rebellisk_tarta | Friends Unite against Pigs

The intimacy of ordering food and “shall we share it?”

Fredrik was in the line at the local booze store waiting to be served. He had four bottles of vodka in his shopping basket and couldn't help but notice the stares coming from behind him. It was a large burly man who kept his eyes fixed on the glam bassist in front of him, offering the boy menacing glances. Mikkel was next door in the grocery store getting some food so they could share it. Hot takeaway burgers and maybe some fries.

"Move along, girly. I think you're next. Stupid punk kid with long hair. Why don't you fucking chop that shit off since you're supposed to be a boy. Are you? You can't tell with you lot sometimes. Fucking queer bitches."

The Swede frowned as he heard the man's words rasped behind his neck, way too close for comfort as he span around pissed off wanting to tell this jerk to fuck off. How dare he. This fucking fat asshole needed to learn some manners!

"Fuck off, fet mage. "Fat belly." Why don't you leave people like me alone and go on a diet. You are a fat pig."

Paying for his booze and ignoring the fat bastard behind him, Fredrik was about to walk out the door when he felt his hair being pulled from the back. What the hell? Fuck! He tried to get free but couldn't since the fat bastard had him by his long blond hair.

"Fucking brat! No one talks to me like that especially not some fucking immigrant bitch like you. Foreign bastard punk. Why don't you cry to mummy?"

Fredrik aimed a punch at the guy's face but it was hard when your hair was being yanked back. Ouch! Fuck this! The Swede was beginning to panic a little as he'd never been abused in public like this by some fat fuck of an ignorant American.

"Let me go! How about I get the cops on your big fat ass? Fuck you---"

The Swede swore in his own language and then could see the outline of a pair of long legs entering the booze store. Mikkel. Fredrik aimed a vicious kick behind but could only hear the fat man laughing as he tugged harder, enjoying hurting the Swede.

Mikkel had gotten the text to meet up with Fredrik for booze and lunch. The Dane had brought food so they could have a picnic or something. He was dressed in his usual tight pants and jacket, not paying attention until he heard the Swedish.

"Let him go!" Mikkel hated violence and instantly panicked. However from years of protecting Rik his fight or flight instinct swayed heavily toward fight. He was on the guy, nails gouging into the hand in Fredrik's hair and the other digging into his bag for the pepperspray. He wouldn't hesitate.

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