Rest, Weary Traveller | GTA V Fanfic [Trevor x Reader]

Chapter Two

The ride began with an awkward silence. Franklin flipped on the radio, which was tuned into Radio Los Santos. You turned to him and said, "Y'all only just met me like, twenty minutes ago. Why are you letting me move into your house?"

"Whoa. First off, I'm not  letting you move into my house. I'm just giving you a place to stay until you have enough money to rent a place. Least I can do for you after helping us out."

"Wh-- rent a place?" You asked. Why shouldn't I just get a hotel room?"

"All the affordable hotels are nastier than a motherfucker and the decent hotels are more expensive to rent than they're worth," he replied with a shrug, not taking his eyes off the road. "Besides, you don't have that much money. I'm guessing three grand, give or take, because before we gave you that money, you were sleeping in a mail van. You're gonna have to take a pretty long vacation here before you can afford to travel back to wherever you came from."

"Well, you're not wrong there," you sighed. "How old are you?"

"27. Why?" Franklin asked, finally taking his eyes off the road and giving you an inquisitive look. 

"How in the hell did a 27 year old end running around with two fifty year olds, one of which is in major need of some tranqs and the other which looks like an overworked CEO?" you chuckled.

"You've actually got those roles reversed. Trevor's a CEO of, well, his drug trafficking 'company', and Michael's family gives him enough of a headache he'd probably be better off sleeping all the time," he replied with a warm smile. "Michael actually met me through a job I was doing and... well, it's a long story. We work well together and co-invest in some good opportunities." 

"Good opportunities involving shootouts with cops in a van going 100 miles an hour?"

"Exactly, [Y/N]. You're beginning to get it!" As he finished his sentence, Franklin pulled into the driveway of a gorgeous house in the finer part of Vinewood Hills.

"No, this can't be your house," you breathed. "Nobody alive could afford a beauty like this..."

"Guess again," he laughed. "Those good opportunities I was talking about paid for this crib." You walked into house as Franklin held the door open for you, and a beefy Rottweiler came running up to you. "It's okay, Chop!"

"Oh, my goodness! Your name's Chop, huh? We're gonna get along real well," you cooed as you knelt down to accept the dog's curious sniffs and kisses. You gave him a scratch behind the ear and he began shaking his hind leg as if scratching an itch. As soon as you were finished being showered with the canine's affection, you stood up and ran your fingers through greasy [H/C] hair. "I don't want to overstay my welcome, but do you have a shower? And a washing machine, if you have one. There's not an abundance of those around when you're hitchhiking and Greyhounding your way around."

"Oh, for sure. The guest bedroom is downstairs, first door to your left. I think it's locked, so I'll go down with you." You followed Franklin downstairs and he fiddled with his keys until he found the right one. "There you go. Bathroom and laundry room are across the hallway from you. I'll leave you alone. Holler if you need anythin'." With that, Franklin made his way up the stairs. 

You immediately beelined for the bathroom. You fiddled with the shower until you understood how the gauges worked. You let your mind run as you got undressed and prepared yourself for the shower. He seems like a nice, genuine guy. I can't believe he lives here all by himself. Well, him and Chop. Does he even have a girlfriend?  You wondered, beginning to think sinful thoughts about the handsome, muscular man. You shook your head. He probably does. There was no opportunity to mention her when we were talking, she wouldn't have been relevant.