"Peyton, seriously, where are we going?"
"Just shut up and stop resisting B. Davis." The blonde stated as she tugged the reluctant brunette behind her by the hand.
"P. You know I love surprises, but you're really starting to just flat out annoy me-"
"Well you can calm yourself because we're here." She stops and turns to smile at her counterpart. The brunette only offers a confused glance back.
"Karen's Cafe? That's your big surprise Blondie?" The brunette asked incredulously. "Babe, you do realize we've been coming here since we were teenagers right? It's not exactly new." She smiled at her blonde girlfriend.
"I know, but it doesn't always have to be something new. Sometimes revisiting something old can be just as great for a date." She tugged the other girl with her towards the door. "Now come on, I want a milkshake."
Brooke rolled her eyes and remarked, "fine, but I expect pie."
"Sweetie, I'm not stupid. I know you need your pie. Last time I picked food up from here and forgot the pie you made me pay for it."
"Oh I don't remember you complaining when I made you pay by letting me eat my buffet of Peyton pie instead of apple pie." The fashionista said cheekily, making the blonde blush and squirm at the sensations those memories brought about. The pair moved to sit next to one another in a corner booth.
"Brooke!" The blonde squeaked out as a young waitress came to take there order.
"Oh calm down Peyt."
"Hello, my name is Tammy and I'll be your server today. How may I help you today?" The teenager asked as she pulled out a notepad and looked between the two women.
Brooke took the initiative. "We'd like a large double mint chocolate chip hot fudge sundae milk shake, extra whipped cream, no cherry, but drizzle some of the sauce over the whipped cream please." The brunette smirked at the blonde next to her.
The teenager looked slightly flustered trying to write all of it down before finally turning to the blonde, "anything for you miss?" Giving a pointed look to her girlfriend, the blonde turned back to the waitress before answering. "Yes, can I get a ingle slice of Apple pie, no ice cream, at all. Don't even bother putting it on the side. I want a dash of cool whip in a small bowl on the side. Make sure the pie is hot, I don't want any of the crappy straight out of the showcase semi-cold crap. No cherries or any other toppings. Thanks." Peyton smiled apologetically at the overwhelmed girl. The teen nodded and assured them they'd have their shake soon while she went and heated up the pie.
The brunette let out a little laugh as the girl walked away and her girlfriend turned back to her. They shared a small smile before the fashion designer leaned in to whisper, "mmm, P. Sawyer. Getting me all hot and bothered when you get so bossy."
"Well if someone wasn't so picky, I wouldn't have to be."
"Oh, so it's my fault now?" She asked, teasingly offended.
"Oh, B. It's always your fault." They lean in closer, touching foreheads as they fight not to giggle at the playful argument.
"My fault? It's so your skinny ass that's always starting stuff. I just have to come in and defend my girl's honor, so it looks like I'm the bad one."
"Defend my honor huh?" The blonde says with a little more lust in her eyes, daring to lean her lips closer to the brunette's.
"Yup, that's my job. I figured if I wanna keep that tight little ass the way it is, I better step up and protect it." Brooke breathes out, her lips almost slipping over the soft ones of the other girl as she spoke to her.
The sound of someone clearing their throat behind them caught their attention. The pair turned back to see the uncomfortable looking teenager set down the piece of pie and milkshake, which she had thoughtfully out two straws in. The women started to settle in to the snack but were thrown off by the nervous teen still standing by the table. Taking the lead, Brooke wrapped an arm around Peyton's waist and pulled her closer to her in the booth. She eyed the teen before politely asking, "was there something else?"
"Uh-um, actually, I was...I was just wondering...if um" as the girl stuttered, Peyton tried not to chuckle, knowing where this was going. Brooke did her best to stay polite and not roll her eyes like she had the urge to do. "You- you are Brooke Davis right? Li-like the fashion designer? Brooke Davis?"
The brunette again smiled politely , the irritation she felt only noticeable by her girlfriend. "Yes, I am that Brooke Davis."
The girl almost squealed and immediate asked for a picture. After reluctantly agreeing, the brunette found herself smoothed into the teens side in the booth seat, trying not to pout at her smirking girlfriend. After what seemed like forever, someone heeled for the teen who had been ignoring her duties, effectively freeing the brunette from the irritation. As they watched the girl finally leave the table. Brooke slid back towards the blonde, snaking her arm around her waist once again. They both sipped at the shake.
A giggle escaped the blonde at the other girl's sour face. "Oh shut up Peyton." She tried to sound mad, but it didn't really come through.
"What? I think it's sweet that you have a raging fan club." Peyton smirked as she ate a spoonful of whipped cream.
"Ugh, don't say that."
"I'm sure if you wanted to, you could get all of your groupies to do your bidding. I'm sure they're all dying for a chance."
"Peyt." She warned. Glaring at the girl as she took a large gulp of the cold beverage.
Again, the blonde only giggled, sipping the last of the milkshake. Brooke only shook her head, playing in the pie with her fork. A moment passed in silence, Peyton working on getting the lasts ales of whipped cream from the side of the glass, and Brooke tearing apart the otherwise untouched apple pie. The blonde raised an eyebrow towards the plate, "what? You don't want it now?"
The fashion designer took a moment to respond, before finally smirking. She took out her purse and threw down a twenty to cover the bill. She grabbed Peyton's hand and dragged her up with her, "actually, I have something better in mind."
"Better than pie?" The blonde asked, generally surprised considering the shorter girl's addiction to the dessert.
As they stepped out the door, the blonde found herself pushed back up against the store's front window. Her girlfriend leaned into whipper in her ear, "mhm, Peyton pie, much better than stupid old apple."
The blonde caught the meaning and practically dragged the brunette behind her once again, only taking the time to turn around and say, "you better not forget the whipped cream."