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Troye clutches the cold steering wheel in both hands and bumps his forehead against it repeatedly. Not enough to hurt, just enough to express his frustration.
Connor sits in the passenger seat next to him and laughs a little laugh.
“It said it was going to be sunny,” Troye laments.
Connor chuckles and pats Troye on the back.
“This is LA, for fuck's sake!” Troye complains.
Connor laughs again.
“It's gotta rain in LA as well. The plants need to stay hydrated and stuff,” he says.
“But why today.”
Troye knows he's whining and that Connor, a) can't do anything about the weather and, more remarkably, b) seems in good humour still, but Troye had had the whole day planned out! He rented this fucking car for it. He was going to pick Connor up, they were going to drive a little way outside the city, and then have lovely picnic with view of the sunset and segue into romantic stargazing on a cosy blanket. Instead it's raining. In LA. On the one day Troye needed fine weather to be a good boyfriend to this lovely, darling boy that makes his heart race every time he smiles at him.
It's just not fair.
“It's okay, Troye,” Connor says, amusement still thick in his voice. “We'll have sunshine again tomorrow. We can come back then.”
“Noo,” Troye moans, even though he feels silly for it.
He turns his face towards Connor and peaks out at him from between his hair and hands.
“I'm sorry,” he says.
Connor smiles that unbearably fond smile at him.
“It's really okay,” he says again. “It was a cute idea. We'll do it some other time.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Troye sighs and sits up.
“Okay, fine. I'm starving though, actually, so can we still eat?”
Connor laughs again.
“Yes, please! Backseat though?”
“Yeah, good idea. You go first,” Troye says, shifting towards the door to give Connor more room to fold his body over the centre console, in between the seats, and onto the backseat.
“Why did you have to rent such a tiny car? We could've just used mine,” Connor complains when he finally falls down onto the backseat and scoots over to one side to leave room for Troye.
“Because I was going to be a good boyfriend and come pick you up and whisk you away and everything,” Troye says. “It was meant to be romantic. And if I'm going to wreck a car from driving on the wrong side of the road, it's gonna be a tiny crap rental, not yours.”
Connor rolls his eyes, but reaches out a hand to steady Troye when he seems a little unsteady as he climbs onto the backseat to join him.
“On second though, we're taking your car next time. You can drive; I don't care,” Troye says, throwing his body back against the backrest of the seat and faking exhaustion.
“Okay, dear,” Connor grins, and doesn't bother moving away when Troye swats at him. Instead he twists round and reaches into the boot of the car to grab for their picnic blanket and the bag full of food Troye brought. He hands Troye the blanket, who spreads it over both their laps, and then puts the bag in between the two of them, digging around in it.
“Ooh, you made sanwiches?”
“Avocado and egg,” Troye grins.
It's probably the least romantic food possible, but it's their thing.
“Nice,” Connor says.
“Also a few cheese ones with lots of veggies and leafy stuff.”
Connor grins at him and then turns back to the bag, pulling out a bag of sour gummi worms with a raised eyebrow.
“What? They're good,” Troye says with half a smirk. He's got a sweet tooth a mile wide. Connor knows this.
The rain is coming harder and harder against the sides and roof of the car, and as they sit there eating mostly in silence, Troye becomes quite glad for the blanket. It's not that it's cold, per se, but the temperature does go down a little bit and it's just so nice to have something to snuggle underneath, seeing as the bag in between them and the food and drink in their hands are currently preventing him from snuggling up underneath Connor's arm.
When Connor balls up the paper napkin he's used to wipe off his mouth, he bumps his elbow into Troye's. Their eyes lock, and Troye feels his entire body melt under the bright sweetness in Connor's face.
“Hey,” Connor says.
“Hey,” Troye says back, smile pulling at his lips, and colouring his voice.
“Thanks for this. I know it's not how you planned it, but it's still lovely,” Connor says. “Any time spent with you is lovely.”
Troye stares at Connor for a few moments, lets his eyes roam over the tiniest hints of lines around his eyes, the new and fluffy way his hair falls over his forehead, the soft pink of his lips, the bright twinkle in his eyes, and then grabs the bag from between them and puts it down to the other side of him. Connor watches him curiously until Troye starts to shift in his direction, and then he opens his arms, lets Troye slide into his lap easily.
“You're lovely,” Troye says, so close to Connor's face he can just make out the details of his features without having them blur in front of him.
Connor smiles.
“We're both lovely.”
“Having a lovely time,” Troye says, grin fond and teasing at the same time.
Connor laughs gently.
“The loveliest.”
“The loveliest? Sure I couldn't make it lovelier?” Troye asks and leans in for a brief kiss.
“Mmm, okay. That was even lovelier,” Connor concedes.
Troye kisses him again, and Connor hums his appreciation. Connor's lips are warm and soft under Troye's and it doesn't take long for the chaste kisses to grow longer, deeper, though no less gentle and unhurried. The rain's still rushing down outside the car, and they have nowhere else to be. There's nowhere else Troye wants to be, anyway.
The End