Love And Life And Demon Hunting

"You dislike rap?" he asked, laughing. "I love it myself. It's fresh, as they say. Fly. Off of the hook."

"...nobody says that. I'm fairly certain." He said, wrinkling his nose. "Certainly no one in my town did. It sounds ridiculous."

"You didn't live in a ghetto," he said dismissively.

"When we go to a ghetto, I'll be sure to ask how often they use the term 'fresh'." He replied bitchily.

"They used it quite often where I lived," he replied brightly. "Tons of swell folks."

"Where did you live? Oldy McOld town?"

He frowned.

"Mars, I'm not familiar with that area. What state is it in?"

"...I feel a headache coming on." He said to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Well, lucky for you, we're at the hotel," he said with a chuckle. He handed Mars a one dollar bill.

"Go buy yourself a treat in the minimart down the street while I check us in."

He just sort of stared at it.

"Do I look like I'm ten to you?" He asked, taking the dollar anyway. "Besides, what the heck can I buy with a dollar?"

"Oh, sorry," said Priestly with a chuckle; he handed Mars another dollar. "Get something good, now--you've earned it. Long car rides aren't fun."

Stomping down the street, Mars took his two dollars. He would spend them on something and eat it all by himself just because. Stupid Priestly.

Priestly checked them into the hotel, flirting with the lady at the front desk. When he was done with that, he strolled into the convenience store to collect Mars.

"Honey-buns?" he called. "Come on, we're continuing our honeymoon!"

Mars was sitting outside, snacking on a twinkie. Because fuck Priestly, he can get fat if he wants.

When he couldn't find Mars in the store, Priestly bought a can of red bull, a bottle of mountain dew, and a cinnamon bun. Walking outside with his purchases, he beamed when he spotted Mars. Sitting beside him, he unwrapped the cinnamon bun and took a bite.

"Want some?" he asked.

Mars made it a point to stand up.

"Let's go." He replied, crossing his arms. "I want to sleep."

"I'm eating a cinnamon bun," he said with his mouth full. "If sitting on the ground is too uncomfortable, my lap is open."

"Just give me the room key, then." He held out his hand expectantly.

"My hands are sticky," he said simply, taking another bite. "You really should try this--it's almost gone."

He wrinkled his nose.

"Your mouth has been on that, there's no way I'm touching it."

He stuck out his tongue playfully.

"My mouth will be somewhere else real soon if you aren't polite, Marsy," he teased.

He crossed his arms defiantly.

"Shut up and finish so I can nap, jerk."

"Kiss me," he said, shoving the rest of it into his mouth.

Mars hit him in the side of the mouth, hoping he choked to death.

Priestly swallowed, rubbing his face.

"Why not? You like me, right?"