Unicorn Hunting
grayson crawford x nadine pascal-said
valesport
grayson crawford x nadine pascal-said
valesport
Nadine exhaled smoke, and handed the glass pipe and lighter back to their owner, the man whose lap she'd been sitting on for half the night. She picked up her beer from the bar, squinted at it, and then set it back down. Her lap of choice kept stroking along the insides of the thighs straddling his own, as if he was going to start fingering her right in the middle of the bar; she hadn't decided yet if she was going to let him.
"I have to pee," she declared, sliding off of him and nearly stumbling. The barstool he was sitting on was higher off the ground than she'd remembered, and she had to brace her hands against his thighs in ways that were only a little more suggestive than she'd intended.
"You don't have to get up," he said with a grin, and she made a face.
"Ew!" She stuck her tongue out, curling past her chin as she back away towards the bathroom. "That's fucking gross," she informed him with a wrinkle to her nose. "The fuck made that seem like a good fetish to bring up this early?" He laughed and he shrugged, and if she was perfectly honest it was not the worst thing a man had ever suggested to her with minimal prompting.
She pulled a cigarette from her pocket and stuck it in her mouth as she turned around, and she stopped when a flame presented itself before she could get her lighter. "Those things are going to kill you," Grayson said as she accepted the light, and she wondered how long he'd been watching.
"Lot of things are gonna kill me," she said mildly, turning her head to blow smoke away from him. His hand cupped her cheek to turn her back so he could see her face, gray eyes dragging over her in search of anything out of place. Bruises or scratches or whatever else he thought she might have done to herself.
"You okay?" he asked, and his thumb stroked her skin; she tried not to lean into it.
"I'm always okay," she reminded him.
"I know," he said, and she could tell he didn't believe it. "I just wanted to make sure." He let his hand fall from her face, stuck both his hands in his pockets.
"Don't you have anything better to do?" she asked with a faint smile. "Criminals are running rampant in your absence."
"Not really," he shrugged. Then he frowned, adjusted his glasses. "There is the kirin, but I think we're all just hoping that sorts itself out."
"The what."
The corner of his mouth twitched, a dead giveaway that he could tell he had her attention, and she should have feigned ambivalence just to spite him. "The kirin," he repeated, as if that were a completely normal thing to say, "which, last I checked, is in the process of destroying every rose garden uptown. Old ladies keep trying to call animal control."
She narrowed her eyes at him, taking a suspicious drag of her cigarette. "Do you mean," she said finally, "that there is a giraffe shitting on people's lawns?"
"Nnnnope," he said, drawing it out, clearly just to irritate her. She considered kicking him. "I mean a scaly deer. That is on fire."
"Bullshit."
"No shit," he countered. "Daryl actually tried to lasso it. Got a cowboy hat and everything. He's in the hospital now, second-degree burns." His mouth twitched again. "Not from the, ah. Fire. Which is what you might think. But he actually did manage to lasso the thing, and then it dragged him about a quarter mile. Friction burned right through his pants. It wasn't pretty."
She tried to smother a giggle in cigarette smoke. "I don't believe you."
"You don't have to believe me," he said, and he was smiling despite himself. "I'm telling you what happened. There are pictures, even. I don't recommend looking at them. It was like a meatloaf wrapped in denim."
"Ew!" She spun around with the force of her disgust, covering her eyes with her palms as if that would help. "That's disgusting," she squealed, giggling as she said it.
"You don't know the half of it," he said, watching her carefully the entire time. "The smell was worse." She made a face, and he ducked his head, ran his hand through his hair. "Anyway," he said, "drug offenses aren't my department, and you don't seem to have been murdered, so there isn't really anything for me to do here."
"Oh, thanks," she laughed, and he hid a smile before standing straight again.
"There's a Denny's down the street, so I'm going to get some pancakes and then head home. Let me know if you want to carpool." He kissed her forehead, and she watched him leave with a frown.
She continued smoking as she sat in the bathroom stall, squinting thoughtfully at the marker graffiti.
He obviously expected her to go back with him. There was no way he'd have come so far just to say hello. He was a manipulative asshole and he knew exactly what he was doing. It would serve him right if he went home alone. Just sat in a Denny's for five hours until he figured out she wasn't falling for it. Creepy fucking stalker, anyway.
He didn't even look up from his pancakes when she slid into his booth, still smelling like weed and cheap beer. Since that was how Denny's always smelled, it wasn't that noticeable. "I'm only here," she said, "because I'm pretty sure that guy wanted to piss on me."
Grayson snorted. "It's good to know I'm better than being pissed on."
"Barely. Barely. I want an appetizer sampler." She took his coffee without asking to take a sip. It tasted bitter and burnt and not remotely like what he would consider drinkable, and mid-sip she narrowed her eyes at his glass of iced tea.
He took another bite of his pancakes, the picture of innocence.
"I'm not buying you an appetizer sampler," he said between bites.
"I want mozzarella sticks," she protested, prodding his leg with one foot.
"You want one mozzarella stick," he countered, "and one onion ring, and then you'll be done. I'm not spending..." He paused to pick up the menu, adjusting his glasses as he flipped it open. "... twelve dollars, so you can satisfy your fried cheese craving."
"Cheapskate," Nadine accused. But she waited, because she knew his downfall was imminent. When his mouth was full of pancake, the waitress suddenly appeared.
"Are you two doing okay? Do you need anything? Refills?"
"Can you get us an appetizer sampler?" Nadine asked sweetly, while Grayson was in no position to contradict her.
"Just for that," he said when the waitress was gone, "I'm leaving you here with the watersports guy."
"Nuh uuuuh," she said, sticking her tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes. "You're taking me back to Valesport so I can ride a unicorn."
"You were so close," he said, "until you hit that last word."
"I've ridden those bullriding machines they have in bars, so I've basically been training for this."
"Were they on fire?"
"Once."
"And how are you planning to catch it?"
"I'm going to set a trap."
"You realize I'm not letting you turn someone's mansion into a Rube Goldberg machine."
"You only specified because you're considering it." She made a gleeful sound when her platter of fried foods arrived, then gasped in outrage as Grayson stole an onion ring.
"I'm paying for it," he pointed out, "and we both know you aren't even going to touch most of this." She very pointedly scraped some spinach dip onto a stale corn chip, and he raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? That's a big chip. You might not be able to finish your mozzarella stick."
She kicked his ankle, and he winced, but didn't kick her back. His half-eaten pancakes sat neglected as he took another onion ring.
"I'm not kissing you with onion breath," she warned as she dipped her mozzarella stick in marinara.
"Well I'm not kissing you with cock breath, soooo..."
She snorted, covering her mouth with her hand to keep her food where it belonged. She could tell he was trying not to smile. "I do not have cock breath!" she said behind her hand, mouth still full.
Grayson shrugged, nibbling at a chip. "I don't know what you've been doing the last few days," he pointed out.
She made a show of the fact that she had eaten the entire stick to spite his prediction. "No, yeah, you're right," she said. "It's just been an endless stream of dicks. Constantly, the last forty-eight hours. Nonstop dicks in my mouth. Just brushing my teeth with dicks."
He shuddered, and she grinned. "That sounds deeply unpleasant for everyone involved. Please do not ever brush your teeth with my dick."
"Fine," she said, "but you have to let me ride a unicorn."
"Kirin," he corrected. "Fine. If you can figure out how to ride a kirin, you can... do that. I'm not paying the hospital bill. Are you done?" He gestured to the sampler plate, largely uneaten.
"... yes."
"Unbelievable," he said with a shake of his head. "And this is when you have the munchies."
She finished off her coffee, then set down the empty mug at the edge of the table. "I have to pee again," she announced, wiggling out of the booth.
"Why do you say these things like this is necessary information for me to have?"
"Because if it takes me more than five minutes you'll know something has gone horribly wrong," she said, and this time she was the one to kiss his forehead. He always looked faintly offended when she was the one who did it, not least because she was not usually tall enough.
"If something goes horribly wrong while you're in the bathroom," he muttered, "you're on your own. I'm not that kind of doctor."
She could have reminded him that he was the one who'd come after her, and that it had not been her decision to inflict herself on him. She let him grump, instead, because she was feeling benevolent. He would probably not have the grace to be grateful about it.
"I have to pee," she declared, sliding off of him and nearly stumbling. The barstool he was sitting on was higher off the ground than she'd remembered, and she had to brace her hands against his thighs in ways that were only a little more suggestive than she'd intended.
"You don't have to get up," he said with a grin, and she made a face.
"Ew!" She stuck her tongue out, curling past her chin as she back away towards the bathroom. "That's fucking gross," she informed him with a wrinkle to her nose. "The fuck made that seem like a good fetish to bring up this early?" He laughed and he shrugged, and if she was perfectly honest it was not the worst thing a man had ever suggested to her with minimal prompting.
She pulled a cigarette from her pocket and stuck it in her mouth as she turned around, and she stopped when a flame presented itself before she could get her lighter. "Those things are going to kill you," Grayson said as she accepted the light, and she wondered how long he'd been watching.
"Lot of things are gonna kill me," she said mildly, turning her head to blow smoke away from him. His hand cupped her cheek to turn her back so he could see her face, gray eyes dragging over her in search of anything out of place. Bruises or scratches or whatever else he thought she might have done to herself.
"You okay?" he asked, and his thumb stroked her skin; she tried not to lean into it.
"I'm always okay," she reminded him.
"I know," he said, and she could tell he didn't believe it. "I just wanted to make sure." He let his hand fall from her face, stuck both his hands in his pockets.
"Don't you have anything better to do?" she asked with a faint smile. "Criminals are running rampant in your absence."
"Not really," he shrugged. Then he frowned, adjusted his glasses. "There is the kirin, but I think we're all just hoping that sorts itself out."
"The what."
The corner of his mouth twitched, a dead giveaway that he could tell he had her attention, and she should have feigned ambivalence just to spite him. "The kirin," he repeated, as if that were a completely normal thing to say, "which, last I checked, is in the process of destroying every rose garden uptown. Old ladies keep trying to call animal control."
She narrowed her eyes at him, taking a suspicious drag of her cigarette. "Do you mean," she said finally, "that there is a giraffe shitting on people's lawns?"
"Nnnnope," he said, drawing it out, clearly just to irritate her. She considered kicking him. "I mean a scaly deer. That is on fire."
"Bullshit."
"No shit," he countered. "Daryl actually tried to lasso it. Got a cowboy hat and everything. He's in the hospital now, second-degree burns." His mouth twitched again. "Not from the, ah. Fire. Which is what you might think. But he actually did manage to lasso the thing, and then it dragged him about a quarter mile. Friction burned right through his pants. It wasn't pretty."
She tried to smother a giggle in cigarette smoke. "I don't believe you."
"You don't have to believe me," he said, and he was smiling despite himself. "I'm telling you what happened. There are pictures, even. I don't recommend looking at them. It was like a meatloaf wrapped in denim."
"Ew!" She spun around with the force of her disgust, covering her eyes with her palms as if that would help. "That's disgusting," she squealed, giggling as she said it.
"You don't know the half of it," he said, watching her carefully the entire time. "The smell was worse." She made a face, and he ducked his head, ran his hand through his hair. "Anyway," he said, "drug offenses aren't my department, and you don't seem to have been murdered, so there isn't really anything for me to do here."
"Oh, thanks," she laughed, and he hid a smile before standing straight again.
"There's a Denny's down the street, so I'm going to get some pancakes and then head home. Let me know if you want to carpool." He kissed her forehead, and she watched him leave with a frown.
She continued smoking as she sat in the bathroom stall, squinting thoughtfully at the marker graffiti.
He obviously expected her to go back with him. There was no way he'd have come so far just to say hello. He was a manipulative asshole and he knew exactly what he was doing. It would serve him right if he went home alone. Just sat in a Denny's for five hours until he figured out she wasn't falling for it. Creepy fucking stalker, anyway.
He didn't even look up from his pancakes when she slid into his booth, still smelling like weed and cheap beer. Since that was how Denny's always smelled, it wasn't that noticeable. "I'm only here," she said, "because I'm pretty sure that guy wanted to piss on me."
Grayson snorted. "It's good to know I'm better than being pissed on."
"Barely. Barely. I want an appetizer sampler." She took his coffee without asking to take a sip. It tasted bitter and burnt and not remotely like what he would consider drinkable, and mid-sip she narrowed her eyes at his glass of iced tea.
He took another bite of his pancakes, the picture of innocence.
"I'm not buying you an appetizer sampler," he said between bites.
"I want mozzarella sticks," she protested, prodding his leg with one foot.
"You want one mozzarella stick," he countered, "and one onion ring, and then you'll be done. I'm not spending..." He paused to pick up the menu, adjusting his glasses as he flipped it open. "... twelve dollars, so you can satisfy your fried cheese craving."
"Cheapskate," Nadine accused. But she waited, because she knew his downfall was imminent. When his mouth was full of pancake, the waitress suddenly appeared.
"Are you two doing okay? Do you need anything? Refills?"
"Can you get us an appetizer sampler?" Nadine asked sweetly, while Grayson was in no position to contradict her.
"Just for that," he said when the waitress was gone, "I'm leaving you here with the watersports guy."
"Nuh uuuuh," she said, sticking her tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes. "You're taking me back to Valesport so I can ride a unicorn."
"You were so close," he said, "until you hit that last word."
"I've ridden those bullriding machines they have in bars, so I've basically been training for this."
"Were they on fire?"
"Once."
"And how are you planning to catch it?"
"I'm going to set a trap."
"You realize I'm not letting you turn someone's mansion into a Rube Goldberg machine."
"You only specified because you're considering it." She made a gleeful sound when her platter of fried foods arrived, then gasped in outrage as Grayson stole an onion ring.
"I'm paying for it," he pointed out, "and we both know you aren't even going to touch most of this." She very pointedly scraped some spinach dip onto a stale corn chip, and he raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? That's a big chip. You might not be able to finish your mozzarella stick."
She kicked his ankle, and he winced, but didn't kick her back. His half-eaten pancakes sat neglected as he took another onion ring.
"I'm not kissing you with onion breath," she warned as she dipped her mozzarella stick in marinara.
"Well I'm not kissing you with cock breath, soooo..."
She snorted, covering her mouth with her hand to keep her food where it belonged. She could tell he was trying not to smile. "I do not have cock breath!" she said behind her hand, mouth still full.
Grayson shrugged, nibbling at a chip. "I don't know what you've been doing the last few days," he pointed out.
She made a show of the fact that she had eaten the entire stick to spite his prediction. "No, yeah, you're right," she said. "It's just been an endless stream of dicks. Constantly, the last forty-eight hours. Nonstop dicks in my mouth. Just brushing my teeth with dicks."
He shuddered, and she grinned. "That sounds deeply unpleasant for everyone involved. Please do not ever brush your teeth with my dick."
"Fine," she said, "but you have to let me ride a unicorn."
"Kirin," he corrected. "Fine. If you can figure out how to ride a kirin, you can... do that. I'm not paying the hospital bill. Are you done?" He gestured to the sampler plate, largely uneaten.
"... yes."
"Unbelievable," he said with a shake of his head. "And this is when you have the munchies."
She finished off her coffee, then set down the empty mug at the edge of the table. "I have to pee again," she announced, wiggling out of the booth.
"Why do you say these things like this is necessary information for me to have?"
"Because if it takes me more than five minutes you'll know something has gone horribly wrong," she said, and this time she was the one to kiss his forehead. He always looked faintly offended when she was the one who did it, not least because she was not usually tall enough.
"If something goes horribly wrong while you're in the bathroom," he muttered, "you're on your own. I'm not that kind of doctor."
She could have reminded him that he was the one who'd come after her, and that it had not been her decision to inflict herself on him. She let him grump, instead, because she was feeling benevolent. He would probably not have the grace to be grateful about it.
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