AH collections

Strange, but not a stranger

Jeremwood
Word count: 3288
Chapters: 1

After a long day of 'planning' (read: shouting over each other and arguing which method would be the least likely to get fucked up) for the next heist, Jeremy wanted nothing more than to go back to his apartment and go the fuck to sleep. His throat hurt from all the screaming, and he had a pounding headache that showed no signs of stopping. Unfortunately, his tendency of making things harder for himself than they needed to be apparently felt like it was an opportune time to fuck him over. See, that morning he had thought it'd be a good idea to walk to work. It wasn't a far walk, and it would allow for some much needed exercise. The part he had failed to consider was that he'd also have to walk back to his apartment that night. And winter nights in Los Santos? Unbearably cold.

The cold slapped him like a brick in the face the second he left the building. The freezing air felt like it was throwing needles into his skin with each wind gust, waiting only seconds before making his nose run. He hugged his arms to his chest, attempting to preserve warmth by any means.

He hadn't even travelled a full three blocks before a car slowed alongside him. Without even looking at him, Jeremy guessed he was most likely some sketchy guy trying to make some extra money.

"Hey." A voice called out from the car. It sounded like it at least had a disguise of friendliness surrounding it.

"I don't need a ride." Jeremy kept his eyes trained on the ground, not bothering to waste a moment and look at whoever had pulled up next to him.

"Good, that's not what I'm offering."

"I don't want drugs either." He had to assume that the driver was trying to get money from him somehow, it wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence in this part of the city. Or any part of the city, for that matter.

"Also not what I'm offering." The driver slowed the car to a crawl, allowing it to just creep forward to match Jeremy's pace.

"And I'm not interested in banging."

"Jesus- again , not what I'm trying to do here. Would you give me two fucking seconds to speak?"

Jeremy stopped, turning towards the car. The voice was... just barely familiar. Like Something out of a dream. The driver's face was tough to see, a shadow from a dim street light laying over it, hiding it. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for the mysterious driver to go on about why he needed Jeremy's attention so badly.

"Thank you. It's fucking cold outside, if you walk for much longer in just that you're going to freeze to death. There's enough pointless death in this town as it is, and I'd hate to see your body show up on the news, especially knowing that I could've done something," What was this guy's deal? "So I-I'm wondering if you want to borrow a sweatshirt?"

Jeremy is fully aware of how suspicious this was. Some stranger pulls alongside him and offers a sweatshirt out of nowhere? Just because he's irrationally worried about seeing Jeremy's cold dead body on the news? Sure, it was cold, but not deathly cold by any means. And it wasn't something a sweatshirt would fix. But... that didn't mean it wouldn't help.

"So you're just handing away your sweater to a stranger? Out of the kindness of your heart? There's no tracker in it that's gonna lead you to my place later, where I'll find you robbing me or something? Or cocaine you've planted so you can stick the cops on me?"

"Jesus- no, nothing like that. It's simply a sweater. I promise. I will want my sweatshirt back eventually, though."

"And just how in the hell am I supposed to give it back to you?" Jeremy said through his chattering teeth. If he had to spend another minute wasting his time and talking to this stranger in the cold he might be able to actually feel his bones turn to ice.