Cowboy!Gaz takes Birdie on their first date and nothing illegal happens...
You’ve never been much for love, anything more than fun and it starts getting complicated. You don’t mean to toot your own horn but you had more proposals tossed your way than you did college acceptance letters the summer after you graduated high school. Your mom always wanted you to get married, your older sister was happily wedded to her sweetheart didn’t you want that? The stability of marriage? Wasn’t that why she’d had you competing in pageants since you could walk? Proving what a pretty little wife you’d make?
Gag. You didn’t have the temperament for all that traditional marriage stuff.
Your friends called you flighty, restless, ready to run at the mere mention of white dresses, and more affectionately: Birdie.
So you’re pretty sure it’s just attraction that clenches in your chest when Kyle takes your hand as you’re walking down main street. Neither of you really have a plan for the day. You’d only insisted on going somewhere with a different bar, not eager to have anyone you knew know you had a date. Not when it could get back to your mama.
You suppose it’s not too bad that the next nearest bar was in the next town over. It’s a cute place. Neither of you know anyone, or which stores are good, so you wander and talk and just enjoy each other's company.
“Ok, least favorite subject in school?” You ask, stepping over a missing chunk of sidewalk.
“Definitely maths.” Kyle hums, you swing your joined hands between you.
“Maths,” You mimic his accent, “Hit me with an ‘ah-lu-minium’ and I might swoon.” You’re tugged against Kyle’s side, held close against the firm muscle of his chest. He doesn’t let go of your hand, just twists his hold to wrap his arm around your shoulders.
“Nuh-uh not after I had to listen to you say ‘crayon’.” You laugh and push at his chest to be released. “If you didn’t sound so cute sayin’ it-” Kyle grumbles, you like the way his ‘complaint’ makes heat rise in your cheeks, “You wanna try rural next?”
“God, please, anything but that.” You grin.
“That’s what I thought,” He meets your smile with one of his own. It’s easy talking to Kyle, it feels like you haven’t been able to stop smiling since he picked you up. Which is already a point in his favor. Another point: he doesn’t let you go when you start walking again. He keeps you held close even with the adjustments you have to make to keep from tripping.
“How about something to eat?” You ask, catching yourself from resting your head on his shoulder. Damn this man and his charm.
“Not really anywhere private…” Kyle hums, you shoot him a look and find him holding back laughter, “We passed a pub not far down, how’s that?”
“I’d have a drink.” Not too many, you remind yourself. You’re not supposed to start fights on dates. Kyle turns the both of you around, and you spend a solid second trying to figure out how he did that.
The “pub” is really just a bar. Which you could’ve guessed by the fact that this is America. They have food though, thank god. You lean against the bar to talk to the bartender and order. Glancing back at Kyle to ask what he wants. His eyes survey the bar, his stetson held low behind you. Covering your ass from the stares of the other men in the bar, you realize with a not insignificant amount of butterflies in your stomach. He smiles when he catches you staring, all warmth where he’d previously been as serious as death. That doesn’t help the butterfly situation.
He must think you’re looking for him to pay because he leans close, his hat just brushing your ass, to speak low to you, “Go find a seat, I’ll finish up.”
You would love for him to tell you twice, but you nod and push off the bar to find a two top. He settles his hat back on his head with a wink. You do your best not to bump into any spare chairs staring at him. He turns to talk to the bartender, leaning his elbows against the bar, his shirt tight over his shoulders and around his biceps. You bump into a chair and catch him smiling to himself as you try and play off your stumble to the rest of the patrons.
You pull a chair out and sit down, happy to shove your face in your hands and take a moment to be embarrassed. No problem. You’re a grown ass adult, you can drool a little over your date. He’s the one being charming and nice and God you want his arm around you again.
A shadow looms over you, pressing a hand against the table, heavy enough to shift the weight of it. You look up from your hands, give the stranger a bored expression. Men who frequent bars this time of day are some of your least favorite. Drunk and unkempt, isn’t really your type. Especially when they only seem confident enough to half insult you more than actually flirting.
“That supposed to be your boyfriend?” You roll your eyes, you’re not starting a fight, you’re not- “He come in men’s?”
“I think you come in men enough for the both of us.” You deadpan, God dammit.
“Ah, that’s cute, you got a mouth on you.” He hardly seems phased, if anything he thinks you’re playing hard to get. You glare up at him. “Come on little lady, I can show you a good time.”
“Oh I’m positive you can’t.” You tell him, blood starting to bubble just at the edge of your nerves, adrenaline starting to pump excitedly. You’re not fighting, you’re being good. You’re not going to scare off Kyle. You’d never hear the end of it from Goose if you did.
“You’ll change your tune once you-”
Kyle’s fist collides with the man’s face, the solid thud as it knocks into his jaw and loosens teeth is sickening and satisfying. Your eyes light up as the man collapses and Kyle shakes out his hand without so much as a flinch. The bar goes silent. Your breath picks up, a smile splitting your face as you grab Kyle’s hand and drag him out of there at a sprint. Laughter bubbles out of you as you run. The crash and clamor of upset bar patrons filling in behind you. You glance back at the scene, at the grin that lights up Kyle’s face as he scoops you up and tosses you over his shoulder, barely breaking stride. You screech and do your best not to laugh too hard as you flip off the bruised and bleeding man swearing at you from 20 meters behind.
Maybe your heart clenches with more than just attraction when you think of the grin Kyle was wearing as he ran after you. At the laughter that he lets out hearing the obscene insults you throw back at the bar. “We can never come back here,” He chuckles, a little breathless as he fumbles his keys from his pocket to unlock the car.
“Not the first time someone’s said that to me,” You tell him, letting him set you in the passenger seat. He leans against the top of the car, ducked to keep his eyes on you. There’s a look in them that you’ve always dreaded, but somehow it doesn’t make you want to bolt from the car.
“And I hope it’s not the last.” He tells you sincerely. You bite your lip to contain your smile. Kyle glances over his shoulder and shuts the door quickly, sliding over the hood to hop in the driver’s side. He throws the car into gear and peels out of town just as a bottle hits the ground you used to be parked. He doesn’t look the least bit bothered by it, or your eager rubbernecking.
Maybe running isn’t so bad if you have someone to run with you.
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Oh yeah, Angel Dust has a sister, her name's Molly, there are a bunch of speed drawings with her.
Anon I think you are the only fan of Molly as I have not sent her be mentioned outside of 2017.
Genuinely thought that Molly was like Niffty/Vaggie situationship because I had NO fucking clue what stance Molly even was outside of just looking at a distant glance over definitely not realizing that was what happened to the past 'Angel Dust Drag'..... The fact that it personifies into a woman that is barely mentioned [much like angel representing or doing drag in the first place], turned into fucking THIS????
I cant even begin to comprehend.... She speaks for herself honestly. You can tell that viv genuinely did not give a fuck about the implications here or the lazy design that is 'Hmm angel dust but pink girly'
I feel like she just became cut content considering there hasn't ever been a mention about angels' family besides his Arackniss
Kinda weird how angel is more focused and put down upon in the spotlight more with Valentino and less with his 1930s mobster Italian spider persona :/ Even attempting to make a different womanly character known as the sister of angel dust, she is still tied down to him and has nothing besides this rainbow vomit old design.
How could I not be confused over angels' stance on dragging while VIV can't even fucking make characters up for him without retconning over herself!
You want this mess of a character design to be made but not Baxter???? I'm baffled. Thanks for bringing this horrid 'writing' decision to my notice. Since viv doesn't give a single lick of sense about Molly I too did not realize that Molly was supposed to be the hyper feminized pink eyesore that was SUPPOSED to be Angel's DRAG PERFORMING CARICATURE???
Your ask has the exact same amount of punch as telling me that Blitz has a sister, they are underwritten to be one of the same since they're women obviously Viv just doesn't like writing women ! :/
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