Page 105 of Fall for Him

“I really hate you, Dylan Gallagher.” Derek squeezed his hands over the leather of the steering wheel again. Would his hands just fuse there at some point? The key was still in the ignition. A garbled sound of frustration came out of his mouth which sounded a little like “Arrrrggjbbbfllllr.”

Dylan brought a hand up to cup Derek’s cheek. “Babe, I was just trying to make you laugh because I’m legitimately worried you might break your car with your Hulk-like grip strength. This car is really old, you know.” He pushed up from his seat and kissed Derek’s offended face.

“This car is a classic.” Derek’s hands uncurled from the steering wheel and threaded through Dylan’s hair as he deepened the kiss.

Thankfully the trees and bushes kept their parking spot beside the basement garage relatively private. Derek’s mouth moved against his in that perfect way it always did. Kissing Derek seemed to make everything else fade. He hoped he could do the same for Derek right now.

They were both breathless when Derek pulled away. There was just enough space between them that they could look at each other. Derek’s cheeks were flushed but his eyes had this odd look of confusion behind them that seemed in contrast with the perfection of the impromptu car make-out session.

“What’s wrong?” Dylan asked.

“I… It’s… gahhh.” He grabbed the steering wheel again like he was a man overboard and it was a life preserver. “Do you feel okay about this? Being here?”

Genuinely perplexed about Derek’s question, he shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to meet Batman.”

Derek grunted, but again, his hands relaxed. “Have you heard the expression beating a dead horse?” Derek shoved Dylan’s shoulder.

“Sure. Always sounded like something PETA wouldn’t approve of.” Dylan shook his head, not missing that tiny twitch at the corner of Derek’s mouth that showed the laughter hiding there. “If I promise not to call him Bruce tonight, will you get me tacos?”

“You know there will be food there, right?”

Dylan jabbed a finger at Derek’s chest. “You told me she can’t cook and I should eat before we went, but then Felicity called about picking the finishes for the bathroom and I forgot to grab a protein bar.”

“Fine, we can get tacos.” Derek touched the key still in the ignition but didn’t twist it to remove it. Instead, he turned back to Dylan and draped himself over him, holding on with a ferocity he hadn’t before. Dylan rubbed Derek’s back with his fingertips, the tightness of Derek’s grip giving Dylan that lovely mushy feeling inside. When Derek let go, he straightened Dylan’s glasses.

“In case it wasn’t clear, I really appreciate you being here.” Tiny crinkles appeared along Derek’s brow ridge.

“I-I’m glad to be here.” Dylan smoothed a finger over Derek’s forehead. “Tonight’s going to be great. Really…”

“We’ll see.” Derek twisted the key, the old engine’s growl ending with a splutter. Derek clutched the steering wheel again.

Dylan peeled each of Derek’s hands away from the sun-damaged leather. “I think that steering wheel has been through enough without you squeezing the life out of it every five seconds.”

“My mom’s new goddamn husband has more balls than I do.”

“Okay, I’m like super lost. Not sure how we got from steering wheel strangulation to the subject of your mom’s new husband’s balls, and I feel like bringing them up now is just going to make it really awkward when we meet them in five minutes. ‘Them’ being your mom and her husband, not ‘them’ meaning your mom’s husband’s balls.”

“Dylan.” Derek grabbed his hands and shook them once, eyes dead serious.

“Derek.”

“The last person I like-liked… I told him, and he was just so conflicted about it. I thought we’d started something, but now looking back I realize it wasn’t ever going to happen. But I was so gone on the guy that I built everything up in my head that if I just tried hard enough I would fix everything, and shit would be good.” Derek seemed flustered. Actually, legitimately Dylan-type flustered.

“Please tell me that this is not a long conversation about how you’re still into someone else—”

“Will you be my boyfriend?” After Derek blurted out the question, he didn’t give Dylan a gap to respond. “Or like are you my boyfriend already? So, if someone other than me asked you what I was to you, would you say, or maybe not even say, would you just think ‘uh, yeah, Derek’s my boyfriend’ or would you be like nah—”

“Christ, you talk so much when you’re weirdly nervous. Of course I think of you as my boyfriend. Just didn’t really know when to bring up the whole label thing. Last time we tried to have that conversation we end up being attacked by your nephews and finding out your mom married Batman.”

Derek groaned. “Not Batman. The bat man.”

“Sorry. This won’t ever not be funny.”

“I changed my mind. You’re not my boyfriend.”

“Really?”

“No, dummy. Do you think I spoon everyone for an hour in the morning just so I can watch them sleep? Just you.”

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