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Sep. 7th, 2010 06:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gala_applestitle: Mister, Mister, Sing Me A Song
pairing: Mikey/Pete/Gabe, mentions of Mikey/Pete, Gabe/OMCs Gabe/OFCs
rating: NC17
wordcount: 2537
summary: Sometimes it's the repeat visits that are more fun than the one night stands.
warnings: College AU. Also Gabe can come off as being slightly homophobic, even though he's bisexual himself.
prompt used: ageplay
disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
It’s not the first time Gabe’s woken up to someone else in his bed. That only happens on days that end in Y. It’s not even the first time that he’s woken up to two people in his bed, though it’s cramped as hell, a twin mattress is not meant for three bodies. It is the first time he’s woken up and felt morning wood on either side of him. He usually takes home couples, so he can get the best of both worlds.
It sucks being the first one awake after a one night stand. Especially when it’s in your room. If it was in someone else’s room he could just get dressed and leave. Walk of shame? Yeah right. It’s a walk of pride, he got laid, better than all the lame fuckers that just stayed in and did homework like they’re still in junior high. But when it’s your room you either have to be the prick that wakes the other person up and tells them they need to leave, or sneak around and wait for them to wake up naturally. You sure as shit can’t leave to go get breakfast. Half your belongings might be missing by the time you get back.
Gabe’s not one for kicking people out. It just seems like a dick move. So he wriggles carefully down the bed, holding the blanket up like a tent, until he can pop out over the metal footboard. He pulls on a pair of boxers. He’s not sure if they’re his, or his roommates, or either of the guys in the bed, but they fit, and that’s all that really matters. He retreats to Doug’s bed -he’s not in the room very often, Gabe has a feeling Doug doesn’t like him- and opens his cellphone. In the unsent text messages folder he finds his notes from last night. ur sleeping with pete and mikey. u used condoms. Gabe smiles and thinks ‘good to know’. Drunk him always knows what information he’ll need the next morning.
He’s halfway through the chapter he was supposed to read for the class he blew off yesterday when there are the first stirrings from his bed. One man pushes the blanket back and unfolds his long body until he’s standing. He grabs his glasses from the nightstand and rests them on the tip of his nose. His hair is messy, strands sticking in all directions, but if Gabe’s somewhat hazy memory is right, it looked like that the night before. He picks the jeans with the white studded belt still trapped inside the loops and sticks each long leg in. Gabe doesn’t try to hide his ogling. As bedroom owner it’s totally his right to look at anyone in his room, especially when the guy is sliding on his jeans without underwear first.
“I’m gonna wait until Pete’s up,” the guy -must be Mikey- tells him flatly. Gabe reaches for his psych textbook. That shit’s fascinating, good for casual reading. He passes it to Mikey, who curls his legs under him and flips it open at random.
Pete wakes up about an hour later, a startled gasp coming only moments before he sits upright. “The fuck? You let me sleep?”
Mikey doesn’t even look up from the text, but Gabe can somehow tell he’s rolling his eyes. “When you get to sleep, I’m not going to wake you up. It’s not like Gabe here gave a crap.”
There’s no warning before a pillow comes flying and hits Mikey directly in the face, pushing his glasses up his face. Mikey adjusts them back down his nose and Pete shoves the blanket to the side, peering at the piles of clothing all over the room. A bright red shirt is pulled on first, the colour making his tattoo sleeves pop. “Where the fuck are my boxers?”
“Were you wearing any?”
“Fuck you Mikey. Asshole, like you’ve ever worn any in your life. You wouldn’t know what they were if they slapped you in the face. Also, I think so.” Pete surveys the landscape but is less bold than Gabe, rather than grabbing a random pair he just pulls his jeans on. “Gimme a ride to Evanson.”
“Lazy fucker,” Mikey replies, but he tosses the textbook Doug’s bed as he stands up.
“Good time, man,” Pete says, tilting his head in Gabe’s direction, making his bangs fall even further into his face.
“Yeah,” Gabe replies, jutting his chin out. Pete and Mikey leave, closing the door behind them. He thinks briefly about opening the door and asking them for their numbers, but doesn’t. He made a deal with Travis before they parted after high school that he’d have sex with as many people as possible, no repeats. Repeats reeks of settling down, and he’s nineteen, he doesn’t need that crap for another decade at least.
A few weeks later Gabe goes to a costume party. It's a ‘be who your parents wish you were’ theme, hosted by some bitter kid that's throwing his savings away in giving away beer and pot and e and coke because he can't stay anyway after his parents found out he lied about his major. Gabe makes sure to bring a few coolers for the poor fuck, but doesn't let it drag him down. He’s got better things to do with his evening than whimper for somebody that he can’t help anyway.
Gabe moves through the crowd, suit fitting him like a second skin. He looks fucking good, and he knows it, and by the end of the night he’ll have someone to take home. There’s no need to rush it, for now he can just drink his screwdriver and talk shit. William’s sure to be here, and they can lie to each other for forty five minutes without getting bored.
Before he spots William though, he spots Pete and Mikey. Gabe doesn’t generally remember the names of his hookups, though he keeps a record in his unsent messages in case Travis wants to see when they meet in May. Pete and Mikey are different though, because he’s thought about hooking up with them again at least once a day since that night. It’s fucking weird. He’s never had anyone in his head like that before.
Without consciously deciding to, Gabe pushes through the mass of people to join them. Pete's wearing some boarding school uniform, creased brown slacks with a thin belt and a white polo shirt. His forearms are oddly coloured and bare; he must be wearing reverse tattoo sleeves or something. Gabe doesn’t like it, without his art he looks diminished.
“Who are you supposed to be?”
“My parents always wished I wasn't a delinquent.” It’s a bitter smile, and Gabe’s glad he’s not Pete’s friend, because he can tell Pete’s got a mess of shit in his head.
“Mine didn't want a girl, I don't think. But popular would have been nice. Besides, every healthy happy boy needs a girlfriend, right?” Mikey bends to kiss Pete on the cheek. Gabe has to admit Mikey’s rocking the schoolgirl uniform, thighs pale against the white and green plaid before the expanse of skin ends at the start of the knee-socks. Mikey doesn’t really have a girl’s face, he couldn’t be a successful crossdresser. But in this amalgam of gender, he looks really fucking hot.
“What are you, Mr?”
Gabe hasn't really thought about it. His parents aren't really criticising of what he's doing now. Aside from the few obvious fuck-ups in his youth, they’ve never been disappointed in him. “I'm a lawyer,” he bullshits.
“That's really interesting sir, I think I might do that after I graduate.”
Mikey's expression doesn't change, but Gabe can tell the instant he decides to go with his boyfriend. “I think you'd make a great lawyer Petey!”
Gabe shrugs mentally. It's actually bit cool that they want to role play. If they're acting like different people it makes it less weird that he wants to hook up with them a second time. Less of something that his friends back home will disapprove of.
“Mr...”
“Saporta,” he fills in.
“Mr Saporta, let’s go back to my room. We can talk there. You can tell me how you became a lawyer, what classes I’ll have to take in senior year. Okay?”
Gabe follows Pete and Mikey out of the party, down the multiple flights of stairs and out to the parking lot. Mikey fishes his keys out of his bra and passes them to Pete who starts the car with ease.
Gabe’s not sure whose room they’re going to, but it’s not like it matters. Maybe it’s shared, from the few interactions he’d had with them it’s obvious they’re best friends with benefits like he and Travis were. If Travis had went to university they totally would have shared a room. Regardless, every inch of wall space is taken with posters, carefully taped up which means they will get bitched out if an RA ever walks in. The ceiling is being slowly encroached on too.
Gabe sits on the bed with the orange and brown duvet and unzips his woolen trousers. By the time he’s got his cock in hand Pete’s backed Mikey to a wall, shoulders pressing against a Placebo poster. Gabe doesn’t take his eyes off them, Mikey’s hands between them as Pete sucks a hickey onto Mikey’s neck. Pete’s slacks slouch to mid-thigh before his legs are spread too far for them to go further, elastic of his underwear pulled tight just under his asscheeks.
Pete's got his hand up Mikey's skirt when the latter says something that almost blows the whole thing for Gabe. “Petey, stop, I don’t want to get pregnant.”
Gabe probably should be giving mature advice, that's where this is going, that’s his role in this. At the very least he can give creepster middle age man hitting on underage teen advice, like ‘you can't get pregnant on your first time’. Instead he's trying not to laugh. It's a feeling which morphs into something else completely when Pete’s voice, somehow both low with lust and high like a boy who’s voice has just cracked says insistently “let me do your other side then. You can't get pregnant like that.”
Which is fucking weird, because Gabe’s heard some good dirty talk in his life, and this isn’t it. As words it’s nothing. It’s the need behind them that’s making him hard. The idea of Mikey pregnant made him laugh because Mikey couldn’t pull off girl well enough, but Pete somehow makes desperate teen plausible.
“That’ll work honey,” he finds himself saying. “No baby to fuck up your valedictorian speech if you let him fuck your tight ass.”
“Will it hurt?” Gabe doesn’t know how Mikey manages to get his voice to sound so breathy and innocent, but it’s fucking impressive.
“Babe, I’d never hurt you,” Pete reassures as Gabe kicks off his shoes and stands. If he really wanted to pull of middle aged lawyer he should be wearing socks and those weird sock garter things, but it’s a bit late for a costume change.
“Honey, you just need to let us get you wet first.” Gabe looks at Pete, who breaks character for just a moment to nod towards the nightstand. Gabe finds it in the second drawer under a recent issue of Inked. Then it’s back to where Pete and Mikey are standing. “Turn around, let us take care of you.”
Mikey turns, skirt flaring with the movement. Gabe pours some of the watermelon flavoured lube on his fingers before darting his hand under the green fabric. Mikey’s tight as he sinks his first finger in, ass moving towards Gabe’s hand.
“Petey, it feels good,” Mikey says, ending with a giggle.
“Knew it would,” Pete grins. Not that Mikey can see it with his forehead pressed into the wall. Gabe can though, and Pete truly has a cocksucking mouth. Maybe if they had a third time...
He’s distracted from the line of thought when Pete says “Mr Saporta, I think she wants another finger.” Gabe obliges, fingerfucking Mikey in earnest. He gets really into it, loving the feel of the clench on his knuckles, the sound of Mikey panting. Gabe’s not the kind of guy that needs to go straight for penetration to enjoy himself. He only stops when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He looks back and Pete’s staring at him. “Mister, I’d like to fuck my girlfriend now.”
Gabe slides his fingers out and curls his sticky hand around his cock. “She’s all yours,” he replies. He keeps his gaze directly on Mikey’s ass. Pete pushes up the skirt until it’s resting on the swell of flesh. In the time that Gabe had been fingering him, Pete had found a condom and slicked himself up; it doesn’t take more than a second for Pete to line himself up with Mikey and push in. Mikey’s body bows out so his hips meet Pete’s, only forehead and palms connecting him to the art covered wall. Gabe can’t look away from the way Pete’s rocking in and out of Mikey, Mikey twitching to meet every thrust. His hand jerks in the same rhythm, he can almost imagine it’s him in Pete’s place.
“Oh God,” Mikey wails. Gabe can hear it in his voice, he’s nearly done.
“Love you baby,” Pete replies. It throws Gabe off a bit, it’s fitting for the roles they’re playing, but it sounds like more. It sounds like Pete actually means it. And what the fuck, because they’re both guys.
Still, the weirdness of the statement isn’t enough to make him soft, so when Mikey wails again, this time wordless, Gabe follows him. He loosens his grip and lets himself come all over Mikey’s hip. Pete’s the last, head tilting forward until he can practically eat his own hair.
The etiquette of a morning after is different from the etiquette of a just after, and so it’s less than a minute before Gabe’s retreating to the bed and grabbing his clothes. The last thing he wants to do when he’s sweaty and coming down from orgasm is slide on a heavy, slightly itchy suit jacket, so he just slings it over his shoulder. He’s nearly to the door when there’s the same hand on his shoulder. He whirls around, not surprised to see Pete behind him. Mikey’s still across the room, ignoring the way come is dripping down his thigh and Brian Molko’s face.
“You want our numbers this time, or are we supposed to find you at a party in another month?”
On one hand, Travis will not approve, and it basically goes against his own values. On the other hand, it could be fun, and Gabe doesn’t approve of turning down fun, that’s a value of his too. Gabe fishes into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Worst case scenario he has to ignore text messages. He’s done it with Elisa, he can do it now.
pairing: Mikey/Pete/Gabe, mentions of Mikey/Pete, Gabe/OMCs Gabe/OFCs
rating: NC17
wordcount: 2537
summary: Sometimes it's the repeat visits that are more fun than the one night stands.
warnings: College AU. Also Gabe can come off as being slightly homophobic, even though he's bisexual himself.
prompt used: ageplay
disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
It’s not the first time Gabe’s woken up to someone else in his bed. That only happens on days that end in Y. It’s not even the first time that he’s woken up to two people in his bed, though it’s cramped as hell, a twin mattress is not meant for three bodies. It is the first time he’s woken up and felt morning wood on either side of him. He usually takes home couples, so he can get the best of both worlds.
It sucks being the first one awake after a one night stand. Especially when it’s in your room. If it was in someone else’s room he could just get dressed and leave. Walk of shame? Yeah right. It’s a walk of pride, he got laid, better than all the lame fuckers that just stayed in and did homework like they’re still in junior high. But when it’s your room you either have to be the prick that wakes the other person up and tells them they need to leave, or sneak around and wait for them to wake up naturally. You sure as shit can’t leave to go get breakfast. Half your belongings might be missing by the time you get back.
Gabe’s not one for kicking people out. It just seems like a dick move. So he wriggles carefully down the bed, holding the blanket up like a tent, until he can pop out over the metal footboard. He pulls on a pair of boxers. He’s not sure if they’re his, or his roommates, or either of the guys in the bed, but they fit, and that’s all that really matters. He retreats to Doug’s bed -he’s not in the room very often, Gabe has a feeling Doug doesn’t like him- and opens his cellphone. In the unsent text messages folder he finds his notes from last night. ur sleeping with pete and mikey. u used condoms. Gabe smiles and thinks ‘good to know’. Drunk him always knows what information he’ll need the next morning.
He’s halfway through the chapter he was supposed to read for the class he blew off yesterday when there are the first stirrings from his bed. One man pushes the blanket back and unfolds his long body until he’s standing. He grabs his glasses from the nightstand and rests them on the tip of his nose. His hair is messy, strands sticking in all directions, but if Gabe’s somewhat hazy memory is right, it looked like that the night before. He picks the jeans with the white studded belt still trapped inside the loops and sticks each long leg in. Gabe doesn’t try to hide his ogling. As bedroom owner it’s totally his right to look at anyone in his room, especially when the guy is sliding on his jeans without underwear first.
“I’m gonna wait until Pete’s up,” the guy -must be Mikey- tells him flatly. Gabe reaches for his psych textbook. That shit’s fascinating, good for casual reading. He passes it to Mikey, who curls his legs under him and flips it open at random.
Pete wakes up about an hour later, a startled gasp coming only moments before he sits upright. “The fuck? You let me sleep?”
Mikey doesn’t even look up from the text, but Gabe can somehow tell he’s rolling his eyes. “When you get to sleep, I’m not going to wake you up. It’s not like Gabe here gave a crap.”
There’s no warning before a pillow comes flying and hits Mikey directly in the face, pushing his glasses up his face. Mikey adjusts them back down his nose and Pete shoves the blanket to the side, peering at the piles of clothing all over the room. A bright red shirt is pulled on first, the colour making his tattoo sleeves pop. “Where the fuck are my boxers?”
“Were you wearing any?”
“Fuck you Mikey. Asshole, like you’ve ever worn any in your life. You wouldn’t know what they were if they slapped you in the face. Also, I think so.” Pete surveys the landscape but is less bold than Gabe, rather than grabbing a random pair he just pulls his jeans on. “Gimme a ride to Evanson.”
“Lazy fucker,” Mikey replies, but he tosses the textbook Doug’s bed as he stands up.
“Good time, man,” Pete says, tilting his head in Gabe’s direction, making his bangs fall even further into his face.
“Yeah,” Gabe replies, jutting his chin out. Pete and Mikey leave, closing the door behind them. He thinks briefly about opening the door and asking them for their numbers, but doesn’t. He made a deal with Travis before they parted after high school that he’d have sex with as many people as possible, no repeats. Repeats reeks of settling down, and he’s nineteen, he doesn’t need that crap for another decade at least.
A few weeks later Gabe goes to a costume party. It's a ‘be who your parents wish you were’ theme, hosted by some bitter kid that's throwing his savings away in giving away beer and pot and e and coke because he can't stay anyway after his parents found out he lied about his major. Gabe makes sure to bring a few coolers for the poor fuck, but doesn't let it drag him down. He’s got better things to do with his evening than whimper for somebody that he can’t help anyway.
Gabe moves through the crowd, suit fitting him like a second skin. He looks fucking good, and he knows it, and by the end of the night he’ll have someone to take home. There’s no need to rush it, for now he can just drink his screwdriver and talk shit. William’s sure to be here, and they can lie to each other for forty five minutes without getting bored.
Before he spots William though, he spots Pete and Mikey. Gabe doesn’t generally remember the names of his hookups, though he keeps a record in his unsent messages in case Travis wants to see when they meet in May. Pete and Mikey are different though, because he’s thought about hooking up with them again at least once a day since that night. It’s fucking weird. He’s never had anyone in his head like that before.
Without consciously deciding to, Gabe pushes through the mass of people to join them. Pete's wearing some boarding school uniform, creased brown slacks with a thin belt and a white polo shirt. His forearms are oddly coloured and bare; he must be wearing reverse tattoo sleeves or something. Gabe doesn’t like it, without his art he looks diminished.
“Who are you supposed to be?”
“My parents always wished I wasn't a delinquent.” It’s a bitter smile, and Gabe’s glad he’s not Pete’s friend, because he can tell Pete’s got a mess of shit in his head.
“Mine didn't want a girl, I don't think. But popular would have been nice. Besides, every healthy happy boy needs a girlfriend, right?” Mikey bends to kiss Pete on the cheek. Gabe has to admit Mikey’s rocking the schoolgirl uniform, thighs pale against the white and green plaid before the expanse of skin ends at the start of the knee-socks. Mikey doesn’t really have a girl’s face, he couldn’t be a successful crossdresser. But in this amalgam of gender, he looks really fucking hot.
“What are you, Mr?”
Gabe hasn't really thought about it. His parents aren't really criticising of what he's doing now. Aside from the few obvious fuck-ups in his youth, they’ve never been disappointed in him. “I'm a lawyer,” he bullshits.
“That's really interesting sir, I think I might do that after I graduate.”
Mikey's expression doesn't change, but Gabe can tell the instant he decides to go with his boyfriend. “I think you'd make a great lawyer Petey!”
Gabe shrugs mentally. It's actually bit cool that they want to role play. If they're acting like different people it makes it less weird that he wants to hook up with them a second time. Less of something that his friends back home will disapprove of.
“Mr...”
“Saporta,” he fills in.
“Mr Saporta, let’s go back to my room. We can talk there. You can tell me how you became a lawyer, what classes I’ll have to take in senior year. Okay?”
Gabe follows Pete and Mikey out of the party, down the multiple flights of stairs and out to the parking lot. Mikey fishes his keys out of his bra and passes them to Pete who starts the car with ease.
Gabe’s not sure whose room they’re going to, but it’s not like it matters. Maybe it’s shared, from the few interactions he’d had with them it’s obvious they’re best friends with benefits like he and Travis were. If Travis had went to university they totally would have shared a room. Regardless, every inch of wall space is taken with posters, carefully taped up which means they will get bitched out if an RA ever walks in. The ceiling is being slowly encroached on too.
Gabe sits on the bed with the orange and brown duvet and unzips his woolen trousers. By the time he’s got his cock in hand Pete’s backed Mikey to a wall, shoulders pressing against a Placebo poster. Gabe doesn’t take his eyes off them, Mikey’s hands between them as Pete sucks a hickey onto Mikey’s neck. Pete’s slacks slouch to mid-thigh before his legs are spread too far for them to go further, elastic of his underwear pulled tight just under his asscheeks.
Pete's got his hand up Mikey's skirt when the latter says something that almost blows the whole thing for Gabe. “Petey, stop, I don’t want to get pregnant.”
Gabe probably should be giving mature advice, that's where this is going, that’s his role in this. At the very least he can give creepster middle age man hitting on underage teen advice, like ‘you can't get pregnant on your first time’. Instead he's trying not to laugh. It's a feeling which morphs into something else completely when Pete’s voice, somehow both low with lust and high like a boy who’s voice has just cracked says insistently “let me do your other side then. You can't get pregnant like that.”
Which is fucking weird, because Gabe’s heard some good dirty talk in his life, and this isn’t it. As words it’s nothing. It’s the need behind them that’s making him hard. The idea of Mikey pregnant made him laugh because Mikey couldn’t pull off girl well enough, but Pete somehow makes desperate teen plausible.
“That’ll work honey,” he finds himself saying. “No baby to fuck up your valedictorian speech if you let him fuck your tight ass.”
“Will it hurt?” Gabe doesn’t know how Mikey manages to get his voice to sound so breathy and innocent, but it’s fucking impressive.
“Babe, I’d never hurt you,” Pete reassures as Gabe kicks off his shoes and stands. If he really wanted to pull of middle aged lawyer he should be wearing socks and those weird sock garter things, but it’s a bit late for a costume change.
“Honey, you just need to let us get you wet first.” Gabe looks at Pete, who breaks character for just a moment to nod towards the nightstand. Gabe finds it in the second drawer under a recent issue of Inked. Then it’s back to where Pete and Mikey are standing. “Turn around, let us take care of you.”
Mikey turns, skirt flaring with the movement. Gabe pours some of the watermelon flavoured lube on his fingers before darting his hand under the green fabric. Mikey’s tight as he sinks his first finger in, ass moving towards Gabe’s hand.
“Petey, it feels good,” Mikey says, ending with a giggle.
“Knew it would,” Pete grins. Not that Mikey can see it with his forehead pressed into the wall. Gabe can though, and Pete truly has a cocksucking mouth. Maybe if they had a third time...
He’s distracted from the line of thought when Pete says “Mr Saporta, I think she wants another finger.” Gabe obliges, fingerfucking Mikey in earnest. He gets really into it, loving the feel of the clench on his knuckles, the sound of Mikey panting. Gabe’s not the kind of guy that needs to go straight for penetration to enjoy himself. He only stops when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He looks back and Pete’s staring at him. “Mister, I’d like to fuck my girlfriend now.”
Gabe slides his fingers out and curls his sticky hand around his cock. “She’s all yours,” he replies. He keeps his gaze directly on Mikey’s ass. Pete pushes up the skirt until it’s resting on the swell of flesh. In the time that Gabe had been fingering him, Pete had found a condom and slicked himself up; it doesn’t take more than a second for Pete to line himself up with Mikey and push in. Mikey’s body bows out so his hips meet Pete’s, only forehead and palms connecting him to the art covered wall. Gabe can’t look away from the way Pete’s rocking in and out of Mikey, Mikey twitching to meet every thrust. His hand jerks in the same rhythm, he can almost imagine it’s him in Pete’s place.
“Oh God,” Mikey wails. Gabe can hear it in his voice, he’s nearly done.
“Love you baby,” Pete replies. It throws Gabe off a bit, it’s fitting for the roles they’re playing, but it sounds like more. It sounds like Pete actually means it. And what the fuck, because they’re both guys.
Still, the weirdness of the statement isn’t enough to make him soft, so when Mikey wails again, this time wordless, Gabe follows him. He loosens his grip and lets himself come all over Mikey’s hip. Pete’s the last, head tilting forward until he can practically eat his own hair.
The etiquette of a morning after is different from the etiquette of a just after, and so it’s less than a minute before Gabe’s retreating to the bed and grabbing his clothes. The last thing he wants to do when he’s sweaty and coming down from orgasm is slide on a heavy, slightly itchy suit jacket, so he just slings it over his shoulder. He’s nearly to the door when there’s the same hand on his shoulder. He whirls around, not surprised to see Pete behind him. Mikey’s still across the room, ignoring the way come is dripping down his thigh and Brian Molko’s face.
“You want our numbers this time, or are we supposed to find you at a party in another month?”
On one hand, Travis will not approve, and it basically goes against his own values. On the other hand, it could be fun, and Gabe doesn’t approve of turning down fun, that’s a value of his too. Gabe fishes into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Worst case scenario he has to ignore text messages. He’s done it with Elisa, he can do it now.