Work Text:
It was the kind of late summer evening in the desert where the heat finally breaks at sunset. The breeze cools, and people open their windows, go out in the neighborhood to sit on porches or go for a walk. Where society emerges from its cocoon to get in the car, roll the windows down, crank up the stereo, and just fuckin’ drive.
Ed could feel the break coming. The air had shifted just after two o’clock and he knew that the night would be different.
The shop emptied and stayed empty a few hours before closing time. The crew was restless, fidgeting with the countertop pens, wiping down pages in the flash binder a second time, and nervously watching the door, hoping no one would enter.
By six o’clock, everyone had sensed the shift and Ed had sent the crew home early. He locked up just as the sky began its transcendence from bright blue to silvery blue to lavender, before finally nestling itself above the horizon in Lisa Frank pink and orange.
He gave a wave to Zheng as they crossed paths in the strip mall parking lot before unzipping the top and sides of his Jeep. He stored the vinyl sides and grabbed the extra scrunchie he kept on the gear shift. Hair up in a bun on top of his head, Ed slid the key into the ignition. Izzy rumbled to life with only the faintest of squeaks from the timing belt.
His old 1994 Jeep had nothing fancier than a tape deck and four preset buttons on the radio. There was no Bluetooth or CarPlay, just good old-fashioned AM/FM and whatever the luck of the dial was playing.
Preset 1 was an ad. *click* Preset 2 was a DJ talking about local entrepreneur Spanish Jackie who’d just settled down with her, can you believe it?, twentieth husband. “Good for you, Jackie,” Ed said to the dash before *click* Preset 3.
Preset 3 was, much to Ed’s Gen X chagrin, the oldies station, playing everything from the 80s and 90s . Oldies. Fuck off. But Ed could forgive them for the slight of calling the music of his most formative years ‘old’ because Material Girl was playing its opening beats. He turned the dial way up and finally pulled out of the parking lot. The sky around him was a watercolor slosh of colors.
He turned onto Badminton Blvd and switched lanes. “Some boys kiss me, some boys,” he sang as he pulled to a stop at the red light. Peripherally, he noticed another car pulling up on the right and briefly considered turning the music down but with the Jeep open like it was, he’d have to turn the music off for it not to be heard and fuck that. No one turns the radio off when Madonna’s on.
The car was an ostentatious teal blue convertible with the top down. Its sole occupant was a blonde man, his curly hair all askew from the night air, in a red fitted t-shirt. As the car rolled to a stop next to him, the sound of Madonna doubled, playing in near-perfect sync.
“Some boys romance, some boys slow dance…”
Ed continued to sing along and when he looked to his right, the blonde man was singing along as well. He turned his music up even more.
When the light turned green, both he and Blonde Man eased from the line together. They drove in pace with each other for the next several blocks. Madonna faded into Barenaked Ladies, which kicked off Nirvana, who finally ended with Journey by the time both cars came to a stop at another red light.
By now, during the easy cruise through town, Ed had learned that the Blonde Man firmly believed in singing and dancing in the car. His water bottle was orange. He had a nice smile. At least every time they managed to catch each other’s attention or gesture, holding out a microphone for the other, he had a nice smile. His profile was perfect - the nose, in particular. Ed had nearly drifted into the Blonde Man’s lane when he’d gotten too lost in wondering what that nose would feel like against his face, Blonde Man’s lips to his own.
Steve Perry’s once-in-a-lifetime voice kicked up into the first verse of Open Arms and together they turned, arms open in an over-dramatization of the song. They were just falling over into the second verse, grinning like fools at each other, never missing a word or movement, when a horn beeped behind Ed. He startled and turned back to the front of the Jeep to see the traffic light was green. Shit.
He pulled from the line and noticed that the teal car fell slightly behind and then merged over behind him.
Preset 3 started a block of commercials so Ed turned the radio down. Around him, the sounds of the city shifting into Night Mode filtered in between the wind whipping his ears. Up ahead on the right was Swede’s Sweet n Spicy, Ice Cream and Liquor Stop . Ed wanted to test out a theory. He merged into the right lane and smirked to himself when, in the rearview, he watched the teal car do the same.
He turned into the parking lot and slid into a spot with parking stalls open on either side. He turned the Jeep off, and at the recognition of the Blonde Man turning into the parking lot, he gave himself a quick check in the mirror. His hair was windblown and would take a proper detangler to make it brushable again, but that couldn’t be helped right now. He gave a useless pat to a few extra poofy parts but gave up when the Blonde Man parked to his left.
They could have talked through the open side and tops of their vehicles, but without saying anything, they both unclipped their belts and exited into the parking lot. They met, face to face, between the rear corners of their cars.
He was taller than Ed had assumed from what he could see in the convertible, but just as broad as he’d looked from the waist up. The sleeves were pulled tight on his biceps (were those naturally big? Ed wondered), and a pair of legs dusted with golden hair extended out from dark blue shorts. He wore flip flops and his feet were wide, at least half a size wider than Ed’s slender feet, but well cared for.
The Blonde Man pushed the tinted sunglasses up into his hairline. He had hazel eyes.
Ed pulled his aviators off and hung them from the collar of his tank top. He licked his lips. “Hi,” he said, smiling.
“Hi,” Blonde Man replied. He wiped his hands against his hips.
Ed held up his hand in introduction. “I’m Ed.”
“Stede.”
Stede shook Ed’s hand and smiled.