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Driver never thought he was one for traditional dates. He liked to spend time with the people he was interested in, sure, but that usually took the form of less than coincidental meetings or long drives to pretty places where conversation took a backseat to being in each other's presence. It had worked well enough with Irene, despite all the mess that ensued. One of his favorite memories of his time in Los Angeles was skipping stones while she and Benicio played by the water. He had liked getting to watch them be a family. He had liked being able to pretend that he was part of that family for a little while.
That being said, when Ryland Grace, the neighbor Driver had been trying to court pretty much since moving into the building, suggested they get dinner together, Driver didn’t hesitate to accept. His neighbor hadn’t explicitly called it a date, but Driver felt like he’d interpreted Grace’s slightly forced casualness correctly. Although neither of them had gone through any particular effort to dress up, Driver in his scorpion jacket and Grace in his fox cardigan, both of them in jeans, there were signs of preparation if you knew how to look. Driver knew how to look.
Ryland’s hair looked neater than it usually did after work, where he apparently ran his hands through it all day. There was still an endearing shagginess to him, but the strands seemed more carefully placed, deliberately fluffy. Driver had to resist the urge to run his own hands through it, but this was something he had to do often. The real test to his self control had been when Grace walked past him to the stairwell and Driver realized that he was wearing cologne. It was the same nice but unobtrusive one he wore to school every morning, but the thought of Grace freshening up for him made Driver’s head spin. He’d had to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid splintering his toothpick in his mouth. He wasn’t sure if toothpicks were gentlemanly, but he needed all the grounding he could get.
They had gone to a restaurant–one Driver had familiarized himself with, though he’d never actually been inside–that already knew his neighbor’s name and order, so Driver had simply gotten the same thing. It wasn’t about the food; it was about finding the right things to say to keep Grace talking and keep his attention on Driver. With months of practice under his belt, Driver had gotten very good at this. He almost felt like he and Grace were the only two people in the restaurant, though he of course still kept tabs on who actually was there in the back of his mind. He had a good vantage point–a view of the main exit and almost every other table, thanks to the spot Grace’s ethos had managed to snag them.
When dinner was done and they were walking through the parking lot, shoulders occasionally brushing, Grace had shyly suggested that they go to the top of a nearby parking garage to stargaze. Once again, Driver hadn’t hesitated to accept.
Driver smoothly navigated through each level of the parking garage, but warmth began to bloom under his skin when he noticed the cars thinning out as they got higher and higher. His heartbeat picked up when they emerged on the top layer of the parking garage and found it completely empty. He gripped the wheel tighter to contain his excitement; they would finally be alone.
It occurred to Driver, then, that Grace seemingly had no qualms about being alone with him. The thought, flattering though it was, unsettled something in Driver. Grace was so trusting, so thoroughly innocent, that he hadn’t thought twice about coming to an isolated spot with a man he knew hardly anything about. He didn’t even know Driver’s real name, but he was trusting him with his safety. Driver remembered when he’d finally gotten the chance to introduce himself–Grace had made some silly joke about nominative determinism when he found out Driver worked with cars, which he’d promptly had to explain, but he never questioned the alias. He seemed to trust Driver not to hurt him simply because he hadn’t done so already. Innocent until proven guilty; Driver knew so many people who would take advantage of Grace’s kindness–of his seemingly endless, well, grace for the people around him. Driver was glad, suddenly, that he was there to look out for Grace. He needed protecting.
He parked in the darkest spot he could, though it was still semi-lit by the parking garage lights, and the two got out and laid across the hood of the Malibu, feet planted on the ground and heads tilted toward the sky.
“I, uh,” Grace let out a nervous little chuckle after a minute or so of silence. “I don’t know why I thought we’d be able to see the stars from here.” The night sky was black and partially cloudy, muted by the lights of the city all around them. Driver had been to places where you could see the real night sky, places where he almost didn’t need his headlights for all the starlight surrounding him. He went to these places when he felt he couldn’t tolerate the presence of another human being ever again, driving aimlessly until it seemed like he had driven away from Earth entirely, a lone astronaut cradled by the universe. It was one of the only times when he felt safe.
Driver turned his head to face Ryland. “View’s nice anyway,” he said, his voice a soft curl in the air, floating above the noise of the city below. Much like in LA, Friday nights in San Francisco were not quiet affairs.
Grace smiled at the sky above, contemplating. “Yeah, I guess it is,” he said, matching Driver’s volume. It made the whole thing feel more intimate, and for a moment Driver entertained the childish fear that Grace could hear his heart beating out of his chest. He wanted to see Ryland just like this for the rest of the night. The thought made him uneasy. And warm.
“Oh, look!” Grace piped up again, pointing toward the sky and breaking Driver’s reverie. “You can see Orion’s Belt.” Driver kept his gaze trained on the man beside him for a few more seconds, soaking him in, then turned his face back toward the sky.
“Where?” he asked, trying to follow Grace’s pointing finger. It was pretty nonspecific, really, with the whole sky stretched out before them, but he liked the gesture anyway for some reason. The idea that he could follow Grace’s thoughts, could see what the other man saw. The closeness. Grace hummed as he tried to think of a way to explain, shifting his back against the hood of the Malibu. Driver wondered if Grace was leeching residual warmth from the engine to combat the night’s chill air. Driver wondered if it was normal to be jealous of your own car.
“Can you see those three stars all lined up?” Grace asked, waving his hand in what was clearly an attempt to circle a part of the sky, as if it were a blackboard. Ever the teacher. Driver looked, tilted his head slightly, and found them after some searching. It took longer than it probably should have, but Grace had turned his head toward him a few seconds into his search and distracted him. He kept his face resolutely turned to the stars, ignoring the urge to turn toward Grace instead and close the short distance between them. He nodded, and felt a clench in his gut when he saw Grace smile in his peripheral vision and turn back to the sky.
“That’s Orion’s Belt,” he continued, slipping into what Driver, despite never hearing it before, immediately recognized as Grace’s Teacher Voice. “It’s the easiest part of the constellation to see, but if you look above the leftmost star, you can see Betelgeuse. That’s Orion’s shoulder. It’s kind of red, since Betelgeuse is a red supergiant.” Driver saw a star that he thought could potentially be the correct one, though it didn’t look all that red to him. He nodded anyway to keep Grace talking. “If you look underneath the rightmost star, you can see Rigel. It’s kinda diagonal, but it’s supposed to be the brightest star in the constellation.” Grace said, and Driver hummed his acknowledgement, trying to see the shape of the man in the stars. Constellations had always been a little too abstract for him. He liked things he could touch–cars, weapons, people. He liked to do things with his hands. It made him feel real.
“We take the kids into the library every year and have them crawl into this big inflatable dome to tell them about the stars and constellations and all that.” Grace sounded a bit sheepish now, like he was worried he’d been talking for too long. Driver turned to face him again, and he watched the way Grace’s eyes slid away from him, nervous. He wondered if he was imagining the pink in Grace’s cheeks. He’d know for sure if there was more light, but he was unwilling to give up the vision of Grace in shadow, the angles of his face thrown into sharp relief by the parking garage lights.
“They all have stories to them, right?” Driver asked, and he watched Grace buffer for a moment, caught between his own thoughts and what the other man was saying.
“Yeah, they do.” Grace sounded a little surprised, as if he had thought Driver wasn’t listening or interested or some other nonsense. “Have you heard Orion’s story?” Driver shook his head. “Do you want to?” Driver nodded, and so Grace told him, hands moving through the air like he was painting with his words. After he told Orion’s story, he kept going, drifting into the stories of other constellations like he’d forgotten why he started talking in the first place. Driver didn’t mind. He liked the way Grace looked when he talked about something he was knowledgeable in, the focus in his gaze and in his hand movements, like he could see the story playing out in front of him.
Eventually, he moved on from constellations entirely and into what felt like an Introduction to Astronomy lecture. That’s Mars right there, the reddish one. I think that might be Jupiter, or–no, that’s a helicopter, nevermind. Rookie mistake. That one’s Polaris. The North Star. Everyone knows that one. Driver listened and nodded and hummed where he was supposed to, his eyes never straying from Grace’s face.
“Whew,” Grace said eventually, when he paused long enough to take a real breath. “Sorry. That was way more than you asked for.” He did one of his nervous chuckles again, meeting Driver’s eyes for a moment before looking away, folding his hands back on his stomach.
“I didn’t mind,” Driver said. He examined Grace’s profile, feeling the now cold metal of his car hood on his cheek. “You’re a good teacher.”
“Well,” Grace huffed another laugh, self-deprecating this time. Driver wondered how he fit so much personality into the way he laughed. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”
Driver cracked a smile at that, and Grace turned to look at him, eyes tracking over his face like he was trying to capture a moment before it was gone. They had always been close–only so much room on the hood of the Malibu, after all–but now with their faces turned toward each other, they were close enough to breathe the same air. Driver didn’t move away–his smile stretched further, looking at the way Grace’s glasses were slightly offset when he laid on his side. Grace didn’t move either. He looked almost frustrated, brow furrowed and eyes locked on Driver’s mouth, but when neither of them said anything, Driver realized that Grace’s expression was actually one of deep concentration. He filed it away.
“Can I–” Grace started suddenly, then apparently thought better of what he was going to say when his eyes darted up to meet Driver’s again. “Would it be weird if we kissed?” he asked, voice hushed and a smile tugging at his lips, self-deprecating and hopeful and shy and above all, deeply charming. Driver felt all his higher brain functions stall for a moment, but he kicked himself into gear before the quiet could stretch to awkward lengths. He couldn’t afford to mess this up.
“No,” he said. He didn’t trust himself to say anything else.
“No as in it wouldn’t be weird, or no as in–” Grace started, brow furrowing again, but he was cut off by a swift press of Driver’s lips to his. Always been a man of action anyway, he thought, going in for another, slower kiss. This one, Grace could react to. His eyes fluttered shut and the rest of his sentence released itself as a relieved exhale against Driver’s lips. Driver kissed him harder in response, trying to convey without words that it was impossible to weird him out.
When they parted for breath–for Grace’s sake, mostly, since Driver found he was content to breathe the other man’s air–Grace rolled onto his back to look at the stars again. “Holy moly,” he said, and he really meant it, which made Driver smile all over again. He wasn’t used to smiling like this, usually reserved to just a quick quirk of his lips. He was nearly grinning now, easy and relaxed.
“Holy moly,” Driver echoed, just to watch the flush rise high on Grace’s cheeks. He watched the other man push his glasses up, a distinctly self-conscious twist to his mouth. He wanted to kiss the corners of it and feel the little muscles relax.
“I know, I know,” Grace muttered, embarrassed but smiling again anyway. “Teacher mouth.” Driver exhaled a laugh at that, short and sharp through his nose, watching the way Grace’s eyes widened when Driver rolled over on top of him, bracing himself on his arms to keep his weight off the other man. He leaned down to drag their lips together again, reveling in Grace’s shaky exhale.
“It’s alright,” Driver breathed, brushing his lips up the side of Grace’s face, featherlight, to kiss the mole on his left cheekbone. His Polaris, guiding him right back to where he wanted to be. “‘s cute,” he mumbled into Grace’s skin, breathing him in and feeling him shiver beneath his touch. Driver kept himself on a tight leash, intent on not overwhelming the schoolteacher, though he suspected he might be doing just that with the way Grace was red-faced and clutching the front of Driver’s jacket. He moved back to Grace’s mouth and let out a pleased hum when Grace met him halfway, the kiss passionate but still relatively chaste. Driver figured they would have time to explore more–he wanted to spend forever taking Grace apart and putting him back together. For now, he guided Grace into a standing position without breaking the kiss, one hand on his lower back and the other cupping the nape of his neck.
Driver didn’t know how long they kept kissing once they were standing, his will crumbling under the heady waves of one more, one more. The hand that had been on Grace’s neck moved to cradle the back of his head, and Driver couldn’t stop himself from finally–finally–carding his fingers through the soft hair there. It made both of them shiver, but Driver hoped Grace wouldn’t notice how his fingers continued to tremble, reverent, trying to be so so gentle in the hope that Grace would let him continue.
Eventually, they parted again, but they didn’t go far, foreheads almost touching. Grace’s hands stayed at his waist, clutching at his jacket, and Driver hoped the fabric would wrinkle in the shape of his fingers. The air they shared was charged and intoxicating, and Driver couldn’t get over how striking Grace was, backlit by the parking garage lights. His face was mostly shadowed, but the blond strands of his hair caught the light, forming a golden halo around his head. Talk about nominative determinism, he thought with a small smirk, but the idea of Grace as an angel of mercy burned him. The thought of that angel standing before him, letting Driver hold him, kiss him, bask in his mercy; the thought that by doing so, Driver could somehow wash away his sins. He wondered, then, if he could ever be clean–if, after every speck of blood and filth was gone, there would be a man at all. He wondered who that man was.
Grace’s eyes fluttered open and when they met his, Driver saw nothing but uncomplicated affection. Driver’s breath caught in his throat, and he realized at once that it was useless to wonder who he’d be if he hadn’t done what he’d done, because that man wouldn’t be him. All that mattered was the look in Grace’s eyes–no fear, no horror, no judgement. All that mattered was keeping it that way. Grace never needed to know about the things Driver had done. Driver would never get to be a different person, but that didn’t matter to him if he could be the person reflected in Grace’s eyes. He was close enough to feel Grace’s breaths, little puffs of air against his lips, and he had to stop himself from going back for more. He would have the patience of a saint when it came to his angel.
“You alright?” he murmured, and Grace, though he was still blushing, nodded without hesitation. “You cold?” he asked, and Grace nodded again, slower. Driver smiled again, feeling a bit proud that he had apparently kissed all the words out of Grace’s mouth. He had smiled a lot tonight. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to stop. “I’ll drive us home,” he said, but he pressed another kiss to Grace’s mole before he pulled away, unable to help himself. He walked back to his car and slipped into the driver’s seat, but he left the door open while he waited for Grace.
Grace didn’t move for a couple seconds, arms limp at his sides. Then, he visibly came back to himself and put his hands on his hips, leaning back to stretch. Driver heard his spine popping from where he was, and a noise escaped Grace that could only be described as alarmed relief. Driver made a mental note to bring cushions next time to save Ryland’s back from the hard body of his car, and then his thoughts stuttered at the thought of a next time. During this time, Grace found his way back to the car, giving Driver an endearing little crooked smile as he got in. Driver returned it, and something small and very fragile settled in his chest that felt like hope.
Driver didn’t spare the sky another glance as he drove back to their apartment building. What was there to look at? He had the prettiest star in the whole universe in his passenger seat.