A Series Of Brendon Urie Imagines

My Former Babysitter (Part 2)

     The Über ride to California Pizza Kitchen took about 45 minutes due to lunchtime traffic, as well as it being a Saturday. Half the car ride consisted of Brendon and I blasting Aerosmith through shared earbuds and softly singing along, and the other half consisted of him complaining about how hungry he was, and me telling him to shut up and quit whining.

"You're such a whiner, Brendon, my god!" I huffed as I hopped out of the car after he parked.

"I am not a whiner, I'm just a very hungry man!"

"A very hungry, whiny, man child. Just shut upppp and let's go inside so we can order and you can stop complaining."

Brendon stuck his tongue out at me but obliged. He took my arm and practically dragged me across the parking lot, complaining that I was a slow walker. I rolled at my eyes at his childish complaining and flicked the back of his head, which successfully halted the complaining, but not before exclaiming "Ow!" and rubbing the spot where my finger roughly made contact with the back of his head.

     He held the door open of the restaurant for me, which I said thank you to, and then walked up to the podium with a server, letting her know that we needed a table for two, preferably a booth. She smiled at us and said she would seat us when a booth opened up. Brendon and I sat on a bench and chatted aimlessly as we waited for our booth.

   About 21 minutes later, a handsome young waiter approached us with a friendly smile and told us our booth was ready and to follow him to it. The waiter led the way, Brendon followed him and made small talk, and I followed them. We were seated in the back of the restaurant, where it was thankfully quieter, away from the hustle and bustle of rush hour, which was slowly coming to an end.

      "Hello, I'm Ross and I'll be your waiter today!" He announced in a chipper voice, placing our menus in front of us. "Can I get either of you started with any drinks? I can bring an alcohol menu if you'd like."

     "A beer would be fantastic, thanks man," Brendon said.

    "I'd like a raspberry ginger mojito please."

     Ross scribbled those down and glanced back up at us, letting us know he'd be back with our drinks soon. As soon as Ross scurried off, Brendon held his menu up to one side of his face, as if that would somehow contain our conversation, and whispered harshly, "You're underage, what the hell do you think you're doing ordering alcohol?!"

     I shrugged, not meeting his eyes, as I was scanning my menu. "He offered it without asking for ID."

    "That doesn't mean you should take the opportunity to drink!" He scolded.

     I huffed and rolled my eyes at him. "Who are you to judge me for underage drinking?"

     "Your former babysitter and a grown ass man, who can legally drink now, by the way."

    "Considering you sucked my titties like an hour ago, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop reminding me that you were my babysitter, it kinda makes things awkward, thanks."

    Brendon was rendered speechless for a moment, which made me snort.

     "Is there anything you'd like to say to that, Brendon?"

     "I–"

     "A raspberry ginger mojito for you–" Ross slid my drink in front of me "–and a beer for you, babe. Are you guys ready to order or do you need more time to decide?"

     "I'll get the club sandwich with extra crispy bacon and fries," I said, smiling as I handed Ross the waiter my menu.

     "And for you?" Ross asked Brendon. I snorted when I noticed the way Ross was looking at him, but quickly covered it up with a cough.