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Colt and “Driver” had always had a- strange relationship. The two first met years ago on a small set brought together by their mutual job of stunt work. He didn’t give anyone a proper name. Just a title that he seemed to prefer being called. And he didn’t talk. He just kept to himself or his trailer and crawled off to lick his wounds in peace after every stunt.
It was definitely odd in this field for someone to be particularly unsociable. Stuck-up actors, maybe. Grumpy tech? Sure. But stunts and other various crew teams had a culture of them. Sitting around a mock campsite, swapping beers and stories. A culture Driver refused to participate in.
It didn’t pique Colt’s interest until they wound up on multiple jobs together over the years, every one the same. Driver was quiet, a loner, and Colt was curious. Curiosity became persistence, and for Driver, annoyance. Each job, Colt became more intent on understanding this mystery; trapping Driver in mostly one-sided conversations and insisting upon himself. He never got further than an obligatory and subtle nod his way when they saw each other.
Colt couldn’t understand what he was doing wrong, or maybe what was wrong with the other. But it began to fascinate him the more it went on. So much so that he’d actually called his brother to blow up over said “nods of acknowledgment”. Of course, Ryland had called him an idiot and implied he should just leave the other man alone, but he wasn’t having any of it.
One night, their strange relationship, or lack thereof, took a massive turn he hadn’t seen coming. Colt had been home, settling down after a movie wrap, which made it all the stranger when he heard a feeble knock at his door. Luckily, he’d been in the living room, or he wouldn’t have heard it at all. It was an odd hour of the night for someone to be turning up unexpected. The average person would be heading to bed by now, and if it weren’t for his mind and body still spinning from the adrenaline his job entails, he probably would be as well.
Colt made his way to the door tentatively, trying to gauge if he could see anyone through the frosted glass. He couldn’t. With a sigh, he twisted the handle, a confused hello prepped on his tongue. What he saw upon opening the door stripped away any dialogue he could’ve possibly prepared immediately.
It was Driver. He was clutching his side, his normally blank face screwed up in pain. When Colt’s gaze followed his hand, he saw a pool of crimson, dark stains making it all around the hem of his signature, prized jacket.
His eyes blew wide, “Jesus Christ- what-” he didn’t know what to say or what was happening.
“Didn’t…know where to go,” the other man grunted, leaning his full weight against the entrance wall of Colt’s home. His legs were spread out awkwardly like a baby deer trying to stand up, and his skin was uncomfortably pale.
“Maybe a hospital??” Colt gasped, throwing himself under Driver’s arm and pulling him inside anyway. He didn’t let the other protest. He didn’t seem like he had the energy to anyway. Instead, he carried Driver awkwardly all the way to the bathroom, propping him up against the tub before searching for his first aid kit.
He had just about a million questions. What happened? How did he know where Colt lived? Why come here and not to a hospital? Was this something dangerous? Something he didn’t want the authorities involved with? Was Colt his expendable option to throw under the bus in exchange for a patch-up?
Or did he trust him? It seemed unlikely that Colt Seavers would be the one person whom Driver trusted to hold his life in his hands when they’d barely even spoken. In fact, this was probably the most Driver had ever said to him so far. And how the fuck did he know where he lived?? Pushing the thoughts to the side as blood began staining his bathroom, Colt dug out various items, turning to Driver to inspect the damage.
“We’re going to need to get your shirt off,” he said flatly, observing the other for a reaction. Driver’s jaw was visibly tense, presumably from the pain, his pale eyes fixated on the bathroom wall. His breathing was forceful and labored. A normal person would probably be slack-jawed, gasping in pain, and letting out a string of other noises, given the amount of blood. But oh so quiet Driver was containing it all in deep breaths pushed out his nose.
Colt sighed again, “Alright, man.” He leaned forward, slowly pulling down the man's zipper. When that went fine, he began carefully pushing and pulling the jacket off, trying his best to be delicate with it. He knew how much Driver worshiped the thing even if they didn’t talk. He never saw a mark on it until now, and he never saw Driver outside a stunt without it.
Once he’d awkwardly removed it with a strained amount of help from the other, he pushed it behind himself and the first aid kit. If he was able to, he’d deal with it later. Right now, he needed to find the source of this bleeding.
“Shirt,” he muttered, leaning forward to grab the hem. Driver weakly pushed him back.
“I can do it,” he exhaled painfully. Colt bit down on his words. Fine, let a stubborn man try. He wasn’t going to get far.
Driver slowly peeled his hand off the wounded spot, a sickening amount of dark blood coating his palm. He pushed it under his shirt, applying pressure while moving himself out of the way. A sliver of his abdomen was exposed now, moving rapidly with each strained breath. Colt watched him struggle for a few moments before they both concluded that he could not, in fact, do this himself.
He’d barely moved the fabric alone, only managing to successfully remove the closest thing to a bandage he had over his wound. Driver slumped back against the tub in defeat, looking at Colt almost helplessly. Colt leaned back in to finish removing his top awkwardly.
Not wanting to deal with the blood, he tossed the crumbled fabric into the tub itself, praying he wouldn’t have any more unexpected company any time soon, or this would be hard to explain. “Yeah, my coworker, who's never said more than one word to me at a time, showed up covered in his own blood, half dead one night. No biggie!”
Thank God, he was used to injuries with his job. More than that, he was used to patching up his brothers and himself after long nights of torment from their father. Besides the terrifying unknown, this was a pretty typical Thursday to him.
It was a long night of putting Driver back together. He’d needed stitches, which were less than fun to do, and afterwards he’d been so exhausted he nearly fell asleep right there on the floor. Colt made sure that didn’t happen, giving him a pair of sweat pants to get out of his bloodied jeans before he helped him to the couch. Clearly, Driver wanted to protest but physically couldn’t, collapsing the second he got the chance.
Colt decided he’d ask questions in the morning after they’d both rested up, but that time never came. When he woke up, Driver was nowhere to be found, and his bathroom looked untouched. It was so jarring that he’d started to think maybe he’d dreamt it. But he still had the dark stains around his fingernails to prove otherwise.
He really tried his best to shrug the whole thing off afterwards. He’d helped someone in need. That was all that mattered, right? However, he’d gotten those wounds, Colt couldn’t let a man die on his doorstep or crawl off into a ditch somewhere. He’d done what he had to, even if he didn’t know any of the hows or whys about it. It was probably better that way.
But it wasn’t the last time Driver would show up on his doorstep like that. It became almost a ritual with them. They would work odd jobs here or there together, Driver wouldn’t give him any more than a small nod, and then one random night, he’d turn up in need of medical assistance. Sometimes he stayed and disappeared before Colt had the chance to catch him, sometimes he ran off right away.
Colt was letting himself get extremely worried about it, even if he really tried his best not to. He was getting entangled with it all too. Every time Driver showed up wounded, he managed to get more and more out of their interactions. He was a stoic one, sure. Guarded, absolutely. But he wasn’t invincible, nor a robot.
Colt was chipping away at his walls; he could tell. There was something softer in his gaze when they made unprompted eye contact on set now. And the unprompted eye contact had become much more frequent as Colt noticed him staring from afar. He tried to hide it, but he could always feel it. It was all but confirmed the night Driver showed up like usual with shallow wounds. Something he easily could’ve repaired himself.
Sure, he still looked bad, but not bleeding out in Colt’s bathroom bad. That, to him, is when he knew he’d become a safe place for the strange man. They didn’t need to have long conversations to work it out; he’d simply started to feel comfortable here. Colt’s home had become the hole he crawled off to in order to lick his wounds, except it was Colt who was patching him up each time.
Tonight, he was gingerly wiping down his wounds, listening to small hisses of pain come out of the other man. He wrapped them in gauze and carefully used a hot rag to wipe away blood stains from his body. It had almost become an intimate habit. Colt, on the floor, dotting the wet cloth across his lower chest while Driver stared down at him silently from the tub's edge.
It felt good to be needed in a slightly selfish way. He’d begun to hope it felt good for Driver to need. To know he had someone to lean on. Even like this.
“How’re you getting so banged up all the time anyway?” Colt finally had the courage to ask, looking up from Driver’s chest and abdomen to his face. He’d held his tongue for so long, afraid to scare the other off. But he felt brave enough this time.
For the first time in a while, Driver completely averted his gaze like he used to do any time Colt addressed him, “Bad stuff.” His voice was soft and quiet like always, making it hard to absorb the meaning of what he’d said. Colt didn’t realize how much he’d enjoy the sound of it, but after going so long almost entirely unacknowledged, it sounded nice. He studied Driver’s face for a moment, debating in his head if he should continue or not.
“What kind of stuff?” He felt the man tense up at his touch, deciding to pull away for just a moment.
“Doesn’t matter,” Driver answered flatly.
“Matters to me.”
The two were at a standstill, neither really moving. The large gash across the other man’s chest was fully treated. It wasn’t a deep wound, just a long one. It looked like a blade had been swiped across him. Maybe it had.
“Shouldn’t.” For the first time, Colt allowed irritation to flare in his chest. They’d been making progress, albeit strange progress, and now he was being shut down. These short, impassive responses were exactly what he’d expect on set. This was supposed to be different.
“Do I need to remind you that you’re bleeding in my bathroom right now?” He shot. Driver’s gaze finally flicked down to meet Colt’s. It felt a little intimidating considering he was still kneeling down below the other, but he’d been too busy holding his breath to get up.
“I’ll go,” he answered simply. Blankly. Colt’s insides were screaming. That’s not what he wanted. He wanted answers. This…coworker- was like a stray cat. Hard to get close to, easy to scare off. Claws at the ready.
They held eye contact for a long, silent moment, neither prepared to push the situation that acted like a cliff's edge. Colt let out a huff, swiping the rag against Driver’s body forcefully one more time.
“I worry about you.” He stood up, tossing the bloody rag into the sink before collecting the feeble remains of his first aid box. He needed to restock soon. He could hear Driver’s fingers thrumming against the edge of the tub, agitated breaths pushing out of him in random spurts.
“Why?”
Colt laughed dully at the sink, beginning the process of scrubbing blood off his hands, “I don’t know, I’m stupid, I guess.”
He really did feel like an idiot. At no point had the two of them become friends. He was just a safe crash landing for a man who seemed to live a very unsafe life. That’s all. He knew how to stitch wounds, and he lived a discreet enough life.
“I can go,” Driver insisted again, but this time it didn’t seem like a threat and more like an offer. Like he was proposing something Colt wanted, and he didn’t want it. He sounded like he was doing him a favor by trying to disappear again. For some reason, that made him angrier.
“Don’t.” He abruptly shut off the sink, almost afraid to turn around. “Don’t go.” He still did anyway, desperate to take in Driver’s expressions. He wasn’t easy to read, and he didn’t talk a lot, but it wasn’t like Colt hadn’t spent years trying to figure him out. Studying.
“I…” Driver looked down at his bandaged chest, “I’m okay now.” It sounded like bargaining. It sounded dishonest.
“Okay,” Colt said, his chest rising into his throat, “don’t go.” He didn’t realize how much his insides were pleading for this. In his mind, he was back on his knees, begging for this. In reality, they were having an awkward staring contest in his messy bathroom.
“I won’t tell you anything,” Driver doubled down with an unsure flick of his gaze. Colt accepted the defeat, but not with Grace. (Why do you think he chose a stage name?)
“What about how you know where I live?” Maybe that was easier than trying to get entangled with whatever messy business he had going on. Driver refused to look at him now, breathing in deep through his nose. It was a habit he had when he didn’t want to respond, but was trying to force himself to anyway.
“Saw you,” he answered vaguely. His hands were clenching into fists and releasing in a silent rhythm at his sides.
“You saw me? Every movie we do is in a different town, a different place. How’d you ‘see’ me?” Colt pressed, the curiosity he always felt towards Driver igniting to life. Driver’s jaw clenched in time with his fists. His eyes repeatedly switched from focusing on the wall to the tub, but never on him. He gave a small shrug.
A sinking realization began washing over Colt’s entire body. The same feeling he had when he felt a pair of eyes staring at him intensely. The same feeling he had when the coffee brand he liked mysteriously refilled in his trailer.
“Are you stalking me?” He probably shouldn’t have asked that out loud so directly, but he couldn’t stop himself. Bad impulse control, that’s what his brothers always said. Something akin to shame flooded Driver’s face, which gave him all the answer he needed.
“Holy shit…” He exhaled in surprise. That was…not something he was expecting. And weirdly, something coiled up in his stomach that wasn’t disgust or fear. It wasn’t any emotion he expected to feel. He didn’t really know what it was.
“I didn’t mean to,” Driver mumbled, sounding akin to a kid with their hand found stuck in a cookie jar.
“You didn’t mean to stalk me?” Colt should be kicking him out of his house. He should be running away. Instead, he took a small step closer.
Driver’s eyelids flexed, “I just noticed things.” He was being incredibly ambiguous, and Colt was starting to wonder if he was mesmerized by this mystery. If he liked it.
“What things?” His voice got softer, meeting Driver wherever he was at. Yeah, no, a part of him was definitely a moth to a flame. Maybe it was his ego telling him that he was invincible to danger, but all he could think about was that someone like quiet, lone “Driver” was tempted to memorize all the details of his life. Down to his coffee.
“Like,” Driver shifted his weight uncomfortably, “your work schedule… and how you were around the others.” Colt tilted his head, waiting for him to continue on. Silently begging him to continue.
“You weren’t…you talk a lot. Easy to figure stuff out.” He shrugged again, the motion reminding Colt that he was still shirtless after being bandaged up.
“Should I be worried about that?” He questioned just above a whisper, taking another step closer as if he were being lured in.
Driver’s shoulders caved in on themselves, “maybe.” He still wouldn’t look at Colt, and it was killing him. “Does it scare you?” His tone sounded more earnest than threatening.
“No,” Colt answered honestly without thinking. He watched the other man fiddle with his hands. It was the rare occasion they were missing his leather gloves. Something inside him wanted to reach out and grab them. Replace their fidgeting motion with warm skin.
“But I am wondering how you can track down where I live, but can’t hold a conversation with me when you aren’t dying.” His voice held a bit of a challenge. A spark.
Air shot out of Driver’s nose, “You say too much.”
Colt tipped his head back to the side, a disbelieving smirk spreading across his face, “Right.” His tongue clocked on the word as he took a step back, aware of the space lacking between them now.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re flirting with me,” he teased. This made Driver’s gaze snap back to his with an intensity he hadn’t seen before.
“Thanks for your help,” he mumbled, suddenly sobering them both up from whatever strange moment they’d been having.
“Wait-” Colt straightened up to recover their conversation, but Driver was turning tail to leave. Damn it. “Driver!”
As quickly as he’d snuck in, he was slinking back out, returning to his familiar prized car. Colt watched from his doorway as the other man made his escape, an odd feeling of disappointment in his chest. It was quickly washed over with embarrassment as he realized he was chasing after someone he didn’t even know the true name of. Just a dumb nickname. It suited him, though.
What the fuck was going on? Clearly, Driver thought- something of him. Something that made him leave gifts in his trailer and follow him home for help. But he always refused to talk. Refused to get in close. It was like some losing game Colt was being forced to play.
For weeks following, it was absolutely silent. Not even a prickle on the back of his neck. Colt was fidgety. He could tell the people around him noticed it too. He was walking around set, constantly searching around and flexing his hands like he was in some frenzy. It felt somewhat similar to a deep aching hunger. It also felt like a massive knot of anxiety.
He didn’t know what Driver did to get so injured all the time, but it had to truly be bad. He’d wound up on Colt’s doorstep with stab wounds, gashes, split knuckles, dark bruises littering his body. Wounds that went beyond any typical stunt work. He should be worried that the man who stalked him and turned up bloody was a murderer, but instead, he found himself fearing for Driver’s safety.
This was the first time in a while that he was doing stunts without the other, and it felt hollow. Colt hadn’t realized how much he upped his own energy on set, almost like he was showing off to someone, and now that audience was gone. All this time, he was desperately trying to win over his attention. He’d always had it, but he’d failed to realize it.
“Colt! Take a five!” Dan snapped, reeling him out of his thoughts.
“Sorry,” he muttered, dancing circles around himself like a confused dog.
“I can’t have you doing dangerous shit out of your mind, so you better go find it!”
Colt wasn’t one to get distracted from the job. It’s what he loved. He’d always chased the thrill of stunt work. The pulsing energy in the room as cast and crew alike held their breaths. But…it wasn’t fulfilling him now. He knew it would pass like an illness, but right now, Colt was infected. His brain was hijacked by the disease that was his stalker. His stalker.
This was so fucked up. What happened next? Did he fawn over newspaper clipping letters left on his mirror? Kick his feet like a schoolgirl at dead animals in his bedroom? Or did he get off on seeing someone dying on his bathroom floor, brought back to life by his own helping hands?
He had no proof Driver was a bad person, but he had no proof he was a good one either. All he knew was that he’d always been attracted to danger. Just look at his career choice.
“I’m good. I can do it,” he commanded, forcefully snapping himself back into the zone. Dan gave him a weary look, but waved him on anyway.
The next thing he knew, he was on the ground being checked out by paramedics. Colt squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the sting of embarrassment across his entire body more than his wounds. He was going to get his head cut off for this, but right now, he needed to focus on the bruising in his ribs. Shit…it really hurt.
He tried to give a feeble thumbs-up and lift his upper body, but he immediately collapsed back down from the pain. It was blinding in this moment. It turned all his thoughts into a static screen, a loud ringing filling his ears. Well, that wasn’t good.
“You’re going to the hospital, Seavers. Don’t even try it.” The voice sounded too distorted to make out who it was. Colt just let his eyes close again and waited for the professionals to sweep him away. He was such a disappointment.
He’d been through all these motions before. The concussions, the broken bones, the bruised ego. Every hospital trip was the same. Luckily, none of them were major. Like right now, he had a few bruised ribs, some scrapes and cuts, but he was otherwise fine. He’d needed stitches along his left eyebrow, but it was no big deal. Just the job. Just a typical Thursday.
They wanted to monitor him for a few hours just to be absolutely sure he hadn’t hurt his head or lungs, so now came his least favorite part. Sitting still in a sterile room and waiting. Colt hated sitting in one place too long, and his restlessness was only provoked by the stark white walls. Surely he’d go insane before he was released.
The only thing walls like this held were bad memories. Memories like Ryland having his first anxiety-induced asthma attack and Court having to drive them to the hospital. He was only fourteen, but their dad was passed out drunk, and waking him only meant making everything worse. So, he stole the car and figured it out.
Come to think of it, that was only about a year before they were separated. It felt so much longer than that. Memories of your childhood always did. Years seemed to stretch out for decades as the future hurdled at your adult life at lightning speed.
Colt tried and failed to bounce his leg for some release, but with the awkward position of the bed and the pain in his chest, he couldn’t do it. He had no idea where his phone was, probably the stunts trailer, and no idea how to pass the time. He’d settle for drumming his hands in his lap instead, trying to let his mind wander somewhere better. Somewhere that wasn’t his troublesome early childhood.
Suddenly, the door to his small room opened, revealing a familiar blonde. Colt’s heart skip jumped right out of his chest. Driver looked apprehensive, stalling in the doorway while scanning the room absently. Like he was waiting for permission. Colt couldn’t help but smile.
“Look who's hurt now?” He cracked, attempting to be funny. Driver wasn’t much of a laugher. Or a smiler. Not usually. But Colt could swear he saw a flicker of something on his face.
“Accident?” Driver shifted in place, moving just close enough to let the door close behind him for privacy. He still looked ready to spin around and run off if prompted to. Colt sighed to himself, realizing he had to play a game of cat and mouse while his head was still fuzzy from pain. Still, he didn’t want anyone else here right now. He was… warm at the thought that Driver had shown up at all. That was enough.
And in the back of his mind, he wondered how Driver even knew he was hurt. Knew he was here. That felt more than warm.
“Yeah, I was being an idiot,” he huffed, the shame crawling back up his throat, making his skin feel like it was peeling away. He should’ve been able to do that stunt just fine. He wasn’t prone to accidents. Typical injuries from stunts, maybe, but this was a complete and total fuck up on his end. And now he’d likely be out for the rest of filming.
Used to the gaping silence, he continued to fill it himself, “Only got a few bruised ribs and some other dings on me,” he gestured to his eyebrow, “They just want to watch me for a few hours.” He decided to look away from Driver somewhat, noticing that the more he kept his gaze on him, the more he fidgeted uncomfortably. The watcher doesn’t like to be watched.
“But- I think I’ll go insane before they let me out,” he finished. Driver just stood across the room with his hands firmly placed in his jacket pockets. How did he always get the blood out so well? Did he have a collection of jackets?
He wondered if Driver would let the silence go on forever if given the option to. If he’d just wait here awkwardly until the world spun out beyond them.
“I could…” The sound of his voice genuinely spooked Colt for a second. He’d let him drift off in his thoughts for a good few minutes before attempting to speak. It seemed like he couldn’t finish the thought, though.
“Keep me company?” Colt prompted, silently hopeful. Damn it, he didn’t know when he got so tied up in this man, but there was just something intimate about stitching up someone's wounds for months on end. For whatever reason, Driver felt it safe and necessary to drag himself to Colt’s doorstep when he was in trouble. And Colt handled him with the utmost care and gentle hands that he could every time.
“I don’t like hospitals,” Driver mumbled, which would’ve crushed Colt if he wasn’t moving towards the chair in the corner.
“Yeah, I think I’m gathering that lately,” Colt tried to laugh, but cut himself off when pain flared down his chest. It turned into a pathetic wheeze instead.
He didn’t miss the millisecond worth of time that Driver’s gaze flicked over to him at the sound in concern. He covered it up quickly, back to looking at the wall when Colt fully turned his way. But he’d seen it in his peripheral vision for just a moment. Softie. He thought, leaving the teasing in his head. He wouldn’t want to send him running again.
“I don't like hospitals either,” he admitted. It seemed to pique Driver’s interest. Colt just got used to offering up pieces of himself to bargain for the other’s time and trust. It was better than nothing. And it didn’t feel bad to let things off his chest. Especially not with Driver. For whatever reason, he didn’t understand.
“My brother- twin, actually- he got sick sometimes.” Flashes of Courtland’s concerned face and Ryland's look of terror flooded his mind for a moment. They weren’t pleasant. Unfortunately, most of the memories with their older brother weren’t.
“I’m sorry,” Driver replied, his soft voice sounding completely sincere.
“It’s okay, he’s a super cool scientist now,” Colt deflected, a flicker of pride coming to life inside him. He really couldn’t be prouder of how Ryland had turned out despite everything. It made bearing his grief alone worth it. If not remembering their dad and Courtland was what it took for him to be happy, Colt would stay silent about it for as long as he lived.
They spent nearly two hours sitting there talking about nothing that felt like everything. It was getting late in the day, which made Colt more restless, but at the same time, Driver’s company took away the need to fidget so much. It wasn’t so bad having someone to ramble to again.
“Alright, Mr. Grace,” A doctor chimed, poking into the room, “You’re all set to go home.” She smiled as she handed Colt his discharge papers.
“Thanks,” Colt responded tightly with a cringe at his name. No one called him that anymore, but it was, in fact, still his legal name on his ID and records.
“Grace?” Driver hummed in surprise once the door shut. Colt crawled out of the hospital bed with some struggle, grabbing his regular clothes.
“Yeah,” he huffed, stepping awkwardly into his jeans. He didn’t care that Driver was likely watching him; it wasn’t like he hadn’t changed Driver’s clothes plenty of times to get him out of his own blood. It also wasn’t like he was uncomfortable changing in front of people when ninety percent of his job entailed getting dressed in crowded dressing rooms. Only fancy actors got trailers to themselves most of the time.
“Seavers is just a stage name,” he explained, gritting his teeth from the pain in his ribs. He hated that it was just more “intimate” information being fed to a practical stranger. Hated that he knew absolutely nothing about Driver, including his first name, while the other knew both of his.
Through the large window, he could see the sun sinking behind the horizon as the city turned a rose gold color. Soon to be violet night. When Colt was dressed and fixing up his belt, he turned around to face Driver, who looked to be contemplating something.
“You wanna go for a drive?” The offer caught him off guard. Driver’s car was like- sacred to him. He never let anyone touch it, let alone get in it. And- this would be the first time he made an effort to be around Colt without some kind of stipulation via injuries.
“I mean- obviously you need a ride home,” he added, taking away the whimsy of it.
“And obviously, you know where I live,” Colt half-teased in a low tone. He watched Driver’s lips genuinely twitch into a quick smile. It knocked the breath out of him.
“The city's pretty at this hour,” he murmured, turning to the room door with a bob of his head that gestured for Colt to follow. He did, wordlessly.
Driver kept his head down, ducking through the crowded halls to the nearest exit with Colt on his tail. Colt was moving a bit slower than he’d like, pain hitting him with every step. But it was worth it. Anything to get out of this claustrophobic place. Anything to get closer to Driver.
The fresh air outside was like a welcome slap to the face as they approached Driver’s car, the feeling working to undo some of Colt’s wound-up nerves. He couldn’t find anything to say, sliding into the passenger seat and taking in the new environment around him.
Driver’s car was perfectly clean, an old model and a beauty at that. He clearly cared a lot about this thing to keep it in good shape. It had a gearshift anchored to the floor, the seats themselves being Colt’s personal favorite. Bench seats. His mind ran a little wild with them at times, but he contained himself now.
It was obvious why the nickname Driver was fitting for the other man. He looked made to sit behind the wheel, one hand moving the gearshift like second nature. He seemed to almost relax that second he was in his car, pulling out to the main road. This was his element, truly.
There was no sound besides the humming of the engine, and Colt was fine with that for now. The gorgeous sunset was enough to occupy him. At least while he debated what he wanted to say. Whether it was a good idea or not. If he was brave enough to.
“You know- whatever it is you have going on…” He started, trying to just jump into it before he had time to panic. Like swimming almost. “It’s not really any of my business.” He could see Driver swivel his head towards him for just a moment in the corner of his eyes, unable to look back. “I mean- I’d like to know if I’m going to be helping you, but I'm sure you have your reasons. Honestly, I don’t care- I just like being around you.” The car filled with silence again as Colt nervously traced his lips with his knuckles, staring out the passenger window.
“I don’t know why- you’re quiet and avoidant- I hardly know anything about you, and despite that, you’re obsessive in a way that should probably scare me, but- I-” He took a sharp breath, ignoring the jab of discomfort, “It just makes me like you more? You fascinate me, and you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met- and I know I talk too much, but it just feels like my brain is on fire around you, so I don’t care what you’re doing, and I’m not going to. I just-”
“Colt.” Driver interrupted, making him swallow his words and realize what he’d just said. Shit. “I… don’t really like talking.” Well, that part was obvious, “But with you it’s… different.” Colt tried to hold in a snort through his nose. If this was supposed to be social Driver, then he didn’t want to know what his “normal settings” were like. He didn’t elaborate further, letting the hum of the engine take back over their ears for a moment.
“Casey,” he said suddenly. Colt’s head snapped up and over to him. “That’s… my real name. But I’d rather be called ‘Driver’ honestly.” Colt smiled to himself, examining the man's face, basking in the orange light.
“Usually I just hate talking,” he continued, the openness like a fresh breath of air when Colt hadn’t realized he’d been drowning. “It’s pointless pleasure between liars. Dishonest. A waste of energy.” Colt’s brows lifted in surprise. That was- a way to see it?
“But with you-” Driver tipped his head from side to side like he was rolling the idea around in his mind. “With you, I just want to say the right things, and I can’t.” It sounded so different from the way he usually spoke. Less contained. Less impassive. There was this pain in the notes of his voice, like speaking openly hurt him in a way. It was Colt’s turn to be speechless.
“There’s too much in my head. I get overwhelmed and shut down,” he swallowed, “So I just- I don’t know- I look after you.” Something about this felt very familiar to him. Colt watched Driver’s hands squeeze a rhythm into his steering wheel as he stone-faced the road, something in his mind just clicking.
“Like, verbal shut down?” He prompted, hoping that either he would get clarity or Driver wouldn’t know what he meant. He didn’t want to be offensive. When he looked back up at the other’s face, he saw him taking a deep breath and nodding.
Oh. That’s why this was so familiar all this time. Even when he hadn’t realized it. Driver was autistic. Or at least he assumed so. Like Ryland. Well, not like Ryland. They were nothing alike. But he understood.
“And honestly?” Driver slightly took his eyes off the road to look back at Colt for a moment, “I’ve been thinking about kissing you for a while.”
Colt choked on his own breath, scrambling to take in Driver’s face for a hint of a joke. But his expression hadn’t changed. He’d meant that.
“God, me too,” he admitted absent-mindedly. He hadn’t fully considered it, but when it came to thinking about that complicated ball winding tighter in his gut every time he pictured Driver, he realized that’s exactly what it was. His curiosity, his infatuation. The yearning to be watched. The look in Driver’s eyes when he was in pain, watching Colt clean up his wounds for him.
Suddenly, there was a buzzing electricity in the car that he couldn’t stand. All at once, the idea of Driver’s lips on his actually flooded his mind without a filter. He imagined them now, soft and hesitant. Or in his bathroom, split open from a punch, the taste of metallic blood in his mouth. He wondered what it might feel like to finally bridge that gap between them. The closest he’d ever gotten was staring into his Adam's apple from an awkward angle. Or carrying his rag-dolled body.
How different would it be if he could pull him closer instead? If Driver invited him closer. What if all that silence was finally filled with heavy breathing and burning contact? Colt was getting restless in his seat, unsure of where to look now.
Neither of them spoke as the darkening city rolled by. Night was setting in fast now, the last vibrant hues of day burning out in the blue-black sky. Colt’s hand twitched against his leg, his gaze wandering down to Driver’s grip on the gearshift. Maybe he didn’t have the courage in this moment, but one day he’d like to see himself holding his hand against his while he drove. Or maybe in other places.
“So-” Colt let out a forced cough, trying to unwind the squeak in his voice, “where are we going?” He was unbelievably bad at shutting up and just letting a moment sink in.
“Somewhere quiet.”
Colt shivered. His mind ran wild with possibilities, but he refused to let his hopes up. A little flirting didn’t mean anything.
It was like Driver had an invisible map of the whole city in his head, knowing all the right roads to take and all the secret little places. Colt was internally melting down and realized they were pulling into a completely secluded spot he’d never seen before.
Lock the fuck in. He ran through a jumbled pep talk in his head, turning to face Driver like he wasn’t secretly a coward. He’d never had a problem with flirting or picking up people from bars before. Never backed out of a deadly stunt, no matter how terrifying it should’ve been. He just wasn’t that kind of guy. You couldn’t be when you lived a life like his.
But here he was staring at someone he actually liked- someone he burned to get closer to, and he was at a loss. He couldn’t get a read on Driver, and it drove him crazy. Both in a good way and a bad way.
“I really hope I didn’t creep you out with the coffee thing,” Driver murmured, killing the engine. “I didn’t…”
“Driver,” Colt cut in, tracing his face down to his lips with his eyes, “are you going to kiss me or what?
Drive froze, staring at him for a moment like he was processing it or making a decision. He dove across his seat towards Colt, grabbing his face as he connected their lips with a passion. It was gentle and sweet, but packing heat to it. Colt didn’t protest, melting into him as he kissed back. His hands were unsure of what to do, pushing himself upright more in his seat. He already needed more, needed to be closer.
God, it was like his body had been unknowingly missing a key component as it suddenly filled with a euphoria foreign to him. Sure, he’d kissed plenty of people before. But not like this. They had failed to ignite him this way. Failed to make him feel alive in a way that he thought only deadly stunts could. Driver’s lips were just as soft as he’d imagined, maybe more. They moved so confidently when it wasn’t to make words come out.
It was simultaneously like he’d just had his head shoved under water and just woken up from a very long dream. A deep, absent sleep that his body had just pulled itself from. Every minuscule break between their lips left Colt fighting for air so that he could plunge back in.
It was Driver who pulled back fully, his heavy breath hitting Colt’s face. They were so close that Colt had to dip his head to try to look at the other man’s face. There was a hunger in his eyes. The same hunger he’d felt before. The one that landed him in his accident today. Only it got ten times harder to ignore when seeing it mirrored in the other’s eyes, mixed with uncertainty.
Colt decided to take that uncertainty away, snaking one arm around Driver, pulling him back in. The movement hurt, but he didn’t care. He just had to take what he could get. Driver’s fingers curled into the back of Colt’s hair, entangling his hand with his scalp and tugging as they deepened the kiss with more need.
Colt let out the faintest gasp for air, grabbing the back of his seat as he tried to pull the other even closer. He let his other hand slip down Driver’s back, moving to the hem of his shirt instead. He moved slowly, giving the other plenty of time to stop him. He didn’t; instead, he shuddered at the feeling of Colt’s calloused palm running along his abdomen.
He drew his tongue along Driver’s bottom lip, running his fingers up and across his chest where he could feel his racing pulse. Something that gave away everything he tried to hide in his face and body. Is that why he was so quiet? Because his voice would tremble from the pounding of his heart?
Driver’s mouth fought him for dominance, moving one arm to anchor around Colt’s. Like he was forcing him to keep exploring his body. Colt felt his breathing seize in his chest, his hand tracing down to Driver’s side, where he was bound to have a scar. He found it, the skin still raised and angry from months ago when they’d first started this strange dance. He couldn’t help himself from tracing it with his fingers delicately. Driver exhaled into his mouth at the touch.
He jolted forward, earning a quick hiss of pain from Colt, his ribs flaring in protest. Driver paused in realization, Colt’s hand twitching against his body.
“Your ribs,” he mumbled almost drunkenly against Colt’s lips.
“S’fine,” Colt replied, pushing back for more, “Just go easy on me.” They reconnected into a sloppy kiss before Colt pulled back with a bright red face at his accidental implication. Driver just stared at him with intense lidded eyes and parted lips.
“I mean-” He was cut off by the other moving back in quickly, shoving apart his beloved Miami Vices jacket that the crew had sent him to the hospital with. Driver’s hands found their place on his waist, rubbing along the top of his hip bones and curving towards his back. The sensation made Colt shudder. It was careful but absolutely starving.
He was letting out moans into Driver’s mouth, unable to contain himself. The other man could barely touch him, and he’d completely unravel. In a strange way, he felt like candle wax, and Driver was the flame.
Driver shifted his weight, pulling them the other direction so that his body pushed up against the car door. Colt eagerly crawled over him to keep their lips connected, the other man's hands not moving from his waist. He slid his arms up, pulling Colt closer against him, where they could both feel each other's mutual excitement. Colt sort of gasped against him, feeling like a reckless teenager all over again.
“You’re so-” He choked, moving back in for another taste. “God,” he exhaled against his lips. Driver’s hands were tracing every inch of skin available to them now, shoving off Colt’s jacket to give him more freedom. He didn’t mind; the heat between them might’ve killed him otherwise. He kept one hand anchored on Colt’s hips, guiding them closer to his own while the other flipped from his back to his neck to his face in a frantic pattern. Like he couldn’t figure out his favorite spot.
It all made Colt shiver, running his hips down into Driver’s at the cost of an embarrassing sound. Driver let out a little gasp, probably the most verbal sound he’d made in reaction to this. Colt made a growling sound in his throat as pain flared up the side of his ribs in a blinding manner. He was desperate for more friction, but every movement was tender.
He adjusted and held one hand over his injured side, rolling his hips into Driver while supporting himself with the other. A hard breath shot out of Driver’s nose as he locked in on Colt above him. For the first time, it was the more confident man who was floundering to make eye contact.
He was a wreck, bucking against the other man’s bulge in desire. He wasn’t able to keep himself stoic either, small grunts and moans tumbling out past his lips. Driver reached up towards him, letting Colt bury his flustered face into his palm. He gently kissed at the soft skin, letting it absorb his pathetic sounds.
“You’re a mess,” Driver huffed out in strained containment, his body shivering with each movement from the other on top of him. It only made embarrassment curl deeper in Colt’s gut, where a raging fire burned it away. He simply couldn’t contain it when he felt Driver’s hips subtly roll back up against his own, his own needs more subtle but there nonetheless.
Every thrust was scattering pain down his rib cage, but he didn’t care. The air between them was too thick. Too intoxicating. Driver carefully reached up between them with his free hand, gingerly unbuckling Colt’s belt.
The movement alone about drove him crazy. With his binds undone, Driver moved onto his fly, pulling the zipper down at a purposefully drawn-out pace. Colt made a strangled sound into his palm, practically begging him to hurry up and touch him.
Through squinted eyes, he could see Driver smirking up at him like he was witnessing something beautiful. Colt shut his eyes, unable to take it. Before he could process it, Driver was slipping a hand down his boxers, wrapping it around his confined length.
Automatically, he tried to buck against the sensation, causing Driver to forcefully pull his face towards his.
“Don’t do that,” he commanded quietly with a small shake of his head. Colt dipped his head down into the base of Driver’s jaw line as he felt him begin to size him up.
It was a painfully short moment later that he was pulling away, making the other man verbally mourn the loss. It was only for a second, so he could coat his palm with saliva to make up for the lack of other lubricant. Driver still held eye contact as he drew his tongue across his hand, trembling breaths leaving Colt’s body. Colt immediately groaned from deep in his throat when he felt Driver’s hand slip down his shaft smoothly, gliding up and down at a leisurely pace.
Each gasp at the other’s touch radiated in his chest, earning a pained wheeze to follow, but it felt weirdly addicting. Pushing through pain to indulge in pleasure. Colt was slumping into Driver’s body, trying to bury his face deeper into the crook of his neck as the other rolled his head to the side.
As Driver worked out even strokes that turned him into a whimpering mess, Colt found soft spots along his neck to suckle and bite on, undoubtedly leaving dark marks. Every time he found Driver’s pulse against his lips and moved to kiss it, the other would move against him just right, causing him to clamp his mouth down.
“Diver,” He moaned, feeling the other’s short breath against his hair. “Please- I need-” Oh God, his mind was on fire. He could feel heat pooling in his stomach with each pump of his cock. Sweat was racing down both their bodies, making their clothes cling to them. Their breath fogged up every window in the car, trapping them in an atmosphere. He sure hoped no cops were around.
“Oh, suddenly can’t use your words now?” Driver mused sweetly, short-circuiting Colt’s brain. Just the sound of him talking made curses fly out of his lips. Who knew the quiet man below him was such a sweet talker?
“I just- fuck-” His body was shaking now, struggling to hold itself up as Driver worked him like putty in his hand. He felt so helpless as the other sped up, drawing his thumb over the tip almost expertly. It took every ounce of him not to thrust into his touch, too afraid that he would stop if he did. So instead, he shuddered and jolted, practically crying into Driver’s neck as he craved release.
From here, all he could smell was something sweet radiating off the other, mixed with sweat and desperation. Driver had a very specific smell to him that was hard to describe. Most noticeable now with Colt’s nose pressed against his throat. It was like a mixture of coconut lotion, cleaner, and something metallic. It was addictive.
“Driver- I’m-” A low rumble sounded in his chest, “I’m gonna-”
Driver kissed the top of his head before pulling him up by his chin to look him in the eyes. The moment he locked onto the other’s intense stare, he felt the heat in his stomach explode down his body. Driver pulled him back into a deep kiss as he felt almost a glow radiate through the rest of him. Just before he hit his climax, Driver pulled back again to regain eye contact, Colt’s release pooling into his hand. He gave way to one final shuddering breath, his eyes falling closed uncontrollably.
Driver leaned in to kiss across his face, keeping his hand where it was for a moment. The energy was quickly draining from Colt’s body as he failed to support himself any longer, giving in when Driver fully wrapped his arms around him. He’d had a ratty rag, presumably for car work, at the ready for his hand, but it seemed unfortunately, Colt would have to deal with the consequences of his impulsivity until he got home.
He could feel Driver’s hard-on pressing against his side from the angle he was lying at, but there was something overly sweet and gentle in the way he stroked his back in this moment. Like he was comforting him. Now was when the pain was really coming back into his vision full force, his entire chest aching.
Colt spent a good while debating whether he had the strength and energy in his wounded state to return the favor. He wanted to- God, he wanted to. But fingers dipping under his shirt and dancing along his spine lulled him in another direction. He took in another deep breath of Driver.
“I want to wait,” Driver spoke up like he could read the other man’s mind. His voice sounded distant, but lacking that contained strain it usually did. It was something more raw at the moment.
Colt pulled his head back to face him with a confused look. But what he saw was his own daze reflected in the other’s deep eyes.
“I should take you home,” he hummed, kissing the bridge of Colt’s nose, “You’re hurt.” Colt took the hint and pulled off the other’s body with a small amount of both mental and physical struggle.
“But I want-” Exhausted as he may be, he’d waited so long for a moment like this. Years to see Driver be vulnerable and real. This was his very first taste of that, and he didn’t want it to be focused entirely on himself.
Driver shook his head, “Just let me return the favor after all the nights you took care of me.”
It wasn’t the same, but it sounded fair enough. At least with the certainty behind Driver’s voice, it did. And the man was too stubborn to argue with. Colt knew that already.
“Okay,” He sighed, feeling uncomfortably cold and incomplete as he maneuvered back into the passenger seat properly, fixing his belt. Not that it mattered much with a giant wet spot in his jeans visible. It was so worth it.
Driver shuffled up in his seat as well, sloppily trying to pull himself back together. For the first time, Colt actually took notice to the flush across his face. He was already aching to kiss the blemish spots and turn them redder, but the moment between them was passing, and he wasn’t sure what was left for them to do now. Was this a one-time thing? Were they just hooking up now? Was there a potential for something more here?
He silently hoped for the third option, his gaze following every feature on Driver’s face as he started up the car and pulled them away from their little “hidden” spot. He’d cracked the windows to air out the humidity and passion between them, a light breeze tousling Colt’s already messy hair. It felt nice. Being with Driver felt nice.
He wondered if he was selfish to want to keep him forever. To do anything like this again just to be close to him. A mystery to the rest of the world, but one that came undone in his hands over time. Though if you really thought about it more literally, Colt was the only one in anyone’s hands tonight.
That was beside the point; he wanted to know Driver at an intimate depth. He wanted to spend more time in this car, not for the exchange they’d just had (though he wasn’t complaining), but for this moment here. Orange street lights blurring in through the car, softening the other man’s features. He could hear the undying city chatter with the windows open, thankful for the warm weather these days and more so for the cool nights that followed.
He stared at Driver’s hand on the gearshift, this time maybe feeling a little more confident. Or maybe just drunk off the peaceful moment and yearning to be closer again. Colt reached out, carefully placing his hand on top of Driver’s, interlacing their fingers slightly. Driver didn’t flinch or move away. When Colt took his gaze to his face, he saw him fighting a smile.
It was beautiful. His eyes darted back and forth along the road. His lips twitched up before being forced back down repeatedly. Who knew he was such a softie?
When Colt’s house came into view, disappointment made itself known within him. It almost hurt how the wave crashed against his insides. Well- it did hurt. His breath stuttered with uncertainty, leaving his injured ribs to protest.
“Get some rest,” Driver said, gaze stalking Colt as he left the car, slowly trailing around to his side, where he was leaning out the window.
“I’ll try,” Colt mused, every part of him aching to take Driver inside. Begging to know where they stood now.
“I’ll uh-” Driver picked something up between his first two fingers, passing it to Colt hesitantly. “You can-” He couldn’t find the proper words. Colt looked at the small card in his hand, absorbing digits that were crudely scrawled onto it.
“I’d like to see you again,” Driver finished, settling on the option that probably made Colt’s heart pound the hardest.
“Me too,” he exhaled, currently feeling very dreamlike. Driver fought a smile again, dipping his head away from Colt’s gaze before pulling himself back into his car fully.
There wasn’t much left to say as he pulled out of the driveway, but Colt still felt like he was fighting to find something. When it didn’t come, and the familiar car began to disappear, he stammered back towards his front door.
What a night.