Fandom: NaNoWriMo 2004 [Adam/Steve]
Rating/warnings: PG because Vermont is batshit insane
'cause it's all going off without you
excuse me, too busy you're writing your tragedy
Track 16: Let Go
"It isn't that I mind you showing up like this," Adam said as he slid into the passenger seat of his car and handed over his keys. "I just wish you wouldn't hotwire my own car to do it."
"You're no fun," Steve teased, turning on the car legally this time. Just to prove that was a damned lie, Adam leaned over to kiss him at the next stop sign, then jerked away, flushing, when the car behind them honked impatiently.
"Vermonters have no romance in their souls," Steve said.
"Where are you taking me?" Adam watched the scenery drift by out the window, and they weren't going in the direction of his apartment. "You aren't kidnapping me for ransom, are you?"
"What idiot would pay for you?" Steve laughed, then frowned a little after thinking about what he'd said.
"It's so much easier when you insult yourself for me." Adam reached forward to change the radio station, but Steve slapped his hand away.
"Leave it," he said, "it took me half an hour to find something decent. The radio up here is terrifying."
"It's the Jesus station," Adam warned, slouching back down against the seat and twiddling with the vents until warm air was blowing directly on him. "It's just faking you out. Really, where are we going?"
"Food." Steve finally gave a straight answer, pulling up along the curb in front of the shadiest Chinese restaurant Adam had ever seen. "The last thing I had was half a soft pretzel in the Dulles airport."
"You always get stuck in Dulles," Adam laughed, getting out of the car and putting his foot down right in the middle of an ankle-deep puddle. He cursed and shook his foot as he slammed the door shut. The water was freezing and the clouds overhead hanging dark and low; snow was definitely on the way.
"I won't get stuck on the way back, it's a direct flight." Steve held the door open for Adam, tugging his coat together as a sharp wind blew his hair out of his eyes.
"We'll see," Adam grinned as he hustled in the door, leaving half a set of wet footprints on the sidewalk. He yelped and shot a glare over his shoulder when stray fingers tweaked his hip through his jeans.
When they re-emerged from the restaurant, stuffed and with Adam carrying a large bag of leftovers—Steve had murmured that Adam would need the strength and Adam had kicked him under the table—the door stuck at first, then scraped up a two-inch pile of snow as it swung back. Steve stopped in the doorway, staring out; everything was covered in white, and flakes were already collecting on his shoulders.
"What's the hold up?" Adam asked, leaning around Steve. "Hey, it's snowing."
"It's a blizzard!" Steve exclaimed, dusting off his shoulders. "We were inside for like an hour! What's wrong with your state?"
"It's just snow." Adam cursed again as he stepped off the curb right back into the same puddle from before, which had been covered by snow. "Be glad we didn't stay for dessert, we'd have to dig the car out." Steve scowled as he tugged his hand inside his sleeve and knocked the snow off the driver's door so he could find the handle. Adam buried his hands in his pockets and tilted his face up to catch a few flakes on his tongue.
"It's not natural." Yanking the door open, Steve threw himself into the car and flipped Adam's lock before trying to fumble the key into the ignition. "Look, my fingers are numb!"
"You're the moron who came to Vermont without gloves," Adam pointed out, reaching out and plucking the keys out of Steve's hand and inserting the right one into the ignition. He sighed happily when the air blowing on him from the vents warmed up.
"Look at it this way," Adam tugged off his own glove to lay his arm across the back of Steve's seat and brush fingers through the dark hair at the nape of his neck, "we might get snowed in for the whole weekend."
"Vermont is for lovers?" Steve grinned as he glanced in the rearview mirror and pulled out. Adam gave Steve's hair a tug, then let go to shift the food to the floor since it would be a boring weekend indeed if he sustained third degree lap burns from it.
"That's what all the bumper stickers say." Adam wrinkled his brow thoughtfully. "Or maybe that's 'Honk if you love moose.'"