It All Started in Detention

Chapter Seventeen

Davey sighed, twirling his raspberry lemonade with the straw he had to ask for twice in the span of ten minutes. There was only one server and two sandwich artists within the barely three hundred square feet of the restaurant, which didn't surprise Davey at all as it perfectly went along with the semi-sticky floor and older aura of the restaurant. It was almost completely unkept and borderline hoarder-ish, but he loved it.

The walls were an easy faded yellow, similar to old paper that went gracefully with the black floors. The yellow did, however, contradict the many photos or famous customers and favorited customers lining them, with a smiling old man being in every single one of them. It was adorable, Davey thought, his smile—the closed mouth ones that barely showed any personality, the happiness only noticed if you looked in his eyes—glaring at anyone who looked at the pictures, reminding him of the Santa Claus he never celebrated.

"Sorry it took me so long", Jack apologized, flopping onto his seat with a huff. Davey blinked him back into existence, having forgotten he was here with someone during his tour of the building. "It's a thing I got. You okay?"

Davey nodded, finding his inability to speak weird but comforted by Jack's decision not to alienate it. "So...about the thing we talked about. You are gay, right?"

Davey swallowed, nodding his head. He couldn't decipher between butterflies or nerves, but he knew both to feel disgustingly bothersome. "As gay as JVN."

Jack found that to be proof enough of his homosexuality, considering he didn't know who JVN was meant to be. I guess I'm not gay enough. "Who the hell is that?"

"Like, Jonathan Van Ness", Davey chuckled, staring at Jack's blank face and lost eyes, which only seemed to mark Davey's own confusion. "From Queer Eye?"

"What's that?" Jack took a small sip of his Coca Cola, cheeks burning at Davey's intense stare on him. It reminded him of when he'd go to far with an insult, and Medda would glare at him to stop. "What?"

"You've never seen Queer Eye?"

"No. Was I meant to?" Davey blinked. Jack swallowed.

"What the hell do you watch on Netflix then?"

"Uh, Supernatural, obviously", Jack scoffed, and Davey threw his face in his hands. "It's the only thing worth watching."

Davey pretended to gag at the mention of the program, and Jack gasped dramatically. "I can't believe you watch that."

"It's the greatest!"

"It's mediocre, at best", Davey countered, sipping his drink quietly. "I only watched it for Castiel. And Dean, I guess. Hated Sam, though."

Jack couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd never felt this feeling before, this feeling of betrayal and insult, as if Davey he taken his lungs and shot them to Hell. No one had ever hated Supernatural, at least he'd met before, especially not when it came to Sam. He knew he was going to stay up late tonight, thinking about how someone could be so evil as to hate Sam Winchester.

"Davey, I officially hate you."

"Womp womp. I'm shaking and sobbing with desperation for your forgiveness."

He couldn't help but to laugh at that. Davey attempted to poorly hide a smile as he busied himself with chewing on his plastic straw, which he thought disappeared from existence, so he sat corrected. Jack quietly played with his paper napkin, tearing the thinner pieces of the paper as evenly as possible.

Davey was good company, whether he'd admit or not. He wasn't how anyone said or believed, at least not to the degree they exaggerated—he was fun. In his own weird, quiet, and quirky way, Davey Jacobs was fun to be around. Jack liked it.