teaching choso to drive stick was harder than either of you’d thought.
a quick learner all his life, choso rarely struggled to grasp new concepts. and if your sex life was any indication of his hand-eye coordination, you’d say he was pretty good at it.
but boy, the guy sucked at driving.
it was almost adorable watching his brows furrow as he pushed the clutch down, slamming down on the brakes jerkily. his lips pulled into a slight pout as he muttered something about the ‘janky fucking car’. but you were also terrified for your life. there were no controls on your side, and you were steadily nearing a busy road.
“let’s turn onto the side road on the left, yeah?” you’d carefully suggested - choso was barely doing 5 on a 25.
the tatted man was clearly bothered by his lack of finesse, even more so with the fact that you were in the passenger seat, watching him struggle.
“i got this.” he muttered, the flush on his cheeks and ears spreading to his neck. ignoring your instruction, choso passed the side road, instead trying to merge with the traffic ahead.
there was a sputter before you’d fully turned in, and the car jolts to a stop.
“what?” choso blinked, eyes darting over the dashboard as panic settled in.
“…we stalled.”
“but-” a loud honk cut him off - several - as cars queued up beside the vehicle. his head swivelled around to glare at the honkers, face redder than ever. “shut up!” he snapped, and you had to hold in a laugh.
“babe, i think you need my help.” you’d murmured. his mouth opened to protest, but the words died on his lips just as your fingers combed through his hair. setting his bruised ego aside, he got out of the car and swapped seats, ignoring the jeers of the road ragers. he’d accept defeat just this once.
but don’t you get used to it.
