Static Crush {M/M} ✔

Chapter #29

"I have a present for you."

Hale's declaration is so sudden, it stops Rayner short. He looks around at the destruction in the kitchen, brows drawn together in confusion.

"O...kay?"

"It required rain. I've been awaiting the appropriate weather and an equally appropriate moment. Admittedly, this isn't much the latter, but—" Hale gets down from the counter, stepping gingerly around the broken glass. "I should clean first."

Rayner laughs a little. "No, no, it might stop raining. And, uh, you seem excited, so I'll text Theo about the mess. We'll clean it up after. Should I wait here, or—"

"No, come with me," Hale says.

Winding both arms around his symbiont's waist before Rayner has a chance to object, Hale hoists him off the counter. Rayner makes a muffled noise of surprise. Stepping around the broken glass like a child avoiding cracks in the pavement, Hale navigates them out of the destruction and to the back door. Rayner's heartbeat hits a splintering rhythm, his warmth spiking under Hale's hands. Though the contact hadn't been a premeditated excuse to touch Rayner, simply an expedient method of navigating out of the kitchen, now Hale doesn't want to let go.

He does though, instructing Rayner to put his shoes on. The steps leading down into the back garden are a steep, wrought-iron spiral, narrow and slippery in the rain.

"Out here?" says Rayner.

Hale nods and leads the way to the abandoned car left rusting and idle in the ivy. He'd cleared a lot of moss from the window and door, but it's too dark to glimpse much of the interior.

As he reaches for the handle to open it, a terrible question enters his mind. What if this is a dreadful idea? On the heels of that question, more questions, and an icy fear that nearly freezes him in place. What if he misinterpreted that one tiny thing Rayner had said and made a gift out of something utterly meaningless? Just a passing conversation? What if Rayner doesn't understand at all why Hale's done this? What if Rayner hates it?

>>You are so fucking stupid.

The return of Damo's ignominy pulls Hale from his doubt. He steels his resolve. Humans have a saying, it's the thought that counts, and he has to hope it will.

He tells Damo—

>>Given how much I value your opinion, I'll take that as encouragement.

Then he opens the door. Rayner doesn't notice any hesitation; the thoughts and conversation happening in Hale's processes are too quick for there to be any. Hale gestures Rayner inside, then crawls in after him and shuts the door.

The car's interior took the most time to refurbish. Dust, grime, and insects had made it their home, and Hale felt those things didn't cry 'comfortable.' After rehoming whatever had taken up residence there and giving the car a thorough clean, he'd partially dismantled the front seats and reupholstered those remaining. Now the cushions span the entire length of the car, with plenty of space to stretch and lie down. Squishy pillows and blankets drape across them. In the centre, Hale opens a compartment. Wedged inside are mugs, tea bags, extra blankets, a cooler of snacks, and a kettle. This last he rigged with batteries after a little help from Theo. Reaching into the driver's footwell, he turns on the space heater—also rewired with batteries—to take the chill out of the car. Lastly, he flicks a switch behind Rayner's head. Fairy lights, strung across the windscreen, bathe the car in a soft glow. On the dash, a few potted plants able to withstand the cold create a display of dark green foliage across the windscreen. Rain taps against the windows and roof in a gentle percussion.