Every step you take is extra-careful, oil slicks on the soles of your shoes
Zito and me both.
Rich Harden says to you, “the solution to all our problems is to drive for days in no particular direction.”
Richie grabbing Zito's "sage" role. I like it.
Driving around until you find the bad part of town where the gas is cheaper, eating fast food until your eyes are heavy and your heart hurts.
You'd think they could afford a couple cents more for gas and good food. Old/bad habits die hard, I suppose.
Harden knows this highway and he gets brighter the farther north you go
I know this feeling. I can see it shining in Harden's eyes, causing Zito's breath to catch at its clear joy.
the silver-red dashboard lights flick like moths across his face
I adore new similes, too.
The towns are spreading out, the woods thickening and the moon rising.
Ha, they do that about an hour past Sacramento, too. If they're on I-5, you hit one city worth the name (pop. 90,000) between Sacramento and Portland. I've driven that route a lot. :)
That's one heckuva road trip, though, two thousand miles north.
You’re not sure why he invited you. He’s got better friends and so do you. Bobby Crosby is sulking somewhere over being left out. Maybe it’s the four-five times you’ve given him head over the past two and a half years of your friendship.
Gee, ya think, Zito?
I like clueless!Zito. He amuses me.
you’re starting to recognize the landmarks by stories he’s told you
I don't know why that resonated deeply, but it did.
“So hey,” you say quietly, not really trying to wake him up. “It’s okay to assume that me sucking you off occasionally isn’t going to fuck up our friendship, right?”
*snorfle*
You beat out a little rhythm on the steering wheel. “I’d take half of you over three of anybody else, swear I would.”
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, after all your fic, that you are a master of the Zito. But man. Zito's done a lot, but in your fic he breathes and lives anew, while still keeping his canonical loveable attributes.
You wish you could pay for a single motel room with only one bed, and wake him up, say, oh sorry this is all they had left. I can sleep on the floor. And knowing Rich Harden as you do, he’ll say, fuck no, it’s cool, the bed’s big enough.
Dot dot dot.
*headdesk*
I love devious!Zito too.
He said something about a ferry, but you must have been hearing things, because he wouldn’t have suggested a road trip to somewhere that you needed to get to by boat. Makes no sense.
Zito talking about things making sense makes me laugh.
a motel’s neon sign holds a central place in your eyes, rubbing elbows with the moon, the letters jittering on and off.
Dude, if ever you like, decide to try your hand at making a living with this writing thing...
Maybe it’s Canada, it doesn’t count because you’re in a different country.
You know, this eerily reminds me, just a bit, of Going to Wichita.
Harden gives you a bewildered smile and a thumbs up.
I can totally see that.
You won’t lose him. You’d let every finger on your left hand be broken before you let him go.
I love new metaphors. :)
Every step you take is extra-careful, oil slicks on the soles of your shoes
Zito and me both.
Rich Harden says to you, “the solution to all our problems is to drive for days in no particular direction.”
Richie grabbing Zito's "sage" role. I like it.
Driving around until you find the bad part of town where the gas is cheaper, eating fast food until your eyes are heavy and your heart hurts.
You'd think they could afford a couple cents more for gas and good food. Old/bad habits die hard, I suppose.
Harden knows this highway and he gets brighter the farther north you go
I know this feeling. I can see it shining in Harden's eyes, causing Zito's breath to catch at its clear joy.
the silver-red dashboard lights flick like moths across his face
I adore new similes, too.
The towns are spreading out, the woods thickening and the moon rising.
Ha, they do that about an hour past Sacramento, too. If they're on I-5, you hit one city worth the name (pop. 90,000) between Sacramento and Portland. I've driven that route a lot. :)
That's one heckuva road trip, though, two thousand miles north.
You’re not sure why he invited you. He’s got better friends and so do you. Bobby Crosby is sulking somewhere over being left out. Maybe it’s the four-five times you’ve given him head over the past two and a half years of your friendship.
Gee, ya think, Zito?
I like clueless!Zito. He amuses me.
you’re starting to recognize the landmarks by stories he’s told you
I don't know why that resonated deeply, but it did.
“So hey,” you say quietly, not really trying to wake him up. “It’s okay to assume that me sucking you off occasionally isn’t going to fuck up our friendship, right?”
*snorfle*
You beat out a little rhythm on the steering wheel. “I’d take half of you over three of anybody else, swear I would.”
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, after all your fic, that you are a master of the Zito. But man. Zito's done a lot, but in your fic he breathes and lives anew, while still keeping his canonical loveable attributes.
You wish you could pay for a single motel room with only one bed, and wake him up, say, oh sorry this is all they had left. I can sleep on the floor. And knowing Rich Harden as you do, he’ll say, fuck no, it’s cool, the bed’s big enough.
Dot dot dot.
*headdesk*
I love devious!Zito too.
He said something about a ferry, but you must have been hearing things, because he wouldn’t have suggested a road trip to somewhere that you needed to get to by boat. Makes no sense.
Zito talking about things making sense makes me laugh.
a motel’s neon sign holds a central place in your eyes, rubbing elbows with the moon, the letters jittering on and off.
Dude, if ever you like, decide to try your hand at making a living with this writing thing...
Maybe it’s Canada, it doesn’t count because you’re in a different country.
You know, this eerily reminds me, just a bit, of Going to Wichita.
Harden gives you a bewildered smile and a thumbs up.
I can totally see that.
You won’t lose him. You’d let every finger on your left hand be broken before you let him go.
A pitcher's declaration of undying love.
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