dsmp oneshots

Bookstore pt. 2

sup

this is actually a part two to a chapter from a while ago that i just left finished so you might have to re read that one uwu

also sorry for not posting in like a month hehhhhh

enjoy owo

5:42 PM.

"What do you wear to a date, Nick?" Clay was asking, looking at himself in the mirror. Wearing dark grey jeans and a white t shirt, he had absolutely no clue what to wear. His blonde hair was swept to the side, which had taken 15 minutes alone. He smelled of Nicks 2-in-1 shampoo, which smelled good so he had taken it. (without asking)

Nick had walked in, hair wet from a shower and water still dripping from neck. He was splayed out on the bed, getting Clays comforter wet. Clay hadn't said anything because he was desperate for advice.

"I would keep what you have on, plus the dark green flannel," he said, pointing lazily at Clays closet. Clay opened the closet, shrugged on the flannel, and stood in front of the mirror. "Put on your white adidas and black wristwatch, and tuck in your shirt slightly, but not all the way" Clay put on the watch, shoved on the shoes, and tucked in his white shirt a little more. He was surprised how good he looked.

"How do you know this?" he questioned, still staring at his reflection. He looked unlike himself- good. Nick opened his mouth, but was cut off. "I mean, you've never been on a date that I know of."

"I hate you," Nick said angrily, throwing a pillow at Clays perfect hair. He gave Nick a glare, looked at his reflection, and decided he liked it a little messy.

"Date's at 6:15, so I should probably go because the place is 15 minutes away, plus traffic and if he's late." He walked back out, and then poked his head back in. "I'll probably be back around 8:00. Yes, you can use the toaster. If you burn the apartment down, I'll murder you. Again." He then darted out the door, twirling his car keys and shoving his phone into his pocket, double checking he had his wallet, as his hopeful expression said enough about how he felt.

4.2 Miles Away

George sat in the car, fiddling with the sleeves of his white long sleeve shirt, underneath his blue t shirt with 2 horizontal lighter stripes on the front. He picked at a loose thread on blue jeans, and eyed his black converse that was shadowed by the dashboard.

He huffed at the traffic, and checked his watch. 6:03, and it would take him another five minutes to get there without traffic. Fiddling with his round glasses nervously as the traffic surged forward, his a ringtone ran through the cars bluetooth, caller ID telling him it was Bad.

"Hey, Bad!" he said, pushing on the gas as someone honked their horn behind him. He gritted his teeth. He hated driving.

"Hey, George!" Bad chirped, and George relaxed a little at his friends happy tone. "Clay told me to tell you he might be a little late because of traffic." George laughed out loud.

"I understand his pain," George muttered, glaring at the truck in front of him, which was driving at least 4 miles under the speed limit.

"So, where is he taking you?" asked Bad, and George heard him flopped onto his bed, and heard his dog, Rat, yawn a little.

"We're going to Eternity," George said, veering right onto the street. 6:14.

"Ooh, they have great salads." The sound of Rat being scratched behind the ear made George laugh, as he talked more with Bad and the nerves slowly melted away.

Eternity Restaurant. 6:21.

Clay was scrolling through twitter while waiting in front of the restaurant when George finally showed.