// one for the road //

"C, it's the middle of nowhere-"

"Which means it's perfect. C'mon!" JC ignores Chris' protests, unbuckling his seatbelt and bounding out of the car into the middle of-- well-- nowhere. Chris shakes his head, muttering, welcome to the twilight zone under his breath, before joining JC at the side of the deserted strip of highway.

"See, Chris? Perfect!" JC's arms are spread wide and he's pirouetting like some strange and wonderful ballerina, his boots kicking up tiny puffs of dust as he spins round, head tipped back, throat bared to the heavens. "We could be the only people left in the world, man."

Chris squints into the expanse of pale ground that curves into a deep blue sky studded with a bare handful of clouds. "I actually think we are."

JC stops spinning bit by bit, slower and slower until he's barely moving, just his fingers on his thigh tapping out a rhythm only he can hear. "No good then, " he declares, wrinkling his nose, and climbing back into the car. "We need someone to take our picture."

***

Eighty-five miles later, and JC's holding the camera in one hand, the other slicing through the thick, dry air in short, animated movements, his head thrown back as he laughs, sharp and clean, and heat blooms deep in Chris' belly.

"You'll get us killed one day," he grins as JC saunters back over, the camera gone now, left in the hands of the old man sitting in front of the truck stop.

JC smiles back and ducks his head, the quick, cool glide of his tongue over Chris' lips stealing away his breath. "Smile pretty now," JC whispers, pressed close, and Chris is helpless to do anything else but just that, desire thickening his blood and slowing his tongue.

A snap-flash and JC's gone again in a shimmer of heat, climbing back into the car, his fingers waving a thank you across the rooftop. Chris collects the camera, and the touch of fingertips wrapped around his wrist holds him still for a moment. Here it comes, he thinks, just waiting for the words laced heavy with judgement.

"He's so beautiful when he laughs," the old man says.

-for aproposofnothin.

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