Drive (Real World AU) - Part 1
Devin breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the front door closed behind him. Dinner with his boss had gone well enough, even if Devin had spent most of the evening trying to remember which fork to use and wondering if he had food in his teeth. The boss’s wife seemed to have taken a liking to him, hugging him goodbye when he left, but the endless
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He’d gotten sick in a stranger’s car. A stranger’s nice car, and after the man had saved him from certain arrest, no questions asked. Devin’s face grew hot for the hundredth time since he’d been sent off to clean himself up; he wondered if it would be feasible to hide in the shower for the rest of his life. At least the police wouldn’t find him here, if they were still looking for him.
“Get it together, Renton,” he muttered to himself, turning off the shower at last.
He stepped out into a large bathroom, tastefully done up in shades of blue and gray; a wide expanse of marble countertop gleamed beneath a well-lit mirror. Studiously avoiding his own reflection, Devin glanced to his side to find two fluffy towels in a deep blue that coordinated perfectly with the rest of the room’s decor. He wound one towel deftly into a turban for his still-dripping hair and dried himself with the other. Shivering slightly in the cool, damp air, he searched for something to wear; he could hardly walk out of here half-naked.
It appeared, however, that the bathroom’s owner--whose name Devin still didn’t know--had left him with no other option. There was no clothing to be seen anywhere in the room, and Devin certainly wasn’t about to go digging through the other man’s closet. Even the polo shirt and khaki pants he’d been wearing before the incident had disappeared without a trace. Not that he had any intention of putting them back on without a thorough washing or three. He’d just as soon burn them, if his work wardrobe weren’t so scant already.
But the question of where they’d gone remained; he’d been in such a hurry to clean himself up, he couldn’t remember what he’d done with the soiled garments after he’d peeled them off. What if he’d thrown them down somewhere he shouldn’t have--this stranger’s expensive bedroom carpet, perhaps? What if he’d thrown them on the bed? His heartbeat quickened and his nose wrinkled as he recalled the mess, the smell--
“Hey, you about done in there, dude?”
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