Scomiche One-Shots

97 Degrees

A/N: Very minor smut at the end so rated R I think? IDK. Read with caution lol.

     "Do you even know where we are?"

     "Are you kidding? Of course I know where we are. It's just like... ten more miles."

     "But are you sure?"

     "Yes!" Mitch raised an eyebrow at his blond counterpart. "I mean, I think anyways."

     The brunet heaved a sigh and bit into his lower lip. They had been driving down random back roads for hours and he was positive they were lost. It should have only taken forty-five minutes to get there and he was becoming restless.

     Another thirty minutes passed before the smaller man decided enough was enough.

     "Scott. We are LOST. Let's just turn around and go back home."

     "But we're almost there! I remember the directions!"

     "Scott –"

     "But we're so cl-"

     "Scott! We lost GPS signal like two hours ago and I can't even tell you the last fucking time I had cell service in the backwards ass country side. We aren't in a familiar state and we have no way of contacting anyone right now and I want to go home. We're literally on tour in a foreign state with no bearings around us and I'm freaking out okay? The only thing around us for fucking miles has been woods and trees. Please. Please take me back to the hotel." Mitch set his palm on the larger man's thigh and squeezed gently. "Please?"

     "Okay baby. We can go back." Scott turned the car around with a small nod. "Maybe we should print directions next time." The brunet laughed and rolled his eyes.

     "Sounds like a plan, babe."

     Mitch let his eyes focus out his window for a few minutes. The darkness and the trees flying by were still creeping him out. He didn't like the dark and he definitely didn't like the woods. When he had sufficiently scared himself he took refuge in the larger man.

     Scott cracked a smile when he felt a head come to rest on his shoulder. He was bummed that they missed the impromptu party they had been invited to, but he silently decided that if this was how he got to spend the rest of the night – with Mitch cuddled up into his side and clinging to his right arm – he would be more than happy with how things went.

     It was only ten minutes later when Scott realized something was wrong. The car jerked gently a couple times before everything seemed to cut off. He pressed on the break and guided the car over to the shoulder of the road. The grip on his arm tightened a little and he heard the small gasp from the tenor.

     "Scott...."

     "Yeah, Mitchy?"

     "Why are you pulling over..."

     "Uh..."

     "Scott Richard!"

     "I don't know what's going on. It just kind of died, I think?"

     "Oh my god we're in the middle of fucking nowhere in nowhere land USA in the middle of the night and we are going to fucking die here!"

     "Just calm down. We aren't going to die. Maybe I can look at the engine and figure something out?"

     "Pfft, yeah, okay. You don't know how to use a nail file and you think you can fix a fucking car in the middle of the night. That's stupid. If we get out of the car we are going to die. Have you never watched a fucking horror movie? Or like, Supernatural? You don't get out of the car unless you're begging to have your heart ripped out of your body through your goddamn asshole." Scott couldn't help the small laugh that escaped through his lips. "THIS ISN'T FUCKING FUNNY!."