bodily autonomy,” he mutters to himself. “So do I need shoes…or…?”
“No shoes, no shirt, no service!”
“…what?”
He would have tripped had Luke not been maneuvering him with such a tight grip.
“There’s your shoes, man.”
Reggie fumbles to get them onto his feet, the strange texture something he can’t place. Are these even MY shoes?
They manage to get out the door, down the stairs, and into a vehicle without any catastrophes, though he’s going to hold a bit of a permanent grudge against Luke for letting him hit his head getting into the truck. Country music fills the cabin and Luke finally wishes him a happy birthday. It allows him to relax just enough to enjoy a ride he can’t see and consider possibly forgiving Luke for “adultnapping” him. Before long, they must be wherever it is they’re going next and Luke commits several crimes all at once: he changes the song before it ends, parks abruptly, and then cuts the engine right as Shania starts singing his and Bobby’s first dance song.
“DUDE–” Luke cuts him off.
“Stay right there man. I don’t want you missing the running board and falling to the ground.”
Reggie holds his hand out for Luke to help him, but all he meets is air and without any warning, he finds himself upside down over Luke’s shoulder.
“What the—would you quit manhandling me?! Put me down!”
Luke does not comply, and somewhere along the way both of his shoes fall off. When Luke finally sets him down, his feet are met with warm, wet pavement. It’s quite unpleasant but before he can protest, the blindfold is yanked off, the Star Wars main theme is blaring, and he watches all of his friends jump into a pool at the same time. Bobby shoves a short blue pool noodle into his hands, kisses him soundly, and tips them both into the pool.
When he resurfaces, spluttering, none of the confusion has left him and Bobby is there kissing him once more before pulling back and attacking. All at once every single one of his friends are pouncing on him with pool noodles in an epic lightsaber battle. It isn’t until much later when they’re all wrapped up in their towels, soaking up the sunshine and eating pizza and popsicles that he realizes the pool noodles actually are lightsabers. Someone had taken the time to painstakingly duct tape the bottom to correspond with different characters' signature handles with the coordinating colors.
Right before they have to leave, someone fetches the shoes he dropped. The disappointment of not being carried to the car by his husband doesn’t last long, because the shoes are black Crocs covered in Star Wars shoe charms – he’d only had these on his ‘secret birthday ideas’ Pinterest board for ages. It had taken him a while to notice, what with all the stimulation going on, but the bathing suit and Hawaiian shirt he’d been forced into earlier are also Star Wars.
He wraps his arms around his lover’s waist. “This was the perfect birthday. Thank you, Bobbers.”
Bobby grins down at him, wrapping an arm around him and pressing a kiss to the top of his head in answer.
It hits him as they’re walking into their home. “Is this why Julie was asking me about birthday parties the other week?”
“Perhaps…”
“I can't figure out one thing though. Why’d you have Luke come get me? He’s objectively the worst of us at keeping secrets.”
“Because,” Bobby leans down to kiss him, unwilling to break apart until they hit the couch and gravity does its work in pulling them down onto it. “If I’d had to be in charge of blindfolding you and getting you into these cutie little boardshorts and “manhandling” you several places, we never would have made it to your party. We would have come straight back here to bed,” Bobby murmurs against his neck. “And then all this planning would have been for nothing.”
“I don’t know,” Reggie simpers back. “That sounds like a pretty great way to spend a birthday to me.”
“Yeah, but I had to get you out of the house so this could happen too.” Bobby sits up and points at all the decorations and Star Wars cued up on the TV.
Reggie had been too distracted by Many Good Kisses from his Very Hot Husband to notice. It was very…kid in a candy shop, if the candy shop was a Dollar Store and they’d been given unlimited money for decorations and balloons. Every inch of their walls and ceiling are covered with streamers and balloons. It feels familiar in a way he can’t quite place just yet. Very homey, very nineties, very…Hannah. A pang shoots through his heart, and rubs at his chest like that could get rid of it.
“Aw, baaaabe are you going to watch Star Wars with me this year since Hannah can’t be here?”
“Not exactly,” Bobby hedges.
“What, you’re going to make me watch it by myself?!”
“No, not that option either,” he teases. Bobby pulls away from Reggie to holler in the general direction of the kitchen. “He’s ready!”
At first, all he can see from their dark kitchen is a cake plate floating towards him slowly, illuminated by a singular candle. And then Reggie bluescreens for a second. Because behind that candle is Hannah. His sister Hannah who is supposed to be living abroad right now and wasn’t going to be able to come home for his birthday this year.
Bobby hops up off the couch as soon as he does, only just managing to catch the plate of cake as Reggie spins his sister in a giant hug. Many exclamations and explanations ensue and the three of them pile onto the couch. The rest of the evening is spent eating directly from the cake and quoting his favorite movies with his two most favorite people in the world.
Best. Birthday. Ever.
You're My Never-Ending Song (Bobby yearns for simpler times)-pre S1 JATP
warnings for minor injury, references to character death and Hallucination (full warnings on A03 chapter)
Bobby had never been the type to write about his feelings; that was always Luke’s job. Luke was the heartfelt one with a heartthrob face and a sensitive soul to match. Yet Bobby was the one pushing a cart in a supermarket in disguise to avoid being recognised as the boy with no success of his own. Fame had been kind to him to some extent; he had an expensive apartment, a 5-year record deal that would have made his friends weep with joy and the pick of beautiful celebrities to date, but that was never what he had wanted. He had joined Sunset Curve on a whim; if he had known what would happen, he wouldn’t have got out of bed the day Reggie had asked him to live a little.
Full oneshot below the cut (remind me if you're on my boggie tag list/want to be added)
Full onshot : https://archiveofourown.org/works/29159544/chapters/181400066
A fun little Boggie fic that happened because almost a fucking year ago @narcissusbrokenmirror and I were talking about Alex and Reggie and height? And it led to us talking about Reggie's style. Which led to this. Some of y'all may remember seeing snippets from "SC and Clothes" and this is part of that. Maybe it'll be a series. Maybe it won't. For now, some Boggie fluff:
Read on ao3 or below (938 words | gen):
“Hey, Reg?” Bobby calls.
Reggie pops his head into his bedroom.“Yeah?”
“Any reason you have this folded here all nice?” Bobby asks. He grabs the t-shirt that had caught his attention, holding it up for Reggie.
Reggie blushes as he answers. “Nope.”
He quickly turns and leaves the room.
Bobby shakes his head with mild amusement. He turns the shirt around to look at it more closely. He’d definitely gotten this one for Reggie. Had even bought it specifically for him instead of just passing on his own reject tees like usual - they all tried to give Reggie some variety for his wardrobe but for some reason he was perfectly content with his bulk packs of tees and tanks. Luckily the clothes never went to waste, most of them wind up in Luke’s closet eventually anyway.
Except this one, apparently. Thankfully. But it doesn’t look like Reggie’s even worn it once.
Bobby folds it back up and returns it to where he’d found it. He paces Reggie’s room as he waits for Reggie to return. It unfortunately doesn’t take long to get bored and there’s nothing new to inspect in the space, but he tries.
He finally decides to just settle on Reggie’s bed. Reggie’s taking even longer than usual and there’s only so much Bobby can do to kill the time.
Just as Bobby’s starting to get worried, Reggie appears in the doorway. He’s wrapped in a fluffy robe and running a towel over his still-wet hair.
Bobby chokes on air at the sight. He manages to recover quickly. “Glad you didn’t die,” he says dryly.
Reggie’s brow furrows, clearly confused by the sentiment. “I wasn’t gone that long!” he insists.
“Long enough,” Bobby says. He just barely manages to keep his face from falling into a pout but the whine in his voice persists.
Thankfully Reggie doesn’t seem to notice. He throws his towel into the laundry hamper before heading over to his dresser, digging through his drawers and pulling out his go-to outfit: black tank, black jeans, black socks, even black fucking briefs. It’s all so clearly from those gifted bulk packs every Christmas and birthday that Reggie’s perfectly content with. It almost makes Bobby sad to think about. But at least Reggie’s getting gifts, he supposes.
Bobby’s gaze migrates back to the shirt neatly folded on Reggie’s desk and then back to Reggie.
“Why don’t you wear that one?” he suggests, nodding toward the tee in question.
Reggie flushes bright red as he stammers for a moment before finally finding his words. “I don’t wanna wreck it.”
It takes a minute for the meaning to land but when it does, Bobby’s mouth curls up into a teasing smirk, “You don’t want to wear the thing meant to be worn because you don’t want to wreck it?”
“Yeah,” Reggie utters bashfully as he nods. “It’s special.”
Bobby’s face softens. “You know it’s just a t-shirt, right? Like, it’s replaceable if something does happen to it?”
Reggie shrugs, “‘s not the same.”
“You don’t even wear it around the house?”
Reggie shakes his head. “No. Don’t even wear it to bed.”
Reggie’s eyes widen as he realizes what he’d just said and Bobby feels his own face warm.
“But you could,” Bobby counters softly.
Reggie shrugs again. “Maybe if it smelled like you. I just…” he pauses and covers his face with his hands. “I have no idea why I said that,” he cries. “Backspace! Erase! Time travel! God, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
Bobby reaches out and grabs Reggie, pulling him toward the bed so he’s standing in front of him. “Do you want it to smell like me?”
Reggie nods, his face still hidden behind his hands.
Bobby reaches up to pull them down. He looks up at Reggie earnestly, “I can make that happen you know.”
“Really?”
Bobby nods. “Yeah, I’ll wear it for a bit and give it back to you.”
“Okay.” Reggie looks down and must notice how close they are. He promptly takes a step back.
His gaze travels back up to Bobby’s face. “I uh… I need to get dressed.”
“Okay.” Bobby acknowledges him but doesn’t move. They’ve all gotten changed in front of each other countless times so doesn’t think anything of it.
“Can you…” Reggie starts to ask, his voice shy.
Bobby directs a confused look his way but quickly catches on. “You want me to turn around?”
Reggie nods. “Please?”
Bobby smiles at him as he readily agrees. “Sure.”
He pulls his legs up onto the bed and turns so he’s facing the headboard, allowing Reggie the privacy he’s after.
“I’m done!” Reggie announces after a few moments.
“Alright, are we ready to go now?” Bobby asks as he turns back around.
Reggie raises an eyebrow at him and points to his hair with a sheepish grin.
Bobby rolls his eyes. “Right. Of course not. The Reggie Peters coif takes time.”
Reggie beams at him and bounds back out of the bedroom. Reggie doesn’t like the idea of mirrors in his bedroom so the bathroom is “where the magic happens.” Once Reggie found his signature style (from head to toe), he committed to it and he committed to it hard. None of the others really understand it but this is his thing so it’s just become another part of Reggie that they’ve learned to love.
Bobby lays back over Reggie’s bed. He rests his head on his hands as he waits. And if his thoughts continue to wander toward the boy in the other room, well that’s nobody’s business but his.
