otp advent, day 4
my car got stuck in snow, you saved me
for Gabe/Jack
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It wasn’t the first time his car had hit a patch of ice underneath the snow, drifted too far for a course correction, and tipped into a snowbank. It was, however, the first time he hadn’t been able to push it out by himself. Gabriel Reyes prided himself on being a solid, massive mountain of a man and hadn’t yet met a task he couldn’t accomplish without the assistance of another human. It suited him just fine to handle everything alone. Ana, his one true friend left from his Army days, would argue that, but she wasn’t here and so Gabe was free to lie to himself as much as he wanted as he set his shoulder to the front headlight of his beat up old car and pushed again.
Of course, just his luck, Reaper had chosen late afternoon to lose traction, and the black car’s hazards flashed in the darkness of the rapid sunset, really the only visible part of duo, Gabe’s penchant for wearing dark clothing working against him.
“Gonna sell you for scrap,” Gabriel threatened the car as it settled right back where it started. He scowled at the blinking lights. “Course you ain’t worth much and you know it, bastard.” He briefly considered kicking the front bumper but didn’t like his chances of not landing on his ass in the snow. Instead he rounded the front of the car and leaned against the driver side door, fishing his phone out of his pocket. The road he’d managed to get stuck on was one of the less traveled county roads, thankfully paved, at least, but it didn’t have much else to recommend it unless you liked cows. Gabe could hear a few lowing to themselves in some nearby field and mooed back after a minute, snorting to himself at the confused silence that followed.
He’d just pressed Ana’s name in his contacts list and brought the phone to his ear when headlights appeared down the road, slow and ponderous, and came to a halt a few yards away.
“Call you back,” he told her, hanging up before she could curse at him. For such a small, motherly looking lady, she could tear the hide off your ear better than anyone else he knew, himself included. It was one reason they got along so well.
The cabin light came on in the car that had pulled up, and from how high off the ground it was, Gabe could tell it belonged to a truck of some kind. Good, he thought. Maybe they’ve got a tow hitch.
“Hey there,” a voice called, low and warm, and Gabe’s spine stiffened. The man walking toward him had a nice voice. “Get yourself stuck?”
“I didn’t get myself stuck,” Gabe grumbled. “Reaper got himself stuck.”
“That a fact?”
The voice halted nearby, and in the light from the headlights of the truck, Gabe could vaguely make out the chiseled outlines of a face. He hadn’t thought he’d spoken loudly enough to be heard but apparently he had. He sighed and shrugged.
“That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”
The man with the voice laughed, the sound rich and rolling, and Gabe’s nostrils flared. No one had a right to sound that good. He crossed his arms over his chest, hunching against the chill air as the last of the sun’s warmth left him. Of course he hadn’t brought a jacket today. Going straight home, he’d figured, wouldn’t need it.
“Well, sorry to say, but I haven’t put the hitch on my truck yet this season.” The man scratched his head with a hand, and Gabe imagined his face looked rather apologetic from the sound of his speech. “I can drive you into town, if you’d like, or you’re welcome to stay at my place until a ride comes.” The man waved his other arm in the direction of the farmhouse not too far away.
Gabe raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t this how slasher movies start?”
“Hmm, good point. Anything I can do to prove to you I’m not an axe murderer?”
“Not really. Everyone claims they’re not a serial killer until they start hacking. Just promise you won’t invite me to the basement. You should also know that I’m armed.”
The man sucked in a breath but it didn’t sound scared, more surprised and intrigued than anything. Gabriel had spent a lot of time listening to the way people said things, the way people breathed, and this man was interested. Fancy that.
“Then I’ll have to bring my Xbox upstairs, I guess,” the man said, and Gabe could hear the intense attempt at casual behind his tone.
Gabe raised an arm and gestured back at the man’s truck, leaning off his own car door and reaching inside to pull out the keys and lock the vehicle. Reaper might be a piece of shit, but he was Gabe’s piece of shit and he wasn’t about to let anyone steal him.
A blast of warmth hit him when he climbed up into the truck, and he rubbed his chilled fingers in front of the air vent. Then, curious, he tilted his head to the side and looked over at his savior. Tall, if the way he sat in the seat was any indication, broadly built, and blond, with the sort of earnest face that was likely to give him crow’s feet before his time. The man noticed Gabe looking and smiled, his eyes wrinkling at the corners, pure and easy. He stuck his hand out over the center console.
“I’m Jack. The Morrison behind Morrison Farms, or one of them, anyway.”
Gabriel took his hand, matching the grip in his fingers easily. “Gabe Reyes. Criminologist with the OPD.”
Jack’s eyes widened and his throat bobbed, but he didn’t let go of Gabe’s hand. “Shit, so like, actually armed.”
“Actually armed,” Gabe confirmed, “and mostly convinced you’re not an axe murderer, so don’t go messing up my record, alright?”
“Yes, sir.” Jack released Gabe’s hand and shifted his truck into gear for the short drive over to the farmhouse.
