come on girrrl
WHO: andrew kirke and avery spinks
WHEN: sunday evening
WHERE: in the car/at the winery
WHAT: going to a winery!
RATING: idk? at least pg-13
STATUS: in progress



This morning had not gone that well; he’d rolled out of bed a little too hard, he’d tripped over some soap in the bathroom, he’d spend two hours on the phone explaining to his mother that he had meant to call but had forgotten (to which she’d accused him of being a bad, bad son for forgetting to ring his own family) and then someone had called for a phone interview and he’d said some really odd things that he couldn’t remember right now but would surely regret in the morning. All that aside, the rest of his afternoon had gone well and he’d spend it with Jack. He’d been using a game console to shoot and slaughter on their play station, being slightly ahead of Jack when someone had tapped him on the shoulder and told him to look at the clock they barely knew they had. Then it all happened in slow motion, he looked behind him to see Demelza standing behind them, hands on her hips and face set in a frown while out the corner of his eyes he saw Jack raising his arms and cheering in victory because he’d just won, and then he finally turned to look to see what time it was.

Six thirty, had she just distracted him so her boyfriend could win? Andrew didn’t think that was fair at all. And then he had realized, shit, six thirty. It was with a, “Fuck, I’m late!” that he dropped the console and took a leap over their sofa, sprinting out the door as fast as he could. The last thing he’d seen was Demelza looking after him bemusedly and Jack calling out that he’d won fair and square and that he couldn’t get a rematch. All of it didn’t matter at that moment, he’d get his rematch one way or another, because he’d been worrying too much about being late and how Avery was going to twist his neck. Just when he thought his day had changed for the better, he was going to die a slow death. He’d driven to her home as fast as he could without being pulled over, probably having ignored a red light twice. When he’d arrived, she had been sitting on a few steps and he’d apologized about ten times and given her his best puppy dog eyes. He probably should have remembered that those never worked on her.

Luckily Avery hadn’t been all that mad and they were now comfortably driving to the vineyard where the winery would be, radio turned on and him head banging to a song that couldn’t be head banged to. It was now about seven, which meant they should have been there already, but the drive would surely take another five or ten minutes if he didn’t get lost. But he’d always been good in knowing where to go, so he wasn’t troubled. “Now remember,” he told her out of the blue, the car slowing down to a halt in front of a stop light that had just turned red. “These people are old friends of my family, really, really old.” he grinned slightly, remembering ol’ Alfred that fed him wine whenever he came over, even when he had yet to turn of age. “So don’t flash them, I don’t want Alfred to get a heart attack.” He tried to be serious, but there was a hint of a smile that flickered across his lips when he placed his foot back on the gas pedal to start driving again.