Happy, consensual, utterly-failed sloppy car makeouts for pirate.
There should be a term for what I do. Cockblock Syndrome.
The lack of trees was very disorienting to John. How could Dave recognize any landmarks without different trees marking them? The last five miles of road had seemed like a lot of dirt and reddish-brown to John, used as he was to living in a city that was practically a forest. If he had been the one driving, they would have been beyond lost by now. The music, loud and bass-heavy, was definitely not helping him keep track of where they were. It was so hard to focus on the plain surroundings and Dave’s inane rambling with dubstep going in the background. Especially since it was good, probably one of Dave’s own remixes.
Dave turned left onto a small, winding road that finally had some real green on it. Not that weird, washed out green that most of the grass and bushes around here had. He felt a little ridiculous about it, but the verdant shrubbery made John feel just a little calmer. The road they were on suddenly shifted to dirt, and John could feel the jolt in his bones.
After some brief swearing, Dave turned to John with a smile. “We’re almost there! I thought you might think this place is dope as hell, considering all those shitty movies you like to go on about.” A little confused, John glanced back out of the windshield. The dirt patch widened out into a wide area that would easily fit several cars. It looked like a make-out spot straight out of an eighties movie.
Chuckling, John shook his head. “Man, this is awesome. I didn’t know these still existed!” Grin widening, John raised an eyebrow at Dave. “So, are we here to…”
Parking the car, Dave was very carefully trying to hide his embarrassment, which almost made John laugh more. He loved it when Dave realized he wasn’t as cool as he thought he was. The blonde composed himself rather quickly, however. “Of course we are, John. This is as prime a spot any to get our groove on and play some tonsil hockey, don’t you think?”
“When are you going to kiss me, then?” John closed his eyes and pursed his lips, fully expected Dave to chicken out on him, probably go on another long-winded ramble about how John was doing it all wrong. He was pleasantly surprised when, instead, Dave’s lips met his own. He lifted a hand to Dave’s shoulder, intending to twine his fingers with Dave’s silky hair.
Except there was a seatbelt biting into Dave’s shoulder. John realized he hadn’t heard the click of Dave unfastening it, and made a protesting noise, pushing Dave away. “Dude! You’re not doing this right!”
Dave sat back down in the driver’s seat with a plunking sound, folding his arms. “Of course I am. You just can’t hand the perfection with which I’m doing it.”
John sighed. “Dave, you were going to dislocate your shoulder!”
That grumpy face had always made John’s heart beat faster. “Why don’t you try it, then?” Dave asked sullenly.
And, just like that, John was grinning again, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding over the central compartment to straddle Dave’s lap. “This is how you do it, Dave.” John met Dave’s kiss this time, cramped though the space was. Dave arched up to reach John’s mouth better.
John jumped, hitting the car horn a second time in the process. He thought he heard Dave whisper something along the lines of “Oh yes, this is so much better,” while they scrambled to rearrange themselves.
One of their sleeves must have caught on the door handle, because the next thing John knew, he was on the ground, seeing stars, and Dave was leaning out of the car, lips curled into a worried frown. “Dude, are you okay?”