Chapter Text
Colt
There he was. Just standing there like everything was normal. Like he hadn't walked off right after giving Colt what was quite possibly one of the best kisses of his life. He stood there, toothpick in his mouth, listening to the coordinator intently.
Colt was fuming.
Jody placed a hand on his arm. "Don't do anything stupid."
He watched in confused anger as Driver nodded and looked at the schedule in his hand. The coordinator stopped talking to him and turned away. Driver kept looking at the paper. He chewed on the toothpick, thinking. His brows were furrowed in that gentle way of his. He was wearing that same white jacket with the scorpion on the back, and probably a different pair of jeans. The leather gloves were hanging out of his back pocket.
Colt walked over. Every step thudded in his chest. Every footfall made his ears burn.
Driver heard him coming a long time before Colt was within talking distance. He turned around and met his stare, piercing icy blue boring a hole into Colt's face. He didn't say anything, but Colt was expecting him to, for some reason. Perhaps an apology or an explanation. Nothing.
Colt stopped in front of him, unsure of how to start. Why'd you leave? Are you okay? I was worried. I missed you. I wish you didn't leave. Can you kiss me again? Please don't cut it short like last time. His mess of a brain prevented him from doing anything but opening his mouth and closing it again. Driver didn't show any sign of annoyance. He just watched.
Colt took a breath. "Driver."
Driver dipped his head at him.
Colt glanced around. It was rather public. He looked down, wondered if he should grab Driver's hand and pull him to a secluded location. He turned to Driver's face again. "Can we talk? Privately?"
Driver didn't disagree, so Colt took him to the space just behind Jody's trailer. Inviting him in seemed like too big of a step. It wasn't private, the sound could still carry around, but it was separated enough from the rest of the set and people that Colt felt it wouldn't raise too many questions.
Driver looked at him expectantly.
Colt didn't know where to start.
"Want a toothpick?" Driver asked, surprising Colt by being the first one to talk.
Colt shook his head. "What? No!" He began pacing. "I don't want a toothpick, Driver. I want to know why you just—left like that?"
Driver shifted. "I had something to take care of."
"Like what?" Colt questioned, a little too harshly. He dragged his hands through his hair. "You don't just—kiss someone like that and then disappear into the night like some sort of romance novel character!"
Driver blinked.
"I just—" Colt placed his hands on his hips and scrutinised Driver. "I don't understand."
Driver chewed on that toothpick. Colt wanted to lean over and take it out of his mouth and kiss him breathless. Driver's face was as unreadable as ever.
Colt watched him. "So? Are you going to explain yourself?"
Driver raised an eyebrow. He shifted, and then, finally, he relented. "I told you. There was something I needed to—"
"Take care of, yes, I know," Colt interrupted. "You and your mysteries. I fucked up a stunt yesterday because I couldn't stop thinking about you."
That seemed to break through Driver's exterior. For the slightest of moments, he changed. A breath slipped out of his mouth, his eyes widened, he went a little slack-jawed. But as quickly as it had happened, it stopped, and he was back to his old self. He inhaled through his nose. "I wasn't supposed to be here yesterday."
Colt pressed his lips into a line. Driver was right. Colt shouldn't have expected him to be on set. He watched for any hint of emotion. Nothing. There was nothing.
Driver watched him intently.
Colt sighed. "You're hard to read, you know that?"
Driver exhaled a whisper of a laugh. He looked down at the ground, and then back up at Colt. "I've heard that before."
Colt wanted to grab Driver and shake some emotion out of him. "I'm just confused, is all," Colt reasoned. "I can't tell if you like me the same way I like you."
Driver paused. His eyes trailed over Colt. "You're engaged."
Colt snorted. "Do you think I'd have asked you to walk with me if Jody wasn't okay with it? Do you think we'd have invited you to drinks if she didn't want me to be with you?"
Silence. Driver seemed to process things slowly, carefully, calculating his next move like a spider sitting fat and fed in the middle of its web. He chose precisely what he wanted to say, and when, and how to say it. His entire being was a thoroughly crafted show. Colt wanted to break it down, to see who Driver was underneath all this hard shelled exterior.
Colt continued, "I told her about it. All of it. She's just as confused as I am. Please, tell me how you feel."
Driver hesitated. "I can't."
"You can't what?" Colt asked. "Be with me? Tell me how you feel?"
Driver shook his head. "No."
"Then—What?!" Colt asked, exasperated. "You're just—You can't stay, you can't leave, you're confusing me, Driver."
Driver stared.
"Listen, Driver, I really like you."
Driver didn't respond.
"And I—and Jody, too—would really like it if you stuck around."
Driver looked at him with something Colt couldn't place. Something like pity crossed over his face, and he fiddled with the insides of his jacket. His mouth quirked downwards a little, and he seemed to be thinking long and hard.
"I really like you," Colt repeated. "I want to get to know you."
Driver's brows knitted together and that pitying expression returned. "No, you don't."
Colt blinked.
Driver swallowed.
"What the hell does that even mean?" Colt asked, louder than he should have.
Driver flinched.
Colt softened immediately. He stepped forward, hands outstretched. "I'm sorry," he murmured, reaching towards Driver. "I shouldn't have yelled. I'm sorry. Please."
Driver furrowed his brows, in some sort of pity-worry-shame combination that made Colt's heart break. He stepped backwards.
"Driver, please," Colt half-whispered. "I'm sorry."
The man looked at him. "Don't."
Colt hesitated. "Driver, tell me no and I'll stop. We won't have to speak again. I'll leave you be and forget about you. But don't leave me in limbo like this. Don't make me second-guess myself."
Driver paused. He looked Colt up and down. He considered. He took a breath, and then one, tiny step forward. He reached out and traced his fingertips across Colt's cheek. He exhaled shakily.
"Do you want this? Me?" Colt asked, resisting the urge to lean into the touch.
Driver nodded. He withdrew his hand. "I can't."
Colt reached over, grazed his knuckles over Driver's jaw. He swallowed. "What do you mean, you can't?"
Driver shook his head. He took Colt's hand in his, stared at it. The moment was soft, sincere, Colt could feel his heart against his ribs. Jody had warned him. If Driver didn't want to talk, he didn't want to talk. But it was clear he wasn't saying no. He wasn't rejecting Colt. He was staying there, holding Colt's hand in his, the most devastating expression on his face.
"Driver?"
He sniffed. He looked at Colt. He took Colt's hand to his mouth, kissed it lightly.
Colt inhaled sharply.
Driver looked at Colt through his lashes, questioning.
Colt nodded. "That's okay."
Driver pressed another kiss to Colt's knuckles. He then pushed Colt's hand back to Colt's chest. "I have to go."
Colt knew this. Driver was scheduled on for a scene. He knew he shouldn't feel like he did. But he wanted Driver to stay. Wanted him to pin Colt against the trailer, kiss him until he couldn't anymore. Instead, he said, "I gave you my hotel room, right? You're always welcome."
Time wouldn't stop for either of them. Driver walked away with little more than a nod towards Colt, just as he had that night, and Colt stood there in the wake of Driver's affection.
Driver was incredible. Again. He lived up to his name, handling the cars like they were an extension of himself. It was astonishing, really, the way he commanded the machines. They barely had to do any re-takes, and when they had to, it was never the fault of Driver. He was perfect.
Jody was busy, barely having time to share a conversation, but when the day was over, she and Colt bundled into her trailer. She sat down and started making coffee.
"Jody, it's six p.m."
She made a mocking gesture with her hands. "I cannot find it within me to care," she said. She leant backwards on the countertop and looked at Colt. "So. You talked to him, then?"
Colt slumped against the door. "I did."
Jody snorted. "And?"
Colt hid his face in his hands. "He's… it's complicated."
Jody poured herself a cup. "Want some?"
Colt shook his head.
She sat on the floor across from him with her mug. "He's complicated?"
Colt fell to the floor. "I asked if he wanted to be with me. He said he wanted to, but couldn't." Driver hadn't technically said he wanted to, he'd just nodded, but Colt was familiar enough with his mannerisms by now to tell what that meant. He really wished he could just reach into Driver's mind and unspool the thoughts and doubts he was having.
"He's afraid, then?" Jody suggested. She held the mug close to her chest with both hands. Colt thought it was really cute. She tilted her head at him, thinking. "I mean, maybe he's invovled in some sort of fucked up crime syndicate."
Colt widened his eyes.
Jody went on. "There was a robbery the night he left you," she suggested, and Colt couldn't tell if she was being serious.
He took his head up from his hands. "What are you saying?"
Jody laughed. "Relax, I'm joking. Driver doesn't have it in him."
Colt nodded. The thought nagged at him anyway. Driver, as some sort of violent criminal. It wouldn't explain much. It was barely an excuse to leave Colt under that street light. They were in a big city, there were probably several crimes every night. It would be good cover. But Driver wasn't a criminal. He was too quiet, too soft.
"I think I've got over the infidelity plotline," Jody said, swishing the cup around. "I'm just gonna accept that it's the way it has to be."
Colt smiled. "It's too late to turn back now, isn't it?" he asked.
Jody groaned and Colt knew he had found the real reason. "Yes. You're right. If I wanted to change it now—which Dan doesn't want me to anyway—we'd have to throw away, like, months of filming. And I don't know if we have the budget or time to," she explained. "So immature adults it is."
Colt sighed. "I know you don't like it when people don't talk about their feelings, but…"
"Driver isn't an exception," Jody said. "It frustrates me not knowing what he's thinking. I want to just…." she put her coffee down and made a grabbing motion at the air. "Understand him. Make him understand that we value him."
"You've shared maybe five words with him," Colt pointed out.
Jody rolled her eyes. "That doesn't mean I can't feel strongly about him. I feel strongly about lots of people I haven't even seen in real life."
Colt sighed.
Jody fixed him with a contemplative stare. "What do you feel about him? You're allowed to feel strongly."
Colt rested his head on the wall behind him. He stared up at Jody's ceiling for the second time in as many days. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see it. He sucked in air through his teeth, making a peculiar little sound. It was one of his thinking sounds. He cast his thoughts to Driver, trying to turn his blazing fire of emotions into a comprehensible sentence.
He searched for words. Attraction. Affection. Worry. He didn't want to say he loved Driver, he'd known him for all of three days—two if he didn't count the day he wasn't on set. It seemed a little rash to be fantasising about him in less than savoury situations.
Fascination. Intrigue. Captivation. He worried that "charmed" was a little too much like a romance novel for his liking. But it otherwise fit. He was charmed by Driver, but even more than that he was deeply interested, wanted to know him inside and out.
Did he really not feel the heat in leather gloves and jeans? Why did the jacket have a scorpion on the back? Did he just like scorpions? Or was it significant to him in some way? What was he like as a kid? Did he keep in contact with his parents? Were they still alive? Did he have any siblings? Did he speak any other languages other than English? Was it his first language? What sort of music did he listen to? Did he like it? What was his favourite food? Was it the same as it was when he was a kid? Why was it his favourite? Did he like things spicy, or mild? Who was it that recommended he go into stunt-driving? Why did he speak about them in the past tense?
"I'm guessing by the fact you've been silent for the past five minutes, you have a lot of thoughts about Driver?"
Colt opened his eyes with a jolt. He flushed, realising he'd drifted off.
Jody gave him a smile. "You're smitten," she commented, tilting her head affectionately.
Colt met her gaze. He knew she was right. She was always right. "Yeah."
Jody finished her coffee. "So, tell me."
"Where do I start?"
Jody crossed her legs in front of her. "At the beginning."
—
When Colt was finally finished talking about Driver, an hour had passed. Granted, most of the time had been filled with various sounds and strained groans of "I just really like him" and "he's so mysterious" and "he must be doing it on purpose, right?"
Jody had made her way over, and was resting her head on his shoulder. She had a hand on the inside of his thigh and was tracing her thumb back and forth in the way she knew he liked. She barely said a word during all of it, except to prompt him or help him finish a sentence.
"But it feels wrong to say that I love him," Colt said. "Like, I barely know him. I don't even know his real name!"
"Have you asked for it?" Jody asked, finally asking a proper question. "It's not unreasonable to assume he just forgot you don't know it."
Colt sighed. "I don't know, Jodes. Maybe he's got a secret identity and this is his cover job."
Jody snorted. "I don't think so, Colt. I think he's just really good at cars."
Colt considered it. She was probably right. And Colt knew Driver was fantastic at what he did. His entire life must revolve around cars and engines if he was this good at it. A thought crossed his mind. "Do you think maybe something's wrong with him? Like in his brain?"
Jody laughed. "Do you mean you think he has a disorder?"
Colt felt stupid. "I guess. Something that makes him so quiet and… like that."
Jody laughed again. "I think he has what you have."
Colt reared back, disentangling himself from Jody. "What—? You think—I have something?"
Jody nodded with a soft smile. "Yeah. I think you're autistic. You probably have something else, like brain damage from all those concussions." She watched him splutter and stammer with a barely contained laugh.
"And you—What?!" Colt pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay. We'll unpack that later." He inhaled and took a moment. Then, he said, "You think Driver is autistic?"
Jody shrugged. "I mean, yeah. My dad's autistic and very similar. So."
Colt thought back to meeting Jody's father. Now that he was comparing the two, he saw the similarities. Both were more than socially inept and didn't really speak until spoken to. Colt was the opposite, always oversharing and talking too much and too fast. "I guess you have a point," he mused.
Jody blinked sagely. "Yes. I'm always right about these things. I have a nose for them, I always say."
Colt raised an eyebrow.
Jody sighed. "Come on. Bedtime."
Colt huffed. "Can I stay here tonight?"
Jody stood up and giggled. "Sorry, no. I have a big day tomorrow. You know I sleep better when there isn't a big hunk of Colt Seavers snoring in my face."
Colt rolled his eyes, but she was right. When they were off, and at home, they slept in the same bed. But when they were on a project, Colt made sure to book into a hotel in case Jody kicked him out to get some good sleep. He understood. He hated not being able to sleep next to Jody, but he hated grumpy sleep deprived Jody even more. So Colt chose peace.
He stood up and gave her a long kiss.
She smiled.
And then Colt was off, driving back to his tiny hotel room as the moon shone in the sky. And as he pulled into the parking lot, he wondered if Driver was looking at the same moon, somewhere else in the city.