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The cool, night air flies by, the humming sounds of the tinny radio filling their small, close space.
“Cut it out, Johnny. You’ll get a mouthful of bugs,” Simon teases, his normally guarded tone dropped in favor of comfort.
Johnny rolls his eyes, leaning back into the car, but not rolling up his window.
“Aye, that’s what you think,” Johnny replies, leaning back in his seat, “But ah won’t. You scare ‘em away anyway.” Simon rolls his eyes at the jab, scoffing.
“You’re a twat,” Simon chuckles. Johnny grins and leans closer.
“And yet you love me.”
”I do, unfortunately.”