Work Text:
The biting January wind whips through Castle Rock, Oregon, a familiar chill that seeps into Vern's bones as he clutches the small, velvet-lined box in his mittened hand. His breath plumes in frosty clouds, a nervous habit he can't seem to shake. He’s been walking for what feels like an hour, the stolen opal watch burning a hole through his pocket, a heavy, illicit secret. He found it in the back room of Chety’s Pawn Shop, tucked away beneath a pile of dusty, forgotten trinkets. The old man, Chety, had been napping, his snores rattling the glass display cases. It was almost too easy.
Finally, he spots Teddy, leaning against the weathered brick wall of the town’s defunct cannery, kicking idly at a loose stone with the toe of his worn-out sneaker. Teddy’s always got that look on his face, a sort of bored amusement that Vern often misinterprets as disdain. His greased-back hair gleams even in the dull winter light, and the collar of his leather jacket is pulled up against the cold.
"Hey, Teddy!" Vern calls out, his voice a little too high-pitched for his liking.
Teddy merely glances over, a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips. He raises an eyebrow, a silent invitation for Vern to approach. Vern scrambles closer, his heart thumping a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
"Got somethin' for ya," Vern mumbles, extending the box.
Teddy takes it, his fingers brushing Vern’s, a quick spark that ignites a warmth in Vern’s chest. Teddy opens the box, and his eyes, usually so sharp and knowing, widen almost imperceptibly as they land on the watch. The opal face shimmers, catching the meager daylight, reflecting a kaleidoscope of blues and greens. It's truly a beautiful piece, far too elegant for their rough-and-tumble lives in Castle Rock.
"Where'd you get this, Vern?" Teddy asks, his tone laced with a suspicion that Vern can practically taste.
Vern shifts his weight, the cold seeping into his boots. "Found it. Figured you'd like it." He tries to sound casual, but his voice cracks on the last word.
Teddy examines the watch, turning it over in his hand, a small, condescending smile playing on his lips. "Found it, huh? Looks pretty expensive to just be 'found.' You didn't steal this, did you, Vern?" The way he says "steal" makes it sound like Vern’s a common criminal, beneath his notice.
Vern’s face flushes scarlet. The condescension stings, a familiar ache. He hates it when Teddy talks to him like he's stupid, like Vern's some kind of dim-witted kid who can't do anything right. All he wanted was to impress Teddy, to give him something nice. "So what if I did?" Vern snaps, his temper flaring. "It's for you!"
Teddy scoffs, a short, dismissive sound that grates on Vern's nerves. "You really think I want some hot watch, Vern? You're such a knucklehead sometimes."
That's it. That's the breaking point. The insult, the dismissive wave of Teddy's hand, the way he always makes Vern feel small. Vern's arm shoots out before he can even think, and his fist connects squarely with Teddy’s jaw. The sound is a sickening thud, and Teddy stumbles back, dropping the watch in the process. It lands with a soft clink on the frozen ground.
Teddy rubs his jaw, a surprised, almost bewildered expression on his face. "What the hell, Vern?"
Vern’s chest heaves, his anger momentarily eclipsing the bitter cold. "Don't you talk to me like that, Teddy Duchamp! We're dating, remember? You're supposed to like me, not make me feel like I'm some kind of charity case!"
The words hang in the frigid air, heavy and raw. Teddy stares at Vern, his initial shock slowly giving way to something else, something Vern can't quite decipher. Then, a slow smile spreads across Teddy's face, a genuine one this time, not the usual smirk. He bends down, picking up the opal watch, brushing off the speck of dirt on its shimmering face. He looks at Vern, his eyes softening.
"Yeah," Teddy says, his voice a low rumble. "Yeah, we are. And I do like you, Vern. Even when you're a knucklehead." He holds out the watch. "But next time, maybe just buy me a soda."
Vern feels a small, hesitant smile creep onto his own face. He takes the watch, carefully, and slips it back into the velvet box. Maybe he’ll return it to Chety’s. Or maybe he’ll just keep it, a reminder of this moment, of Teddy’s surprising admission. He looks at Teddy, really looks at him, and for the first time in a long time, he feels like Teddy actually sees him too. The cold no longer feels quite so biting.