Author's website: http://bifictionalbedlam.slashcity.net/shrift
Story Notes: Written for the Summer of '79 challenge at ds_flashfiction.
Ray stopped outside the school's double doors and squinted into the sun. He couldn't see for shit without his glasses even when he wasn't half-blinded by dancing purple spots, but he recognized the voice, and when he brought his hand up to shade his eyes, he could make out the car sitting in the parking lot with its hood up.
"What the hell are you still doing here?" Ray said, pulling his sunglasses from the neck of his t-shirt.
Jimmy crossed his arms and leaned against the driver's side door. "Car won't start, dickhead. What's it look like?"
Ray snorted. "Again? Jesus Christ." He walked up and leaned into the engine, one hand on the hot metal body above the headlight. Jimmy had cherry red '69 Ford Mustang Mach 1. First time Ray had seen it, he'd told Jimmy that he wanted to have sex with the car. "None of your jock buddies around to help you with this shit?"
Jimmy laughed and circled the car to stand next to Ray. His gray sweats were dark in patches, and he smelled like cut grass and the weight room. "Nah, I was the last one out of the locker room," Jimmy said. He ran his fingers through his hair, and it stood up in wet tufts of black. "What are you still doing here?"
Ray shrugged. "Detention."
Jimmy's wide grin showed his chipped front tooth. "Yeah, I heard about that. I can't fucking believe you said that to a teacher, man. You're insane."
Ray smiled down at the engine and tried not to laugh. "Nah, it was dumb." Really fucking dumb, actually, since Ray was barely passing English as it was.
Jimmy stepped closer. "Know what else I heard?"
Ray shifted a little, his knees pressing into the warm bumper. "What?"
Jimmy reached out and curled two fingers into the waistband of Ray's jeans, sliding past his boxers to brush his knuckles against Ray's hipbone. "Heard you and Stella were on the outs."
It was like a one-two punch in the gut, 'hey, might get lucky tonight' coming up from his dick, and 'fucking thanks for reminding me, asshole' coming down from his heart. "Yeah," Ray said after he cleared his throat. "She wants me to fill out some college applications, or she won't take me back." He looked up and saw Jimmy scowling, his fingers tugging on Ray's jeans.
"I can't fucking believe that --"
Ray cut him off. "Don't. Just... don't."
"Sorry, man." Jimmy rubbed his fingers against Ray's hip, and Ray just wanted to lean into him for a while.
"'S'okay." Ray rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. He loved Stella. She was his girl, and nobody said anything bad about his girl, even if he wanted to yell at her until he was blue in the face that there were no god damn college funds for queer Polack punks with 62% averages. Ray looked around the deserted parking lot, nodded at the car, and said, "So, what's she doing?"
Jimmy ducked his head, and mumbled, "Nothing."
"What the fuck?" Ray said, taking a step back from the car. Jimmy's hand dropped away from his waist.
Jimmy shrugged and smiled sheepishly, and there were the dimples that Ray'd had a really hard time refusing for the last few years. "Couldn't think of another reason to stick around so I could give you a ride."
Ray wrapped his hand around Jimmy's nape and shook him so he wouldn't kiss the idiot right there in front of god and the principal. "Freak. What am I gonna do with you?"
Jimmy leaned back against his car, hips cocked, all big and sly. "Depends. What time you gotta be home?"
"Doesn't matter," Ray said, and it didn't, because his Pop was gonna bust his chops no matter what, so he figured he might as well enjoy his freedom while he still had it. It'd be nice not to worry about anything for a few hours. And Jimmy? Jimmy was always good for that.
Jimmy stared at him for a minute, his dark eyes narrowed a little, promising all kinds of stuff that was probably still illegal in Chicago. Jimmy jerked his head at the car. "Get in," he said, and shut the hood.
"Can I drive?"
Jimmy snorted as he opened the driver's side door. "You are unhinged, you know that, right?"
"Worth a try," Ray said, sliding into the passenger seat.
"Hey," Jimmy said, and grabbed Ray's T-shirt, hauling him halfway over the gearbox. Jimmy's mouth tasted a little like Gatorade and plastic from his mouth guard. His tongue was cool, lips a little salty, and Ray made a happy sound as Jimmy's thumb stroked over the stubble on Ray's jaw.
"Hey," Ray said, relaxing into his seat as Jimmy started the car.
End cherry red by Shrift: firstname.lastname@example.org
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