heyyy bitch you should write a little drivey fic pls 🚙 vroom vroom vibes only
hi babe. vroom vroom! I am at work Not Working so here is your drivey fic.
It's not that he is having trouble sleeping. He can't sleep. Don't matter how many times he tosses and turns, it won't come.
It's been goin on for a week or so now, and he can't pinpoint any real reason why. Rosa tellin' him it's stress, is always going on about stress. Rhea's tellin' him its old age.
Whatever it is, it's fuckin with his mind.
Surrendering momentarily and sitting upright, he flicks on the bedside lamp. Marcus isn't here tonight, which always makes the nights more insufferable. That little squirrel snore across the hall does wonders in quietin' his mind.
He looks around at the warmly lit room. His stuff. Used to dream of this.
Used to dream of having bullshit modern art on his walls. Of walking into one of those fancy ass, white-ass art stores, not even askin' for the price.
Of taking the elevator all the way to the top. Penthouse. Dope shoes. New whip.
Now he's got it. He's at the top.
Still can't fuckin sleep.
So he grabs his keys, tired of staring at the walls, and does what he always does.
It's just going for a drive. Don't matter that the destination's always the same - it's the drive. That's what mellows him enough to finally shut his eyes.
Never mind that it'll l be the third time this week he's shown up outside her house in the middle of the night. There's just somethin' bout the rhythmic suburban sprinkler systems, the twisting parade of manicured lawns, the quiet sigh of each darkened window.
Yah, he knows it makes him look like a fucking stalker, he knows.
Hates it too, its just that he..
"Can't sleep?"
Her voice startles him, he didn't hear the tap on the window, but there she is - shivering outside the car door.
It's cold out, fuck. She's in her little slippers and some thin cotton thing that he's not not thinkin' about.
The window rolls down between them.
"I was in the area."
She grins like each and every one of the 22 minutes it takes to get out here from downtown is personally amusing to her.
"Get in."
'What?"
"You gonna freeze, Elizabeth."
"I was just checking to see if -" She catches herself mid-excuse. He'd been up thinkin' about her and she'd been up thinkin' about him. They're predictable like that. He's not about to deny it, at least. "Okay."
"You look tired". She whispers into the streetlight-lit interior. The light flashes in alternating beats across her face as they pull off the street and onto the highway.
"Gee, thanks." He lolls his head, taking her in and smiling briefly.
She smiles back, something nostalgic and a little forlorn. Her cheeks are wet, he can see the dampness catching blue dashboard light. She notices him noticing and -
"Take me for a drive." She perks upright. Sniffling and buckling her seatbelt with dramatics.
"You got it, boss."
They pull out onto the empty highway, goin' about 20 over. Her hands out the window, bobbing up and down. All that freezing cold air blastin' through the passenger side but - he ain't about to say anything. It's nice, actually, this.
He slows to pull off the next exit. She turns in silent question.
"You hungry?"
"Now?!"
"Yah, now."
"I guess..."
"Nothin' ever easy with you is it?"
He can hear her silent O of accusation without even takin' his off the road.
"I just don't typically eat at 3 o'clock in the morning."
He's grinning as he pulls into a White Castle.
"No time like the present."
--
She's sprawled across him, speak-yelling out the window into the drive-thru speaker.
"I will have a double cheeseburger slider special with the, umm, the loaded fries and.... a chocolate shake."
"Damn."
"Go big or go home, right?" Her shark-tooth grin glistens.
It's hard not to smile back, her nose blushed red from the wind, eyes sparkling. So he does. Like an idiot.
Their haul arrives, and they settle up. (He paid, only cause she didn't bring no wallet, and apparently doesn't appreciate bein' called out on it.)
"No eating in this car, though."
Her french-fry pace doesn't slow.
"Elizabeth, I'm serious."
"Are you kidding me? I am not standing outside."
"We'll eat inside then."
"I am in my pajamas."
"Aint nobody in there."
"This was your idea!"
"You're the one ordering cheese-covered shit, not me."
"I can't go in there." Her arms are crossed like a petulant little child.
He sighs.
"My pajamas are see-through."
"Yah mama, I know." His mouth slips into a smirk as he looks her slowly up and down, and she playfully hits him on the arm.
So they end up in yellow-plastic seats across from one another, with their backs to a ball-pit play area.
It's fuckin weird. It's nice.
Fun, even.
Under the harsh flourescent light, she's even more exposed than before. He's no better in his sweatpants and tee-shirt. No one's around, and with the way she's laughing, the way his body feels relaxed like it hasn't in weeks, it makes him think that very little would shake them from this moment. The whole damn city could come through those swinging doors, and he might not even notice.
Ah, damn.
The sky is grey in anticipation of daylight by the time he pulls back up to her door. They'd been quiet on the way back, yawning from time to time. She'd been humming a simple tune.
They sit like that for a beat in the driveway. Peaceful. Content.
"Dean took the kids."
"When?!"
"This evening. Well, yesterday evening I guess. Last night."
He scrubs his hand over his face, unsure how to play this, scared to expose the way he's feelin'. Been feelin'.
Scared something in his eyes might give away how many nights he's spent sittin' on this very street, pretending she ain't the reason why.
"Shit, Elizabeth. I'm -"
"No. It's okay. I had a really good night." She turns to him now. A shy smile hesitating on her lips.
He nods.
"Get some sleep okay?"
"You sound like my -" But the car door shuts.
She's walking up the driveway and into the sunrise.
He knows he'll sleep the moment his head hits the pillow.
Shit.
