"So..." Desmond started, keeping a straight face. The kid who sat down at the bar looked no older than sixteen; his straight gaze and confident smile reminded him vaguely of himself when he was that age. Desmond said nothing as he prepared a glass for the kid who sat down at the bar in front of him. No one had ever asked his age when he started work in the bars, and obviously the fake ID had caused no concern or the bouncer would've never let the kid in. Desmond had learned over many years to not pry, and he wouldn't do anything unless the kid caused trouble. He swore he'd seen the kid somewhere before.

"Hm." The kid said nothing, and just smiled and stared as Desmond. He'd been doing this all night. He just looked at Desmond and smiled wider once their eyes locked. If Desmond had guessed, he'd say the kid finally got the courage to come talk to him. He'd practically been eye-fucking Desmond the entire night.

"What can I get you?" The kid was still smiling. He adjusted the beanie on his head and asking in a clear voice,

"Do you have any mouthwash?"

Desmond blinked, narrowing his eyes as he tried to pinpoint whether to kick the kid out right then and there or humor him.

"Got whiskey." Desmond said simply.

"Does that protect your mouth from harmful bacteria?" The damn kid kept smiling, what the fuck was his deal.

"Kid, I don't have time to deal with this. I've got other costumers and—"

"Wow! You've got such great teeth! They're so sparkly and white!" The kid leaned over the counter, pulling Desmond's scarred lips down to see his teeth.

"Ah, thanks. Well I have been trying out this new teeth whitening set..." He rubbed the back of his head, smiling softly, but feeling incredibly awkward at the same time.

"It looks great! You know, I can help you out if you're interested in a better way to whiten your teeth. My name is Chip Skylark!"

"Oh," realization hit Desmond hard. "You're that pop star. I guess I should be honored, or something." He was definitely underage.

"It's no big deal," Chip started, "Do you want me to help you whiten your teeth now?"

"Uhh, I'm kind of working now? But sure, I guess. If it doesn't take too much time. Got some kind of new strips or something?"

"It won't!" Chip got up, motioning Desmond to follow. He ignored Desmond's question and was still smiling that damn smile.

"Uh, Jim, I'm taking a break." Jim, Desmond's co-worker for the evening, grunted back, continuing to clean glasses and keeping his eyes wide for potential costumers.

"15 minutes, Dev. We can't afford for you to take any longer." Desmond nodded, following the teen pop idol to wherever he was going. They were heading for the door, but Chip took a hard left into the men's bathroom.

"Uh, as fun as this is—and as much as I want to trust this, I don't think I'm—" But there was no room to protest, as Chip dragged him in and locked the door. "Hey what the fuc—" Chip silenced him, crashing his lips onto Desmond's, both of their perfectly shiny teeth clashing for a fraction of a second.

Wrong...Desmond knew this was wrong; he was making out with some underage pop idol in the disgusting men's bathroom of his work. He wasn't even gay, yet here he was, accepting this kids advances.

Chip moved his hands from Desmond's shoulder down towards his crotch. With the intensity of one hundred thirsty hoes, Chip Skylark, who was supposedly dating the popular Britney Britney (which he swears he only knows because a co-worker named Amanda wouldn't shut up about them), was putting his hands down Desmond's pants.

And Desmond was letting him.

God he was desperate and horny. Desmond groaned as Chip retracted his hands.

"Now," Chip said, unzipping his pants and unleashing his monster cock that made Desmond's jaw drop. "Let's get you those shiny teeth."