sortinghat_logs | July is for Brodates

TONE: Starting off light and casual, probably delving into angsty later.
RATING: PG-13 for language
WHEN: Backdated to Saturday, July 14th
WHERE: A Taco place, then the flat.
WHAT: It's a little delayed, but finally Bro and Dirk are having tacos like he said they should.
STATUS: Ongoing
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Bro was nervous, to say the least. This little outing wasn't at all like the one with Dave, and he knew that. The night that he suggested they do this was still fresh in his mind, even though he wished that he'd been drunk enough to forget it. But even so, he also knew it was a good thing he didn't forget it. Bro felt stupid for not picking up the signs that night, stupid that he didn't catch on sooner to the fact that Dirk was still hurting. Looking back, it all seemed so obvious, and it was finally time to try and fix that. But he was nervous because it wasn't going to be that easy. He knew it involved facing things he didn't want to face- making Dirk face things he probably didn't want to face.

But it was necessary, he knew that. Even if it was difficult. And he was at least thankful he had a general idea of what to do, after having asked for advice. It didn't make it much easier, though. He also had an idea of his own that he was toying with, but a part of him was still really unsure about that. But he didn't think too much on that, because it would still be a few hours before he had to really decide. Until then, he wanted to at least make the taco outing as enjoyable for Dirk as possible. They were already in the car, on their way to the place that Dirk had found.

"Thanks again for finding this place... Your skills with google are way better than mine," he said, not taking his eyes off the road, but offering Dirk a small smile nonetheless. "And man, I seriously just cannot believe you've never had tacos. That's just, like... Mindblowing."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

As far as euphemisms go, that was spot on little dude. He'd have given him a thumbs up, but at that moment the light changed and he was too focused on flooring it. Gotta keep both hands on the wheel when you're speeding, after all. "Yeah, but the thing with my meat is it doesn't like to be packaged." He was about to ask 'how'd it taste', but he realized that given the current subject, it would sound really badly timed, so he just... trails off.

"And he wonders why the grocery store has poor quality meat." He might not know entirely what he was talking about, but that didn't stop him from saying it. And honestly? Dirk's only response would've been that the bacalhau portion tasted fishy. That wouldn't have helped the conversation anyway.

... Yeah, he decided not to even touch that one. "So anyway, tell me more about this Portuguese food you had," he said after a few seconds of silence. "I mean, it sounds pretty good." He can't help it, he's curious. "Maybe we should go out and have it sometime. I mean, if you liked it."

"It's good, if you like fish." It's still sounding wrong. "I mean, Portugal's known for cod fish based dishes and stuff, right." He fidgeted, tapping his fingers on the arm rest connected to the door. "I wouldn't mind having it again." Meaning hell yes, let's go get Portufood one day.

He was really starting to get impatient, though. It probably went to show just how often he was in a car--or a vehicle in general. Or maybe it just showed that hey, this eleven year old was more excited for this than he was currently letting on. "How much longer? It's not supposed to be very far away."

Edited 2012-07-18 11:24 (UTC)

Bro wasn't sure if he was picking up the signals right, but he thought he had a pretty good idea of what Dirk was implying. He'd have to look up Portuguese restaurants in the near future... Maybe they could all go out for dinner together as a family or something. He wasn't sure how Dave would feel about eating stuff like that, but maybe if he mentioned how much it would mean to Dirk, then... Eh, he was probably overthinking it.

"It shouldn't be too much longer..." And it wasn't, a few minutes later he ended up spotting it out the corner of his eye, turning abruptly. There were several honks from people he swerved in front of, but he managed to make it into the parking lot without incident. "Protip: Don't drive like me when you're older," he stated casually, pulling into a parking space.

Dirk took it with a grain of salt, just like in the manner of if he'd said 'gee, going to Mars one day sure would be nice!' It was his instinct. In his short eleven years, he'd figured out that he could truly only rely on himself. If he wanted to do something, he had to find a way to make it happen. Given his age, it was easier said than done, but the point remained.

He turned his attention to outside the window until the car was parked. Immediately, he unbuckled his seatbelt and plowed out of the car. "Never. Your driving is absolutely horrid." Despite the jab, the tiniest of smiles graced his lips briefly.

If he'd known what Dirk was thinking, he would've turned the car around and went to find a Portuguese restaurant right then and there. But it wasn't meant to be, for Bro wasn't a mind reader. "Well my driving got us here in one piece, and I still haven't gotten a ticket yet." Mainly because he just hasn't been caught. Too fast. He unbuckled his own seatbelt and stepped out of the car as well. "Lead the way, I'll take the rear in case any cops are on our tail though."

"Are you sure? Aren't you like...illegal or something? I should handle the authorities. Don't want you to get deported." Dirk was already walking toward the restaurant, though. He was hungry and too impatient to wait, really. He glanced back a couple times to make sure Bro was still coming before walking inside and right up the the hostess's desk and informed her he needed a table for two, while holding up his thumb and forefinger for emphasis.

"I'm not even gonna bother to point out the irony of what you just said," Bro said, probably just loud enough for Dirk to hear before he disappeared into the restaurant. Bro followed a second later, smirking as he heard Dirk talking to the hostess. "Slow your roll, dude, jesus christ. You'll have to excuse the little one, I think he's had like... Twelve sodas within the last hour or something."

Nonetheless, he followed her and the two of them were seated at a booth towards the back of the restaurant; presumably to keep the soda-high child away from most of the other patrons. "So it probably goes without saying, but order anything," he said, picking up a menu himself.

"It was only three, and since this morning at that," Dirk responded with a shrug. They were out of apple juice and he was thirsty, what else was he supposed to do? He found the orange fanta hidden in one of the cabinets and tore into that like a fatkid who was given an entire patisserie for his birthday.

He slid into the seat across from Bro, squirming some as he took the other menu and flipped it open. He was going to have a hard time deciding because there was just so much and he hadn't had any of it before. "So tequila shots can be a thing?"

July is for Brodates

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