Work Text:
Tristan’s motorcycle hummed along the dark deserted roads. This neighborhood emptied at night, for good reason, the summer heat meaning people were staying out longer, and more prone to mischief. Old friends still haunted these streets, but Tristan wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t important.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the lanky figure in the distance, walking with his head down, the bright brush of blond hair a beacon in the scattered street lights. He slowed down as he came to his friend. Joey didn’t notice. He hunched forward, arms in the pockets of his jean jacket, feet trudging solidly ahead.
“Hey!” Tristan shouted over the engine of his bike. “Hey, Wheeler!”
Joey twitched at his voice but didn’t stop. With a sigh, Tristan kicked down the bike stand and cut the engine. He grabbed his friend by the arm and shoved him roughly. Joey gave a shout and struck his chest, and then he backed up against the wall. Head still down, Tristan could see the bruises that colored his skin, the shiner on his right eye, and the split lip.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tristan asked.
Joey’s hands shook as he patted down his jacket and removed a box of cigarettes. He shook one out and pinched it between his teeth. Tristan shoved him again.
“I’ve been looking for you all night,” he said. “I told you those guys were coming for you. I said to get me.”
Joey snorted as he pulled out his lighter and flicked it. “And what would you have done, Romeo?”
“A hell of a lot better than you.” He pinched Joey’s chin and pushed his head up. “You take on Hirutani’s whole gang?”
“He never likes me going too long without a beating.” Joey flicked the lighter on, the flame close enough to both their hands for Tristan to feel the heat. He sucked in his first breath of nicotine and let it go slowly.
“I told you,” Tristan said. “You and me can take his punks no problem.”
“Look at me.” Joey grit his teeth into a wide smile and beamed up at Tristan. Even with the shit beaten out of him and blood in his mouth, it was the kind of face they’d put on a magazine. “I’m okay, ain’t I?”
“You should’ve come by the shop,” Tristan said. “I would’ve at least walked with you.”
His brow furrowed. “I can handle myself.”
“I would’ve been there.”
“I handled it,” Joey said, biting down on each syllable. “We’re not twelve anymore. I can take care of my own problems.”
Tristan was getting equally annoyed. “You don’t have to.”
“It’s not a big deal,” he said. “Besides, you were helping your dad. I don’t wanna bother you with this stuff.”
“Why are you so goddamn stupid all the time?” Tristan snapped. “I told you to bother me. I asked you to. You’d rather eat pavement, is that it?”
“No,” Joey growled. He puffed out an angry plume of smoke. “What’s the use of getting your pretty face all smashed in? You deserve it less than I do. So I saved you the trouble. What were you gonna do anyway? Ride in on your steed? Scoop me up in your arms? Bet the boys would’ve gotten a real laugh at that.”
“I’m trying to help you, you dope!” Tristan knocked his forehead, and Joey shoved him off. “I’m trying to look after you, since you won’t look after yourself.”
“I’m doing just fine!” Joey shouted.
“Yeah?” he said. “And how’s your dad doing? How many nights a week is he out?”
“Fuck you!” Joey shoved him again, hard. “That’s a low fucking blow and you know it! I can take Hirutani and his idiots beating the shit out of me but I’m not taking you--you--”
“What?” Tristan pressed. “What am I doing?”
“I don’t fucking know!” He threw his arms out wide. “I wish I knew what you were doing out here. You should be tucking yourself into bed, not dragging your sorry ass around because I’m getting into trouble again. Go home, Tristan. It’s what I’m gonna do.”
“No,” he said.
“Why fucking not?” Joey shouted, his voice cracking.
“Because you’re my friend, Joey,” Tristan snapped. “I’m out here because I worry about you.”
“Well stop!” Joey brought his shaking hand to his lips and sucked in another lungful of smoke. “You’re wasting your fucking time.”
Tristan grunted and grabbed the cigarette out of his hand, tossing it to the ground. Joey shouted grabbed onto his shirt, but Tristan pushed him back against the brick wall and held him there. The wild eyed stare on Joey’s face was angry, manic, and softened by the tremble of his lips. Tristan pressed his forehead to his, breathing out slowly.
“I care about you,” he said.
Joey’s resolve crumbled all at once. Red rimmed his brown eyes, now wet with unbidden tears, and his fingers curled in Tristan’s shirt, almost imploringly. His voice shook when he asked, “Why?”
“Why do you think?” Tristan asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, before he leaned down to kiss him.
For a moment, fear struck a cold cord in Tristan, and then Joey stopped fighting him. He sunk into Tristan’s embrace, yanking him closer to kiss him more fully, the warmth shooting straight through his body. The truth was, he’d thought about this exact moment more times than he could count, when they were two kids sharing the same bed, or on the long hot nights they stayed out until dawn, or the times they’d shared a cigarette under cover of the canals. Tristan had shoved those thoughts aside, but as the two of them had gotten older, it’d been all the harder to ignore. Fighting it was a losing game.
Joey sucked in a shuddering breath beneath him. His fingers loosened their hold on Tristan’s shirt but didn’t release him. Tristan’s thumb swept beneath his eye to brush away the tears, and he hissed when he pressed down on the black eye. Neither said anything for a long minute, satisfied by breathing the same air.
“Will you let me?” Tristan said, still holding Joey’s face. “Take care of you? At least for one night.”
He shook his head, a wet laugh bubbling up. “If it’s only for one night, we better get a hotel room.”
“Shut up,” he laughed. “You’re not getting any without a shower, bud.”
“Wow!” Joey rubbed his face. “You can’t kiss me and tell me I stink in the same breath.”
“What’s a love confession without a little insult.”
Joey shook his head again, and his brown eyes drew up to Tristan’s face. With only a breath of hesitation, he pressed another kiss to his lips, and their hands curled together. It sent a thrill up Tristan’s spine.
“Come on,” Joey said. “You can start by buying me a coffee.”
He climbed onto the back of Tristan’s motorcycle, taking the extra helmet, and he hugged his arms around Tristan’s torso. Tristan smiled as he switched it into gear. They started down the long and empty roads, past the all too familiar canals and back alleys, towards something new and golden. Together. Like it was always meant to be.