Flash! Bam! Alakazam!
Title: Flash! Bam! Alakazam!
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brian/Matt
Summary: This one might be heaven-sent, Matt, so don't screw it up!
Disclaimer: The only thing here that is mine is the plot. I do not intend to besmirch any actual people, whom I also don't own. The title belongs to Nat King Cole from "Orange Colored Sky."
Tuesday. Matt tried to distract himself by trying to remember the root of the word "Tuesday." Norse, was it? He used his work blackberry to look it up. It wasn't that he was actually interested in knowing. He thought about picking up a hobby to fill whatever shreds of time he had left in his week. When he came to the first toll booth in his commute, he absentmindedly drifted to the same booth of the previous morning. He felt his heart drop when someone else leaned out of the window, and he got annoyed with himself for this feeling of disappointment.
He pulled out of the toll booth, and drove off into the dismal, overcast day.
Work was just as bland as ever, and it took a bitter turn when his boss came in and gave him a formal assignment. He had to make a basic presentation about his department. In short, he was being told to beg to keep a respected position. Not only that, but it was due in two days - meaning he was going straight to crunch time. He took an early lunch break and went out, using it as a cover for his anger. He sat in a small cafe facing out the street-side window, with a notepad turned to a fresh leaf. Staring at his corn and black bean chowder, he tapped a pencil against his cheek.
He felt like he couldn't concentrate, so he started in on the delicious food - he couldn't remember the last time he had a nice meal like this. With all his money, one might think he could afford a cook, a bigger house, and an overall more pleasant life. He pushed an empty bowl aside, perfectly aware that he had pretty much inhaled his food in public. The notepad was beckoning him, and sudden inspiration struck him to outline a plan for this project.
When he got back to the office, he felt like a new man. His confidence felt like a fire burning gracefully and proudly inside of him. He sent a memo around his section about a meeting at 2:00. He took the notepad to his office, and started filling in the details. He felt sun shining into his office and that light feeling stayed with him even through the meeting.
That evening, he took a little time to go to a coffee shop after dinner. He took some work with him and delved deeply into it. Time slipped by really quickly, because before he knew it, the baristas were notifying him of closing time. He looked at the 5 empty cups of coffee at his table and sighed. He would have hell trying to get to sleep that night. As he went to throw out the cups, the door opened and a small bell jingled at the top.
"I'm sorry sir, we're about to close," came a female voice behind the counter. Matt looked over, even though it wasn't his business. He felt a small rush in his heart when he recognized the man from the toll booth.
"I just wanted to get some coffee beans for tomorrow, is that OK?"
"Yeah, it's fine," the barista said in an agreeably sweet voice. The toll collector must've recognized Matt, because he grinned and waved, and then moved on to the coffee selection. Matt tried to ignore him as he collected all his work, but found himself looking over at the other man. He looked larger outside of his booth, like he'd been let out of a cage. When their eyes met, Matt looked down and hurried his clean-up along. As he pushed the door open, he said "bye" to everyone.
However, once again the cosmos decided to act against him. In his hurry to leave, he tripped on the stairs, and landed on the bottom step. His bum hurt, he had turned his ankle, scuffed his nice shoes, and most of all, hurt his pride. He muffled a cry, as the pain in his ankle registered in his brain. Moments later, the door opened, and Matt cringed.
"Oh my God, are you OK?" Came the worried voice.
"'M fine," Matt said as he attempted to stand. He staggered a little, then managed to stand straight and face the other. He winced inwardly as pain shot through his leg. The other man lifted his eyebrow so high, Matt thought vaguely that it might be a detachable piece. He didn't know what suddenly came over him, but he relented. "OK, OK, no, I'm not fine."
"What happened? You trip?" Matt got a good look at the other man's attire. Faded jeans with rips in the knees, some sort of vintage tee, biker gloves, leather coat, and a trucker hat. But most importantly, the guy looked relaxed. Matt shifted weight onto his other leg, still clad in the dress pants from work.
"Yeah." Duh. Matt kept that last part to himself, not wanting to drive this man away.
"What's your name?"
"Matt. Sanders." The other man stuck his hand out and Matt took it.
"I'm Brian. Did you bring a car?"
Matt sighed, "No, I walked."
"Here, lemme give you a ride home," Brian offered nonchalantly. Matt felt his face flush with embarrassment.
"You really don't have to. Really. It's really nice... yeah-"
"I insist," Brian said, turning to walk. He gestured to Matt with a smirk. "Really." Matt felt the flush spread down his back, but he got over himself and followed Brian with a slight limp.
They came to an old car that was probably from the early 90s, and Brian had to get in first before unlocking the passenger side by hand. "Sorry 'bout the smell," Brian said sheepishly, tossing the coffee bag in the back. Matt got in, and the smell of old fries hit him like a storm as he tried to place his feet between empty soda bottles.
"It's fine," he said. He rested his briefcase in his lap, and reached back for the seatbelt. When he couldn't find it, he looked back for it.
"Sorry, there's no seat belts in the front. No airbags either," he mumbled. Matt swallowed hard.
The car started up with a glorious rattle, though the glory diminished when Matt realized that it was just the glove compartment shaking loose. He grabbed onto the handle above the window and clutched his briefcase, but Brian didn't notice. Matt quietly gave Brian the name of the road he lived on.
"So what do you for work?" Brian asked over the noise of the car.
"Um..." Matt tried to collect his thoughts. "I work for an engineering company. I'm part of the marketing department."
"Sounds...nice," Brian said. Matt suspected that he was just saying that.
"How about you?"
Brian stole a glance over at him, then looked back to the road. His face was unreadable. For some reason, Matt felt like he did something wrong. "Well, I work at the toll booth, obviously..." Brian paused and giggled for a second. Matt got a flutter in his stomach, but he wasn't sure what for. "I work at a restaurant for the late shift. Sometimes I have to go right to the toll booth after I get out. I also have a small online business. It's not flourishing, or anything..." Brian stopped talking, and Matt mulled it over in his head.
"That's really interesting," Matt said, without thinking. Brian scoffed.
"Not really. Exhausting is a better word," Brian returned quickly. Matt wanted to smack his head against the dashboard. Maybe that would stop the insane rattling. "Alright, where do I go from here?" That snapped Matt right out of his thoughts.
"Oh...we actually missed it..."
Brian laughed and pulled into a driveway to turn them around. It was another five silent, awkward minutes until Matt was home.
"So, uh, thanks," Matt said. He loosened his death grip on his briefcase and opened his door.
"Any time," Brian said, waving as Matt got out. Matt walked stiffly up to his house, and noticed that Brian didn't leave until Matt got inside.
When he was safely inside his front hall, he felt his knees shake, and he hobbled to bed.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brian/Matt
Summary: This one might be heaven-sent, Matt, so don't screw it up!
Disclaimer: The only thing here that is mine is the plot. I do not intend to besmirch any actual people, whom I also don't own. The title belongs to Nat King Cole from "Orange Colored Sky."
Tuesday. Matt tried to distract himself by trying to remember the root of the word "Tuesday." Norse, was it? He used his work blackberry to look it up. It wasn't that he was actually interested in knowing. He thought about picking up a hobby to fill whatever shreds of time he had left in his week. When he came to the first toll booth in his commute, he absentmindedly drifted to the same booth of the previous morning. He felt his heart drop when someone else leaned out of the window, and he got annoyed with himself for this feeling of disappointment.
He pulled out of the toll booth, and drove off into the dismal, overcast day.
Work was just as bland as ever, and it took a bitter turn when his boss came in and gave him a formal assignment. He had to make a basic presentation about his department. In short, he was being told to beg to keep a respected position. Not only that, but it was due in two days - meaning he was going straight to crunch time. He took an early lunch break and went out, using it as a cover for his anger. He sat in a small cafe facing out the street-side window, with a notepad turned to a fresh leaf. Staring at his corn and black bean chowder, he tapped a pencil against his cheek.
He felt like he couldn't concentrate, so he started in on the delicious food - he couldn't remember the last time he had a nice meal like this. With all his money, one might think he could afford a cook, a bigger house, and an overall more pleasant life. He pushed an empty bowl aside, perfectly aware that he had pretty much inhaled his food in public. The notepad was beckoning him, and sudden inspiration struck him to outline a plan for this project.
When he got back to the office, he felt like a new man. His confidence felt like a fire burning gracefully and proudly inside of him. He sent a memo around his section about a meeting at 2:00. He took the notepad to his office, and started filling in the details. He felt sun shining into his office and that light feeling stayed with him even through the meeting.
That evening, he took a little time to go to a coffee shop after dinner. He took some work with him and delved deeply into it. Time slipped by really quickly, because before he knew it, the baristas were notifying him of closing time. He looked at the 5 empty cups of coffee at his table and sighed. He would have hell trying to get to sleep that night. As he went to throw out the cups, the door opened and a small bell jingled at the top.
"I'm sorry sir, we're about to close," came a female voice behind the counter. Matt looked over, even though it wasn't his business. He felt a small rush in his heart when he recognized the man from the toll booth.
"I just wanted to get some coffee beans for tomorrow, is that OK?"
"Yeah, it's fine," the barista said in an agreeably sweet voice. The toll collector must've recognized Matt, because he grinned and waved, and then moved on to the coffee selection. Matt tried to ignore him as he collected all his work, but found himself looking over at the other man. He looked larger outside of his booth, like he'd been let out of a cage. When their eyes met, Matt looked down and hurried his clean-up along. As he pushed the door open, he said "bye" to everyone.
However, once again the cosmos decided to act against him. In his hurry to leave, he tripped on the stairs, and landed on the bottom step. His bum hurt, he had turned his ankle, scuffed his nice shoes, and most of all, hurt his pride. He muffled a cry, as the pain in his ankle registered in his brain. Moments later, the door opened, and Matt cringed.
"Oh my God, are you OK?" Came the worried voice.
"'M fine," Matt said as he attempted to stand. He staggered a little, then managed to stand straight and face the other. He winced inwardly as pain shot through his leg. The other man lifted his eyebrow so high, Matt thought vaguely that it might be a detachable piece. He didn't know what suddenly came over him, but he relented. "OK, OK, no, I'm not fine."
"What happened? You trip?" Matt got a good look at the other man's attire. Faded jeans with rips in the knees, some sort of vintage tee, biker gloves, leather coat, and a trucker hat. But most importantly, the guy looked relaxed. Matt shifted weight onto his other leg, still clad in the dress pants from work.
"Yeah." Duh. Matt kept that last part to himself, not wanting to drive this man away.
"What's your name?"
"Matt. Sanders." The other man stuck his hand out and Matt took it.
"I'm Brian. Did you bring a car?"
Matt sighed, "No, I walked."
"Here, lemme give you a ride home," Brian offered nonchalantly. Matt felt his face flush with embarrassment.
"You really don't have to. Really. It's really nice... yeah-"
"I insist," Brian said, turning to walk. He gestured to Matt with a smirk. "Really." Matt felt the flush spread down his back, but he got over himself and followed Brian with a slight limp.
They came to an old car that was probably from the early 90s, and Brian had to get in first before unlocking the passenger side by hand. "Sorry 'bout the smell," Brian said sheepishly, tossing the coffee bag in the back. Matt got in, and the smell of old fries hit him like a storm as he tried to place his feet between empty soda bottles.
"It's fine," he said. He rested his briefcase in his lap, and reached back for the seatbelt. When he couldn't find it, he looked back for it.
"Sorry, there's no seat belts in the front. No airbags either," he mumbled. Matt swallowed hard.
The car started up with a glorious rattle, though the glory diminished when Matt realized that it was just the glove compartment shaking loose. He grabbed onto the handle above the window and clutched his briefcase, but Brian didn't notice. Matt quietly gave Brian the name of the road he lived on.
"So what do you for work?" Brian asked over the noise of the car.
"Um..." Matt tried to collect his thoughts. "I work for an engineering company. I'm part of the marketing department."
"Sounds...nice," Brian said. Matt suspected that he was just saying that.
"How about you?"
Brian stole a glance over at him, then looked back to the road. His face was unreadable. For some reason, Matt felt like he did something wrong. "Well, I work at the toll booth, obviously..." Brian paused and giggled for a second. Matt got a flutter in his stomach, but he wasn't sure what for. "I work at a restaurant for the late shift. Sometimes I have to go right to the toll booth after I get out. I also have a small online business. It's not flourishing, or anything..." Brian stopped talking, and Matt mulled it over in his head.
"That's really interesting," Matt said, without thinking. Brian scoffed.
"Not really. Exhausting is a better word," Brian returned quickly. Matt wanted to smack his head against the dashboard. Maybe that would stop the insane rattling. "Alright, where do I go from here?" That snapped Matt right out of his thoughts.
"Oh...we actually missed it..."
Brian laughed and pulled into a driveway to turn them around. It was another five silent, awkward minutes until Matt was home.
"So, uh, thanks," Matt said. He loosened his death grip on his briefcase and opened his door.
"Any time," Brian said, waving as Matt got out. Matt walked stiffly up to his house, and noticed that Brian didn't leave until Matt got inside.
When he was safely inside his front hall, he felt his knees shake, and he hobbled to bed.