Chapter Text
Johnny Cash & Bob Dylan “You Are My Sunshine”
They’re driving south on I-5 - halfway gone, halfway to nowhere in particular - in a 1970 Chevy they pilfered from one of Max’s leftover lockups. Just putting distance between themselves and Santa Carla one mile marker at a time, giving Michael and his family some much needed breathing room.
Or lack thereof in their case.
David figures any number of places may be on the agenda for pit-stops in the near future. LA. Vegas maybe.
Phoenix.
But the night is young, the stretch of highway ahead long and black and full of possibilities in its emptiness. This far from anything of consequence, the monotony of the pavement is broken up by the occasional street sign or tree and little else.
Well that and Michael’s consistently out of tune and under his breath singing.
David’s surprised by the pseudo-serenade, Michael never having struck him as the type. David had figured him to be more like Dwayne in that regard than Paul. But sure enough, the sound of quiet humming, just a word here or there, fingers tapping out against the wheel in time, fills the car as they drive.
Michael’s voice grows stronger the further into the night they drive. David’s careful to keep his eyes elsewhere, curious to see how far Michael will take the impromptu concert, and not wanting to spook him by openly staring.
The station they’ve been listening to is a mix of cooler seventies rock - not the hairband stuff that’s been taking over the airwaves the last few years. But Floyd, Bowie, Zeppelin, the Doors. It all meshes well with Michael’s limited vocal range.
It’s…pleasant, in a way. Watching his lover let go. In a way so far removed from when he’d made his first kill.
Or his second.
David thinks he could get used to it, warbles and all, if it means getting to see Michael this relaxed more often. At ease with himself. With David.
But then the station fuzzes out as they speed down the highway and Michael twists the knob to locate another one. When he does, Johnny Cash’s somber voice is pouring out of the speakers. Michael’s hand hovers over the knob a few seconds before relaxing back onto the wheel.
Baffled, David watches him - no longer pretending to be doing anything else - as Michael’s voice mixes with Dylan’s when he joins Cash, not a lick of self-consciousness in Michael’s demeanor.
Which would be admirable if the song wasn’t about the freaking sun. “You’re kidding me right now, right? ‘You Are My Sunshine’? Really?”
Michael doesn’t blush, because he can’t anymore, but David can feel the way embarrassment swells inside him at David’s questioning. Which good. It should. Because while David doesn’t have many limits, they’re vampires, and singing sappy sunshine-y love songs is one of them.
And yet even with his chastisement, Michael only misses a note or two before his voice grows louder as he finds the tune again.
David groans in his seat, but doesn’t do anything to stop it from continuing. Charmed despite it all. And if laughter bubbles out of him when Michael directs an over-exaggerated eyebrow waggle his way as the song comes to a close, well, who could blame him? But still, he can’t let this atrocity stand.
“It’s a damn good thing you’re pretty, Michael, because your taste in music is for shit.”