Beach City Grill, Santa Cruz, Sunday evening

[lovemykilt]

Priestly was just about buzzing. He was hanging out in one of his favorite places with three of his favorite ladies, and his best friend would be arriving momentarily to spend a whole week hanging out. He was pretty sure he'd gone from excited to completely obnoxious about three hours ago, but even Tish was just looking kind of amused at him.

When he was distracted enough to burn the sub he was making for Piper for dinner, he groaned sheepishly. "Sorry," he said. "I'm a little. . . ."

"It's cool." Piper grinned back. "I'm excited, too. I'm really looking forward to meeting her."

"I told you you look like --"

"Your friend Karla, yeah," Piper said. She patted him on the shoulder. "So I'm all set for all the weird looks that Dinah will give me."

Priestly doubted that.

[ooc: for one. Content warning: homophobia, misogyny, and domestic violence, and other bits of nastiness. Tad sucks.]

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[blondecanary.livejournal.com]

The roar of Dinah's motorcycle was audible a good ten seconds before she was; when she finally pulled it to a stop outside, she took a second to fuss over the bike, then ripped off her helmet and barreled into the shop.

"Priestly! People! Priestly! And oh my god you look like Karla."

Trucker's pad, Sunday night

[lovemykilt]

"I don't believe it," Priestly said. He was flopped out on one of Trucker's many beanbags, a bag of frozen peas draped over his twisted-and-kicked wrist, holding one of brussel sprouts to the back of his head with his good hand. He leaned a little more into Jen, who sat next to him, holding Trucker's old yearbook. "Gordon Hancock: senior class prez, captain of the football team. . . . No Woodstock? No free love? No peace rallies?"

"I took the free love when I could get it," Trucker said, clearly deeply embarrassed.

"No bongs?" Priestly asked.

"Well. . . ."

"No Grateful Dead concerts?"

"That came later."

And later, still at Trucker's

[lovemykilt]

After some discussion -- and no small amount of insistence from Trucker, considering that Priestly and Tish were both candidates for mild concussions and he, Piper, and Jen had all had at least a couple of beers -- it was determined that everyone would crash at Trucker's, for now. It wasn't large, but it had plenty of soft places to crash on, and the breeze coming in from the ocean kept it comfortable even with so many people packed in.

As the others were getting ready to turn in, Priestly found himself in the kitchen with Tish, as they looked for a good place to trash their respective cold packs. Priestly flashed her a small smile as he reached past her to drop the peas in the sink, then winced as his wrist twinged.

Tish gave him a once over. "Here, sit." She guided him to the breakfast bar and sat him down, then pulled an ace bandage out of the open first aid kit on the counter. "I dated a guy who was into extreme sports a couple years back. I know how to wrap a sprain." She gently took Priestly's hand and started wrapping the bandage around it. "You should probably get it checked out for real tomorrow, though."

Priestly watched her face while she stared down at his hand. Between the bruise on her forehead and the bandage on her cheek, there was no hiding that she'd been through a lot in the last couple of days, but here she was, making sure his arm was okay. "Thanks. You sure you're okay, too?"

She looked up and flashed him a tight smile. "Yeah. I'm an idiot, but I'm fine."

Priestly shook his head. "Don't do that. Don't put this on yourself."

Tish sighed, carefully tying off the end of the bandage. "I should have known." She looked up at him. "You never liked him, did you. How'd you know?"

"What, that he was a dick?"

"That he was that kind of dick."

It was Priestly's turn to look down, carefully turning his hand and flexing his fingers as if to test the bandage. "I dunno. We can smell our own, I guess."

"Are you kidding me?" Tish scoffed. "You and Tad are nothing alike."

"Not now," Priestly said. "But, I dunno. In another life? Pretty little rich boy, football star, absolutely soaked in privilege and assholery? Yeah, that could've been me."

"What, seriously?"

"I was not always the loveable punk you see before you." Priestly still hadn't looked up, just pushed himself to his feet, tucking his arm against his chest. "Anyway, thanks."

"No." Tish put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down onto the stool. "You don't get to say that and then walk away. Look at me. I'll buy that you weren't always Mr. Kilt-and-Mohawk. I'll even buy that you played football. That was a nice tackle, out there. But no way were you anything but a good guy."

"You don't know that," Priestly said.

"Yeah, I kinda do. Here." She pressed some painkillers into his good hand. "Take those, and stop being an idiot. Or I'll get Dinah to kick your ass. I get the feeling she could."

Priestly had to smile at that. "Well, she'd definitely lecture me a lot."

Tish mussed his already fairly wilted mohawk with her palm. "There you go. Guys like Tad don't end up surrounded by girls like Dinah. Or Jen, or Piper, or Zo. So no more arguing."

"They like you, too, you know," Priestly said. "So I'm guessing you're doing something right, too."

"Well yeah," Tish said, smirking. "I'm amazing."

"Yeah," Priestly said, smiling back. "I know."