by K-lee Klein
Scott pulled back, eyes bright with emotion. “Kissing is always the right answer but I'm not trying to make you cry.” He paused with a smirk that Devon wanted to kiss away… ruthlessly. “But you are kind of cute when you cry.” Something sad swept across his face and he added, “Only when it's about me in a good way.”
Devon knew he was talking about Beth and he appreciated the distinction. He had cried a river that night. Scott had made it better though. He always did. “I figure everyone should have at least a couple of Valentine's Days to remember,” he theorized, changing the subject. There were only so many times he could have his heart broken by Scott's past, but it tore him up to know such a sweet, deserving soul had spent a life mostly devoid of fun and surprises and love. If Scott let him, Devon had every intention on turning that bullshit on its ass. Scott deserved the world and Devon would give him as much as he could.
They kissed again; a soft, lazy pressing of mouths. There was no desperation or lust, only love and a happy start to the day. When they pulled apart Scott quirked an eyebrow at him, lips chapped and bright red from their making out. “So this is an all-day date? Really?”
Devon nodded, brushed his mouth over Scott's forehead then released him to finish with his boots. “Yep. I have it all planned out. The coming in my pants incident as it will forever be refereed to wasn't on the original set list, or the shower clean-up session, but I managed to pencil them both in retrospectively.” He chuckled under his breath as Scott slapped him lightly on the back of the head. “And no, I don't have an actual list written down.” He paused to rub then tap the side of his head. “It's all in here.”
Scott faked a gasp. “Pretty sure of yourself, huh? I need to start teaching you the fine art of list-making, don't I?” He snorted and moved around Devon to grab his coat from the closet. “I should probably bring my Ativan, huh?” He whispered, as if he was embarrassed to bring it up.
Devon sighed before smiling sadly at him. “Bring it. It's always good to be prepared, right? And you gotta know it doesn't bother me. I hope I don't stress you out that bad, but better safe than sorry, right?”
He and Scott had delved into some pretty deep discussions about Scott's anxiety disorder and panic attacks, both in person and on the phone while Devon was away. He couldn't say he completely understood what Scott went through, but he did understand the importance of the anti-anxiety medication Scott always had on hand. Scott told him it wasn't a cure to the attacks, only a quick fix when things were spinning—sometimes literally—out of control. But when that happened, it was a necessity, not a luxury.
When they finally had everything they needed, Scott locked and relocked the door behind them, turning right at the end of the walkway and heading for his car. Devon stopped him with a hand around his waist. “Not today. My plan, my ride.”
The look on Scott's face would have been comical had something actually been funny, but Devon knew it wasn't a laughing matter when Scott started wringing his hands together. “You want me to ride…on that? Ride your bike? Are you torturing me for Valentine's Day? Because I certainly didn't know that was part of the ritual I've been missing all these years.”
Anxiety quickened Scott's words, as he tugged at his left eyebrow, and pursed his lips. Devon circled his arms around Scott's shoulders and pressed a lingering kiss to the side of his neck.
“You can do this. I know you can, and you said before you wanted to try. I thought today was as good a day as any and I even got you something special so you could give it a shot.” Scott wiggled with a sigh and Devon could see him struggling to keep himself in check. “Hey,” he crooned. “Relax, babe. I'm not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to do. And if it's too much, we'll take your car. No biggie. I'll ask one more time, then drop it okay? Do you feel like giving it a go?”
“You're not playing fair, Dev. I don't want to disappoint…you've had others on the bike with you before, right?
“Of course.”
“But were there any that didn't ride, like ever?”
“I took my mom for her first ride.”
Scott gaped at him. “Your mom? She rode a motorcycle? No way.”
Shrugging, Devon smiled at the memory. “I bought her first bike too. Why do you think the shop's named after her? She loved to ride.” He tried to hold back that misty feeling of sadness. “But I'd never force you to do anything. Just like if you wanted me to balance someone's checkbook. Nuh uh.”
Scott contemplated for a moment. Devon waited him out while he slid past and circled the bike. “It's a Harley Davidson, right? That's a good one?”
“Harleys are great and I do have one at home, but Bertha is an Indian Scout.”
“Your bike is Native American? I don't think Indian is the correct term anymore?” Scott inquired, head tilted in wonder.
“I suppose,” Devon replied with a chuckle. “But the company is Indian Motorcycles, so I think it's okay.
“It's very fancy. I like the purple tire cover things.”
Devon tried to hide his amusement. “You mean the fenders?”
Scott rolled his eyes. “Whatever. It does look very sturdy and not too tippy.” He studied Bertha as if he was making a list of pros and cons in his head. That was a complete possibility.
Devon caressed the leather seat while Scott crouched to look at the tires. He didn't go as far as kicking the tires, but his expression was one of intense concentration. “I swear Bertha is safe and she'll be gentle with you. I think you'll like it once we're flying.”
“I hope there won't be any flying involved.” Scott still looked unsure, so Devon initiated his first plan.
He reached for Scott. “Okay, so I know this will probably be scary, but you trust me, right?”
Scott rolled to a standing position again, his face pulled into a frown. “I think so but you're making me nervous right now.”
“I'm not meaning to.” Devon leaned in for a kiss and Scott returned it hesitantly. “But—”
“It's the but that makes me nervous.”
“Fuck. I'm not very good at this. I just want you to close your eyes for the tiniest of seconds.”
It was perfectly fine if Scott didn't want to do it. Devon was simply caught in a loop of hopelessly romantic gestures, but Scott surprised him by closing his eyes. Tension shadowed his face, yet Devon didn't leave him hanging. He reached into the saddlebags and took out the butter-soft leather jacket he'd painstakingly picked-out. He caressed it between his fingers, suddenly apprehensive about his choice, but he draped it over Scott's shoulders with a silent prayer that he'd like it. “Okay, open them.”
“Smells like a new car.” Scott's baby blues opened wide then narrowed before he even blinked. “You bought me a leather jacket? It's so soft.”
“I bought it one size bigger because I figured you’d want to wear a jacket or sweater under it.” Devon’s lips stretched wide in a relieved curve.
“You actually considered that?”
“Of course. I keep telling you, rockstars can have brains as well as awesome talent and stunning good looks.”
Scott snorted softly. “Not sure how that's possible when that damn music you play makes people's ears bleed.”
Devon forced his face into a dark scowl, his best attempt at pretending to be offended. He knew Scott's opinion of his music but as long as Scott loved him, it didn't matter in the least that his taste sucked. Besides, Devon had heard it all before. “I've never seen any evidence of that. Now try on the damn jacket so I can give you your other surprise.”
“Ah, Dev. You didn't have to do any of this,” Scott commented. Devon held the jacket while Scott tugged his messenger bag over his shoulder then they swapped. Scott's mouth dropped open a tad when he caressed the leather. “Such luxury.”
“Looks great on you, too. And even if you don't want to ride, you can still keep it. It's totally your color, sweetheart.”
Scott turned to face him, twisting to slide one arm then the other into the supple sleeves.
“It does smell like a brand-new car. Not that I've ever had a new car, but I can't accept it, Dev.”
Devon squinted at him. “It's Valentine's Day. I'm pretty sure that means you have to accept all gifts.”
“That's ridiculous,” Scott replied with the click of his tongue. “I thought all leather jackets were black, at least the biker ones.”
“Naw. This one's called espresso. I figured you're too special for ordinary black, I mean that. Plus, I didn't think you'd want to match me anyhow. Might be a little too coupley?”
With a groan, Scott stroked the sleeve. “You're probably right. Geez, I've never felt anything so soft. Espresso, huh? I should refuse but it's gorgeous. I might have to rethink my position on leather jackets.”
Devon covered his smugness behind his fingers. Scott liked it! He was like putty in his hands. And Devon knew that was a damn lie. He was clearly the big wad of goo when it came to Scott, but that didn't mean he couldn't spoil him even more. “Now, the pièce de résistance.”
“You're French now, too? Just a man of many facets, aren't you, Mr. Devastation?”
The comment rang a faint warning bell in Devon's head. He'd left town soon after their reconciliation, so he felt like he was walking on eggshells around Scott, or at least that he should be. It probably wasn't that dramatic but he was worried Scott would revert to his previous position when it came to their relationship.
Yet, there was something different about Scott that Devon couldn't quite put his finger on. He'd been more aggressive from the moment Devon had walked into his house. Not that Devon minded because it had been hot as hell, but also completely unexpected and out of character for Scott. He'd practically thrown himself at Devon on the outside step, not to mention fondling him in public.
Of course, they hadn't had a lot of public time since they'd been together. Devon's fault completely. He had big ideas on how to remedy that and in the meantime, he'd ponder over exactly how Scott seemed different before openly saying anything to him. He didn't want to upset the apple cart. Damn, he was totally turning into his mom.
But he did wonder if the change had something to do with Scott's phone call with his mother. If so, getting Scott to open up was going to be tough. More than likely, it wasn't a subject to be brought up on Valentine's Day anyway. Devon didn't want to make Scott feel self-conscious or cause any unnecessary stress between them. He'd mull it over in his head, then figure out what to say or do. But first he had to solve the bike issue.
Stepping back until his butt hit his bike seat, Devon sat then angled his arm behind him. He hoped his next gift would ease Scott's mind about riding with him. And Scott's eyes did widen when Devon put the shiny new helmet in his hands. He acted like he didn’t know what to do with it so Devon interjected.
“It's the top of the line, safest, full-face helmet on the market. It's been tested under every condition possible and been approved by anyone whose approval is important.”
Scott gazed up into Devon's eyes, fingers caressing the glittery bronze helmet as he tilted his head. His face changed from amused to concerned. “This is something you actually think I can do? I think you have too much confidence in me.”
“I don't think I do.”
Scott continued, “It's important to you though, isn't it?”
Devon hung his head, scuffing the toe of his boot against the concrete. He fingered his ponytail, the hesitantly looked back up at Scott after a few dozen heartbeats. A sour taste filled his mouth and his tongue felt like it had been dipped in sand, while emotion clogged his throat and made him feel shivery and smothered. But he sucked it up, literally sucked in the biggest breath he could.
He'd never been one to tamp down how he felt, and he was the first to admit he was a big old softie, especially when it came to the people he loved. But there was a time and place for showing his teddy bear side and this wasn't it. He swallowed everything down then took another deep breath.
“It's not like it's a deal-breaker and if you don't want to do it I'm not going to be angry, but I want… I really want to share something that's special to me. My old man rode, and I remember watching out the window for him to come home. He didn't do that often—come home I mean…I don't know why I'm even telling you this,” he confessed, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“Tell me,” Scott said simply, his smile warm. “If it's important to you, I want to understand, Dev. I really do.” He stepped between Devon's legs where he perched on his bike, sliding his hands up and down Devon's arms. “You ride because of your dad?”
“Despite him I think,” Devon corrected quietly, trapping Scott between his thighs and focusing on a point past his head. Memories were hard sometimes and he'd never shared these particular ones with anyone but Shadow. Of course, his friend had seen them in real time too. “Darius DuCaine was one of those dads everyone thought was cool. He rode a hog, wore leather vests and combat boots, swaggered around town like he owned it. As a little kid he was a larger-than-life hero to me. Every time he smacked my mom around, I told myself he'd never do it again. Sometimes she gave as good as she got—”
“Your mom hit your dad, too?” Scott asked, incredulously. “Sorry to interrupt.”
Devon didn't mind the question. “They had some nasty fights. Passionate people, remember? For a long time dad's cool factor outweighed his assholeness, because he was my dad, and for a long time that was more important than his inability to be a good husband or father.”
“Did he hit you?”
“No, and once I was old enough to stick up for my mom, he stopped fighting with her too. They didn't have much of a relationship and mom worked a lot since dad couldn't hold down a job. He drank like he owned a bar, rode his bike too fast, recklessly, and disappeared for days at a time. He barely kept his family afloat and though he was never officially diagnosed, I think he had PTSD.”
“I'm sorry,” Scott sighed quietly.
Devon hesitated, thoughts turning to the father he still loved after all the crap. “I still missed him when he died though. When I think about it now, I can see all the abuse and for a long time I wouldn't even look at a motorcycle. They reminded me too much of him, in a bad way.”
He paused, knowing he was making little to no sense while he spilled his heart all over the sidewalk in front of Scott's house—with his neighbor peeking behind her sheer curtains. But it felt good to share a part of himself few people knew, especially since he'd promised Scott full-disclosure. For some reason it was important to Devon for Scott to understand where he'd come from.
And Scott seemed eager for him to continue. He bent, moving his face into Devon's line of sight. “I can see how that would happen. Obviously, you got past it?” He looked at Devon with the sweetest expression, eyes flashing while he balanced his new helmet on Devon's thigh.
“It was my mom. She bought me my first bike when the band started taking off. Shadow was a very willing accomplice and he already had one, so it was easy for him to say, 'Just give it a try Dev.' I guess it worked. Now I own a few other vehicles and bikes, but Bertha's my girl.” He grinned at Scott who thankfully reciprocated the gesture.
“And Bertha? Why?”
“Suits her, doesn't it?” Devon replied with a smirk.
Scott rolled his eyes as he tucked wayward strands of Devon's hair behind his ears. He stroked Devon's cheek, gazing adoringly into his eyes. “Well, do you want to show me how to straddle this contraption—sorry, Bertha—so I don't fall on my ass in the street. I'm usually pretty good at the straddling position, you know, cowboy, cowgirl, cow-whatever, but this is a little more action between my legs than I'm used to.” He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and though he spoke with confidence and sass, Devon recognized the little quiver in his left eyebrow and the tic in his jaw.
With a low-throated snigger to cover up the leftover swell of emotion threatening to choke Devon, he hugged Scott as hard as he could. Pressing his lips to Scott's hair, he told him, “You know I'd never force you to do this or
anything, right? But…”
“But what?” Scott asked, encouraging Devon to speak. He nuzzled Devon's neck and his familiar scent mixed with the strong smell of leather seeped through Devon like a drug straight into his bloodstream. Scott ghosted his lips over Devon's jaw. “You have to know I’d do anything for you, and no, you’ve never forced me.”
Devon had no words, just the reflex tightening of his arm around Scott's shoulders and the excessive increase in his heart rate. “I um…I feel the same.” When Scott shifted away, Devon clapped his hands together. “Okay, I think we've given your neighbors enough of a show. I'd say we have two options. We can go for a little spin around the block to see how it feels to you or we can take your Volkswagen instead.”
“Toyota,” Scott corrected. He hugged the helmet against his chest, seeming to seriously consider what he wanted to do. Devon waited him out again. There was no rush since he'd left ample time between getting to Scott's place and his first surprise. He was relieved when Scott leaned into kiss him though. “It’s a Toyota, Dev. But I think it's a good day to try something new.” He bent in half and Devon worried he was having a panic attack but Scott spoke directly to the bike. “Good morning Bertha. I'm a very good friend of your…guy and I'm hoping you'll be kind to me today.”
“She pinky-swears.”
“Without having pinkies? I don't think that counts.”
“Crosses her heart?”
Scott studied him with amusement. “No heart.”
“She shares mine with you, so I think we're good.”
“Have I ever told you how bizarre you are?” Scott's eyes sparkled. “So, should I put my bag back in the house. I usually don't go anywhere without it. My pills are in there and a notebook I always like to keep handy. Oh, and my inhaler—”
“You have asthma?” Devon searched his brain. Had he known that? Wasn't that something he should have paid attention to?