❛ Do I Wanna Know ❜
★ ₊˚. ❪ a friendly bar ❫
denny ┊ prologue ┊❝ 000 ❞
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DENIS RUSSEL and Penelope Nolan sat side by side in a small Los Angeles bar. Nothing fancy by any means - just one of those dimly lit spots where you could get a good drink and a bit of fun out on the dance floor. The kind of place where classic rock hummed faintly from a dusty old jukebox, with a few hip songs that placed once an hour.

Oh, and the bartender had a smirk that seemed permanently sketched on his face. No one ever said anything, he was just as a kind as a great grandma who wanted to pinch your cheeks.

Denis's long legs dangled from the barstool like a kid on a swing. He kicked his feet every now and then, the rubber soles of his sneakers lightly thumping against the stool's legs. Out of boredom, or a weird habit he never got rid of as a kid.

Getting onto it in the first place had been a whole ordeal. He'd had to climb off again as soon as he was settled to help Penelope, who almost tumbled before she landed on her seat. Freaking bar stools. If he got any drunker, he might actually kick one over just to prove a point - one he couldn't actually think of.

Speaking of drunk; he was at that sweet spot where things were still clear enough to know, but bad ideas were already creeping in. The kind of drunk where future regrets felt so in the moment, but they didn't feel real enough yet to stop him, if they ever could. Too far gone to realize he'd probably end up making the kind of mistake that involved going home with the wrong Nolan sibling.

"And my brother-" Penelope was mid-ramble now, a signature move of hers. She got it from her mom, or so she claimed, and Denis had no reason to doubt her after she had met her mom. "He's just the sweetest, so kind and thoughtful. One time, when we were kids, he saw a puppy on the side of the road and-" Denis blinked slowly, realizing about halfway through the story that he was only catching every other word. "You'll love him, Denny," she said, patting his arm with a sweet smile.

Literally, he would.

"Hey, man, can I get you another drink?" The bartender leaned in, looking like he already knew the answer. Denis opened his mouth to decline, but Penelope was quicker.

"He'll take another shot!" she chirped, grinning as if she'd just solved a global crisis. As if she had won a million dollars and then solved a global crisis.

Before Denis could even process, a shot glass appeared in front of him. He blinked at it, then at Penelope, then back at the glass. "Go on, live a little!" she encouraged, nudging him with her elbow because they were sitting just too close.

With a shrug, he threw it back. The taste hit him like a lemon-flavored slap to the face. He winced, his entire body recoiling slightly. "What the actual fuck was that?" he wheezed, his voice raspier than he intended. His face was scrunched up, eyes closed, and he didn't even notice the picture being taken.

"A lemon vodka! Isn't it amazing?!" Penelope's words were in a fine Denis couldn't realize - was it her being sarcastic or sweet? Before he could respond, a blonde whirlwind swept into the scene.

"Gwen, baby, hi!" Penelope shrieked, breaking into a grin so wide it was almost like a the pretty bunny in space jam, like a cartoon.

Gwen, who was clearly going at a whole other level of pre-gamed excitement, one Denis never achieved, threw her arms around Penelope in a bear hug. She kissed Pen's cheek before turning her attention to Denis, who immediately shook his head.

Gwen laughed, unbothered, and plopped onto the stool next to Penelope. "Suit yourself, champ," She said with a wink, her voice light and sing-songy, like normal. She was a sweet girl, a tad bit flirty, but had a huge heart.

The three of them chatted for a while longer, the conversation flowing with the ease of old friends - or, in Denis's case, one good friend and his friends other best friend. He found himself laughing more than he expected, whether that was the vodka talking or Gwen's ridiculous energy was anyone's guess by all means.

By the time struck ten, he was dancing on the floor with an older man, who also seemed to be just as drunk as he was. The dances they did were something that maybe should have been hidden in the privacy one ones room. Hands wondering across each others bodies, and lips moving to the beat against one's skin.

"You okay with this, baby?" Denny asked softly, fingers resting against the unknown mans side, tapping his pointer finger against his skin. "Because we can stop, or we can take this further, maybe your place?"

"You don't wanna know my name?" The unknown, older, man questioned. He kept his hand against Denny's hip, but it felt so faint, like he wasn't too sure if he should keep it there. "Because I wanna know yours."

"Denny. I'm Denny,"

"Nice to meet you Denny, I'm John."

And the rest, we'll keep hidden! I'm sure you have a wonderful idea at what these two did behind closed doors!