Dayum. Pronounced day-yum. The only word to describe the male in front of me and the only thing I could think at the current moment.
"Hi," I squeaked. Dammit, me. What is wrong with you?
"Hello," he murmured, looking amused and wary. "I'm Dave."
"Hi," What is wrong with my mouth? Why can I only say 'hi'? Maybe it's because this guy's face is pretty. And, from the smug look on his face, he knew it. Motherfucker.
He turned away from me and shook hands with Barney, still looking damn smug. At least Barney wasn't gay, at least I don't think he is. If he was, then we'd both be a puddle on the floor. With Barney, you can't really tell much about him other than he's pissed all the time. I think the only time I haven't seen him pissed was when we found a heap of beer in some guy's basement.
"Thank you for saving me and my friends," he said, flashing a blinding smile at Barney. The part of me that wasn't goo was internally snickering. If Dave thinks he can butter up Barney, he's got another thing coming. Hopefully a fist.
Barney looked at him like he'd just stepped on a turd and then muttered a stiff "You're welcome."
"If there's anything we can do to repay you, pl-"
"You got any food?" blurted Sam, nearly shoving Barney over. Dave blinked at him before smiling genially and holding a hand out to his simpering flock of women. Immediately, a can of spaghetti was placed onto his palm and I had to wonder where it came from. Probably from the infinite abyss that made up half the women's cleavage. Sam's eyes lit up and he snatched it from Dave's hand when it got within arms' reach.
Dave rose an eyebrow as Sam gobbled down half the can in a few seconds. I dug an elbow into his side, nearly laughing when he choked. "Remember to breathe, dumbass," I hissed. He glared at me, dramatically breathing in before scoffing down the rest of the can. Barney covered his eyes with his hand.
"We have plenty more where that came from," said Dave, smiling. Good lord, how is he so pretty?! I yanked Sam closer to me, hoping he wouldn't embarrass me any further. His head snapped towards me, opening his mouth to say something and in the process showing me a lovely view of half-chewed spaghetti.
"Jesus Christ, Sam. Do you even know how to swallow?"
He smirked. "That's what she said." I gave him a look, but he knew I was weak against 'that's what she said' jokes, and I only managed to stop myself from laughing for a single second (a new record) before a half-strangled whine rose in my throat, causing Dave to look at me in alarm, before I was doubled over giggling. Sam soon joined in, much to Barney's annoyance.
"Nice to know I travel with civilised people," he muttered. I internally thanked Dave, 'cause I was pretty sure that if he hadn't been there, I would have been a bloody, giggling pulp.
When we could finally breathe again, Barney cuffed us both across the back of the head and shot a look that would have been apologetic - if Barney wasn't an ass - at Dave.
Unfortunately for us, or more accurately, me, Dave and his fan club decided to stay the night with us. During that time, Sam managed to gather his weight in cans of food, eating half of them, and I was stuck entertaining Dave, since Barney was less than sociable, the bastard. I managed to drag Sam over near me, using his cans as a fortress against Dave's good looks.
After a few more hourse of hell, everyone except me and Sam were asleep (he was eating, I was on watch). I snagged a can of sliced beetroot (you learn not to be picky when you nearly starve a few times) and studied the interesting pattern of women that surrounded Dave. In their sleep, they fought to get closer to the man, with the closest women clinging to him like their clothes did to their skin. How does he even sleep like that?
I asked Sam. "Well, if I had a few hundred beautiful women surrounding me, I wouldn't be able to sleep. But maybe it's 'cause he's used to it. Me, I'm stuck with you."
I gasped, sticking a hand over my heart, acting touched. "You actually said I was female..."
He grinned. "You're welcome."
"You know, if it wasn't for your personality or eating habits, we'd probably be friends."
He looked at me, shocked. "Has the beetroot gotten to your head?" he whispered. I chucked a slice at him, which he peeled off his eye and shoved in his mouth. When he offered me the can of whatever he was eating, it was my turn to be shocked.
"Fine, if you don't want it, you can't have it," he grumbled, obviously embarrassed.
'"I want it!" I yelped, grabbing the can off him and stuffing what I realize is peach into my mouth. He smirked.
"You know, I spit in that." I looked at him in horror, before I shrugged and continued to eat the slices.
"Hey hey hey! You can't eat the whole can!" he cried, making a mad swipe for the can, which I easily avoided.
"You never said I couldn't," I mumbled through a mouthful of fruit.
"Why does it always come down to food?" he whined.
A/N: I laughed so hard when I named the hot guy 'Dave'. It's sad to laugh at your own writing but it's just- his name is Dave.
I've decided to go with first person for now, since none of the characters have any important thoughts that I care about right now.