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The beeping and buzzing of the alarm on Conner’s phone is what wakes Darren up far earlier than he’d like. Darren feels the dip of the mattress and the shifting of the blankets as Conner wakes up, turns the alarm off, and rolls over, rolls right up against him. Darren curves into the bow of Conner’s longer body and tries to go right back to sleep.
“Morning, kid,” Conner mumbles, voice still thick and scratchy with sleep. He rubs his chin against Darren’s naked shoulder, beard scratching Darren’s sleep-warmed skin.
Darren groans. “Grrruuummmmphhhh, fuck off. Too early. Why?” He pulls out of Conner’s arms and rolls onto his stomach, burying his head under a pillow. It does nothing to muffle Conner’s sleepy, amused chuckle.
“Lazy bones,” Conner drawls and Darren shivers when he feels the brush of warm lips against his shoulder blade.
“G’way,” Darren grumbles. “No one likes you.”
“Liar.” Conner smacks a wet kiss to the birthmark on the back of Darren’s shoulder and Darren feels shifting of the mattress as Conner gets out bed.
Darren dozes, half asleep and half listening, as Conner takes a shower and gets ready for work. He likes having Conner in his house in the morning, in his bed, even if it means sometimes waking up at fuck o’ clock in the morning because Conner has an early class to get to. But it’s nice. The companionship, the shared space. Waking up with someone else’s body heat warding off the morning chill. Sometimes Darren gets up too, even though he doesn’t have to, and they share coffee and breakfast in the kitchen before Conner dashes off with a quick, coffee-flavored kiss and it’s so fucking domestic that Darren’s chest hurts with it. And sometimes they’re at Conner’s house and Darren wears Conner’s shirts and has to remember where he stashes the good cereal.
And it’s good. It’s easy. It’s comfortable, even if it hasn’t been that long.
Darren is brought back to wakefulness when he feels Conner sitting down on the edge of the bed. He opens one bleary eye to find Conner bending over, tugging his shoes on. His back is so broad and Darren watches the subtle shifting of his muscles beneath the forest green fabric of his shirt. He really is a lucky bastard.
Grinning to himself, Darren gathers up the blankets – securing them across his shoulders – and slowly, carefully shifts up onto his knees, getting into position. Darren waits until Conner starts to sit up straight before he launches himself across the bed, wrapping Conner up in a big blankety hug and pulling him back down to the bed in a tangle of limbs and fabric.
“Little shit!” Conner gasps and Darren just laughs, nuzzling into Conner’s neck and biting down playfully. He smells of the sandalwood of Darren’s own soap and the ginseng of his shampoo. Darren’s tummy flutters happily.
“Gotcha.” Darren tightens his hold and rubs his cheek against Conner’s. His beard is soft – softer than Darren’s three-day-hold stubble – and it feels good.
Conner tips his head and nuzzles at Darren’s jaw. “You do,” he responds and the low rumble makes Darren’s heart stutter.
“Why did you take on an 8am class on a Friday?” Darren doesn’t bother to keep the whining notes out of his voice. He wants to keep Conner wrapped up in the blankets, where it’s safe and warm. It feels like an all-day-in-bed kind of day.
“Because. I’m merely a lowly associate professor. I get the shittiest schedule.” He presses a kiss to Darren’s scratchy chin.
“Ugh. Stupid.” Darren tightens his hold on Conner.
“Can I come back after work?” Conner asks. “Or do you wanna come by my place? Or do you want the night to yourself?”
Darren closes his eyes. He does have some songs he’s been working on and should probably attempt to finish up, but the thought of being alone for the rest of the evening and then going to bed with cold sheets makes his stomach twist unhappily.
“You should come back after your classes,” he says finally and doesn’t need to see the grin curving Conner’s mouth to know it’s there.
“I’ll bring some food with me.”
“Get it from that Mediterranean place I like.” Darren flops back from Conner, loosening the blankets from around them.
“Oh yeah,” Conner laughs. “That one Mediterranean place you like.”
Darren just sticks his tongue out. “Go, asshole.” He twists, pulling his legs up and planting his feet against Conner’s hip. “You’re going to be late for work.” He pushes hard, shoving Conner to the edge of the bed.
Conner rolls his eyes and ruffles Darren’s shaggy hair as he extracts himself from the cocoon of sheets and stands up. Darren watches as Conner straightens out his clothes and runs long fingers through his thick, black hair in an attempt to fix the tousled mess of it.
“Try to put on pants today,” Conner says, voice bright and teasing, as he heads for the bedroom door.
“No,” Darren fires back, flipping him the middle finger. Conner just grins, all white teeth and crinkled eyes.
“And don’t forget what I asked about the Tesla.”
“Go away!”
Conner laughing as he makes his way down the stairs is the last thing Darren hears before he snuggles back down in the messy sheets and thinks about going back to sleep.
***
Saturday morning comes bright and easy. They sleep in, turning away from the warm sun peeking through the curtains, before shuffling down into the kitchen for a lazy breakfast of eggs from Darren’s chickens with slices of toast from a loaf of bread Conner baked himself. Conner reads the paper and Darren flips through magazines he’s never gotten around to unsubscribing from.
Darren is cleaning up the last of the dishes when Conner leans up against the counter, all long limbs and easy grace. He knows something is up just by the way Conner is looking at him, those pretty green eyes gone all soft and effortlessly seductive. He doesn’t like where this is going one bit.
“What do you want?” Darren asks, cheekily wary.
“Nothing,” Conner singsongs.
“You’re a damn dirty liar. What?”
Conner rubs his fingers on the counter. “Nice day for a drive, don’t you think?”
“Oh my god,” Darren rolls his eyes and tossing the dishtowel to the side. “What is it with you and that damn Tesla? It’s just a car.”
Conner wrinkles his nose. “You can say that because you own one. Poor college professor like me couldn’t even dream of something like that.” Conner pushes away from the counter and takes a few steps towards Darren, closing the gap between them.
“You own a house in San Francisco,” Darren counters, not even trying to hide the way his eyes dip to the enticing hint of collarbone and dark chest hair exposed by Conner’s v-neck shirt. “Your sob story has no effect on me.”
“Oh really? Might something else have an effect on you?”
Darren’s breath catches in his throat as Conner hooks his long, clever fingers through his belt loops and tugs him in close. Darren goes willingly. Conner is using those pretty green eyes on him and Darren is so screwed.
“Darren,” Conner murmurs, warm breath ghosting across his ear and Darren is already flushing. He has a way of saying his name that just…does things to Darren. It’s so fucking unfair that he’s almost proud.
“Work of art like that. Locked up. Lonely. Neglected.” Conner nuzzles at Darren’s cheek, nose and lips brushing soft and sweet across his skin, beard rasping against his stubble.
“It’s a car,” Darren protests, weakly. “It doesn’t care.”
“Sweetheart. Darling.” Conner’s voice is pitched low and it drags across Darren’s nerves, catching in all the sharp places that make him twitch. God he hates this man as much as he adores him.
“Shut up. Go away.” Darren turns his head, searching for a kiss, but Conner twists just out of reach. Darren’s makes a whimpering little noise.
“Come on, kid. Don’t you wanna take me for a ride?”
Darren shudders. He can’t help it. “I’ve already ridden you. Just last night if I remember correctly.”
But Conner just smiles. His fingers are on Darren’s belly, scratching across the hair there, just dipping down under the waist of his jeans, and Darren is done for.
“Ugh, fine. I fucking surrender. Asshole.”
Conner raises his arms in triumph. “Whoo hoo!”
“You are five,” Darren says, nothing even bothering to hide his bright grin. Conner is all lightness and heart and steady calm and it’s so easy to just go with it.
“Five and a half,” Conner corrects, throwing it back over his shoulder as he almost runs from the kitchen.
Conner grabs Darren’s spare keys off the hook by the front door and Darren’s can’t stop laughing.
“Okay, but we are not having sex in the back of the Tesla,” Darren calls out to Conner as he disappears out of the house.
“Yes, we are!”
Darren just shakes his head and follows him.
The garage is tucked up against the side of the house, big enough for a car and the little bit of junk Darren’s already managed to accumulate. He stores his gardening supplies in the shed out back and doesn’t really have much cause to come to the garage. Except for the Tesla. Darren doesn’t know why he keeps the damn thing charged – he never drives it. Not anymore. But he paid a lot of money for it; he’s not going to let it fall into disrepair.
Conner’s eyes go almost comically wide when the garage door rolls open. It’s not wholly unlike Christmas morning.
“Hello, lover,” he purrs, striding right up to the car. Darren would roll his eyes again, but Conner is too fucking adorable and he can’t bring himself to ruin this moment for him.
Conner slides his hand along the hood like it’s the curve of Darren’s waist and Darren swallows thickly.
“Stop fondling my car,” he mutters.
Conner glances back over his shoulder and Darren knows too well the look in his eyes.
“We are not having sex in my car.”
Conner grins and jingles the keys.
***
Darren has never found it easy to be the passenger in a car. He prefers the control of driving – hands on the wheel, feet on the pedals – knowing that the car’s movements are in response to his touch, his will. He gets anxious in the passenger seat, feeling the speed of travel and the distance between him and the car in front with nervous acuteness. He knows he’s powerless and he doesn’t like it.
But Conner is a good driver, steady and relaxed. As he is in almost all things. He doesn’t go too fast, doesn’t get too close. It takes a good 45 minutes of the soft cadence of tires on pavement, but Darren finally finds himself relaxing back into the seat. The windows are down and the radio is up and he has a gorgeous man next to him. The road is stretched out long before him and he has nothing to worry about. Not really.
With the wind in his hair and the sun in his face, Darren finds himself slipping down into memory and daydream.
He can’t help but think about how Conner was completely unexpected in his life – this new life he’s trying to build for himself – and yet, somehow, completely necessary. A chance meeting in a grocery store when he wasn’t looking for anything or anyone.
Darren knows there are scars left and wounds that are still healing over. Parts of him that are still sharp and jagged from where the pieces had been chipped away – day by day, year by year. But thinks about how he’s getting better, recovering from the life he’d left behind. How Conner is helping to smooth over the roughness. It’s taking time, but it’s happening.
He knows he’s not all the way there yet. There are parts of him he still struggles with – biting need and vulnerability. Letting go of the things he doesn’t even know he’s still clinging to. He thinks about how some nights he slips back into the tension and stress of before and nothing works to get him off because he’s trying too hard, pushing for something he can’t find, and it just goes nowhere. Leaving him shaking and sweating and unable to get enough air.
But he has Conner, who will pull Darren’s grasping hand away from his own cock and get him on his back where Darren has the least freedom to move or struggle. How Conner will cover him with his big, broad body and just keep going. Not stopping until Darren is there. Darren remembers the tears springing unbidden to his eyes when he finally comes, strung out and raw and shaking. How he lets himself get wrapped up in Conner’s arms and burrowed into the safety of the blankets.
“It’s okay,” Conner will tell him. “To not be over it. It’s okay.” And how Darren believes him.
Darren looks over at Conner, at the defined edge of his jaw underneath his beard, his straight nose, the dark eyebrows.
“You know,” Darren says, softly, breaking the easy silence as best he can. He has things he needs to say. “I was in love once. Before you.”
Conner glances over at him and his eyes are so green, highlighted by the sun. “I know.” They’ve talked a little, about who Darren was, who he is. The people he was with.
“It didn’t exactly work out.”
Conner nods to himself. “I gathered. Since you’re here.” Darren doesn’t know if he means with me or in San Francisco or both. It doesn’t really matter.
“It’s just that I-”
“It’s okay,” Conner interrupts. He reaches across the center console and takes Darren hand. Darren strokes his thumb across Conner’s broad knuckles and wishes they weren’t doing 60mph down the highway.
Conner must read his mind because they’re slowing and easing off the road into a gravel pullout. Conner twists in his seat and looks Darren straight in the eyes. Darren only knows one other person who could even see that deep into him.
“He loved you. But he didn’t love you right,” Conner says and Darren almost chokes on his tongue.
“I don’t know if I can do that again,” he manages to get out. He doesn’t know if he means forever or right away or what. The distance between now and then is growing every day, but he doesn’t know when it’s going to be enough.
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
“So, what do you want?”
“Just…this. This is good. You and me. The market. The gardens.” Conner lifts Darren’s hand to his lips and brushes a kiss across his knuckles. “Your stupid truck.”
“Hey!”
“This is good,” Conner says with nothing but firm sincerity. And Darren believes that too.
“Okay,” he whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Darren leans across the console to kiss Conner softly and he feels the way Conner’s lips curve into a smile. Whatever this is between them, whatever it means, however long it lasts, Darren knows it’s exactly the thing he needs right then.
Conner pulls back out onto the freeway and Darren doesn’t let go of his hand until they get home.