BLACK VELVET (12) (Patreon)

"How about we even the playing field? Uh... I'll tell you an awful secret, and then you tell me one." I suggest, nodding along with my own idea.

Screw it. 

”…Maybe you'll feel more comfortable?"

"Awful secret?" The other man straightens his shoulders, looking utterly uninterested in my proposal. I clear my throat in preparation,

"Yes, awful secret. Don't sound so disbelieving," I wiggle in my seat to get more comfortable, and maybe for dramatic purposes as well. My version of awful is definitely different than his.  "Um.  When I was nine, I shaved Ms. Adkin's cat." I offer. 

Tobias' lip twitches,

"Everyone knows that."

"Thanks for that.  Anyway, well,"  I choke back my embarrassment, because this, this is important. If I ever want to crack him open, to help him, then I have to be careful with him— and this isn't careful. 

This is just humiliating.  

Ugh, I suck.  

"They don't know — that I used his fur to turn my rubber elephant into a villainous wooly mammoth, aka Crime-Master Mammuthus —"  The older man's face is blank. "He was a top threat to my Thunder Kat assemblage."

"Oh, Oliver, that's just fascinating." He snipes.  "Awful indeed."

"Your turn," I tell him, face bright and cheerful to cover my mortification.  I use my free hand to motion towards him. He barely gives me a wayward glance. 

”Uh, sure. Okay, so, sharing isn't your thing."  I shrug.

"Nope."

"Okay, okay." I almost reach for the radio, but then snap my fingers in enthusiasm, "I thought of something even better!"

"Great." He mutters, palms coming upwards to cover his eyes as he sighs again.

"Rude," I gripe, unable to contain myself, "anyway, when I was thirteen, everyone in 8th grade was convinced that I'd made it to first base with Allison Looney."

Tobias interest piques, and he quirks a brow from under his hand, "Wait, what?" He grimaces, face falling from tenseness, and into something unreadable, "She's older than me."

"Right.  Much older — because Nic dragged me to a party, which is totally an unchanging part of my life — and we played seven minutes in heaven."

"... So you did get to first base." Tobias rolls his knuckle over the drink slot.  He still seems vaguely shocked, but emphasis on the vaguely. 

Something is tangling in his expression, though, weighing it.  There's a bitterness.

"No, like that would happen in a million years, let me finish —"  I roll my eyes, "so, Allison had raspberry lip gloss. Remember how she was like, the only girl ever to pull off purple lips?"

Tobias hums, eyes meeting mine in a brief glance away from the road.

"Well, anyway, I asked her if it really tasted like raspberries. She let me try some on. We talked for a while, and I forgot I had it on when we left the closet."

Tobias chuckles at that, laugh quiet and airy.

"So... Allison told everyone that we had kissed, to save me from the embarrassment of my curiosity towards her fruit flavored lip balm."

"What a saint." His tone is flat, but his shoulders have relaxed a bit. I may or may not beam in satisfaction.

"So..." I prod, "... your turn."

My stomach rolls every time my gaze catches him; every time I realize just how small the usually imposing man seems right at this moment.  I think of his shamed eyes in the police station.

What is going so wrong for you, Tobias?

"I don't think so."

"No awkward first kiss?"  I push, "No, I forgot to button my fly fiasco?" He shakes his head, "Okay, not even an I ate pizza and then talked to a really attractive individual and when I got home, I found seasoning on my front tooth?"

Moments pass.

"C'mon, you're totally covered in blood..." I sigh, "If you're not down for the stories, fine, but you could divulge a little bit on what I've just involved myself in.  What is going on?  Why've you been so weird lately?"

Tobias glances at me, a look that says, I could tell you, but I won't. 

I huff in frustration.

"Is it that bad?" I nearly throw my hands from the steering wheel in annoyance, but somehow keep the line from brain to motor skills functioning.  "Do you need help?  You know Nic, and I would help you — my family would —"

"It's not your business." He clips, steadying me with a look that you'd give to a petulant three year old on a sugar high.

"I've involved myself, a bit here — by your request, actually.."

"Look.  I get that you're shit at picking up on social cues — but in case you're wondering, every cue I'm giving you is to fuck right off."  His tone is venomous,  "Right now."

I flush,

Ouch.

"It's not that.  Like — my mom's gonna see you.  You know how she is... If not the truth, what do you want me to tell her?"

"Make something up.  If you're so bothered, then you shouldn't have come," he rolls his eyes, "I don't owe you a fucking secret because you drove twenty miles out.  What are you missing out on?  A new episode of Galaxy Geeks?"

It's my turn to glare.

"... You could at least play nice for twenty minutes, Jesus," I nod my head towards the road, "surprise but I'm not one of your Jameson fangirls — it's two in the morning, and I absolutely will not feel bad about leaving your constant state of bitch-face on the side of the road for being a dick.  Grow up."

Toby angrily shifts his legs, throwing his head back against the seat.

"... I knew calling you was a bad idea."

"Why? Because I showed up?— because I care enough to wonder why you've got blood all over you?  Looks like you didn't have a whole lot of options, Mr. Popular, but go ahead — call someone else."

"Fuck off — I shouldn't have called you because you're too fucking nosy for your own good."

"I'm asking you why you're caked in blood, you ass.  Seems perfectly reasonable to me."

Thwump, thwump, thwump. I ease off of the gas pedal, passageway growing darker and darker without the use of street lamps. I'm suddenly irritable with the location of my house and having to use the horror movie-esque back roads to get there.

"Reasonable? So you just have a right to other people's business, now?" The Greek man lets go of a smarmy laugh, "Typical Oliver."

Typical Oliver...?  

Has he hated me this whole time?

I don't know if my grip on the steering wheel has become too tight in frustration, or if they've been doing road work along the back roads this weekend, because suddenly the gravel road seems to be taking a toll on my small car.   I jerk slightly when it tugs to the left, but I'm left unoccupied enough to send Tobias a dirty look.

Fine.

"Typical Tobias and his man-pain — " 

"Oh yeah?  Being around you," the man grunts quietly, pressing his fingers into the condensation on the window and delivering a quick swipe, "makes me want to stab my fucking ear drums."

"Great!  Be my guest. You have to be the biggest roadkill baby," I snap, irritated both with him and the way my car keeps tugging earnestly in the wrong direction, "that I've ever met."

"You don't even make fucking sense." His hand is curled in front of him like he wants to claw into something, "Nine times out of ten, I don't understand, hell — I don't know if you even understand what you're saying."

I roll my eyes heavenwards, knuckles white against the steering wheel, "I said roadkill baby, as in you're being a huge whiny baby, and you look like something someone peeled off the side of the road." I sigh, exhausted, "AKA, roadkill baby."

"You're fucking unreal."

I shrug, "Ethereal, an otherworldly enigma of brilliance and intellect — I know." I lick my lips, slowing down to a meager five miles an hour, and still I have no control over my vehicle. "Or did you mean, unreal — like the amount of times you can say 'fucking'."

Tobias swings his body around under the dark of the Jameson night, and smirks wickedly, chin tilting,

"Oh, I think you know that I can do more than say it.  I'm pretty good at it, too."  One hand curls over his knee as he talks, fingers tapping idly. "Is that why you couldn't look away at the diner?"

"I— " I just stutter, voice lost.

"Wanna try it?  Maybe it'd get you to shut up, huh? — Or maybe you just get louder?"

My jaw slackens the slightest bit in surprise, and I stare dumbly up at him.  Tobias' lip twitches upwards, almost unnoticeable — and my rebuttal dies in my throat, feeling the bumps of the gravel road grow larger until I can hear the bumps.

"Oh dammit —"

The thump thump thump turns chaotic and strange — and my car swerves a bit harder, enough to pull me onto the grass. The thumping grows louder, and I panic as the vehicle comes to an absolute standstill — flicking my hazards on in the middle of nowhere.

AKA; Jameson in a nutshell.

Tobias jaw sets, tightly, and he jerks his gaze to me.

I hold my hands up defensively, "I swear I'm not actually — I'm not dropping you off on the side of the road."  I check my gaslight, and realize I'm still nearly full, "I didn't run out of gas — it didn't stall this morning either—"

"What the hell was that noise it was making?" The taller man is already unbuckling himself, pushing the door open with his foot. I almost gripe about the dust he leaves on the interior, but question riling him up further if I'm going to make it home not dead.

He doesn't bother asking for a flashlight when he leaves to inspect the source of our desertion. It's pitch black, and I don't know if he believes he's suddenly acquired night vision or he's just fucking stubborn. Probably the latter.

I sit in my car uselessly until he rounds back around, throwing himself into the seat in aggravation.

"Your tire is flat." He mutters, stringing his hands through his hair with a dry chuckle, "Of course — goddamnit."

"Which one?" My eyes widen in concern because fuck Nic has my transportable tire pump— like a good brother I'd thought — oh, you'll be out of the city and need this much more than I will.

Oh, my God.

Toby wrinkles his nose into a snarl, like it could not matter less to him to convey which tire had flattened. I suppose it didn't actually matter, because any tire without air is integral to an unmoving vehicle.

"The back left."

"Okay, well —" I brush the back of my hand over my nose and face plant into the steering wheel, "Easy.  I'll call my dad, even though it's two in the morning and you look like a serial killer."

He sucks in a breath, eyes raking over me in aggravation,

"No."

"Okay, great, another no.  You're like a toddler eating green vegetables," I huff,  "well what is your suggestion, hot shot?"

His finger presses to my bare collarbone suddenly — eyes flit back and forth over my face, seriousness in his composure.

"I called you for a reason." He tells me, firmly, "We're not calling anyone.  You're not telling anyone about tonight.  I mean it."

I nod briskly, and his index finger drops from my over-heated skin.

"Then what do you suppose we do?"

"Let me see your shoes." He demands, and I shift into park, turning on the overhead light. I'd worn plain navy keds, the same shoes I always wear. I motion towards them with a confused look.   "Those look fine for walking," he deduces.

Oh.  Of freaking course.

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