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“You’re so warm,” Driver mused, peppering kisses all down Colt’s cheek, chin, and neck. “Flustered or something?”
Colt chuckled, unable to bring himself to push the other away. It wasn’t often that Driver felt this affectionate. More often than not, their dynamic consisted of small points of affection along the way or Driver giving in to Colt’s clinginess. But he felt a longing today.
“Flustered? No- I’m actually completely normal-”
“Yeah?” Driver hummed.
“Yeah, and I just- I missed you- that’s all,” Colt huffed, a playful smile betraying him.
“I was only a few hours away,” Drive thrummed against his throat, his hands placed on Colt’s waist.
“Yeah? And who hates phone calls?”
Driver let out a sigh, losing the energy for banter as he soaked in the familiar smell of the other. It was old leather mixed with sweat, firewood, and a faded musky cologne he couldn’t place. Sometimes he could pick up the faint remains of beer clinging to his jacket from celebratory nights with the rest of the crew. He was radiating like a furnace, and Driver was freezing from the late November air.
“You know…” Colt started, the trail of his voice giving Driver the hint that he might not like what he said next. “If you were tired of waiting out in the cold… I could always- give you a key?” He offered tentatively.
Driver pulled away, sobering up from the moment fast. His heart was racing, and he feared the closer he was to the other man, the better chance he could hear it.
“Maybe stay from time to time?”
Driver could see a painful, hopeful look in Colt’s eyes before he forced his gaze away, the stare too intense. His skin was suddenly crawling, the world around him closing in on his body.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he uttered, afraid to let any emotion seep into his voice. It was easier to mask whispers. He couldn’t bring himself to look back at Colt, knowing exactly what he would find. The same disappointment he very often did. It hollowed him out. I wish I could be what you need.
“It’s- it’s not moving in or anything, it just-”
“Colt,” Driver cut in, trying to stop him before he said too much, too sadly. He wasn’t strong enough to listen to it.
“You come over so often already-” he protested, trying to push on with brute force like he frequently did.
“You know my situation is complicated,” Driver argued, shrugging his shoulders like he could deflect the daggers being stared into him.
“Why? Why is it so complicated?” Colt’s tone shifted to one of more agitated hurt than usual, heightening their argument. An immediate exhaustion flew through Driver’s body as guilt punched him harder than any foe. They’d just gotten back from their respective jobs, he didn’t want to fight right now.
“I mean- we like each other, right?”
Driver shot a sideways glare at him, “Don’t do that.”
Colt forced air out of his nose in mock laughter, “Do what?”
“Act like this has anything to do with how I feel about you.” Driver’s jaw clenched in discomfort, every fiber of his being collecting into an intense need to bolt. He needed to evade the situation altogether.
“Then what is it?” Colt took a step back, the extra distance welcome to the other.
“I’ve already told you-”
“Bullshit!” Driver flinched at the sound of Colt’s voice rising. He’d never gotten so outwardly angry. “This isn’t to ‘keep me safe,’ it’s because you’re scared of it!” Driver couldn’t speak. It was like smoke was filling his throat, choking him out altogether. He tipped his head down, unsure of what to do. What options to pick in his head to mend the situation.
The incessant need to move manifested in his hands like it often did, clenching crescent moons into the palms of his gloves. His mind periodically started sentences, pleas, arguments, anything, and immediately discarded them when he couldn’t find the tone to place behind each one. He didn’t know what to say, and Colt was staring at him with a universe of hurt swirling in his ocean eyes. He wanted to take it away. How did he take it away?
“I don’t…”
Colt wiped his frown away with his hand, twisting to the side like he might find some hidden answer from that perspective. Instead, all he heard was the sound of his hand slapping back down against his thigh.
“You know what? I’m tired,” he sighed, his voice going back to a quiet sound. “I think you should just-” Driver wasn’t going to wait for him to finish what he was hesitating to say. Instead, he b-lined for the door stiffly. He may not understand all social situations, but he knew when the stray was no longer welcome. He knew when it was better to return to his winding streets in silence.
“I’m sorry,” he uttered at the door, pausing for only a second to make sure Colt heard his parting words. Then he dipped out into the night, a large weight settling onto his chest.
All month, he’d been looking forward to the day they’d both come “home,” and he’d ruined it. A part of him wanted to sink into the angry, bitter feeling that Colt had brought the topic up in the first place. Pushing Driver when he knew what was bound to happen. More of him felt ashamed that he couldn’t give him what he wanted. He couldn’t even call Colt his.
Not for any shame towards the other, Colt was perfect. He was kind, radiant, full of love and life. He’d never made Driver feel the need to shrink himself down. Never been cruel or dishonest.
The shame was towards himself. Deep-rooted like a seed planted before he was born, and grown out of control. Driver did not feel like he belonged among the human race. Like, people could truly accept him. Nor did he feel worthy of being among the soft sunlight in spring.
His head was a constant shifting puzzle, drifting along the same as his car. Bathed in old yellow. He was dangerous and dishonest. Broken and morbid. His life risked entanglements in Colt’s that could ruin him. Snuff him out.
And more than that, Driver felt like a wounded animal, unable to settle down. Forced to lap up its own blood and stagger on until it found its next patch of warmth to rest its eyes. Always moving forward. Moving on. He felt more capable of dying in a damp cave than stretching out across Colt’s couch, playing house.
Driver’s thoughts consumed him as he stepped down the driveway to his car, nearly missing the figure coming his way. He paused to take in their face wearily, finding Colt’s face staring back at him. No, not Colt- he had crooked glasses on a straighter nose and shorter hair. This was… his twin.
“Oh! Hi! I didn’t know my brother had company…?” Ryland laughed a bit awkwardly, his smile just as bright and consuming as Colt’s own.
Driver’s eyes widened a little. This was his twin brother, the twin that Colt never let anybody meet unless it was very serious, which had only been one time before now. Given their last exchange, this was certainly not the optimal time to meet him.
“I was just leaving,” he pushed out, his throat squeezing around the words. He tried to walk past Ryland, hoping maybe they could forget it, but he was stopped by his voice.
“Wait! You’re… sorry if this is blunt, but- you’re the guy he’s been talking about, aren’t you?”
Driver cursed internally, stopping in his tracks, “Maybe?” He knew he was. Colt didn’t have eyes for anyone else, even with how stubborn Driver was. Despite the main star in most of his films clearly having eyes for him- he just wasn’t capable of it. Driver didn’t want to think about Ryder. The guy made slimy anger writhe deep in his gut.
“It’s so nice to meet you then!” Ryland beamed, the sight making Driver a little sick. No, it’s not.
“I- really have to go,” he gestured towards his car awkwardly, “best not to tell Colt we ran into each other.” He ignored the twin’s confused look and quickly dragged his feet down the pavement walkway, thankful to hear silence consume him again from inside his car.
“Shit,” he hissed, resting his forehead on the steering wheel. Just as his fingers twitched towards the ignition, a rap came at the passenger window, making him jolt in his seat, eyes snapping open. Turning to the side, he could see Ryland peering in at him with a sloppy sheepish smile. Driver’s stomach churned, looking away as the glass rolled down into the door.
“I get it if you’re busy, but- well, Colt mentioned you both just wrapped filming and well- I’d really like it if you joined us for dinner?” Jesus Christ, he had the same hopeful doe-eyed look as his brother. The look he’d been trying to avoid.
“I don’t think that’s the best idea-” Driver started to protest, but Ryland cut him off with exasperation.
“I know Colt acts like I’m some hidden treasure he can’t introduce to people or whatever- I don’t know, maybe he thinks I’m fragile- but we’re already here.” He threw his arms open wide as he spoke, hands still tucked into the pockets of his cardigan. “It’s better than acting like a runaway hook up and- well, I hope you’re not- the way he talks about you tells me you’re more important than that.”
Driver exhaled through his nose, furiously tapping his index against the steering wheel while staring out the windshield. He hoped the burning in his face was only a sensation and not visible.
“Okay,” he forced out, fighting against his squirming insides. Were they more than that? They hadn’t labelled it. Obviously, he cared about Colt. More than he’d like to admit. God- the man had consumed him somehow. He could barely work on the same set as the other, losing his cold and reserved demeanor. Instead, he was constantly fighting schoolgirl smiles, feeling like an idiot. Tripping over himself.
Obviously, Colt felt the same with the nature of their last argument, but it was bigger than that. Bigger than them. Getting in closer felt like sticking his head into a bear trap, praying his own breath didn’t set it off. He wasn’t sure he was capable of settling and relaxing, and he knew he couldn’t be what Colt needed.
It killed him. Ryland was standing in the freezing night next to his car with a wide smile and unheard sentiments on his lips, and Driver was dying. He felt the familiar dark mass in his stomach wind tighter. He was posion.
Driver curled his fist around his keys, sucking in what felt like a last breath. His chest was practically vibrating from the anxiety, but he climbed out of his car regardless. What the fuck was he doing? This was such a bad idea.
He really wasn’t sure what was worse. Taking Colt off guard by coming back inside with his oblivious brother, or letting Colt hear all about their tense first meet later, knowing Driver had done what he always did. Run away. Fuck.
Ryland looked giddy, though, and he supposed he could hope that would take away from the heat of Colt’s anger. Driver placed himself somewhat behind the twin, like a shield, staring at the two foxes on the back of his sweater.
“I’m Driver by the way,” he mumbled uneasily before he had the chance to knock on Colt’s door. “Or- that’s what people call me,” he corrected. He really hoped the man didn’t pry beyond that because he did not feel like having that conversation today.
“Hm, like Adam Driver. I dig it,” Ryland hummed in response, raising his fist against the dark wood. A small amount of relief surged through him, promptly chased by the anxiety of the situation.
Colt answered the door swiftly; he’d likely been pacing in the living room since Driver “left”. His gaze landed on Ryland first with soft surprise, then his with confusion.
“Hey- what… are you?”
“I’ve invited Driver over for dinner,” Ryland put simply, pushing his way past his brother inside. Driver stood on the doorstep, shuffling his feet awkwardly.
“You…”
“It was an accident.” His gaze briefly flicked up to Colt’s, trying to convey his sincerity for a moment. “And he got excited.”
Colt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. His silhouette, illuminated by the orange glow inside, reignited a burn in Driver’s chest. He remembered the longing he’d felt all month. The need to be closer. He already missed the warmth contained in Colt’s personal atmosphere like he’d been shot off into the cold, cold depths of space.
Driver swallowed, “I… I know you didn’t want this, but- I want to-” he looked over the brick walls that made up the entrance of his house, remembering all the times he’d collapsed against them like a lifeline, knowing his saving grace was behind the door. Colton Grace.
“I want to be real with you.” His lips tightened, stealing a glance at the other man to see if it would be fury or fondness that he’d find. Instead, Colt looked just as conflicted as he was.
“I’m ordering pizza! We both know neither of us can cook!” Ryland called from deeper in the house somewhere. Driver stifled a laugh through his nose. That was true; he did most of the cooking when he spent the night uninjured.
“It’s cold,” Colt breathed, stepping to the side like an invitation. Driver wasn’t sure, his hands fidgeting in his jacket pockets. Colt gave a jerk of his head towards the house, a more obvious tell. Driver let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and cautiously walked himself back inside.
Ryland was already sitting at the kitchen bar, phone in hand and a Twizzler hanging from his mouth. Colt had mentioned once that he kept a tub of them stored in his pantry just for when his brother came to visit, despite hating them himself. Ryland was more of a hard sweet candy kind of guy, possibly picked up from being a teacher. Colt was more of a chocolate one.
“So,” Ryland exhaled past his candy, “what’s your story?” Colt was pouring glasses of water from a Brita, a gift he’d gotten from some random set. Driver was actually amused to see him using it.
“There is no story-”
“We met during stunt work-” The two overlapped, Colt for once being the one trying to shut a conversation down. Driver shot him a weary glance, his mouth running dry. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to speak.
Colt sighed, “Well, yeah, we met during stunt work, which you already know because-”
“Because you wouldn’t shut up about him for years?” Ryland chimed in over him with an evil smirk.
Both Colt and Driver’s faces turned red, ducking their heads in embarrassment. Colt had always been obvious about his interest in Driver. That wasn’t hard to figure out, but it still didn’t take away the small explosions in his stomach he felt when hearing it confirmed. Because Colt wasn’t annoyingly curious at a surface level, he’d peeled back layers, maybe more than Driver would’ve liked. He saw the uncomfortable things; he saw the real things. And he stayed.
Would he continue to stay? If he knew everything? If he had a detailed map that laid out Driver’s entire life and every action he’d taken, good or bad, would he stay? Would he be capable of accepting it all? Would he be immune to the inevitable resentment when all the bad things started to creep into the furthest corners of his life? What if it infected Ryland? Or his career?
Driver was spiraling in the corner he’d found himself standing in, unsure if he should stand closer to Colt, who currently wasn’t his biggest fan, or sit next to Ryland, whom he didn’t know. He opted for here, out of the way. Alone.
“I- was-” Colt stammered, looking over at Driver, “He was mysterious! I was- curious! Is- is that a crime?”
Ryland let out a small laugh, “Sure. Heard it a thousand times. What about you, Driver?”
“Oh, uh-” Their story wasn’t exactly a flattering one to retell. It wasn’t some “he picked me up from a failed stunt” or “he saved my cat from a tree”. He could not share the accidental stalking, the various wound care, or their first drive. How they weren’t anything labeled because Driver was a coward. He had nothing admirable to share. Guilt crawled up his rib cage like a ladder, eating at his insides.
“He drove me home from the hospital,” Colt cut in, saving him from drowning in his own words. “And we- hit it off, I guess.” There was a stiffness to his voice. It was painful to hear. Colt was being polite, but he wasn’t happy. He wasn’t happy with him.
“Honestly- I’ve liked your brother since the first day I saw him on set.” He blurted out impulsively. He’d never admitted that out loud before. He didn’t wear his feelings on his sleeve like that, but honesty felt important at the moment. Maybe it could make Colt see something more than the mess he was currently observing.
Both twins seemed to soften, and when Driver looked up at them, he shifted his weight uncomfortably.
“He uh- he was kind.” It came out with an awkward choking sound. All Driver wanted to do was sink into the floor and let the Earth swallow him whole. He’d fantasized about it a lot, actually. Being buried in cold dirt. No sounds. No people. Just peaceful rest. He didn’t want to die. Just- disappear from perception and expectation. Especially at times like these, where socializing felt like having a hot branding iron pressed against his throat.
Ryland’s gaze skipped over to Colt’s, but he could tell Colt was still watching only him. If he could crawl into his mind and hold his thoughts in his palms just to observe them once, he would. At least, he wanted to. Maybe he’d be too afraid. He often was.
“Yeah- well,” Colt coughed, “When’s the pizza getting here?” His voice dissolved into a reserved grumble. Distant. Driver felt his chest pull closer. Reaching out in an invisible manner.
In a strange way, he’d started to see a solar system winding out in front of him. Ryland was the Earth, the prized celestial body. Driver was a nothing planet, harboring no life or wonder. Unworthy of circling the sun’s warmth and doing so anyway. Colt, of course, was their center mass.
The twins dissolved into some kind of back-and-forth. By the sound of it, it was pointless, and at the same time, it made Driver long for something he was missing. A deep-rooted connection. Familial. Something that went beyond conditions and stipulations. You were just…there, and you could talk about anything, no matter how pointless and stupid.
Driver didn’t have a family, and he didn’t belong to this one. But he could. If he was willing to roll over and expose the most vulnerable parts of himself, then maybe- He cut his thoughts off and began to sour. He did not belong here, and sooner or later, he would be reminded that he was unwelcome.
Suddenly, a warm shoulder was brushing up against him, the sensation making Driver flinch. His gaze snapped over to Colt standing next to him. Ryland was in the dining room setting up plates.
“I can hear you thinking,” he hummed, keeping his voice low. It was enough to give them a speck of privacy in the open floor plan.
Driver’s jaw clenched, he couldn’t speak. He wanted to. He wanted to say all the right things to make Colt forgive him. Make this tension ease away between them. To turn the dial on his touch back to a welcoming warmth rather than a scorching fire. But he couldn’t.
Colt exhaled in a deflating manner, “I had Ry get a Hawaiian just for you.” He was scrounging for scraps of conversation. Driver knew this dance all too well. Colt didn’t get silent and abrasive when tangled in his thoughts; he got louder and more insistent. The man could ramble about absolutely nothing for hours just to fill the silence.
“You didn’t have to,” was all Driver managed back. It was a small reminder of the things the other remembered about him. It was easy to forget their relationship didn’t just consist of Driver absorbing every detail he could about Colt while sitting in the shadows. Colt was equally curious, working like a detective to extract morsels of information. And he clung to them like they were the most valuable details in the world. It was ridiculous. Driver wasn’t interesting. Not in a fun way, at least.
“I wish you’d talk to me,” Colt said suddenly, his voice extra quiet just in case. Driver’s body went stiff.
“I am-”
“You know what I mean.” The firmness in his tone made Driver bite his own tongue.
“I…” Both of them were watching Ryland, who didn’t seem to notice. He was trying to set the table nicely, which seemed unnecessary for crappy pizza, but regardless, he was fretting about the details. Driver actually couldn’t tell if he really cared about the napkins being folded nicely or if he’d just gotten sidetracked. “I don’t know how.”
A static charged silence sat between them. The kind of quiet you could feel.
“There’s so much inside your head that I don’t understand,” Colt murmured. There was an audible sadness to his pitch. Driver’s brows pinched together. He was utterly exhausted from being the source of so many sad tones and uncomfortable conversations. He just wanted to find a place molded for him. Somewhere he fit.
“Neither do I,” he shrugged. He felt Colt’s gaze turn over towards him, and for the first time in a while, he had the courage to look back. Even if it stung. Because his eyes were like a great big storm. They were deep and swirling with a million things unsaid, even for the more talkative of the two. Desire shot across his gaze like bolts of lightning, illuminating the clouds of doubt for just a moment. Driver felt his breath catch.
“You-” don’t know how badly I want to. The doorbell rang before he could finish his sentence. Colt pulled away, moving to answer what was most likely their dinner. Driver mourned the loss. He felt like he could breathe better at this distance, but a part of him didn’t want to. He wanted to drown in the tidal waves of his- oh.
“I have cash!” Ryland called out, running from the table to the door. Colt waved a hand behind him, trying to shoo his brother away.
“You’re on a teacher's salary, let me cover it.”
Ryland just frowned, “Okay, Hollywood man.”
Colt offered a polite exchange to the delivery driver, who looked like they’d rather be anywhere else, and no one could blame them. They looked about seventeen years old and on their third day without sleep.
“Have a good night!” Both twins called out while Colt shut the door.
Ryland practically chased his brother back to the table, wiggling his fingers towards the boxes. Driver hung back cautiously, and before the twin could grab a slice from Colt, his phone went off, earning a loud grumble of exasperation.
“Colt, did you give Ryder my number?” His mood instantly switched to disgruntled and agitated. Colt was holding back laughter.
“What- no?” A smile was betraying him as Ryland rubbed his face under his glasses aggressively.
“You asshole,” he muttered, tapping into his phone. Colt dissolved into laughter, setting a few slices on what was decidedly his twin’s plate while his hands were occupied. “He won’t leave me alone now!”
Driver was caught in a riptide somewhere between laughing along with him and letting anger turn him rigid. He really hated Ryder.
“Thought you didn’t swear?”
“You’re the exception.” Ryland shot a death glare at his brother. “You know he’s only sending this crap because he’s still butthurt that you dumped him.” He turned the screen towards Colt, who winced and looked away.
“Oh my God, it was a fling! It ended like- the second I got him a deal with Gail!”
“Clearly not for him!”
“No no, he’s moved onto the Ryland train,” Colt teased.
“Gross. Don’t- don’t say that I think I’ll be sick.” Rland made a face, tapping at his screen.
“What? You don’t want to smell ‘Stone’ on your pillows every night?” He mused, tipping his head to the side.
Ryland mockingly gagged, “Absolutely not!”
Driver’s gaze flicked between the two of them rapidly, and suddenly he felt a very strong urge to commit himself to this man. To be as public as he possibly could. To call Colt his.
He wanted to let Colt wrap his arms around him on set, as much as it would suffocate him. Just to see the smug look permanently etched onto Tom Ryder’s face fall for once. He wanted to leave dark bruises down Colt’s neck that the makeup crew would angrily cover up so that everyone knew what happened behind closed doors. So that everyone knew they couldn’t have him.
His stomach churned and twisted painfully. The sensation knocked him off balance. He’d never felt like this before. He’d let his obsessive curiosity wander a bit too far, but he hadn’t felt this. A burning, gnawing need to keep something for himself.
“You know it’s your fault, you’re so polite-”
“If he starts being a jerk, let me know,” Driver cut in, his own voice surprising him. From the way the twins turned to him, they seemed just as surprised that he’d spoken.
“Ryder’s always a jerk,” Colt tittered, moving to take his seat at the table. He pushed the other box in Driver’s direction, silently motioning him to join them.
He did, and he soaked in every exchange the brothers had besides him. It felt comfortable sitting in their presence, letting their chatter not only drown out the static fuzz inside his head but allow him to disappear with it. To observe. He preferred living that way. It’s why he figured he worked so well with Colt despite not ever wanting to admit it. Not letting himself think about it.
Because if he wasn’t careful, he could really fall in love with him. And that was a terrifying thought. Driver set his chin into one of his hands, slowly raising a slice of Hawaiian pizza with the other. He hadn’t given thought to even being capable of something like that before. But he felt like he was balancing on a dangerous edge these days.
And that’s why he couldn’t take the key. Why he refused to commit. Because he knew deep down that he would destroy this, like all good things. Somehow, someway, it was inevitable. And he couldn’t fall in love with an inevitable.
Colt’s warm gaze slid over to Driver a few times. Mostly when he’d go to laugh at something Ryland said, as if he was looking for confirmation from the other. Maybe instinctively checking if they shared their joy. Driver noticed he’d start with a broad, regular smile before turning over to him, where it would sort of drop and soften into a very different one. Smaller, but no less genuine. If anything, it was like a secret exchange between the two.
The night was sickeningly sweet. All three of them ate pizza until they felt sick, and over time, Driver got better at contributing a thing or two. Both twins seemed to smile wider each time. It made him sore seeing such a domestic side of Colt. He’d tried to forbid himself from thinking about it. At least in the context of them- because they were far from it. But the way he poked and teased his brother with some kind of softness and then shot looks over to Driver made his heart squeeze.
Driver found himself smiling into his folded arms, leaning forward onto the table with discarded boxes shoved to the side. He didn’t fight it like usual; he didn’t feel capable. It was something so pure, filling up all the hollow spaces that he couldn’t suppress the buzzing. His only release was softening under one simple gaze. The only one he wanted to be trapped in.
Eventually, Ryland checked the time and had to jump up, rushing out that he had class in the morning and needed to sleep. It was well past a teacher's bedtime after all. Colt and Driver followed him to the door, all three passing along sincere “goodbyes” and “thank yous.” Pleasantries that didn’t feel so fake and forced like Driver was used to. He’d always hated them. But not this. Because when Ryland repeated that it was nice to meet him, it didn’t feel like such a lie. And he copied the sentiment.
When the door closed and the sight of the bright twin disappeared, it became deafeningly quiet. Driver’s blood was rushing in his ears, which he was sure was the same for Colt, who was staring at him now, completely at a loss. Driver’s hands flexed at his sides, holding his gaze up forcefully to meet Colt’s. Because it was rare that he didn’t immediately look away, and he’d savor that courage.
“So,” Colt breathed, quietly like he was afraid to speak louder and shatter the familiarity around them. Familiar silence. Now was when Driver began feeling heat crawl up the back of his neck, tingling and burning. He fought not to scratch at the sensation in his skin.
Ryland was like a gracious buffer, distracting them both from the things beyond their surfaces. Because on the surface, they were staring at each other with a painful amount of longing, and if you simply indulge in that alone, it was a typical romance. But beyond that, there were a million more things left unsaid. Untouched. And without Ryland, those things swelled and swirled up in Driver’s chest, knocking the breath out of him.
He felt his body tremble, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. He didn’t know where to go. Did he step closer, did he run? Did he replay their pitiful goodbye from hours ago and commit to it this time, accepting that the bliss over dinner was just a fantasy? Or did he unravel right here and let Colt see the messy things?
Would Colt still like the messy things? The imperfect ugly ones. Ones you couldn’t spin into a romantic lighting if you tried. Driver was spinning. No, the world was spinning, and Driver was anchored still in a way that made him nauseous.
“Hey…” Colt spoke again, noticing something pass over between them like a haze. He reached forward, but Driver stepped back. Afraid. He was always so damn afraid. If Colt touched him now, surely it would burn. God Driver hated touch; he always had. Half the point of his regular gloves and long sleeves was to avoid any accidental contact.
He blinked an uncontrollable pattern as his breath hitched, eyeing Colt like he’d become cornered prey. It was different with him. Driver wanted to be burned sometimes. He wanted to light himself ablaze and die blissfully pressed against the other. But he was already melting down from the inside out, and anything more might send him truly over the edge.
“Driver?”
He couldn’t breathe, the fire inside him sending up smoke signals that choke him out. He couldn’t think or see, and the kitchen lights had become absolutely blinding. Piercing into his skull with an immediate headache.
Colt seemed to observe their surroundings like an expert before his voice came out as a gentle coax, “Maybe let’s go to my room for a second? It’s dark in there.” Driver knew his room was also smaller, the lack of open space and random litter comforting. He liked putting big feelings of panic in small rooms.
Without a response, he followed a very familiar path down the hall, hooking right into Colt’s bedroom that was currently pitch black aside from a sliver of silver moonlight. Colt trailed behind him, moving carefully. Driver felt all his conscious thoughts fissile out and sever the line to his vocal cords, the rest of his body buzzing at an unbearable level. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaving only his hands in the pool of light. They were fidgeting aggressively in his lap.
Colt sat on the floor away from him, giving him ample space to move and settle however he needed. He watched his hands more than his eyes, the sound of Driver’s ragged breathing being the only thing to fill the room.
‘Want. Squeeze.’ Driver’s hands made out sloppy ASL, just what he could remember. It was useful when he couldn’t communicate otherwise.
“Squeeze? Like pressure?” Colt questioned, his voice never losing a gentle touch.
Driver nodded, ‘No touch’.
Colt pursed his lips, thinking for a moment before his face lit up, “Oh!” He scrambled up from the floor but made sure to keep his movements slow and predictable enough. “You might think this is stupid, but it was Ryland’s favorite thing growing up. I don’t know how I ended up with it.” He moved towards the closet, reaching up into the furthest darkness to pull something out. Driver didn’t bother watching him; his gaze fixated on his lap as he felt himself exploding internally.
“Here,” he set a large dog plushie on the bed next to him, the sound of thick beads or rice clunking together as it settled. It looked like a worn-out golden retriever, paled by years in the sunlight. Driver picked it up, feeling a surprising amount of weight sink into his hands. Trying not to think too hard, he laid his back down against the mattress and pulled the dog over his chest, letting the weight settle there as he exhaled.
‘Thank you.’
Colt didn’t need to reply. He let them sit in silence for as long as it would take for the other to regulate, only moving to help if prompted. At another time, Driver would be embarrassed. Right now, he focused on running his hand up and down the stuffed animal's fur. It was nice to know this wasn’t something foreign to the other, at least. That he’d experienced plenty of nights similar to this with his brother. It helped curve some of the shame.
‘Want water?’ Colt signed when he noticed Driver finally look his way after a very long time of nothing. His sign was about as good as the others, slippy and crude, but enough to get the point across without useless sounds. Driver balled his fist into the sign for “yes” and turned his head back towards the ceiling.
When Colt quietly left the room, Driver felt something rattle around inside his chest. Tonight had been a good night. Despite their argument and the hiccups, he’d felt comfortable- genuinely comfortable- for maybe the first time in his life. He felt understood and accepted somewhere, even if he wasn’t meant to belong here. Like it wasn’t a crime for him to just be alive and exist for once.
Colt’s patience and understanding was unending. He’d accepted Driver back into his home after their fight, let the tension melt away to enjoy their night, and stayed and decided to support him when it was all over. When Driver turned up, spilling blood all over his very nice doorstep, he didn’t hesitate for a second to take him in his arms and let him stain his bathroom too. He handled him with a gentleness he wasn’t used to and never turned against him.
He could’ve called the police. He could’ve sent Driver away. He could’ve told him to stop showing up for help, or ran away from him when he found out how Driver knew so much about him. Instead, he chased him. He tried to get closer, constantly. He worried and begged and danced circles around himself like an idiot, pleading for his attention to stay.
Colt wasn’t just an inevitable, he was an unconditional, and Driver started to wonder if that could balance out. Suddenly, his chest hurt, and he felt wetness sliding down his face. Oh God- He hadn’t cried in years. Not in a way that wasn’t a frustrated meltdown at least. Not like this.
This was deep; it ached. It struck him completely to his core. Fuck. He lifted his arm up and over his face, trying to hide the rapidly developing tears. His breath went wild again, fighting to stay contained and not let sobs escape. He wanted this so bad.
He’d never wanted anything more. He didn’t deserve it. He hadn’t done a single good thing to earn this; he hadn’t even fought for it. But he felt like he was dying without it.
There were three things Driver had become very sure of. That he’d already gotten too close, that he hated himself, and that he burned. It felt like a car crash; he knew what was coming, and he couldn’t force himself to look away. Not when he was driving the car.
Colt returned with a glass in hand, immediately noticing that the other had lost his short-lived calmness. He was letting out pathetically pained breaths, his chest heaving with each silent cry.
“Hey,” he cooed in concern, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. “What’s-” Driver heard the glass hit the bedside table carefully, and he felt Colt’s hands begin to hover by his body with uncertainty. Without thinking, he rolled over onto his side, curling himself closer to him.
“Driver,” he half-whispered with worry, letting one of his hands fall against his head. He gently stroked Driver’s hair, carding his fingers through section by section.
Driver felt cold. He felt like all his insides were frozen solid and being forced to slowly thaw back out in an excruciating sensation. His hands stayed by his face, hiding himself away while the rest of his body shook. He couldn’t live without this. It didn’t matter anymore if he wanted to not want it. If he thought he was selfish or afraid. He was fucking terrified. It was enough to want.
He reached one hand away from his face towards Colt’s free one, carefully grabbing it and tapping twice with his index. Colt opened his palm up to him like he understood perfectly, letting Driver slot their fingers together. From there, Driver would squeeze periodically, using the movement and the feeling of Colt’s flesh against his own to assure him.
Colt muttered sweet nothings down to him while he slowly collected himself piece by piece, letting the flood pass by. Enough that he could eventually pull himself up and lean his upper body into Colt’s chest and shoulder. Their hands never let go, and the hand in Driver’s hair slid back to cradle his head. He kept his eyes closed, taking in Colt’s overwhelming smell as he collected shaky breaths there.
The other man’s warmth worked to thaw him out faster, rushing past the pain. He pressed a kiss into Driver’s temple, rubbing his thumb across the base of his skull. Driver’s body relaxed against him, and the care of his touch almost made him cry more.
He choked down one big, deep breath, trying to lift his head somewhat to maybe explain himself. Or say anything. It had been almost an hour of saying nothing now. When he did, Colt slipped his hand down to the base of his chin.
He tenderly guided him to his gaze, looking at him with unbearably loving eyes. Driver couldn’t help himself from closing the gap. Their lips collided with a tenderness, having just enough friction to shoot off sparks into their mouths. He felt a few spare tears slide down his cheeks, becoming trapped against Colt’s own from the closeness. It wasn’t a lustful kiss, nor a long one, but he swore he felt something inside their souls merging. Swirling around each other before fusing like he could never get away.
Driver was the first to break them apart, “I think I’m falling for you,” he admitted into Colt’s parted lips, opening his eyes as he pulled back a little more. He was shaking with each breath, trying to read his gaze. Colt pulled his other hand up to Driver, holding his face between the two now.
“You mean that?” He breathed.
Driver’s eyes paced back and forth between Colt’s, “I want the key.” He balled up the sides of the other man’s shirt around his waist into his fists. Colt’s breath caught in his throat, and before either of them could think or process, he was pulling Driver back into a deep kiss.
“If you’ll still have me,” Driver mumbled through the contact.
“Of course I will,” Colt exhaled almost desperately against him. It ignited a fire in Driver’s gut that cleared away any remaining ice.
Colt pushed himself closer to Driver, his hold on his face becoming more intense as he fought for more. Driver used the fabric of his shirt already in his fists to pull him in, letting himself fall backwards. Without any need to coordinate with each other, Colt carefully placed himself over top of him, pressing Driver’s spine deeper into his mattress.
Underneath Colt, he could remember all the things his mind had wandered to while away. All the times he’d longed to be here again. In the darkness of this room, pinned down by someone so beautiful. On cue to his thoughts, Driver began to tug Colt’s shirt up, no longer needing it for leverage.
He obeyed, reeling back to strip off the dark fabric. Driver’s eyes traced every inch of him that he could see, highlighted in pale silver. He had never seen someone quite like Colt before. Someone so… he reached a hand forward, his fingers trailing down his chest. The other man’s lips twitched into a shy smile. He always did lose the confident act when it came to him.
As if Driver were magic in some way. Or just something so special it made Colt break down. Whatever it was, Driver wanted to spend the rest of his life looking at it. He pushed himself up with his elbows to fit their mouths back together, the warmth from Colt melting him.
He’d been cold longer than he’d realized. Shivering scraps of machinery crudely stuck together with glue and scotch tape. And now he was burning alive, fighting to get a grip on his jacket zipper. Colt’s lips tentatively trailed down Driver’s jaw, seeking out his drumming pulse. He helped nudge apart his jacket that had begun to feel like something of a trap, hands sliding up Driver’s sides over his thin shirt.
Driver leaned into his touch, something he wasn’t ever used to doing, but something that came so naturally with the other man. He was constantly twisting and angling himself for more when they were together. Fantasizing about it when they were apart. He’d never gotten enough of Colt’s skin against his own, even when most touch made him sick. They had never been entangled long enough, and he was certain that even if they did- even if he gave it all up right now- that it still wouldn’t be enough. It would never be enough.
It wasn’t easily explained the way Driver turned into a starving animal when given just one taste or touch. Hell, he’d been starving since he first locked his eyes on Colt from across a busy set. But it only ever got worse. More persistent and more violent. Until he couldn’t stop it or hide it away if he wanted to.
But when Colt was so kindly giving in on top of him and searching for scar tissue he’d personally mended himself, Driver didn’t want to hide it. If wanting loud enough made Colt touch him like this, then he’d use his voice for once and beg. Driver lost all the strength to hold himself up any longer as Colt’s calloused palms swiped across his stomach, instead wrapping around his neck to pull him down with him.
Colt didn’t protest; instead, he gave in with a soft-sounding moan against Driver’s mouth that made his skull buzz. He switched back and forth from nipping at the sensitive spots along Driver’s neck and kissing down the small gasps he let out in response. Driver’s reaction was to curl his fingers into Colt’s belt loops, pulling his hips in closer to his own.
He was tired of holding back. Completely worn thin. He’d spent so long mentally berating himself and shoving himself into crammed boxes to keep his sick away from the other. He was ready to give up. Not just for the exhaustion, Driver was a man of endurance through pain and error. He was ready to give it up for the hope that Colt had buried somewhere inside him.
He couldn’t find it and claw it out. He didn’t even want to try. All he craved was to be here, below the other, feeding the friction between them. Swallowing any sound Colt gave him. He wanted to free them of their binds and let himself get devoured. He wanted to lose himself.
He’d pictured a night like this so many times over and over, and every time it was a more confident man lying here. One without damp lashes and burning cheeks. A night where he’d finally let go of the cage he’d been holding up around himself and take Colt in full.
He’d always been too afraid. He knew the second they merged like this that he would fall into the horrifying depths of love, but he was already too far gone now. He shoved his nose somewhere close to Colt’s ear as he felt a bit of flesh around his collar getting sucked into a bruise.
“Please- will you?” He wasn’t sure how to say it. If it was too much to ask. Colt’s mouth detached from his skin, causing him to grieve the sensation. Driver was gripping his belt buckle now, uncontrollably rolling his hips into Colt’s just slightly at the loss of contact.
He knew he looked a mess, similar to what the other man had looked like in his car after the hospital. At another time, he might care. All he was right now was greedy and wanting. Hungry.
Colt was staring at him in the dim light with something unreadable, his hands slowly pushing away the remaining fabric covering Driver’s upper body. Driver swallowed roughly in response, giving a small tug on Colt’s buckle. As if following a command, Colt pulsed himself up, slowly reaching towards his belt to work it apart and out of each loop. He discarded the strip of leather, which Driver might mourn later, carefully lowering himself back over top of him.
“Are you…?”
“I want you.” Driver had never been so sure of something outside of cars. His voice was hoarse but quiet all the same, surprising himself with the sound of desperation. He was allowing himself to want for once in his life. Even if he’d feel ashamed of it, all he could focus on was Colt. His hands, his lips, his hips. How much skin he could look at, he could touch.
The sounds he made when Driver moved right or placed too much focus on him, as if just his gaze made him sensitive. What he was going to feel like inside of him. It was driving him crazy. His mind was going into a frenzy, fizzling like faulty wiring.
Colt was a giver, that much he knew. And what Driver wanted, he’d give. It was no wonder Driver’s body shuddered as Colt stroked his hair with one hand and undid his belt with the other. He was bulging in his pants, desperate for escape. Desperate for Colt to get his hands on him.
He bucked his hips in an assisting motion as Colt began to strip away his final layers, the exposure feeling foreign. Driver hardly felt familiar with his own body, let alone letting someone else see it. This was the first time he was letting Colt see all of him all at once, and he was overwhelmed by the look of pure admiration in the other man’s eyes.
Colt slowed down, leaning in to kiss across the opposite cheek of his palm, “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured with pure affection in his voice. Rich and deep.
Driver slid his hand across the sheets underneath him, letting the fabric sensation keep him grounded. Before he knew it, Colt’s face was disappearing from his line of sight, dipping down between his legs. Driver held his breath.
He felt Colt’s tongue carefully run its way from his base up to the tip, where he paused, “Is this okay?”
Drive could only grip the sheets and swallow. Afraid to make a sound. He brought a hand to Colt’s head and tapped twice in approval. He swore he could almost feel him smile before he began working Driver into his mouth. His fingers curled in Colt’s hair, earning a pleasant sound that vibrated down his shaft.
Driver’s breath hitched and sputtered like a bad engine, struggling to control himself. Colt had touched him before, but not with so much emotion between them. Not like this. He felt cut open from sternum down, everything peeled back to expose what he was in full. And Colt was here, taking him as he was.
He let out a gasp, carrying a small sound from his chest as Colt’s tongue expertly swirled around him. His hand flew from its grip in the linen to slap over his mouth, cheeks flushing deep scarlet.
“S’not fair,” Driver strained into his own palm, “take your pants off.” He wished he could’ve said it with more of a steely demand, but he was struggling just not to sound utterly pathetic.
Colt pulled his mouth off of him with a satisfying pop sound, moving to kiss up Driver’s V-line and stomach.
“As you wish,” he hummed against his skin.
Driver buried his face into his hand the best he could, peering through his fingers to watch as Colt slid out of his torn jeans. He’d always admired how the other man’s skin seemed to absorb sunlight and turn a golden color, especially after long summers spent on outdoor sets. Driver was as pale as could be aside from the flush covering his skin at the moment.
Colt leaned back in to kiss the crook of his neck, his warmth pressing against Driver’s inner thigh, “Just let me take care of you tonight.” Driver squirmed against him slightly, almost going to protest before Colt caught him. “Please. I want you to relax.”
Something in his words sank into Driver’s bones, settling like a weight through his entire body. He was safe. Cutting through the chaos and the violence of his life was a moment in a warm bed with Colt Seavers-Grace, where his body could untense. He didn’t have to hold himself on edge waiting for a shoe to drop.
Driver turned his gaze to the wall, listening to the sound of a bottle cap popping in the distance. Colt coaxed his legs open wider, murmuring a million assuring things to him quietly. All he wanted to tell him was to hurry up. That he couldn’t take this softness and security. Instead, he bit his tongue as a rough hand thinly coated in lubricant curled around him.
While Colt was gently stroking him, he felt a slick finger slide its way inside. The sensation sent electrical shivers down his body, making him grip the pillow by his head with a controlled exhale.
“Still doing okay?”
“I’m not fragile,” Driver breathed forcefully, trying to conceal himself. His gut was burning with a need for more. The need for him to just- move.
“Of course you’re not.” He felt Colt’s voice against his throat again as he kissed him sweetly while working him open. “You’re doing so good.”
Driver might’ve died on the spot. He didn’t know how good praise could sound coming from the other, but it was quickly becoming his undoing.
Colt seemed to take notice, “So good.”
When it felt appropriate, he slid in another finger, the feeling curling towards Driver’s stomach. A pleasurable hiss teetered out of him. He’d be good for Colt- God, he’d be good. He’d serve him. He’d sit patiently at the end of his bed until he was called for as long as Colt would have him. Forever if he could.
Driver didn’t believe in God, but in a dark bedroom staring at scattered moonlight across the wall, he found himself praying this would last. A pathetic, tiny sound escaped him as he felt Colt’s third finger, desperation growing and spreading like a wildfire. His hand searched for any part of the other man to grab onto, trying to find the courage in six letters.
“Please.”
Colt made a sound akin to a breathy laugh over him, “I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was so much deeper now than normal. Rumbling in his chest. It drove him insane.
“I’ve bled out from stab wounds on your floor- fuck me.”
He felt both of Colt’s hands falter, and if he didn’t know better, he would worry that he’d said something wrong. But he could tell by the catch in his breath that it was the opposite. Colt wasn’t hard to undo. He’d seen him filled with ten times the desperation plenty of nights before. But it must’ve been a sight to see it reversed.
Driver almost yelped when he felt Colt pull out of him, the warm contact against his cock vanishing with it. Colt pushed himself up, grabbing the bottle of lube once more to pour some into his palm. He made sure to hold eye contact while he began to run his hand up and down his own length, thoroughly coating it with heavy breaths. Driver’s heart jumped into his throat, pounding there like it was looking for escape.
“Come here,” Colt rasped, leaning back in. He held onto one of Driver’s legs with one hand, himself with the other. Their lips connected in a deep kiss, exhaling against each other through their noses. Driver’s arms wrapped around Colt’s neck and shoulders.
He pushed into him slowly, a gasp equal parts pain and pleasure flying out of Driver’s mouth with no control. He pressed dotted white marks into Colt’s shoulder with his fingers, frantically searching for his lips, only to fall away with another sharp inhale. He could tell the other man was barely containing himself, moving at an agonizing pace until he was used to the new size inside of him.
Their breathing became practically synched pants, Colt’s body responding every time Driver shivered. A low whine rewarded Colt as he finally bottomed out, his chest rumbling in tune.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he huffed, pressing his forehead against Driver’s, their sweat beading together. “So perfect.” Driver arched his body as he pulled out halfway, sliding back forward in a slow rocking motion. He’d be good.
His arms moved to hold onto Colt’s back, finding more stability there where his fingers could stretch across his shoulder blades as he thrusted into him. Colt’s hand cupped the top of his head, creating a barrier between his skull and the wooden headboard. He sounded about the same as he always did, hot and heavy breathing mixed with unfiltered deep moans bubbling out of his throat. Softly cursing Driver’s name over and over again as he chased euphoria.
He made no attempts to mask his pleasure. He wasn’t ashamed to be messy and needy. He had never been. Not with him. With Driver, Colt would let the whole world hear his pinched desperation.
It was, however, the first time Driver was letting himself loose. Feeding into Colt with small wines and noises of his own while biting into his bottom lip so hard he tasted iron. Their skin pressed together was hot. So so hot. He was lightheaded in a way that almost felt like getting drunk, which Driver wasn’t the type of man to be.
Please. Please. Please. His mind begged in silence over each small thrust. He couldn’t cut through the fog of pleasure, his skin crawling in a strangely satisfying manner to every movement inside him. He couldn’t break through for a proper breath of air to make the words come out. He hoped the way he dug his nails into the flesh of Colt’s back said everything he wanted to say.
“I love you,” Colt breathed against his ear, sending a shiver down his body. Tears collected in the corners of his eyes again, but he forced them away. Colt was peppering warm kisses down his face and neck as he moved, picking up his pace. The weight of his words hung so heavy in the air that he could feel them.
Driver’s fingers dug deeper into Colt’s back, trying and failing to pull him impossibly closer. He tapped his index against the other’s spine twice, hoping he’d understand what he meant. That he’d understand between slick skin and sweat, their hearts were dancing. Colt let out a shuddering breath that told him he did.
A hot coil was winding up impossibly tight in Driver’s stomach, making a mess of the quiet man. He could tell Colt felt it too, the way his name was falling from his lips more frantically each time. He rolled his hips deeper into Driver’s own, his force increasing with each beat. Driver couldn’t hold back the wetness in his eyes now as he repeatedly ran into the right spot over and over again, contrasting the near violence of the motion with sweet kisses against his skin.
“Colt,” he whined, almost like a wounded animal, the sound catching in his throat. Colt responded with a low moan of his, the sound of his name nearly doing him in on the spot. Driver was desperately angling his hips up in time with the other man’s thrusts, silently begging for more even when he was on the brink of overload already.
At this point, he could tell he was leaving bright red scratches across Colt’s back that he was morbidly ecstatic to trace with his lips at another time. Proof that he’d been here, undone like a feral animal in this bed. Between the lines of scarlet and the deep purple marks dotting down Driver’s neck, there was no denying his greed. It was instinctual. Instinctual to need Colt this openly, this loudly. Maybe he finally understood.
“Oh fuck,” Colt shuddered on top of him. “You feel so good- too good- I can’t-” Even like this, he couldn’t manage to shut up, and Driver drank it all in. The sound of his pathetic, breathy tone, cursing and almost pleading above him. And he felt it too, his limit.
Colt reached between them to grab Driver, a few feeble tugs in time with his snapping hips, sending them both over the edge in synch. A chorus of sounds tumbling out of both of them as blinding light filled Driver’s skull. He felt Colt spill into him, while his own mess painted his stomach, both of them rocking slowly through the high.
Neither of them wanted to move for a while, feeding off the warmth between them. For a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but their shaky breathing, the sweat running down their skin much more evident in the stillness. Colt eventually rolled over, freeing Driver, who was bound to lose his temporary tolerance for sticky skin and weight trapped on top of him any minute.
Always so prepared, he reached into the bedside table to grab a hand towel and somewhat clean up their mess. In the morning, they’d have to launder the sheets and take a fresh shower, but for now, exhaustion was settling into the stuntmen’s bones. Colt pressed his lips gently into Driver’s shoulder as he tipped a corner of the towel into the discarded water cup, running it along Driver’s abdomen. The cold made his skin prickle as Colt dotted away spots of burning coal.
He was focusing more on his work, making sure he got the other man as clean as he could for now with delicate care. Driver could only watch him with a newfound softness in his eyes. He’d really meant all the stupid shit he’d said tonight, even if he’d regret it one day. Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but eventually, he was bound to. Fate was a cruel mistress like that, curling her unforgiving fingers into Driver’s twisted and depressing narrative.
Even if he allowed his ribcage to remain cracked open for Colt’s viewing, rolled back to expose all his vital soft spots, something was bound to come. For now, he’d absorb the comfort that wrapped into the air. Later, he would sour alone to himself as he sank into the deep, deep lake with nothing but a vicious stinger in his back.
“I guess it’s safe to say you’ll be staying for breakfast,” Colt sighed with a small smile, tossing the towel when he was done and lying flat on his back. “Eggs or pancakes?” In this state, his words slurred together in distorted bliss. Driver’s lips twitched as he inched in closer.
He closed his eyes, nuzzling his face into Colt’s blazing neck while the other man contentedly wrapped his arms around him. Normally, he’d feel suffocated. Trapped under Colt’s hold and frantic from the heat. But now, while he attempted to steady his breathing and come down from his dizzy high, he felt nothing but anchored down from flying impossibly far away. It all just felt too good. Good in a way he only found in false memories conjured by his imagination and quickly caught.
“Could you…” His throat tightened, almost second-guessing himself. “Could you call me Casey?” He asked softly, noticing Colt’s fingers twitch against his bare back. Driver swallowed a somewhat wounded sound. “S’been a while since anyone’s called me by my name.”
It was true, he preferred being called his title over anything. “Casey” had a long history of bad memories he couldn’t quite make out and often felt too personal for a man just doing a job. Disappearing into the noise of Los Angeles. But Colt was the first person since he’d made it to this god-forsaken town that he felt capable of placing personal trust in. He wasn’t just “the driver” to Colt. And Colt wasn’t just another twisted face looking to get something from him or beat the life out of him.
“Okay,” Colt murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. “How’re you feeling, Casey?”
His heart sputtered by surprise, a smile tugging at his lips. He pushed his face further into the slope of Colt’s shoulder to neck, his eyes falling shut with a contented exhale from his nose.
“Pretty good.” His voice had a light hum to it, matching the buzzing in his chest. The honey in his veins. He was pure gold. Consumed by the light that was Colton Grace.
It was the first time, of many tonight, that Driver let himself drift off first without worry.
Colt had his hands shoved into his pockets, leaning back against the tension in his jacket as Ryder approached him with an obnoxious noise. He was making some kind of cocky remark, trying to get up in the other’s face despite Colt’s blank and unimpressed expression. Driver rounded the corner, adjusting some of the flimsy straps onto his get-up when he locked onto the two. He watched as Tom spoke with a collision of his hands and a sly smile. Driver smiled too, coming up behind Colt to rest an arm over his shoulder.
“Hey,” he greeted softly, relishing in the way Colt immediately dropped his attention from Ryder and turned to him instead.
“Hey! You’re about to miss call time!” A bright smile adorned his face as he immediately leaned in to plant a quick kiss on the other’s expecting lips. Driver couldn’t help but slide his gaze over as Colt pulled back while holding onto his cheeks, watching as Ryder’s expression soured.
“I know, I know, that’s why I’m saying hi,” he chuckled, leaning in for another swift kiss before he broke away. Tom grumbled something to himself before wandering off to wherever the fuck he went while Colt and Driver did the hard work.
“You know where to find me, alright?” Driver chimed, the euphoria in his chest too vibrant to let anything else get in the way. They passed one more smile between each other as he walked backwards for a few paces, eventually turning around.
Yeah… this was good. There was no room for Driver to drown inside his own head these days. Not when Colt looked at him like that. Not when he had a reason to smile in the speckled sunlight for the first time in years. Please God, let this last.