Black Velvet (70) (Patreon)

(A/N: Woohoo! Chapter 70!  Big chapter delivery, just for you.

warnings for: some MILD inappropriate flirting (prophetic innuendos, perhaps? 😬)

—

I wake up in a panic, an absolute panic because I don't know where I am for a moment.  I have that weird twilight-esque vibe about me as I search for my sheets, only to find myself with an achy back and the chill of PVC.

Oh.  The car.

I sigh.  My cheek is smooshed and sore.  I feel like I've slept against a pile of remotes, and my arms are pebbled with goosebumps.  Even my leg is numb.

Then, it's easier.  I feel a lot better about everything when I uncurl my hand from Tobias' own.

I wonder if I fell asleep before him or while he was talking, and then realize he's no better, fast asleep right beside me.  My head is on his shoulder, and it explains the stiff feeling in my neck, the sharp pang near my cheekbone.

I nearly collide with his chin that's resting on my temple as I shoot up, suddenly worried for the time —

When exactly did I fall asleep, and why is the sun out?

Somehow talking to Tobias, holding hands with Tobias... It was reassuring enough to me for it to lead to an impromptu car nap.

I tuck that thought away.

"Oh no,"  I mean to say, but my voice is so hoarse from sleep that Tobias doesn't stir in the slightest.  He simply readjusts, eyebrows furrowing in his slumber.

I fish my phone out of my pocket, realizing then that it's at a meager three percent battery.

"Oh no."

6:32

6:32 means I have approximately fifteen minutes to make it to my house and supply my mom with her morning creamer before she commits mass murder — or decides to send out a search party on my behalf.

With that thought, I'm shoving my keys in the ignition and reversing before I overthink it, radio silent and quiet as the morning fog blankets the streets ahead.

I watch the winter sun's attempt to filter through, forgetting that I have Tobias' sleeping form still hostage in my car until I'm already passing Ms. Hartgrove's shop.

He looks peaceful, as handsome as always, but the sharper edges of him look soft in the early rays of light, with his grey henley hugging him like comfort.  I want to tuck away his mussed hair. I want to curl up beside him at the lake and never — never feel like I'm missing anything again.

—

"Where the fuck,"  Tobias is startled when he wakes up, looks a bit bewildered as he shifts in his seat.  His voice so sleep thick, with a quiet husk, that my stomach curls.  I tuck that away too.

Tobias glances around for a moment, slowly pulling himself into place in his seat.

My gaze shifts to him with an anxious smile,

"Ah, so,"  I jerk my thumb to the bag of creamer between his feet, "I kind of panicked over getting my mom her coffee fix and in the midst of that, forgot you were in the car, so — uh, you're accompanying me on this journey that may or may not end in my untimely death."

Tobias blinks at that, rubs his face with his palms, and mumbles,

"What," his voice is so heavy and confused that I'm laughing, even though I should probably be trying to rectify this kidnapping scenario, "I don't know what you just said."

He scratches the back of his neck, and I'm expecting a bit of coldness to flood his eyes... For his jaw to tighten, for him to quiet himself, but instead, he appears to be gathering up drunken memories and smiles a small smile instead.

—

Tobias stays in the car.  I invite him in, albeit cautiously, because I'm not sure to say to him once he's there, but he declines,

"I have the day off."  He says it simply, slowly, and sinks in his seat.  His legs fall open lazily as he side-eyes me. "...Grocery shopping."

I want to offer to go with him.  Sure, I'm tired, but I want to talk — and I want to make sure he never wears that hopeless look from the night before again.

I tap my fingers over my steering wheel.

"Alright then," I sigh, "moment of truth."

I park halfway on the curb, clothes a rumpled mess and creamer in hand.  My slipper shoes slap against the pavement as I make my way to the porch stairs — and I keep glancing back at Tobias, feeling a flush in my cheeks every time he meets my eyes.

My mom swings open the door before I can meet her there.

"Oliver!"  She says, holding her hand to her chest like I've startled her into an early heart attack.  She's already in her work attire, and has a thermos in one hand and keys in the other.  Her purse is haphazardly thrown over her mid-arm, "You scared me. What are you doing on the porch?"

Why do I feel like I've done something bad?

"Hey, Mom."  I swallow, throat thick for some unknown reason.  My previous adrenaline is gone, and now I can't seem to wake up for the life of me.  I'm sure I look rough. I know I look rough, and my mom's brows furrow.

I was just — hanging out with my boyfriend all night?  Innocently.  Mom doesn't even know he's my boyfriend — or my friend for that matter and...

"Oliver?"  My mom's head tilts a bit,

"Where is your head?  You seem a bit off...."  She hesitates, tipping her thermos towards me like I can somehow explain her black coffee,  "Oh, and did you forget the creamer last night because I couldn't find —"

"Here."  I hold out the bag to my mom, and she pauses, glances over my shoulder at the car, at Tobias, and then back at me.  Her eyebrow furrows deeper.  She does a bit of a once-over as she takes the plastic bag, and the exchange is slow and awkward.

Then she looks back up at my face, tilts her head — fixes my mussed curls, and her hand stills on my cheek,

"This creamer is warm,"  She concludes.  Her gaze is searching.  I flush further, and I don't know why.  I stand there, looking at her and watching as her regard slides back down to my curling hands and back up to my unusually quiet mouth.

I'm confused at what she wants me to say in return, so I remain silent — until she sighs loudly,

"Jesus.  If you're going to be,"  My mom does a little jingle with her head that confuses me for a moment, but there's a color to her cheeks when she glances back at the Amadeus man again and back at my rumpled shirt, "out all night.  At least be a little more discreet."

She bypasses me after a kiss to my forehead,

"At least in front of your mother, I mean, holy spirit and all above, Oliver.  Even Nic knows that.

My mom is mumbling about warm creamer, about how she never thought she'd have to worry about hot neighbor boys if she had only sons,  and I stand there for a bit in a daze before I understand what she means.

—

"You ran here,"  Tobias is smirking.  He's already pulled himself out of the car, is leaning over the hood just to send me a taunting look, "was I supposed to be timing you?"

My mom is pulling down the street in her minivan, off in the direction of midtown,

"Oh, aren't you a peach in the morning?"  I am not above being flustered.

My cheeks are hot and red because my mom thinks I was out all night getting freaky with someone she considers an honorary son — and I don't know if her under-reaction to that, to me, possibly sleeping with a man, is good news, or scary.

I wonder if  I should be expecting some weird birds and the bees talk when she gets home tonight,

"I see you've woken up well in the past five minutes.  Bright and bushy-tailed!"

"...Why are you blushing?"  Tobias' brows gather, he looks honest to God, curious, and I don't think I've seen such a wide range of emotions on his face in my life. His eyes flick over my cheeks, rake back to my eyes, "or was that small jog quite a feat for you?"

He tacks this on when I don't respond like he's trying to come off nonchalant.

I glare at him, even if it's somewhat undeserved,

"No,"  I swallow, digging one pink slipper into the dirt as I palm my tired eyes, "It's just — my mom."

I stop and shake my head.

"Your mom?"  Tobias' confusion doesn't pass, so he lifts his shoulder sarcastically as he tries to piece together my fragments of information, "Didn't take the late creamer too well...?"

"My mom didn't think I was out last night getting creamer."  I try to give him a meaningful look, one that tells him, 'if we talk about this, I will die of humiliation,' but my face flames three-thousand degrees hotter when we make eye contact.

Tobias looks unsure for a moment, and his chin barely tilts in confusion.  I don't think he gets my silent telepathic message at all, and I'm not about to spell out for him that my mom thinks we're screwing,

"Or at least, Mom didn't think I was out last night,"  I inhale, "getting that kind of creamer."

So much for not spelling it out.

Oh my god, why did I say that, why did I say that!

Tobias' eyes widen in shock as he snorts, lip tugging upwards.  He seems a bit dumbfounded, tearing his eyes off of me and looking heavenwards,

"Holy fuck, Oliver."  He huffs, his jaw flexing.  He lolls his tongue under his bottom lip before sighing.  "... Watch it with the imagery."

I blink, pushing at his chest in embarrassment,

"Imagery?"  I inhale sharply, "it's six in the morning.  You can't imagine it.  Don't imagine it!"

"Well,"  he tuts, shrugging, smirking down at me.  He grabs the hand that's on his chest and pries my fingers apart to make room for his, and then tugs me into his space, "you gave the details.  Not me.  Put yourself in timeout."

"It was the heat of the moment!  I swear I didn't,"  I tug my hand back, crossing my arms.  "I just used it as — I had to tell you!  But I didn't.  Not like you."

Tobias smiles, leaning his weight against the car.

"Huh.  What's wrong with a little imagination?"

I shove him with my shoulder again, but the embarrassment subsides into something warm.

We stand there, shoulder to shoulder, in the cold.

"... You know, that's not exactly how I thought she would react to assuming,"  I shake my head, placing my fingers on my cheeks because they're warm, and it's strange.  Tobias is sliding a hand through his hair, shaking his head like he can't believe we aren't in some weird time warp, "I mean.  My mom.  But I guess.... I never really thought about that at all."

I tack on, and then for some reason, I'm breathing out a sigh of relief.

Tobias looks up at that and nudges me a bit,

"You have a good mom.  It's a good thing, okay,"  It's quieter, and then he rolls his fingers together, "just refrain from telling her creamer innuendos.  Yeah?"

I chew my cheek, gaze uncharacteristically shy as it slides up to his.  I dig my slippers into the frost, bouncing the weight of my back against my car door.  Tobias' brow perks in recognition of my quietness, and he shifts towards me.

"Are we," his dark eyes are always so stupidly intriguing, "are we still on for this weekend?"

"Yeah."  Tobias' lip lifts again, and he bends to bring us closer, his expression sly and humored, "but what ever could've made you think of that...?"

--

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