A shitty motel is the perfect place for shitty emotions. || OxO || Closed!

(im so sorry that i disappeared again oh my god. shit Went Down. i should be back in action now, though. hopefully. :’))

“Hardly,” he grumbled. He didn’t even want to talk about it, honestly. The whole thing just felt… gross. He couldn’t explain it even to himself. He began to clarify what he’d meant, but stopped hardly a few words in. “Yeah, nevermind. Doesn’t matter.” Beginning to question whether or not coffee and the laundromat were even worth the effort, Finn glanced back at his room door. …He needed to get out anyways, though. He needed to at least try.

(it's alright! Welcome back!)

Waylen leaned against the wall, giving Finn another sly smile. "You sure about that?" He hummed faintly to himself, leaning his head back against the wall as he watched Finn. Why was he even having this conversation? Why did it matter? It didn't. It didn't matter, he just sometimes felt that it did. For some reason. He didn't know.

(ahhhh, thanks-)

God, he wanted to slap that stupid smirk off that stupid mans stupid face. “Yes, I am.” He scowled down at Waylen, watching the moron try and look smooth. “You’re an idiot,” he said when the conversation began to lull slightly. He didn’t even know why. He had only left his room to do his laundry, why did it seem that simple chores always ended up like this.

(np!)

Waylen barked out a laugh. "And you, apparently, can think of nothing else to say to me. Ah, darling, what happened to our good old days?" perhaps he was hungover; that could explain his behavior. His words were sarcastic and said in a laugh, but he had still said them.

There was a slight pause in Ace’s movements, relatively obvious confusion cycling through his expression. He dismissed it quickly. It was just Waylen fucking around as always. Nothing new there, he thought bitterly. “You happened,” He retorted, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Waylen let out a quiet laugh. "Yes, yes, of course I did." he replied, humming faintly and watching Finn, amusement still printed across his features.

Finn’s scowl lessened slightly, staring down at Waylen in mild confusion. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” There was no way that he could still be drunk out his mind, right?

Waylen blinked. "Like what?" he raised his eyebrows up at Finn, uncertain what the other man could possibly be referring to. "Like I'm making fun of you? Because I am."

“Yeah I got that part,” he said, monotone. “Are you done? Believe it or not, I do actually have better things to do than stand here and get a crick in my neck from looking this far down.” He cracked a small, amused smile at his own words. God, it’d never not be fun to make fun of Waylen.

Waylen glared at him. "I will kick you. Asshole." He spat, puffing up a little bit and making an effort to stand taller. Not that it helped, he was still short in comparison to Finn's height.

“Do it,” He challenged light-heartedly. “Ankle biter.” Finn couldn’t help but grin, not needing to put in any effort whatsoever to maintain his high ground. “I’m sure we could get you a chair or something to stand on if you want to punch me, actually.”

He glared at Finn again, eyebrows tugging together into a bunched, angry line. "Shut the fuck up. I'm tall enough to kick you in the nuts, shithead." He growled, crossing his arms, face drawing into a crown. "Dick."

Finn just laughed, his cold demeanor dissipating. “You’re like a goddamn chihuahua, oh my god.” Leaned against the doorframe casually, he pushed his hair back out of his face when a breeze brushed it forward. He cocked his head to the side in thought- a feral cat would’ve been a good comparison as well, he mused.

"Dick." he repeated, still glaring up at Finn. "I am not a chihuahua, it's not my fault you're a goddamn fucking giant." he kicked at the doorframe, grimacing. "Asshole. I'm a perfectly normal height."

”Sure, whatever you wanna tell yourself. Don’t throw a temper tantrum though,” he hummed, still grinning. Maybe his day wasn’t off to too bad of a start after all. This was quite thoroughly amusing.

"Asshole." he spat. "I'm not throwing a temper tantrum." his hands balled into fists for a moment, and he continued to glare up at Finn. "And I'm not short. You're just freakishly tall."

“Come on, I know I’m a bit taller than average, but I’m not that tall. You’re just… petite.” He made a show of reaching his hand out and measuring Waylen’s height compared to his own, coming to the amusing conclusion that- with Finn wearing his platformed boots- Waylen just barely reached his shoulders. “Huh. But of course you’re not short,” He chuckled.

"I'm not petite." He raged, kicking the doorframe again. "And I am not short, either, you're just a tall asshole. A walking shithead." He continued to glare at Finn. "And you're wearing gigantic shoes, cheater." He was aware he sounded slightly like a petulant child, with the addition of the word "cheater", but couldn't bring himself to care.

Finn made no move to hide his amusement as he spoke. “I can take them off if you’d like to measure again, but I doubt they’d shave off more than two or three inches.” He shrugged. “Cmon, it’s not bad. If your personality wasn’t like that then it might actually be cute.”

"Asshole." He said again, still glaring at Finn. "And don't call me cute, either. I'm not cute." He had made an effort not to be cute; he used to be, sure, when he was the fluffy haired, short sophomore with the guitar, absent of tattoos or piercings and before his attitude had been quite as sharp as it was now. He had always had an edge to him, but it had gotten sharper as he aged.

“Yeah, obviously not. You’re a little idiot that acts like a feral cat. I was only saying that your height isn’t what makes you so unlikeable, it’s everything else about you.” He spoke as if what he was saying wasn’t incredibly rude, his tone remaining light-hearted. He smiled in satisfaction, leaning back calmly. “And your temper tantrums sure don’t help either.”

He growled. Actually growled, like a dog. "I'm not having a tantrum." He snarled. "Asshole, fuck off. There's nothing wrong with my height."

“That’s what I’m saying,” He stressed with a small laugh. “There’s obviously nothing wrong with your height. You’re just shorter than average. And I’m saying that it’s not a bad thing.”

He glared at Finn again. "Just because you don't like my attitude doesn't mean other people don't. I'm the one that got railed last night while you came home alone." He retorted.

“Because that’s disgusting. I’d rather die alone than take a complete stranger somewhere that private. Do you even understand how many risks that has? Just get a dildo or something if you’re that horny,” he scoffed.

"Duh I understand the risks." He retorted. "That's what a condom is for, you dick. And a dildo is not the same thing as a person. People are more fun."

“Have you seriously not even considered that they are complete strangers? That’s how you get murdered, moron. You think a dingy motel is gonna look that far into it if you mysteriously disappeared? Or even if your body was found out in the dumpster?” Finn rolled his eyes.

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm careful, Finn. I can defend myself if necessary." and it wouldn't be his first brush with death, either. "And I have mace if I need it, assface."

“And you’re also exclusively into men comically larger and stronger than you. You really think that if it came down to it you could fight someone like that off?” Not that Finn cared, obviously. Why would he?

"One, I'm bisexual, not gay." he pointed out. "I also enjoy, on occasion, the company of women. Two, just because I enjoy being pinned and absolutely destroyed doesn't mean I couldn't defend myself." he crossed his arms again, eyes narrowed up at Finn. "I could fight you."