PASTEL GOTHS WRITE SMUT

A short time later, while you're scrolling on your phone and Alphonse is looking curiously at the products hung up along an aisle close to the counter, a man steps out through the door, eyes downcast.

"Hey, sorry 'bout that. What can I help you with?" he looks up from wiping his hands with a rag and sees you, your face subdued for just a moment before you look up from your phone suddenly with an "Oh, hi-!" and your eyes lock.

Behind the counter is a tan, broad-shouldered man who looks to be about in his early forties with his hair tied up in a hasty bun and one escaped lock hanging down to his jaw. His eyes are dark in color and guarded by sweeping, black lashes, and you think his expression appears a bit caught off guard.

You know the feeling.

Your lips part to continue your sentence, or say anything. Before you can find your hold, your boyfriend steps up behind you with a polite smile.

"Hey, how you doin'? Uh, my partner's car just needs a couple new tires. They're driving on three spares."

The older man's eyelids lower as Al speaks and the corner of his mouth lifts.

"Cuttin' it kinda close, hmm? You should bring your car in sooner, wouldn't want you or your sweetheart here" -he cuts his eyes to you- "To be stranded on the side of the road. Can't help you as easily then."

He turns to a small refrigerator on the back wall and bends over to reach for something in it. Alphonse looks irritated, lifts his chin and opens his mouth to reply- but, looking down at the man he isn't quite sure what to think of, he can't help but notice the space at his lower back where his shirt's come untucked and the smooth skin exposed right in front of his eyes, the way his hips shift as he roots around in the fridge, not to mention what he'd see in those dark-wash jeans if he allowed his eyes to drift a little lower-

anyway, he forgot what he was about to say.

You're not much better off, yourself. You keep your eyes down respectfully, not noticing your partner's situation. Still, your cheeks warm.

He straightens up with a quiet grunt and when he turns back to you both he has two cold bottles of pop in his hands. "Here, kid," he hands Al one of them. "It's still hot out and my waiting room ain't air conditioned. I'm Seth, by the way."

Al looks at him firmly. "Alphonse, an' this is my boo-"

You introduce yourself quietly.

You take notice of the way his hand grazes your boyfriend's fingers as he slowly withdraws it. Seth has to look up a little at Al, but it's clear by the way he meets his gaze so evenly he feels no need to compensate.

His age and demeanor have you and Alphonse both feeling a bit more compliant than usual. You typically walk around your town with a hint of devil may care, heads held high and hands clasped tight against lingering whispers or stares Alphonse endured since so long ago. It's not that the two of you feel small in this place, but more... docile. Safe, even.

He nudges your hand with the cold bottle, prompting you to take it from him. "You too, sugar," he grins, showing a hint of teeth through full lips. "If you want it."

"Thank you," you say shyly. He's way too handsome for his age, you think to yourself. I'd love to see what he looks like with his hair down. You instantly feel guilty and shuffle closer to your partner.

"Now, if you wanna pull into the garage, I'll get to work. Yall can wait inside."

Would it be rude to ask if we can watch him work?

His eyes dart to you as if he heard what you were thinking. "Don't worry, sugar. I'll take good care of her," he says and winks at you before turning and exiting the garage door.

"Um- thank you! Ha ha, let me just-" you fumble in your pockets for your keys.

"Here, lemme. I'll park it for you, baby," Al mutters.

You follow Al outside and watch him drive your car into the garage slowly. Seth leans against the large doorjamb and guides him in with two beckoning fingers. Was his shirt unbuttoned that far a minute ago?

You blink and reach behind you for a door that reveals a wallpapered room attached to the side of the building. Five chairs, three end tables, a 20-inch TV hung up in the ceiling corner. Window facing the tree line. You'd have to stand from a specific angle and press your face to the glass to see the vehicle's entrance to the garage. You don't.

You've been waiting for less than five minutes when you jump from the sound of the doorknob turning. Alphonse steps through, ducking under the doorway like he almost always has to do, clutching his sweaty bottle of pop. You'd forgotten you were still holding yours. He perches on the edge of the chair next to you, elbows on knees. "You just been staring at the wall while you waited for me, boo?" he teases.

You manage a distracted smile and twist open your bottle and take a drink. Al, noticing your silence, sinks back into his chair and does the same. "So, he... seems nice, huh?" you offer. His eyes crinkle, mouth still on the bottle.

He sets it down, thinking. "He's friendly for sure," he manages finally.

You don't reply, but wish you would. You sit in silence. It's almost awkward, but when in your life have you ever felt awkward with Alphonse? Why can't you think of anything to say and why does meeting this man old enough to be your father- a very young father, but nevertheless- make your stomach feel tight?

You turn to your partner suddenly, irritated with both him and yourself for being silly. "I can't tell what you're thinking. Did that guy say anything to you?"

He looks surprised and sounds defensive. "Only that he'd be done in about half an hour. What about you, huh? The way he was looking at you I wasn't sure if you already knew him."

"Of course I don't, but- you-" you pause. "Why are we both acting like this?"

His brow smoothed. "I don't really know. But honestly?"

I nod.

"I can't really tell if he's coming on to you or if he's tryna get under my skin or if he's just plain hot."

You start, looking at him hard. "Is that what he was doing? Wait, hot??"

Alphonse cringes. "I mean. Maybe? It feels kinda wrong to leer at another man in front of you, not to mention his age, just... I don't know. Something about that goatee and the way he talks to us? Do I just have, like, daddy issues or something?" he ducks his head with a pained smile. "Are you mad?"

You stare blankly. "I think I might feel the same way you do."

He peeked at you. "Seriously? We both have a maybe-crush on our mechanic?"

"I mean, I wouldn't go that far... not like you; didn't even know you had a thing for facial hair."

He laughed, and it was a relief for both of you. "C'mon, boo. You think I can't tell when you're flustered? This is a weird situation; don't hold back and tell me you don't think he's hot."

"Uh, nnn..." you squint and think about the way it felt when Seth called you "sugar", how you noticed his shaded eyes and exposed collarbone. His fingers when he motioned Al through the garage door. "..Nnyeah, maybe," you whisper.

It feels like something in you was resolved when you admitted it. Not being alone in your feelings is a comfort, too. Still, there is a question posed to both of you: what do we do next? What do we say?

Al reaches around your shoulders and leans you into him, though it's a bit uncomfortable in your wooden chairs. "Look," he begins. "I know you respect our relationship and would never want to do, say, or even think anything to hurt me." He cranes his neck down to look you in the eyes. "And I hope you know I feel the same. Is it really so wrong to feel like this?"

Though a little confused, your partner looks satisfied with himself for prying from you what you didn't know, yourself. Only him, you sigh to yourself.

"I don't know," you moan and dig your head into his chest. "I just... what would we even do about it? What would we possibly-"

He interrupts you. "We ain't gotta do anything. Isn't it enough to imagine... how his rough hands must feel on your body?"

You inhale sharply and sit up so you can look at him.

He narrows his eyes, smiling devilishly at you, and keeps going. "What would his kisses feel like? You think he'd be rough?" He leans in and whispers in your ear. "Don't you want to run your fingers through that hair of his?"

Your cheeks warm once again and you feel your heart beat harder in your chest. You look at him hard. "Don't you want his hands around your waist? Or one around the back of your neck while he-"

He kisses you hard. It's frantic and electric and wet. As his tongue slides against yours, he gasps into you. You swipe your thumb along his chin. God, you want to be closer, but the arms of Al's chair would prevent you from getting in his lap. You tug on his wrist and scoot out of your chair, but he's already up, flies toward you, and wraps his arms tight around you. He cradles the back of your head and guides you backwards until you hit the wall. You grasp at Alphonse anywhere you can, clutching his firm biceps and scrabbling around his hips to find the hem of his sweater and pushing your hands up his warm torso.

"Fuck, that's hot, boo," he whispers. He ducks his head into your neck and sucks on the delicate skin where your neck meets your collarbone, and you groan his name. You close your eyes at the feeling of his soft hair tickling your cheek. "Our poor mechanic- ahh! He's already getting perved on by his customers, and now they're making out in his waiting room!" you gasp. You feel a warm puff of air from his laugh.

"Ohh, not too poor, I promise you, darlin'."

You and Alphonse spring apart, eyes wide and locked on the older man halfway through the door.

Seth observes you with eyes crinkled mirthfully and that same playful grin he put on when he first flustered you. "I was just comin' in to tell yall I was done with your car," he remarks slowly.