It's Definitely Not All Mary Poppins

You're Due For A Break And You Promised You'd (Not) Take Me Out (2)

"No, but I – " Matthew caught himself, wiping his hand over his face. "I didn't mean that. That was rude of me. Sorry."

"Look, you said something casual and relaxing, and I'm following that to the T. If you can't walk in wearing jeans and flip-flops and it can't be changed suddenly, it wasn't considered." Edward put his hands up. "No need to apologize, either. I was the one who asked you if you wanted to hang out. And besides, I – oh! Before I forget, if you want to call it early, let me know. I'm down for whatever."

Matthew nodded. His heart did somersaults. He wished he could behave like an adult and not like some fucking teenager. "Thanks...I appreciate that."

"Are you armed?"

Gray eyes met green ones. "Excuse me?"

Edward's smile diminished slightly, eyes crinkling at the sides. He shrugged, hands raised. "Need to make sure you're not planning on stabbing me like last time." A split second later, he chuckled. "Sorry, sorry. I couldn't help myself. It's not everyday I get stabbed by someone as charming as you." It clearly did not elicit the reaction he was hoping for, because Edward's green eyes widened for a moment before he forced another chuckle.

Matthew swallowed a moan. Or maybe it was a whine? He wasn't sure. Nevertheless, he curled into himself just a little more.

"Sorry," Edward said, his easy smile replaced by something more hesitant, uncertain. "I don't know when to shut up. You – ignore me."

"Can do," Matthew muttered, leaning over as he stared at the still-running truck. Sidestepping the taller man, his eyes narrowed as he caught the tell-tale signs of the vintage car – the patina of the faded moss green paint, the hints of chrome, the hubcaps. Matthew grimaced at some of the finer details of the early 70's truck, though it still intrigued him. "What year is it?"

"What year? What – oh." Edward put his fists on his hips, his smile back full force. "It's a C-10 pickup. 1969. It was my dad's. The – " He chuckled again, and Matthew was not sure if it was forced or not. "The only reason I know that is because my dad told me." He paused, fingers tapping against his legs. "Pretty, huh?"

"Hm," he hummed, squatting and noting the dirtied hubcaps, the patches of rust, the catfish-like front, and the gentle modifications. Matthew glanced back to him. "I have a '66 Bug."

Edward snorted. "Cute."

Turning away, Matthew flushed, his ears burning. He grew angry at the potentially snide comment. He wanted to melt at Edward thinking he was cute, or maybe it was the car he thought was cute? He didn't know what to feel. "D-does it have a name?" Matthew asked.

Glancing skyward, Edward bit his lip. He shrugged a moment later. "Not really. My dad – I mean, I don't have a name for it. My dad called her Petunia, but when I drive it, I don't really get that vibe from it. I don't know, maybe I'm not just as 'in-tune' with it as he was. I-I think naming the thing is kind of..." He shrugged again. "I don't know. What happens if it breaks down? Dad's sunk so much into this that sometimes I wonder why he doesn't just buy a new truck."

Matthew cocked his head, staring. Glaring, though that was not his intention. "That suggests a lack of sentimentality."

Edward breathed, the chuckle strained. "No, I-I didn't say that. I like old stuff."

"'Old stuff'?" Matthew echoed.

His bright expression fell. Jaw clenched, Edward drew in a breath to recompose himself. "Sorry, I-I didn't know this was touchy. Sorry. C-can we start over?"

"...sure."

On cue, Edward clapped, his smile returning, desperate and uneasy. "Want to head out?" he asked, opening the driver-side door. "Do you want to stay out late, or retire early?"

Matthew glanced back towards the forest preserve, wondering if Edward would be hurt if he turned and walked back to the house. If he just spent a couple hours wandering the deserted paths of the forest preserve. Hugging himself in the cool night air, Matthew wanted to be alone. He wanted his cigarettes. He just wanted to be alone.

'God, why can't people just let me be alone and suffer until I'm okay to work again?'

"Matt?" Edward called.

"S-sorry," he whispered, climbing into the passenger seat and closing the door firmly, shuddering at the groan of the door's hinges. "Where are we going?" he asked, putting on his seatbelt.

"Lakefront," Edward grinned, shifting into drive and disappearing into the dusk.