Night Ride Home, 644 words
A crazy thunderstorm broke in Denver a couple hours before they were supposed to head out to the airport. The charter jet company called them at the hotel to say it wasn't happening until morning. Vince said, "What the hell, we'll drive," and the hotel concierge got them a nice stretch limo, full bar, flatscreen with dvd player, satellite tv, the works.
Turtle and Drama fell asleep after a couple of movies, six hours in with the rain still drumming down on the sunroof, and Eric was mostly drifting off, his feet up on the seat. Vince was next to him, head tipped back against the leather seats and yawning, sipping from a cut glass of brandy. He nudged Eric over so he could get his legs up too, cramming them into the corner together.
"This is kinda nice," Vince said, flick of his fingers at the windows, streaked with neon from the passing cars, rain and darkness. "You know, taking our time, feeling the road go by."
"Yeah," Eric said, yawning. "Gimme some of that."
He meant for Vince to get him a glass, but Vince just handed over his own. Good enough. The brandy was cool and hot together, going down, and he handed it back empty. Vince leaned forward to put the glass down in the bar, and then he sat back again just as close.
"You ever think about," Vince said, softly, staring out the window, "we're all in these cars, headed the same way—except we're all alone—"
Eric picked up his head and stared at him. "Okay, Vince, why are you using a pick up line on me?"
"It's not a pick up line!" Vince protested, except it totally was, and when Eric raised his eyebrows Vince gave up on arguing and just rolled his eyes. Then he broke into a grin, dazzle-bright, and said, "So on a scale of one to ten—"
"Negative fifty," Eric said, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, man, all of us headed the same way, but we're all alone?"
"Hey, just because it's classic doesn't mean it's not true," Vince said.
"You're not alone," Eric said. He meant that half those people knew who Vince was, what was going on in his life and his career, he was the least alone guy in the world—except Vince tipped his head over and looked at him, and the rest of it kind of dried up, and that wasn't what Eric meant anymore.
He cleared his throat, except that was a mistake, because he licked his mouth after, and Vince watched him do it. Vince's grin had slid away. He was looking weird, his face almost hard. "Vince," Eric said, and it came out like—
"E," Vince said. And then he said, "Eric." And then he leaned in and they were kissing.
Vince had a hand on his thigh. It felt crazy good there, gripping tight. Eric had his hand on Vince's neck, holding him in close.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Turtle said, and they broke apart. "Tell me you guys got completely wasted while I was asleep."
"Huh?" Drama said, waking up.
Vince ducked his head, half-grinning in his aw-shucks-I'm-just-an-innocent-movie-sta
"Don't worry?" Turtle said.
"Worry about what?" Drama said.
"Worry about Vince and E sucking face," Turtle said. "With us in the freaking car!"
"Huh?" Drama said, frowning.
"Turtle, what are you talking about?" Vince said, wide-eyed.
Turtle stared. "You guys were just—"
Eric snorted, laughing, and Vince bumped him in the side with his elbow.
"I hate you assholes," Turtle said. Vince grinned at him, and then he leaned over and kissed Eric again.
"Holy shit," Drama said.
"Hey, we're right here!" Turtle yelled.
Eric flipped them the finger and held on to Vince.
= End =