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psls ✦ memes/overflow ✦ aus ✦ pic prompt

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✦ open to both castmates and cross-canon, & shipping with any gender is fine.

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[ Most of any "valuables" Reggie even keeps in his car would be in the glove compartment, and thus pretty hard to steal while he's driving anyway. It didn't need to be said, but that's normal for most things that come out of Reggie's mouth; anything he says next is not likely to help anything, so he follows Sweet Pea's advice, simply shuts up and drives.

When they get there, though, once he's gotten out of the car he circles it to open up the passenger-side, too, smirking smugly. He'll show you gentlemen, asshole. ]

We're here, princess.

[ Reggie holds his arm out in an "after you" sort of way, which is only icing on the cake since it's Sweet Pea's trailer, meaning Reggie will have to follow him in anyway. ]

( the urge to simply kick reggie as he's getting out is inordinately strong. the drive was, thankfully, silent, and as awkward as it may have been, it was better than having to look at reggie's smug face. the same glower from before is still plastered on sweet pea's face, and he flips reggie off as he climbs out of the car, rising to his full height where it's much easier to stare reggie down. the few inches he has on reggie is almost a dare in and of itself: call him princess one more time.

nah, it's not worth it. not yet, at least. sure, he's started fights over less, but he's attempting to restrain himself for the sake of ... civility.

he steps past reggie. granted, there's only a few feet between the car and the trailer, but he still calls over his shoulder: )

Don't get lost, Prince Charming. ( and proceeds to his front door, fishing his keys out of his shoulder bag. at this point, he doesn't really care if reggie follows him in or chickens out and leaves. )

[ Whenever Reggie and Sweet Pea end up face to face, there's always that moment -- usually the initial moment, right at the beginning -- where he's slightly taken aback by Sweet Pea's height all over again. Reggie's a tall guy himself, taller or at least as tall as all his friends, so he's not used to people who can loom over him the way Sweet Pea does.

And every time, he doesn't know how he feels about it.

Not intimidated, though; he slams the car door shut, beeps the lock, and follows Sweet Pea, glancing over his shoulder only once as he wonders uneasily if his car will be safe out here. For good measure, he sets the alarm too. ]

I guess that makes you Princess Welfare. [ Stated with casual smugness, continuing the aggressive banter. ] Don't worry. How could I get lost in something that's probably smaller than my bedroom?

( sweet pea busies himself with the double locks, twisting the keys a little more aggressively than normal. he has to consciously stop himself from slamming the door open, like he'd like to slam reggie's head in. he pointedly mimics reggie's gesture from before, the exaggerated sweeping arm and a slight bow, the curve of his lips razor sharp. )

Sorry. Did I say charming? I meant infuriating.

( but he doesn't wait for reggie to cross the threshold, and instead grabs the collar of his jacket and shoves him inside. )

You want to attract more Serpents by standing there all day?

[ Sweet Pea shoving him ignites that impulse to fight back in Reggie, especially as he narrowly avoids tripping and hitting the wall. The urge flares, then tempers, Reggie settling just to hit Sweet Pea's shoulder in response-- not quite a punch or a shove, more like a swat.

It's objectively a bad idea to keep provoking someone while on their terf, especially someone Sweet Pea's size, but Reggie can't help himself. He's no slouch in a fight himself, and while he's not necessarily trying to start one now, he's always imagined they'd be relatively evenly matched if they did ever throw down without anyone else getting in between them.

And obviously in that hypothetical, he also imagines himself winning.

Reggie's on his own here, though, and Sweet Pea isn't. Literally this is the heart of Serpent territory, so Reggie would be better off trying to be more discreet. Behave himself a little bit. If anything, though, the environment only makes him more annoyed and tense. He makes a show of looking around the trailer in poorly disguised disdain, eyes scanning from the walls to the desk to the floor to the bed, and everywhere else in between. ]

What're they gonna do, stab me? [ Quote from man stabbed. Reggie rolls his eyes, throwing his own bookbag onto the nearby bed. ] I'm surprised you even know what charming means. This place of yours sure as hell doesn't qualify.

( the trailer is definitely not barbie's dreamhouse, but it's still a home, with all the same furnishings you'd see in any northsider home, albeit much more outdated. the couch has probably seen better days. hell, it's probably been there since his parents moved in before he was born. and, right now, it's pulled out to create an extra bed, which is usually where sweet pea sleeps unless his parents aren't home. they rarely are.

there's a small kitchen and a tv that still has an antennae, and further past their immediate line of sight is the master bedroom and the bathroom. the ceiling is barely high enough for sweet pea to stand comfortably, his shoulders hunched slightly to give him a bit more room. the back wall of the living room is covered in posters, mostly featuring action movies and rock bands. it seems apparent that this is sort of sweet pea's makeshift bedroom. and it's fairly tidy, for a teenage boy.

he pulls his shoulder bag over his head, tossing it haphazardly by the door. then reggie swats at him and sweet pea grabs his arm instinctively, ready to throw down if necessary. a warning, perhaps. he makes the mistake of letting go; reggie makes the mistake of opening his mouth again.

sweet pea could endure reggie badmouthing everything about him for the next few hours, but he'd prefer not to. so there's really only one thing to do. his hand is a weight against reggie's chest (his annoyingly toned chest), pushing him back into the wall of the trailer and keeping him there, his other hand twisting in the fabric of reggie's jacket. he could slide his hand up to reggie's neck if he wanted to, see how talkative he'd be with a damaged windpipe. but he doesn't, he just stares down at him, their eyes locked for a tense moment. his voice is rough, almost a growl. )

Keep talking shit like that and I'll gladly feed you to the snakes. You're on my turf, Mantle. Show some fucking respect.

Wh--

[ His back hits the wall, not terribly hard but still enough that the thin metal tremors slightly against the sudden force of his weight. Reggie looks at Sweet Pea indignantly, mouth still halfway open even though he isn't sure yet what he wants to say-- but he wants to say something, if only because Reggie hates being told what to do, and to show Sweet Pea that he isn't afraid of him.

Jaw clicking as it tenses, Reggie drops his eyes briefly to Sweet Pea's mouth, then wets his lips and raises his gaze back up to maintain a glare. Proximity, that all; where else is he supposed to look, crowded up against the wall like this? He shoves back against Sweet Pea's chest with both palms, which likely won't do much for actually moving the other boy back, but it's still satisfying nonetheless; Reggie leans his weight on his toes to better get up in Sweet Pea's face. ]

If there was anything to respect then maybe I would. But anybody can be tall and pretty-- just like anybody can be gangster trailer trash. Like, you have a neck tattoo and sleep on a freaking pull-out couch, but yeah, sure. I'm in total awe of you.

[ That this is a bad idea has probably sunk in more after Reggie's finished saying it, but if he realizes that, he doesn't let on. He just breathes slow, tense breaths, hands loosely curled into fists at his sides. ]

It isn't really talking shit when it's true, right?

( he barely notices reggie's hands connect with his chest — though, somewhere in the back of his head, he wishes they'd stayed there — yet his eyes flicker down anyway, as if sizing reggie up again, trying to decide what exactly he wants to do with him.

he feels like a bull getting ready for the charge, his nostrils flared, his jaw tensing; every word out of reggie's mouth is a red flag and sweet pea swears he can feel his blood boil beneath his skin, his cheeks flushing in rage. his hand slips roughly up reggie's neck, but he doesn't quite press hard enough to be uncomfortable. no, he just wants reggie to know that he could. but he won't, because that isn't who he is. or, it's not who he is at this very moment.

he leans in, his barely an inch away from reggie's. he can feel the heat of reggie's breath on his face, the quickening beat of his pulse under his fingers. )

You don't have a fucking clue, do you? All bark, no bite. ( which isn't strictly true, but sweet pea isn't going to admit that. it doesn't matter how many times he gets called trailer trash; it's always going to hurt, and some stupid part of his brain is going to tell him it's true. that he isn't worth anything, that he's just another lowlife who crawled out of sunnyside with a knife in his mouth. some days, he believes it. but today isn't one of those days. today he's got something to prove. ) You think I don't notice the way you look at me?

( his lips barely brush reggie's, there and then gone. he lowers his voice to a husky whisper. he could be completely wrong, and they'll just end up punching each other, but he has a pretty good feeling he's not. reggie has never been terribly sutble, and sweet pea is a lot more observant than reggie thinks he is. is this a worse idea than using their fists to solve their problems? probably. but there's a different kind of tension buzzing between them that a fistfight just won't resolve. ) Come on, Mantle. Admit it.

I--

[ At his sides Reggie's hands open, suddenly unsure what to do; they simply hang there frozen, a bit like Reggie himself. He'd already tensed when Sweet Pea hit him with that "you think I don't notice the way you look at me?" challenge, prepared to have to defend himself from whatever implications might follow. How does Reggie look at him? What the hell does that mean?

But the kiss makes things clearer. If it can even really be called a kiss, that is, but it certainly makes the point. He exhales sharply, one hand finally finding its way back up to Sweet Pea's chest, but not to shove-- just to rest. He wets his lips again in annoyance and briefly glances aside, unsure of what to say.

Fuck. Or maybe... fuck it. ]

What the hell's respect got to do with it?

[ That's hardly much of an admission to anything, but then Reggie's other hand hesitantly digs itself into Sweet Pea's hair, pulling him closer into a more proper kiss. It's cautious at first, slow and testing like he's prepared for this to be a trap, but then gradually growing more aggressive. Reggie doesn't need Sweet Pea's respect, he's decided. Hoarsely, he adds: ]

Cuz you're not getting any from me.

[ (That remains to be seen.) ]

( it's a victory, of some kind, when reggie pulls him in all the way, the space between their mouths ceasing to exist. distantly, sweet pea wonders if reggie has ever even kissed a boy before now. the irony of being his first isn't lost on him, makes it all the more sweet, truth be told. or maybe reggie's fooled around with that andrews kid in the locker room when no one was looking. sweet pea doesn't really care. he's more interested in the fact that reggie is what one might call enthusiastic. aggressive, sure, but that's to be expected between them. everything is a fight. this is no exception.

sweet pea pushes back, his tongue sliding between reggie's teeth. as long as his mouth is occupied, sweet pea won't have to listen to his bullshit. it's not the worst idea he's ever had, but it's working — for the most part. he groans when reggie keeps talking, somehow, even when they're sharing the same air, their breaths circulating between the scant space where their mouths part. he juts his hip forward, partially out of frustration, and partially just to see how reggie will react, blunt fingernails digging into the back of reggie's neck. )

Do you ever shut up? ( rhetorical. because, yes, he's aware that for fifteen whole minutes reggie was behind the wheel they barely spoke a word. that's not the point. they weren't making out then. )

[ Reggie's certainly been shut up effectively for the moment, at least in a manner of speaking-- he may not be talking, but his enthusiasm continues to make itself known by the growls and groans that he makes into and against the kiss. The more Sweet Pea pushes, the more steadily emboldened Reggie seems to get, his fingers digging and pulling roughly at Sweet Pea's hair, the hand on Sweet Pea's very slowly creeping southward.

This is a problem. A different kind of problem than the two of them usually have when they're in a room together, or even from their partnership, because before they started kissing, Reggie was perfectly content with the deliberate state of blissful ignorance that allowed him to not have to acknowledge any desire for Sweet Pea at all. Yes, there's always been something different about Reggie's disdain for him compared to, say, Reggie's disdain for Jughead, but it was easy enough to pretend like that difference wasn't attraction. There were always plenty of other factors in play to distract enough from that.

But now that they are kissing, Reggie wants to let it happen, like a switch has been flipped in his brain amplifying all the angry lust that's been simmering under the surface this entire time. He has wanted this, even before he ever let himself know he did.

Sweet Pea's hip pushes forward and Reggie's hand slips down from his chest, beginning to blindly try to grapple with Sweet Pea's belt buckle. He barely thinks about it, acting more on instinct now than strategy, concerned with only getting Sweet Pea's pants open rather than if he's moving too fast or too far yet. ]

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