❛ YOU KNOW, pretty soon this’ll be your job. picking up the leisure activity while i tend to other matters. you’re really outdoing yourself, zappy, you’re making me INCREDIBLY proud. ❜
fingers tap around A I M L E S S L Y on his screen, the light of the phone dimly illuminating the car’s interior. bowie’s not particularly fond of having to follow speed limits on busy toronto streets. it makes sense for him to hand the keys over to the younger of the tempest brothers so he himself can lounge in the passenger’s seat. the luxury car is another replaceable item in bowie’s brain, letting zave drive it is no big deal. after all, he’s less concerned with HOW he gets to where he wants to be, and more enthralled with exactly WHAT’S waiting for the pair at the end of their trip.
a tattooed finger waves carelessly over in zave’s direction, cerulean hues fixated on the screen. ❛ LEFT at this light, ❜ he directs, gaze never leaving the phone. xavier tempest has a favorable light shone on him in bowie’s world, obviously a light that’s subject to change at any given moment— BUT HEY, it’s a start. ❛ i know you’re not a seasoned fella in the art of the inconspicuous shipment, i know guys like you get all their shit handed to them. a ‘snap your fingers’ kinda guy. ❜ it’s a compliment, the way the golden-haired male phrases it, pearly whites BARED happily in a grin. ❛ i’ll show you the ropes. ❜
he wads through a stack of bills in his pocket, feeling the paper between his fingers to ensure he has enough PLUS a little gift. he throws a wink in zave’s direction, knowing his protege could V E R Y easily get cold feet at any second—— although, he trusts zave won’t. ❛ BE CHILL, alright? it’s nothing like what you see in the movies. i’ve known this group of hooligans for years. if anything seems off to you just say so. you’ll enjoy it though, they’re a FRIENDLY group, to say the least. ❜
They’re rushing past neon signs in a blur and Xavier can’t recall the last time he felt so ALIVE.
He rarely gets to drive anymore, and certainly not in cars as nice as this: the flirty purr of the engine, the luxurious leather at his fingertips. His parents’ old station wagon had nothing on this beauty. Zave could drive around in this baby for hours–especially with the man currently at his side.
“Aw, S’no big deal,” he says, grinning ear to ear. “I’m happy to lend a hand.”
And he means it. Despite his best efforts, Bowie’s PRAISE brightens his whole face, his non-existent tail wagging like a happy terrier in his seat. Hanging out with Bowie is different than with everyone else. Whenever they go out for the night, it’s an adventure, something to pump raw adrenaline through his veins. And unlike the rest of Toronto, his friend in the passenger seat believes in him. He doesn’t tear him down or make jabs about his mistakes. Bowie sees him as something more than just a redneck fuck-up from the country, and Zave is determined to keep it that way for as long as he can.
Xavier tries to fight the incredulous snort that escapes him. Sometimes he wonders if Bowie just keeps mistaking him for someone else. “Yeah, you know me.” With a shake of his head, an amused smile graces his lips. “You’re a good teacher, though. I trust you.” Following his friend’s instructions, he pulls into an abandoned lot and parks the car. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” When he glances over at Bowie, his brown eyes are dancing with excitement in the glow of the streetlights. “CHILL is my middle name.”
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