Heatwave [PickxRome | OffGun]

02

who's ready for the morning/day after?

- little rough around the edges, but i wanted to post before going to bed. apologies 🙇🏽‍♀️🙏🏼

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He feels like a hypocrite.

Who the fuck is he to advise Porsche on his love life? He can barely admit to his own feelings, let alone speak them out loud, and here he is, telling his best friend to face Emma and talk it out. If there was someone else for the job, honestly he'd hand it over in an instant.

Originally, Pick had planned for them to stay for two nights, but just the thought of Rome next to him in the dark once more makes him feel like clawing his way out of his skin.

He wants it, there's no denying that. He wants it all too much, which is why he needs to take a breather. These feelings he has for Rome have always been akin to a tidal wave, crashing over him and pulling him under. Making it hard to breathe.

But this, now, this is worse.

Now he knows what it feels like to give in. Knows what Rome feels like against him, knows the sounds he makes, the way his kisses taste as he gets desperate-

And wow, this isn't helping at all.

"Are you alright?"

And isn't this great. Porsche growing a sudden skill for observation. Clearly, spending some time in the country has made him sharp. Then again, Porsche seems to have a sixth sense for when Pick least wants to share something.

"Worry about yourself," Pick shoots back. "And be ready to leave in the afternoon."

"I thought you wanted to take a break from driving?" Porsche gives him a shrewd look. "Did something happen? With Rome?"

Pick's heart does a great impression of a caged bird.

"Nothing happened," he snaps. "I'm just sick of the bloody countryside."

Porsche looks unconvinced, but thankfully doesn't question him further. They've known each other long enough for Porsche to at least recognise when he's hit a brick wall.

"Fine," Porsche relents, clearly reluctant. "I'll see you later, then?"

Pick grunts and gets up, knees feeling suspiciously weak at the thought of having to face Rome again. He still needs to take those pictures they came here for and Pick feels a growing urge to simply turn tail and run.

Swallowing convulsively, Pick remind himself that he's not a coward and marches up to the doorway with as much fake confidence as he can possibly scrape together.

Rome and Friend are crouching in front of a cat and Pick is instantly annoyed when he remembers her sneakily feeding Rome. Of course he caught that, he's not blind. He and Porsche were barely two feet away, like what the fuck. Pick had felt like snatching the chopsticks right out of her hands.

"Rome," he says. "We're going."

Rome rises, glancing at him nervously, then away. It's been like that all morning and Pick fucking hates it.

They say their goodbyes to Friend and Pick stalks towards where they've parked the car. Rome is trailing behind him like a wary animal and Pick feels like screaming.

Earlier this morning, he'd woken up with Rome curled into him, clinging on tightly, and thankfully still fast asleep. Pick had fled the bed and went straight for a scalding shower that took far longer than could be justified. All he could think of was that as soon as he turned off the water, he'd have to step out and face the world.