Corner of Naples (PART 2): Dominic Fike x Reader
Pre-fame Dom. Slow-burn. Part 1
Chapter 2:
You’re on your bed with your laptop open to a half-watched tv series while scrolling your phone.
You hear it then.
A knock against your bedroom window.
You freeze.
Another knock, louder this time.
You already know who it is. You sit up and cross the room.
Dom stands outside your window, hoodie pulled up, hands shoved in his pockets. His expression calm. Like this was always the plan.
You slide the window up. “What are you doing?” you ask, sharply.
He leans closer to the window. “I told you I might need a favour. This is me coming to collect.”
“I didn’t agree to anything.”
“You implied a maybe,” he reminds you. “Never said no.”
“I said maybe because you wouldn’t explain.”
He takes a step back, glancing at the street then back at you. “You won’t have to do anything. I just need you to… come for a drive.”
“Where?”
He shrugs. “Out.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you need.”
“I’m not going anywhere if you can’t tell me where,” you say, firmly.
“C’mon, y/n, nothing’s going to happen to you.” He scans the street again, slower this time, like he’s already late. When his eyes land back on you, he looks stressed. And stupidly, you feel for him.
It’s not your problem. You should shut the window. Lock it. Go back to bed. Instead, you sigh, “Fine, I’ll meet you out front.”
His shoulders drop slightly, clearly relieved. “Okay, yeah. That works.”
You reach for your hoodie and house keys rushing through the empty and dark house. You make sure to lock your front door. When you turn toward the driveway, that’s when you notice it.
The dark blue car, engine still on, headlights bright. That’s not the one that’s always sitting outside his house.
“This isn’t your car.”
“Does it matter?” he asks.
“Yes,” you say immediately. “It matters a lot, actually.”
“You already agreed,” he reminds.
“I agreed to a drive,” you say. “Not… whatever this is.”
“It’s borrowed,” he quickly explains.
You stare at him not buying the obvious lie. “Borrowed?”
“For the night.”
You hesitate, he notices. He steps closer, lowering his voice again. “You don’t want me explaining this out here.”
You tell yourself its curiosity. You just want to know what he’s hiding. Finally, you slide into the passenger seat. He pulls onto the street, headlights cutting through the dark.
“I’m not sure why you picked me for this,” you say, after a moment. “Do I look stupid?”
“Because you don’t,” he corrects. “And because people won’t look twice at you with me.”
You frown, trying to process his hints. “So… we’re going to meet people?”
He shakes his head slightly. “Not exactly. But if anyone does see us… it’ll just look like a late-night with a friend. You make it… normal.”
“You’re really bad at explaining things.”
He glances over at you with a smirk, “I’m good at showing.”
“You’re lucky I’m curious,” you mutter.
“I know,” he says, surprising you.
You notice how carefully he drives this time. Not as fast or careless as the last time he gave you a ride. His hands steady on the wheel, his eyes seemingly scanning every detail.
“You’re not usually like this,” you say.
“Like what?”
"Like focused... careful."
“Wow,” he says. “High praise.”
“Just an observation.”
He keeps his eyes on the road. “I just don’t want you getting dragged into my shit.”
You frown at him. “Then why bring me at all?”
“I told you. We don’t look wrong together," he explains. "No one will look twice at us. Alone, I’d stick out. And with the guys, it’d still look suspicious.”
For the first time tonight, you see the careful behind his reckless plan. You’re his cover. “Alright,” you murmur. “I get it.”
The car slows to a stop at the edge of an empty street. He cuts the lights, and the headlights fade into darkness, leaving only the glow of street lights.
“Someone’s coming for it. We just walk from here.”
You look over confused. “So… who’s picking up the car?”
“Someone.”
“Someone?” you repeat, slowly. “Like… a friend? A… guy?”
He smiles. “You don’t need to know that.”
You pause. “I… feel like I should.”
“No, you shouldn't,” he says. “Trust me, it’s taken care of.”
You sigh, “I guess I’ll take your word for it."
“Good,” he says. “Because that’s all you get.”
The two of you get out and walk in silence for a moment. A few blocks later, you hear a car hum behind you, then, you notice the POLICE lettering on the side as the car pulls up to the curb next to you.
“Oh, shit,” you murmur.
Dom doesn’t break stride. He slides his hand into yours, pulling you along with him.
“Relax,” he whispers.
The cop car window rolls down, and a voice calls out: “A bit late to be out downtown, everything alright?”
“Yeah,” Dom says easily. “Just out for a walk.”
The officer’s eyes land on you. “You two together?”
“Yeah,” you say like it’s obvious.
Dom’s grip tightens. “My girl. Gotta make sure she gets home safe, right?”
The officer squints, scanning your faces. “Right… you two sober?”
“Completely,” Dom replies immediately.
The officer studies you both for another moment, then, “Alright… stay safe.”
You walk away and finally exhale. Dom keeps his hand over yours, steadying you. When he finally lets go, he glances at you. “You scared?”
You hesitate. “A little.”
He nods. “Me too.”
It might be the first honest thing he’s said all night.
“That’s not going to be a problem, right?” you ask, wondering if this is what happens when people do look twice.
“Not for you."
Not for you… but maybe for him. You hope it’s nothing but a part of you knows he’s carrying more than he lets on.
“I know what I’m doing,” he says, quietly. “And I know where to draw the line.”
You don’t know if that’s meant to reassure you or himself. But, you trust it.
He looks over at you again. You can’t tell if he's curious or challenging you. “You don’t look like you regret this.”
You think of the ride, the cop and the weight of his hand in yours.
“I don’t,” you admit.
“Good,” he mutters. “Because neither do I.”
For a moment, you enjoy being in the quiet of what's usually a busy street. The dark feels calm, familiar, almost safe.
“You don’t need to bike everywhere," Dom says, breaking the silence. "I got you.”
You frown, confused. “What?”
“I can give you rides,” he explains. “To school, to… anywhere, really.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “I told you it’d be worth it for you.”
You laugh. “That’s it? That’s all I get?”
He steps a little faster to match your pace, shoulders brushing yours. “That’s plenty. You should be grateful.”
“Oh, I am. Grateful enough to never trust you again.”
“We’ll see…” he murmurs.
