Summary: You keep getting the same driver. Not often enough that you get paranoid about it. But often enough that you start recognizing him. It's all, as you know, a coincidence.
Warning(s): No warnings this time! It's cute and sweet dammit, and I'm determined for it to stay that way even if it gets filthy in part 2 | 4.4k
Chapter(s): 1 of 2
WINTER | The Soil
It's cold outside.
The winter months have hit like a sleeper agent, the weather dropping inch by inch until the frost digs into your bone marrow. You order an uber, as you usually do, because when you and friends go out you don't want to drive.
You, the designated driver in the sense of being the one who can stay sober enough to order an uber; you're friends, the very drunk and rambunctious group. You order your uber, standing outside in the freezing cold, a little black lacy outfit that worked perfectly in a hot, packed club, but offers no barrier between the freezing cold of the later winter night. Koko is, as usual, somehow still hot, hanging off your neck as Naomi leans against your side. Somehow, you're keeping them both upright, and you think it's part of the vodka and cranberry chaser you've had.
The car parks in front of the three of you, and you hear your name. The voice is sweet, and you nod your head, strapping Koko into the seat, pushing Naomi into her girlfriend so the two could curl around each other, and climb in behind the driver.
"Kyrell, right?"
"That would be me," he says with a smile. One that you return despite being tired, and you lean forward, pressing your forehead against the back of his seat.
"You are a life saver," you murmur, just as Koko falls into your lap, nuzzling your thigh with Naomi draped over her. You shiver just a bit, rubbing your arms, and fall back so Koko can lay on you more comfortably. You press a hand to her hair, lightly scratching her scalp, and she makes something like a purring sound. Naomi whines, reaching over to grab your hand and put it on her head instead.
"No fair," she grumbles, and you're so preoccupied you don't notice him smiling at the three of you. Your hands are full, two very drunk girls demanding head scratches like rambunctious kittens. Kyrell doesn't try to make small talk, doesn't try to ask you questions, but he does turn up the heat without you knowing. Slowly, but surely, your goosebumps start to disappear as you take care of your best friends.
When he gets to the front of your apartment, he says nothing, parking his car, and opening your door. The smile you give him is half hearted, tired, but thankful. Naomi is just sober enough to walk herself, and, with a little effort, you wake Koko enough to climb on your back. This is something you have had so much practice in that you don't even stumble in your heels. "Thanks!" The three of you trudge to your apartment and pass out.
You don't think about it again. It's not that important anyways.
It's freezing again.
You're a bit more bundled up this time, and you have to thank your lucky stars that your outfit included a fur coat. Naomi is the drunkest one this time, nuzzling into the fur, arms wrapped around your neck. Koko can barely hold her girlfriend up, but she's got her arms around her waist, half asleep as the three of you wait for your uber.
"We should get pizza," Koko says, yawning.
"Our uber is almost here," you say with fond exasperation, "we definitely do not have time to grab some pizza."
"What if we ask them to stop?"
"Yeah!" Like a sleeper agent, Naomi comes to just enough to agree with the idea of food, before rubbing her face in your coat again. "Pizza. Pizza is so good."
Koko coos, scratching her girlfriends head with a smile. "God she's so cute."
"Only because she's not hanging off you," you shoot back, and your best friend aims a sharp grin at you.
"Right you are, Angel. Right you are."
The car pulls up in front of you, and you jostle Naomi just a bit, Koko opening the back passenger door so she could sit in the middle. She opens her arms, and you deposit her girlfriend in her arms.
"Kyrell, right?"
"That would be me," the man smiles, and you feel like you've had this conversation before, but you don't remember from what. The three of you have had many an uber throughout the weeks, so you push it out your mind when Koko pushes forward.
"Omg, you're a cutie!" Brown eyes curve with her smile, and Naomi grumbles, pushing at her girlfriends abdomen so it wasn't pressed against her face. "What's a cutie like you doing a gig like this?"
"Oh my god, Koko." You cover your face, exasperated as he laughs.
"Pocket change mostly," he says jovially, "you guys look like you had a good night out."
She nods, leaning her head against the seat. "Oh the best. I'm Hanako, but my friends call me Koko."
"Oh my god, Koko," you repeat, meeting the drivers eyes through the rearview mirror. She was right, he was cute. A baby face, but his hands, you stare at them before looking away. Big hands, you think, huge hands. Too young for me.
"Kyrell," he says, "My friends call me Ky sometimes."
"Kyrell? You don't look like a Kyrell—"
"I get that a lot."
Koko rocks with the music. "Nice name, though. We should be friends. Wait, how old are you?"
"I am so sorry," you groan, and Kyrell laughs again. He's got a pretty laugh, you note, something you'd want to hear often. You feel a little bit like that Hozier song, Someone New, because you think you've got some type of infatuation with your uber driver.
"No, it's fine," he says, "I'm 21. What about you guys?"
"Well, I'm 28," Koko says, placing a hand on her chest, "she's 30." Naomi nods in her lap. "And Angel, here, is 27."
"Koko, please—"
"Hush, I'm making friends."
Rolling your eyes, you press your back into the seat.
"Anyways, now that we're friends, Ky," she says seriously, "we should stop and get pizza."
"Ooh, pizza."
"You really don't have to do that," you interject, and Kyrell waves a hand in the air.
"No, it's fine." He smiles, brown eyes sparkling. "We're friends now."
"Exactly, Angel. We're friends now." Koko nudges you, and with a put-upon frown, the four of you pull into an opened pizza place, and order some slices.
"Do not." You grab the back of Naomi's shirt before she can sit in the car, dragging her back to sit beside her girlfriend. Kyrell slides in next to you, and he's warm. So warm you almost fall into him just to tuck into his body heat, as you'd forgotten your jacket in his car. "Sorry about them."
"No, no." He tips his head down, looking at you from the corner of his eye. "They're fun. This is fun. Most of the time I'm driving drunk frat boys who have me pull over to vomit on the side of the road, so this is nice."
Your head goes back with your laugh, and you cover your mouth, eyes closing at the image he paints for you. "You get a lot of those, do you?" He's looking at you amused, fond, like something. But you're not sure what, so you feel a bit defensive, voice sharper than you intend for it. "What?"
"You have a nice smile," he says easily, and you hide behind eating your slice of pizza. How embarrassing, you think, so unused to this level of kindness from a stranger. When everything is said and done, Kyrell pulls up to your apartment, and you have to wake Koko and Naomi so they could stumble out of his car without help. They're halfway down the block before you turn to look at him.
"Thanks."
"It was my pleasure."
It means nothing. It has to mean nothing because you'll never see him again.
You try not to think about it.
"It's fucking cold," Naomi grumbles, the three of you huddled close together to retain warmth. "Why do we never put on enough clothes when we do this?"
"Because, as Cardi B once said—" Koko begins.
"—A hoe—" you trail off.
"—Never gets cold." The two of you finish, and Naomi rolls her eyes. You're bouncing in place even with your words, absolutely freezing the further in winter it gets. You like this, though. This bi-weekly outings that can be anything for the group of you. Every other Friday or Saturday so the three of you don't get so caught up in work that you all lose each other. Even though Koko and Naomi live together, there are times they barely see each other, their work schedule directly opposing each other. You and Naomi both work corporate jobs from 8 to 5 and 6 to 3 respectively, and Koko is a store manager whose hours vary depending on the day or week.
"Well this hoe is fucking freezing," Naomi mutters, "what time does the uber get here?"
With freezing hands, you fumble with your phone, unlocking it to see Kyrell is arriving in 4 minutes. You don't think about it. What are the odds you get the same driver as last time? There are many people named Kyrell so you don't get your hopes up. When his car pulls up, you try not to say anything. You're sure he gets many passengers, the chances of remembering you is low.
He rolls his window down just as Koko gets to the driver window. "Ky!"
"Koko!" He laughs, and she tosses her arms around his shoulders through the window as Naomi opens the backdoor, sliding behind the passenger seat and shivering. "What are the odds?"
"Low!" Koko giggles brightly.
"Ko, get your ass in the car, it's fucking cold," Naomi yells, and your best friend frowns dramatically, diving into the car to sit next to her girlfriend. You follow suit, sliding right behind the driver seat, the door slamming shut, pushing the cold air out of the car. The two of you make eye contact, and you can feel yourself flush. You thank everything in you that he can't see the way your ears go red with your complexion.
"Angel."
"Kyrell."
"Koko," Koko says pointing to herself.
"Naomi!" Her girlfriend looks around. "I just wanted to be included."
"Jesus Christ," you mumble with a soft laugh, leaning over to push some hair behind her ear. "You guys are insufferable."
"Ooh, ooh, ooh." Koko pushes herself between the seats like she did last time. "We should get food. Don't you want some food, Ky?"
He hums, hand wrapped around the gear shift and you swallow thickly. It seems so stupid, truly, how affected you are just by the sight of his hands. They're just so big. The gear shift dwarfed in his palm. Naomi looks at you, looks at his hands, looks at you again, and mouths He's fucking hot.
Shut up, you mouth back.
Naomi snickers, wrapping her arm around Koko's waist as her and Kyrell argue the merits of Jack n the Box or Sonic as an after clubbing snack.
"But the munchie box!"
"The slushies are better when you're a little drunk," Kyrell says sagely, and you watch Koko blink a few times before turning to you.
"We're getting Sonic."
"Alright." Kyrell cheers, laughter in his voice as he derails, pulling off the highway to the nearest Sonic. When the group of you get to the restaurant, Kyrell pulls into one of those booths, and Naomi and Koko call over him to order their food. You feel bad for whoever is manning the booth, your friends are so loud. You love them, but it is a fact of life you've learned to go with. Loud in every aspect of their lives. Loud to complain, loud to celebrate, loud to love, and, you wince, loud to order.
"Ooh and the Sonic Blast with the M&M's?"
Whatever Koko is saying has the person laughing as she orders, just as Kyrell looks at you. Koko's hip hits your face, and with a sigh, you open the car door, leaving the backseat to slip into the passenger side, just so she could stop jostling you. Koko hits the seat with a soft umph, fumbling to find her wallet.
Kyrell (god he smells good) leans over. "Do you want anything?"
You hum, rubbing your chin in thought. "Pretzels."
"And?"
"Pretzels?" you say confused.
"No, you need more than just pretzels." He laughs, tucking your hair behind your ear, and you freeze. You go stock still, mouth parting at the casualness with which he touches you. You're not used to that. The only reason you hug your friends is because you've gotten used to it over the years. A hug is the best word you have for what you give them, with their arms wrapped around you and your chin tucked over their shoulder as you lean into them. The extent you give them physical touch is to keep them upright when they're drunk, or carry them upstairs. You flinch from strangers, reflexively pulling back before they can touch you, and yet, with Kyrell, you don't have that urge.
Your nose scrunches, and you glance at the menu on the side of him. "A burger then."
"A burger then," he repeats, ordering for you, himself, and then paying it before Koko can find her card.
"Oh no, Kyrell!" She lightly slaps the back of his seat. "I was gonna pay for it!"
"Nah, it's fine." He twists in his seat to look at her. "What are friends for?"
You don't let yourself think about it. Even after you make it home. Even after you shower, and think about how big his hands are. Even after you toss and turn and try to tell yourself that the chances of having him as a driver again would be small.
You don't think about it. It can't be that important anyways.
SPRING | The Seed
It's getting warmer out. Naomi and Koko plan for it, the spring heat thawing the world, softening the ground until the soil was ready to be tilled. Koko is three sheets to the wind, bottomless mimosa's having done her in. She's hanging on your neck, singing something that she barely knows the words of, but is drunk enough to perform it with the confidence of someone who does.
Naomi is not much better, leaning against the brick wall to keep herself steady.
"How in the fuck," you mutter, "do you two always manage to get this drunk?"
"I'm a lightweight baby!" Koko yells into your ear, and you wince, covering her mouth.
"I, oh my god I think I'm nauseous—" Naomi dry heaves to the side, hands on her knees as she does so. It takes her a second before she straightens her back. "I'm just an idiot."
"Well—" you pat her back— "at least you're the one who said it."
"TONIGHT~ WE ARE YOUNG!"
"Koko, for the love of god—" she swings in a circle, still holding your neck hostage, and a some of the patrons who were leaving the restaurant look amused as they see the group of you.
"SO WE SET THE WORLD ON FIRE!" Naomi joins, before dry heaving again.
"Please," you breathe out just as the uber you scheduled pulls up. You hadn't even had a chance to look who it was, but you hear your name in a familiar tone from the drivers seat of a familiar car.
"Oh look its—oh god!" Naomi vomits on the side of the road, grimacing before pointing again. "It's Kyrell!"
Over the last few months, he's been the one to drive the three of you back to someone's apartment on a late friday night. Enough that on the days you get a different driver Koko and Naomi are a little put out.
"Kyrell!" Koko tosses herself at him, and he catches her before she can fall. "Oh, I'm so happy to see you. We should—"
"Get you in the car," he says, laughing, "I agree."
The two of you work together, getting Koko and Naomi in the backseat before he jogs around the car to open your door. He does a little bow, gesturing so you can sit down. He stands for a second, pupils dilating for a moment, and you watch his adams apple bob with his swallow. "You look good."
Heat erupts in your tummy, warming the tips of your ears, and you gently brush off any imaginary dust from your sundress. "Thank you." The door shuts softly, and Koko jerks up, eyes alight with mischief when Kyrell gets to the drivers side.
"That's her fuck me sundress."
"Her ass looks so good in it," Naomi says, making a crude gesture and you turn sharply to look at the two of them.
"This is not my fuck me sundress," you snap horrified, looking back at Kyrell, "It's not my fuck me sundress!"
"I didn't say anything!" He holds up his hands, an amused grin on his face.
"Kyrell, this is not my fuck me sundress," you say it so fucking seriously that Naomi and Koko burst into laughter. With a disgruntled look upon your face you mumble: This friendship is a fucking prison.
He places his hand on your thigh, big and warm, squeezing it twice. "Okay," he says with a chuckle, "it's not your fuck me dress. I believe you."
"But her ass is still amazing in it," Koko pipes up, and you whip around, finding an unused napkin in his center console to throw at her.
"Shut up!" You shriek, much to the amusement of your best friends.
This friendship, as you said earlier, was a fucking prison.
The drive is quiet for a moment, Kyrell's hand still resting against your thigh, and you shift just a bit. When he goes to remove his hand, you make a small sound, a reflex you didn't know you had. He doesn't make a big deal out of it, but he returns it to its spot. Neither of you speak of it.
"Oh!"
"We are not getting food, Koko," you say before she can ask for it, because hello you three just got out of brunch.
"No, no, I'm not hungry yet," she says, "did you tell him about that weird guy you got last time?"
"Oh, yeah, Koko, I somehow magically manifested his number in my phone to text him about the weird guy, with the weird horny AI music," you say sarcastically, and she stick her tongue out petulantly.
"Weird guy?" He glances at you from the corner of his eye, and you sigh, turning to look at him fully.
"It wasn't that big of a deal—"
"Yes the fuck it was," she interrupts, jostling Naomi in her lap, the latter having fallen asleep with the soothing white noise of the drive, and the soft music playing through his speakers.
"What guy?" Kyrell asks, and you want to scrub your face, but you can't because you're wearing makeup and you don't want to ruin it until you take it off at home. "What guy, Angel?"
You blow out a raspberry, tilting your head until your bone cracks. "I was getting picked up from the airport, and I ordered an Uber," you say, "and my driver was this, I dunno, guy with a really shitty car, and I could feel the bass of his music in the backseat, and he asked me if I minded the music, which, at the time, was whatever top 100s shit he was playing. But then he changed it to some weird BDSM music that was like fucktoy or brat tamer, and he kept looking at me from the rearview mirror and asking me if I had a boyfriend." You shudder. "So I had him drop me off a different block from my apartment, one of the gated ones, you know? It was weird, so I called Mimi and Koko just so I could walk to my apartment to feel safe."
"And!" Koko raises a hand. "The band was called Primal Devotion, so I looked it up? Generative AI band. A freak and a loser."
Kyrell's grip on your thigh tightens, nostrils flaring as Koko talks about something or another in the back. You don't hear her, and you're sure neither does he, his teeth gnashing together in thought.
You lean in, voice toned under your breath so only Kyrell can hear you. "It was fine."
"It's definitely not fine," he says, equally as soft. The rest of the drive is quiet, but you slip your fingers into his, his hand turning to glide his thumb across your knuckles.
The group of you make it to Koko's apartment, and she stumbles out of the car, dragging Naomi with her. "Let's go, bubby, you need pills and water," she murmurs into her ears. They stumble and sway to her apartment like a comical cartoon of bumbling fools. Before you can push your door open, Kyrell catches your wrist, pulling you back into the seat.
"Wait." He grabs his phone, small in his hands, big in yours after he unlocks it. "If you need a last minute pick up. Or…a pickup not so last minute you should call me."
"Kyrell…"
"We're friends, right?" He looks at you, eyebrows furrowed, lips pinched in seriousness.
"Yeah." You nod slowly. "Yeah, we're friends."
"Then call me when you need a ride," he says softly, "instead of using uber. I'd rather you call me then have to deal with anything like that again, okay?" He's staring at you, looking directly in your eyes, and you swallow thickly. "Okay?"
"Okay." The corner of your lip lifts slightly, typing your number into his phone. "Okay, Ky, I'll call you instead."
"Good."
"Good."
The two of you share a smile.
The nights are still cold, even in the spring air. Warmer than the late winter nights where you would be shivering in a tiny little number that couldn't protect you from the elements, but still cold. A chill nipping your nose, and you tilt closer to Kamden, shoving your face in his jacket to warm your nose.
"You are," he laughs, holding on to Naomi so she doesn't fall, while Koko plasters herself against your back, "very drunk."
"No. No 'm not. 'M not drunk. 'Re drunk," you slur, swaying on your feet.
"Yeah, Kamkam," Koko shouts, "'Re drunk. Where's the uber? 'S cold."
"So cold." Naomi fakes a shiver, making a soft brr sound as she does so, and Kamden almost loses his grip with a soft shit. "You almost killed me."
"Uber?"
"Kamkam, how could you almost kill me?"
"'Ngel, uber?"
You watch your friend look up at the sky in exasperation, and without meaning to, you laugh. As drunk as you are, and you are aware you're very drunk, you straighten just a bit to poke his cheek. "'S okay, Kam, once they get in the car they'll settle down." With some effort, you look at Koko. "I'ono, can't see my phone."
"Awe, you are drunk," Koko giggles, and the two of you fall out laughing. You rarely get like this, abstaining from drinking on principle alone, but also because between you, Koko, and Naomi, someone has to be relatively sober. People take that sentence and run with it, offering you condolences for having to watch them, but you never mind. You get into the uber on the way to the venue, you announce you won't drink much, and that is that. Koko and Naomi have long since stopped fighting you on it.
But today had been a joyous day, a promotion you had worked hard for had landed in your lap, and so you decided to throw caution to the wind. Especially with Kamden joining for the celebration. It's hardly ever the four of you, Kamden having a life of his own far enough away that it's a hassle to make the trip to the three of you, but close enough that if planned accordingly he can do it.
When you spot the car, you feel your face split into a bright smile, just as he parks and gets out of the vehicle.
"Kyrell!" He catches you around the waist when you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and pressing your face into his chest. "Mm, thank you for picking us up. This is Kamkam. Kamkam this is Kyrell."
The two of them do some boy thing that you don't see, and don't care to see because you're too busy shoving your hands up Kyrell's shirt to warm up them up. His stomach jumps under your freezing fingers, dragging them across warm skin (he has abs? he has fucking abs? you groan something under your breath that sounds thirsty as hell) until your ear presses against his sternum.
"It's Kamden, not Kamkam." Your friend leans in just a bit. "She's very drunk."
Kyrell has one broad hand around your waist, the other reaching out to shake Kamden's. "I can see that," he chortles, lifting your face with a finger under your chin, "let's get you guys in the car."
"You need any—" Kamden gestures, and Kyrell lifts you, waving the help away.
"Nah, I got it. Looks like you've got your hands full—" he nods towards Naomi and Koko, who are barely helping Kamden as he tries to get them in the car. While Kamden is struggling, Kyrell clips you into the passenger seat, taking off your heels before shedding his jacket to place over your legs. "Had fun?"
You nod, eyes fluttering open to look at him. "Mhm."
"Good," he smiles at you, lightly tucking his forefinger and thumb under your chin, "I'm glad." When he makes it to the drivers seat, Koko shoves her body between the center console in excitement. "Food?"
"Kyrell, you are the best!" Naomi grumbles something in agreement, already half asleep in the blanket of warmth of his car, legs tossed over Koko and Kamden's thighs.
Later, much later, when you're full and sober, with Naomi and Koko wrapped in each others arms on your sofa, Kamden shifts on the air mattress by your bed to look at you.
"Don't."
"I haven't even said anything yet," he protests with a snort.
"You don't have to I can fucking feel it," you say miserably, "he's too young for me."
"Eh."
"No I'm serious. He's, like, freshly 21. There's so much growing between 21 and 26, Kam. I couldn't do that to him."
Kamden holds a hand up. "Let the record show that I think he can make his own decisions," he says, turning on his back to look at your ceiling. "And he clearly likes you."
"He shouldn't."
"But he does, and it's so obvious—" he chuckles before looking at you again— "The more you fight it, the harder it'll hit."
I want you guys to know that I don't specify body types in my fics because no matter who is reading it I want them to feel cute and dainty. So everyone is always able to pick you up like a pretty princess. You're 100lb you're 450lbs i don't care, your kpop idol can pick you up in my fics. I truly don't give a damn.
I can feel in my bones my body hating present tense. But I really do not want to fix any of the projects I currently have ongoing to past tense, so like give me 10
I'm gonna ask a question and you guys are going to go: Trippy what the fuck? But like...just answer it okay, god!
You know how we have people who are furries (sexual) and furries (nonsexual)? In the pokemon world do you think they exist there, too? And if they do, do you think the pokemon get really confused? There's another question in there, I just can't think about right now.
I desperately want to dye the front of my hair either purple with red tips or red with black tips. Or get a calico dye job. But that would require going to a salon, and there are not enough salons who can do black hair where I live. And the ones that do charge too damn much
