Here's a tiny little thing for you, featuring some past internalized homophobia and small town america:
The wind rustled Tony’s hair and smelled like the fried chicken place next to the gas station he was filling up. Steve was inside, grabbing something to drink while they drove, and leaving Tony to people-watch. Based on the half-hearted waves and loud greetings, the majority of the gas station’s patrons seemed to know each other.
Tony couldn’t relate to the experience--he was a New Yorker through and through. Recognizing every neighbor at a gas station just didn’t happen. His bright red Mercedes AMG stood out next to the pick-up trucks and beaten down Lincolns. Even with comically large sunglasses, Tony was almost certain everyone knew who he was.
His head went crazy thinking of all the reasons no one had mobbed him for pictures yet. Only half of the things he thought of involved supervillains. He reached through the car’s open window and picked up the book Steve had been reading and tried to not let his mind drift to all the magazine covers that proclaimed his new relationship with Steve.
He felt exposed, that was all. It brought him back to when he was in boarding school and was terrified for weeks that everyone knew about him and Ty. It wasn’t supposed to be like that anymore, sure.
But the memory of that fear didn’t shake off as easily as Tony would have liked, and he jumped a little when Steve put a hand on his shoulder.
Tony slipped into the driver’s seat and took a quick look around the parking lot. One person seemed to be looking in his direction, but the way he cocked his head, Tony was sure he was admiring the car. Tony reached out for Steve’s hand over the gearshift. That helped. That helped a lot.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2020-01-18 03:22 pm (UTC)Here's a tiny little thing for you, featuring some past internalized homophobia and small town america:
The wind rustled Tony’s hair and smelled like the fried chicken place next to the gas station he was filling up. Steve was inside, grabbing something to drink while they drove, and leaving Tony to people-watch. Based on the half-hearted waves and loud greetings, the majority of the gas station’s patrons seemed to know each other.
Tony couldn’t relate to the experience--he was a New Yorker through and through. Recognizing every neighbor at a gas station just didn’t happen. His bright red Mercedes AMG stood out next to the pick-up trucks and beaten down Lincolns. Even with comically large sunglasses, Tony was almost certain everyone knew who he was.
His head went crazy thinking of all the reasons no one had mobbed him for pictures yet. Only half of the things he thought of involved supervillains. He reached through the car’s open window and picked up the book Steve had been reading and tried to not let his mind drift to all the magazine covers that proclaimed his new relationship with Steve.
He felt exposed, that was all. It brought him back to when he was in boarding school and was terrified for weeks that everyone knew about him and Ty. It wasn’t supposed to be like that anymore, sure.
But the memory of that fear didn’t shake off as easily as Tony would have liked, and he jumped a little when Steve put a hand on his shoulder.
Tony slipped into the driver’s seat and took a quick look around the parking lot. One person seemed to be looking in his direction, but the way he cocked his head, Tony was sure he was admiring the car. Tony reached out for Steve’s hand over the gearshift. That helped. That helped a lot.