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Adam doesn’t understand Blake sometimes; the guy is the most outdoorsy-hunter-gatherer-adventurer he knows, and yet when it comes to riding motorcycles, the guy might as well be a 1950s conservative father.
“You’ll break your neck one of these days,” Blake says again and Adam wants to hit him with something. He settles for a satisfying screech of tires as he blasts away from the house, taking in the cool air and the rush of adrenaline he gets every time he takes the bike out.
Blake refuses to ride with him, ever. Adam teases him and says “What if I get a nice little sidecar for you to sit in?” Blake usually chases him around the house at that point (they always end up somewhere nice and soft, as it happens). He thought he might be able to lure him in with the wardrobe, but even Blake’s fondness for Adam’s leather pants and jacket had its limits. It seems Blake has absolutely no desire to get on a bike unless it has four wheels and used for all-terrain.
One night, they’re out on a rare public date, dinner and drinks with friends, when the manager tells them a swarm of paparazzi are waiting outside. Their relationship is still mostly speculative – they hadn’t made a public announcement yet – so the press was ready to kill for any sort of story.
“Dan,” he asks his friend. “Did you happen to bring your bike?”
“Yeah, always,” Dan grins, wrapping an arm around his wife, Laura. “This one can’t get enough of it.”
Blake gives a little snort of laughter, which Adam ignores. “I have an idea, come on.”
They wind their way towards the back entrance, through the kitchen. There’s no way they’ll be able to get to their car without being seen, and Blake seems to know this. The kitchen opens onto an alley, about a block away from where they’re parked.
“Dan, get your bike, bring it back here.” He says, before tossing his car keys to Laura. “See how much fun you guys can have in the Aston, my treat!”
Finally Blake seems to get it. As Dan runs off, he says “There’s no fucking way I’m getting on that bike.”
“It’s a 15 minute drive, tops, you’ll be off in no time,” Adam reassures him as Dan parks the bike, tosses Adam and Blake a nondescript black helmet each, and runs off again to catch up with his wife.
“It’s this or the paps,” Adam says, throwing one leg over the bike. “Come on! Live a little!”
Blake looks so conflicted that for a second Adam thinks he might walk back through the restaurant and take his chances with the press. When Blake begrudgingly pulls the helmet on and climbs on, Adam gives an internal shout of victory and revs the bike to life.
“15 minutes, I’m timing you!” Blake yells over the motor, his arms wrapped around Adam’s waist for dear life.
The bike roars off; the ride switch must have worked, as there’s not a camera in sight. Even if there was, no one would recognize either of them with the black helmets pulled over their faces. He doesn’t go too fast, but Adam can hear Blake’s mumbling though – he’s either cursing him out or praying he makes it home alive. Adam can’t stop grinning; this, cruising through LA with Blake plastered to his back, is pretty much heaven. If he takes a few more winding roads and scenic views to get them home, well…he’ll never tell.