"Stick it to me, Sugar Pop"
A/N: This is a little greaser gumlee one shot I thought of while in Florida. I used slight inspiration from Bad Little Boy for one part.
His boots beat heavily against the linoleum floor. With each step Barnaby felt his heart beat faster, aching as the older man walked past him. The air blew around them both as he pushed the doors open, making his raven hair run wild. The younger sighed. The greaser hadn't even showed him a passing glance.
He headed outside, hoping to catch one more glimpse before he sped away. He found him leaning against his cruiser, talking to his friend Fionna. What the hell. Now, he wasn't jealous or anything. Fionna was an amazing girl. She was spiffy and feisty and not afraid to be a tomboy, and everything he wished he wanted. She had been pining for him for two years, but now it seemed the bad boy himself had her affections. It made him furious. How could he stand there, with his unruly locks and crooked smile, and talk to a fourteen year old, and not him? Was he really that much of a geek? I mean, he often avoided the sock hops and Sadie Hawkins' dances, and definitely steered clear of the T-Bird's hangout at the diner. But, that was only because he didn't want to embarrass himself, or worse, get beaten up. So he stayed home building his model rockets and practicing piano- Oh god. He's the definition of geek.
He shook his thoughts away, heading over to where the two talked. The sex symbol looked up at him, his smile never wavering. "Oh, hey."
Barnaby faltered, almost melting on the spot from that deep, rumbling voice.
The young girl cleared her throat. "Ahem."
He gulped and grabbed Fionna, not bothering to say anything for he felt he'd sound as if he struck puberty again. She grumbled and pulled away. "I'm talking to Marshall, Barnaby. Leave."
That struck a nerve. Not only did she not want him here, she called him by his dreadful first name in front of the hottest guy in school. "Uh, alright!" He squeaked, no longer feeling confident. Just as he started to leave, a leather arm snaked around his waist. "Fee, me and.." Marshall paused, giving the younger boy a devious look, "..Barnaby, have some catching up to do. Run along. I'll see ya 'round." He winked, making her blush but run off disappointed, her blonde ponytail bouncing behind. Once she was out of sight, Bubba breathed a sigh of relief, but when it finally occurred to him that he was in fact standing in the school parking lot next to a god he began to hyperventilate.
"Whoa man, you okay?" He asked, patting a very red teen on the back.
The younger pushed his glasses back up his nose and nodded. "I just..need..m-my inhaler." He choked out, gripping the sleeve of the greaser's jacket. Marshall panicked and grabbed at the teenager's bag, almost ripping open the knapsack in search for Barnaby's medicine. Once found and returned to him, he practically sucked the poor thing dry.
Once he felt he could breath again, he wanted to curl up and cry. The past five minutes have been as embarrassing as Daisy Jaredson wearing suspenders and culottes to a football game in fifth grade.
The elder boy waved a large palm in front of his face. "'ello?"
"S-sorry you had to see that." He coughed, turning pink by the second as he found Marshall still staring at him.
"It's fine, cutie." The greaser grinned widely. "Say, do you need a lift home?"
Barnaby wheezed. He looked back in the direction Fionna left, before answering.
"M-maybe. Oh and about earlier um," he bit his lip. "You c-can call me Bubba."
The nineteen year old opened the passenger door, gesturing to the seat. "Sure thing."
.
.
.
Bubba slid out of the car and muttered a thank you, before heading to his door. In a matter of seconds he was spun around and glued to Marshall's lips. The seventeen year old, with a burst of courage, pulled the man closer. After realizing they had to breathe, the younger pulled away. "W-well, Goodnight." He blushed madly, his lips slightly swollen and bright.
"Night, Suga' Pop."