RP: A Day at the Beach

[notaballad]

Who: Desmond Molloy and Peter Petrelli/Michael Tarello/the really hot guy Des is dating
What: A Day at the Best Beach in the World™
Where: Whatever city they're in -- it is nondescript and generic? LA, maybe? IDK
When: Friday, April 17, afternoon
Rating: Knowing Des, it'll go to R really quick.


Des was giddy. There was really no other way to describe the feeling that he was experiencing as he packed up a picnic lunch for Peter -- no, Michael -- and himself. He would have to get used to calling his. . .well, he wasn't really sure what to call Michael, really. They hadn't exactly given their relationship labels yet, and he wasn't sure if it was too soon to call Michael his boyfriend. He felt like it wasn't too soon, but he didn't want to scare off the other man.

He could be low key though, no big deal. He was just happy to get to spend time with Michael. He wasn't kidding about liking the guy. He couldn't explain it, but Michael was exciting and different. Every time that Des thought he had a handle on who Michael was, the man would surprise him with a new facet. It was like peeling back the skin of an onion and finding the fruit of a peach. Some people might proceed with caution and possibly back away in concern, but not Des. Hell no, if anything, it made him more intrigued.

So, he whistled a happy tune to himself as he stuck the containers filled with salad for Michael and lunch meat for himself into the cooler. He'd packed a little extra meat, just in case Michael wasn't a vegetarian after all, and then he got containers of macaroni salad and cole slaw out of the fridge, adding those to the cooler as well. Bottles of water, lemonade and a couple of sodas were tucked into the cooler too, and then everything got loaded into Des' 1967 cherry red Mustang GT convertible.

A change of clothes -- in case they decided to go out for dinner or something afterwards -- was stuffed into a duffle bag, and Des was ready to go. He was already wearing his swim trunks, a casual t-shirt and flip flops completing his outfit. Now, he just needed to get Michael.

The duffle bag got tosed into the back seat and Des hopped behind the wheel, cranking up the engine and zooming off to Michael's place.

Comments

[spongetastic.livejournal.com]

Michael set their stuff down before moving over to join Des. "I've been to them," he answered. "My clients sometimes take me with them on their business trips. It's a bit easier getting away with sleeping with a whore when you're in another country."

His finger tapped the picture of the Colloseum. "That was my favorite," he mentioned. "Italy is amazing. I could live there, and I'm not just saying that because I'm Italian."

[notaballad.livejournal.com]

Des chuckled and smiled softly, glancing at Michael. He didn't really like Michael calling himself a whore. The word just had so many negative connotations to it. It seemed too undignified for a man such as Michael.

He grinned, glancing at the picture of the Colloseum. "I've always wanted to go there," he said quietly. "I have this romantic image in my head of sweeping somebody off their feet and flying them away to Italy for a vacation. Just. . .haven't gotten the opportunity yet." That, and he couldn't really afford the price tag.

[spongetastic.livejournal.com]

"I could take you there sometime if you want," Michael offered. "If you don't mind being the one swept off their feet, that is." He finished the statement with a playful wink, leaning over to kiss Desmond's cheek.

[notaballad.livejournal.com]

Desmond felt his face grow warm and ducked his head shyly, grinning at the kiss to his cheek. He raised his head to look at Michael. "Really? I mean, you'd do that? I totally wouldn't mind being the one getting swept off their feet."

He grinned and looked at Michael curiously. "So, do I get the grand tour of the rest of the place?"

[spongetastic.livejournal.com]

"I don't see why not," he answered with a shrug. "It would be nice to have someone to spend my money on." He smiled, combing his fingers lightly through Des's hair.

"Sure. This way." They started with the living room first, where the plasma TV was proudly displayed. Michael's kitchen was of a decent size, and he even had a mini-bar installed. He was going to save the bedroom until last, since he was fairly sure they weren't going to leave it once they went inside.

[notaballad.livejournal.com]

Ooh, hair petting, he thoroughly enjoyed that. He might've leaned in toward Michael's fingers. "I'd definitely love that then," he said with a wide grin. "Whenever. I mean, it doesn't have to be, like, tomorrow or next week or something. Just, you know, someday."

He grinned as he followed Michael through the apartment, taking in everything. The apartment was nice, very nice, and he whistled appreciatively when he saw the mini-bar. "Sweet. You've got an awesome apartment, Michael," he said.