#monmongary

He wasn’t even sure what he was doing. He deserved it he knew, he knew, he knew, but why did Edward have to come out and make everything so damn complicated. To make it all worse they were forced into this situation, where running no longer was an option, where instead they were trapped together in the truck.

He may be living in the 7th level of hell, but even he knew that despite everything, a perfect gentleman would pull up and help someone out. He had simply assumed it was the sparkplugs or something. Edward’s sleeves were rolled up, hands black with oil, a smudge on his nose, and his tools out on the ground as he attempted to do the repairs himself. Calvin wasn’t sure how he felt when he realized it was Edward’s truck. A truck he knew, one that had him slowing down before even any conscious thought asked him what he was doing. They were on shaky ground at best, and perhaps this could help build that bridge one spaghetti piece at a time. Swallowing as Edward looked up, his hair damp from sweat, eyes in surprised recognition, Calvin wondered why the hell his heart was beating so nervously. Must be the fear that Edward had discovered an eighth layer of hell to drag him in to.

The whole point of an older truck, Edward tended to argue, is that one is able to fix it. Get it back to running. Except whatever had gone wrong, it had really gone wrong, wrong enough for Edward to take the rag and wipe down his hands and agree to Calvin’s help.

Edward sat beside him, smudge still on his face, purposefully looking out the window, not giving him the time of day.

It was driving Calvin crazy being ignored. He kept shooting glances at Edward, heart somehow pounding in his stomach area, mixing with the acid of guilt.

“Bet you’re not bitching about how I got the latest upgraded truck,” Calvin finally started, his cracking voice breaking the tense silence between them.

Edward’s eyes didn’t even flick towards him. A prickle of irritation ran through Calvin.

“Seeing as I’m towing your piece of shit truck back to the old folks’ home.”

Usually Edward would react to insults to his truck, but nothing.

He couldn’t keep silent. They were far enough out for the radio to be patchy, enough to have it turned off. He began to whistle, trying to fill the silence between them, wanting to get some sort of reaction out of Edward.

Casting another sidelong glance at Edward, taking in his dark tan, (was he working outside?), his more toned body (he had heard rumours that Edward was working up north, but Mac would neither confirm nor deny), the smudge on the cheek (somehow instead of silly, it looked… he didn’t know what he was feeling, better ignore it.)

The sky was getting dark, too early for night, it was the rushing clouds of a storm of some sorts, and Calvin hoped to be getting out of the mountains sooner rather than later. He sped up.

It happened faster than expected, the wind howling, the rain pummelling down onto the cab, barely able to see a foot ahead of them.

“Pull over.” Came the abrupt command. Edward was tense all over.

“’fraid of a bit of rain?”

“I’m worried your speeding ass is going to make my truck a tin of tuna,” came the growl, “pull the fuck over, McCall.”

“We’re fine!” Calvin exclaimed as loud thuds started to occur on the roof of the cab, and baseball sized hail bounced off the windshield. He screamed, swerved, slowed down, and pulled over. Hands shaking, he turned the truck off, attempting to breathe normally. The hail continued to fall, the wind rattling at the windows like some vengeful ghost attempting to come in. “We’re fine,” he muttered, then slightly more hysterical, he looked over to Edward, who had a slightly amused expression, as he squeaked “we’re fine!”

“I’m fucking not,” Edward dryly replied, “I think I’m going to have to get a soft rubber mallet to get the dings out of my truck.”

“Dings?” It was then that Calvin noticed the pockmarks on the front of his truck, and he had the sinking feeling it was not just the front of the truck. Almost as if to add insult to injury, a large hail stone, the size of an ostrich egg, plapped down onto the windshield, making a sickening cracking sound, and Calvin watched in semi horror as small cracks spiderwebbed across the glass.

A soft hysterical laugh escaped Calvin, “Shit shit shit shit, I didn’t get the extended warranty and I’m sure it ended like yesterday, shit shit shit.” His shoulders were heaving, from laughter? Trying to keep in crying? Why the fuck was he having some sort of tiny breakdown in front of Edward when he was trying to project the exact opposite. Be cool, suave, act like a fucking adult – directly above them cracked the loudest thunder, it felt and sounded as if it was a sword slicing through the truck to murder him, and he screamed loudly, tears (stupidly) springing to his eyes. Quickly he looked away from Edward, Edward could not see him crying due to fear from a stupid storm!

He heard a huff behind him, and let out another scream as he felt Edward grab his shoulder, forcefully bringing him into an awkward half hug, trapped by the seatbelt, leaning uncomfortably against the driving stick, head angled strangely against Edward’s shoulder.

“Idiot, you always cried during storms,” Edward’s voice was soft, as Calvin sniffled, some inner damn releasing as the tears began to flood out.

Unclicking his seatbelt, Calvin shifted, as he buried his face into Edward’s shoulder, crying for more than just the storm. Whatever Edward was doing in his hair felt good, some sort of soft petting, as if he was some goddam dog, but he didn’t care damnit, Edward was talking to him, and maybe this storm was the eighth layer of hell, but somehow even though he was dying of embarrassment, he felt lighter.

Just as quickly as it came, the storm passed, and Calvin pulled away from the awkward embrace, rubbing his eyes and attempting to calm down. His skin tingled from where Edward had touched him, and while he should be feeling bruised pride, all he could think about was thank god for the storm.

“Feeling better, champ?” Edward asked, genuine concern in his voice and face.

“Yeah of course,” Calvin couldn’t quite look at him, feeling too embarrassed.

Edward unbuckled his seat belt and slipped out of the truck, doing a full walk around and making sure the damage was mostly minimal.

By the time Edward hopped back in, Calvin had managed to pull himself together.

“Other than your windshield it’s fine. We should be able to drive… Actually… I noticed you’re heading to Calgary, why are you taking me there?”

Calvin shrugged, “Can’t you fix your truck wherever?” a sly smile appeared, “Unless you plan to finally scrap it?”

“Watch it McCall,” Edward growled punching him on the arm.

Yeeping in pain, Calvin teased in return, “I would love to watch it get crushed out of its misery!”

Narrowing his eyes, Edward looked as if he was about to say something, until he said instead, “You owe me a steak dinner.” Edward shifted, head against the rest, but no longer fully turned away from the other man, “I’m gonna take a nap, wake me when we are near food.”

Calvin nearly asked what the hell the steak dinner was for, but shut his mouth. Maybe it was a good thing Edward was willing to spend some more time with him, and maybe if he took Edward to one of his favourite restaurants – the ones specifically used to woo top-tier clients, they could add another strand of spaghetti to their wobbly bridge.