Re: Capital: Jamie & Seven Friday night
It wasn’t folded away. Fuck folded away, all that shit was close enough that Seven could still see it under the surface. It was in the trunk of the car and in Jamie’s voice, the way it still spun against his ear like a finger down the back of his neck if he focused on it too much over the music. It wasn’t a conscious thing, that he was driving without the sense of iron bars driven through his shoulders and down into the earth by way of chassis, and obviously not that Jamie was there to see it.
Silently, Seven had the thought again that he hadn’t really asked what Jamie didn’t know how or want to answer. Yeah, it would be a pain in the fucking ass to slog through the traffic at that time of night, but he would because he’d said as much. But he didn’t need an answer, and it wasn’t with questioning eyes that his gaze followed Jamie’s movements. “Because I’m tired, and the traffic getting home is always a fucking nightmare this time of the night,” he said. True. Jamie wouldn’t find any car seat or book bags in the back seat. Also true. Sawyer rode strictly in the SUV. Way fucking higher safety rating, obviously.
“Careful,” he warned with a stretch of his grin as he waited for Jamie to climb in and buckle his seatbelt. He shifted into gear and pulled away from the curb, going on in the same direction they’d both been going and then arbitrarily pulling a left at the next corner. He wasn’t going anywhere in particular, but he also wasn’t going to wait for Jamie to make up his mind before he started driving. “For you, that was almost a compliment.”