steve harrington. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hairington) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxasnet2024-04-01 02:25 pm
hairington) wrote in abraxasnet2024-04-01 02:25 pm
to; all
i've never made one of these so sorry if it's wrong
but if you knew Nero- i know he's been here a long time so there's probably a lot of you. you deserve to know.
he's gone.
and not back home or into the pond or however the other places bring us all here
he's gone gone.
dead. died. not coming back.
just thought everyone should know.
if you need to know details and shit i can tell you
i was there
so
yeah
fuck
but if you knew Nero- i know he's been here a long time so there's probably a lot of you. you deserve to know.
he's gone.
and not back home or into the pond or however the other places bring us all here
he's gone gone.
dead. died. not coming back.
just thought everyone should know.
if you need to know details and shit i can tell you
i was there
so
yeah
fuck
no subject
How was I supposed to know?
[ but now Steve is looking, not just for show, not just to see, but with the newly introduced fact that he apparently gets to pick one. he starts walking further into the garage, now that whatever invisible barrier that had kept him near the door seems to be gone.
he makes a full circle, really thinking about it. his eyes linger on the impala, drawn to the fact that it's dean's and how something about it feels familiar, loyal, dependable. it's probably just dean's horizon providing all that for him, but-
no. asking to drive someone's car feels a little too intimate. like he'd be pushing a little too far. so instead Steve pulls his eyes away and lands on the next best thing - a 1969 red mustang. he very nearly rushes over, leaning down to take a peek through the driver's window. it's... a beautiful car. pristine. clean. he glances back to dean, definitely not smiling already. ]
Keys inside?
no subject
So yeah, the eye roll is good.
And then there's that brief moment where he can visibly see Steve contemplating on asking to drive the Impala out of all the cars, and he has- like, a moment. Like a little moment, that's only twelve-ish percent panic at the prospect of some new teen driver behind the wheel. The rest is a strange kind of pride, a swelling approval, a weird- feeling that he isn't going to dwell on right now, that's uncomfortably close to how he felt the first time he put Sammy behind the wheel in a run-down parking lot in the middle of Texas when his brother was hardly tall enough to see over the dash.
Something to think about later.
He beams his approval, slaps the hood on his way around toward the passenger's seat, and nods. )
You betcha. Solid choice, good man.
no subject
it's also probably why when dean beams, with his answer, Steve snorts and is already opening the driver's side door, sliding in and appreciating the view. he assumes that dean is going to join him, so he doesn't bother inviting him, checking around the console until he pulls open the mirror above him and the keys fall into his lap.
when the machine comes to life, Steve's eyes light up again - because it hasn't fixed anything, it hasn't changed what's happened, but Steve is also feeling a little bit like simply letting go. feels like he might actually have the opportunity to run. the car's engine makes a visceral sort of noise, something between a rumble and a purr, and Steve feels it in his fingertips where they are wrapped around the wheel. ] Oh, that's pretty. [ he checks the stick, the various mirrors, the gas tank, and then is checking in with dean - if he's ready, if he's got anything to say before Steve puts the car into drive. ]
no subject
A little tweaking, and with the power of ~*Imagination*~, he stuffs a tape into the tape deck. Music begins to play, low and easy, and then he gives the go-ahead signal. )
You're gonna wanna wing a left, and if you go straight out through that tunnel it'll take you up to the road.
( The long stretch of it that leads to the Roadhouse, a winding country backroad that goes nowhere in particular.
It occurs to him, with the suddenness of being plowed down by a coal truck, that he's done this recently. Been in the passenger's seat recently, with someone simultaneously older and younger than Steve depending on how you like to measure age. He swallows the hollow pang of guilt, of regret, of missing someone. Masks it by turning his face toward the passenger window to stare out at the landscape of the Horizon. Taps his hands on the window frame in time with the beat, plasters a smile on his face, and resolutely does not think about the son he failed.
This is good. They're doing something good right now. )
no subject
dean may be expecting a casual kind of start to this. a moment where Steve would simply put the car into drive and start out of the garage, out into the horizon itself. usually, that is exactly what Steve would have done - especially if this were his own car.
but Steve's also still feeling a little frayed, a little too loosely patched together. the car he's got is too beautiful, too strong, for an easy midnight drive. so, instead, Steve presses down on the clutch and shifts the gear again and all but slams his foot on the ignition. the wheels spin, surely leaving streaks on the clean garage floor, but it doesn't matter. the car comes to life, then, wheels spinning for just a second, maybe two, before the entire body takes off.
he wings the left like dean tells him (though it's possible that he drifts a little more than he needed to), picks up enough speed in the tunnel to put the car into the next gear. the car comes barreling out of the tunnel and down that country road, and Steve cheers at the feeling of it, laughs as the car roars, picking up more and more speed as he takes off into the backroad.
he doesn't see the stillness in dean at this point, though some part of him knows there's more to this drive than his own grief, his own haze. it's a few more moments before he starts to slow to a more reasonable speed, a little out of breath when he does. ]
Damn. This is rad. [ he looks over to dean, then, still grinning. ] How do you stay out of that garage? I'd be spending every day in the Horizon with these.
no subject
He'll grant Steve this: those sad sack thoughts are gone in a freakin' flash, replaced with a rush of adrenaline so strong he very nearly Witchers out by accident. )
What the hell-
( Tires scream on the smooth concrete floor as they drift left, and the garage door just barely opens up enough to allow them clearance to shoot out unscathed.
He makes absolutely no effort to disguise the alarm on his face, shooting furtive, bewildered glances between Steve and the windshield. In his head, a steadying mantra begins to play on a loop: no consequences, this isn't real, no consequences, this isn't real, this teenager can't kill us, no speeding tickets, no consequences-
When they start to slow, his muscles begin to relax, one by one, incrementally, untrusting. He shakes his head, and something just a touch wry starts to creep in with the rest of the assault on his senses. If the kid's grinning, maybe he can let this go. A little. Just this once. )
It's a struggle, but after the heart attack you're about to put me through, it might be a little easier.
no subject
this one? it’s beautiful, it runs like a dream, but it’s impersonal - like it was taken right from a magazine. and so steve handles it like it’s meant to be handled, even as they slow to a normal highway speed and dean comments on his recent heart attack and steve snorts. ]
C’mon, old man. You’re seriously telling me you’ve got all these cars in great condition and you’ve never really driven them for real? [ he looks over to dean with a kind of you’re not serious expression, shifting gears now that they’re somewhere under the hundred mph range. ] You’re the one who made a face when I asked about taking them out.
no subject
Old man shakes fist at clouds.
He won't say this much out loud, but: he is, reluctantly, acknowledging the fact that Steve has some modicum of skill at driving. Like, an ounce. More than Jack had, and arguably better than Castiel has managed to pick up during his few short years driving instead of flapping — nobody tell Cas he said that. )
Hey, look, I've driven them — out there, in the real world, back home. Here, not so much. If I wanna drive, I take my baby, otherwise...
( Big Shrug. What's the point? And then, very abruptly, he backpedals with a scoff and a flounder of: )
Wa- what- You know what- why- why am I justifying myself to you, you tiny baby toddler, shut up and keep your eyes on the road.
no subject
part of Steve thinks about punching it again, just so he can get out of dean's horizon, so that he can find the winding, forest-thick roads of his own home town. but something about the idea of getting out of this flat country landscape starts to wind tightly around his chest, so he files that away for maybe later.
he's not sure he's ready to break whatever bubble has found itself around them. not sure if he's prepared to really face anything but what's inside this car, inside this little slice of the horizon. ]
Your baby would do better than this would on those drives. [ which... may or may not be true, Steve doesn't know, but if the impala he'd seen is really dean's actual car, he can imagine it feels a bit more real, more grounded, more accurate to how these things are supposed to go.
Steve does actually laugh at dean's backpedaling. ] Nice comeback. [ and then his eyes are back on the road and he's humming briefly to the music as it plays. it feels... almost normal. almost like they're not doing this in some mind-scape version they all share. Steve, despite himself, starts to relax into the illusion of it - like they could be just driving, just road tripping out west, maybe headed to California, just like he'd always planned to do with his own family one day.
he's going to be content to be quiet for a little while, so unless dean has something else to say, they'll be listening to the radio for a bit more. ]
wrapping; 😭
( Let him just eradicate any doubt about what his baby's capable of — we stan the Impala in this house. One day, Steve will see for himself.
But not today. Today, they have time, and no hurry, and nowhere to be but here. Quiet lapses between them, with no pressure to maintain conversation, and nothing instigated on his part except a fond, comforting slap on Steve's shoulder before he settles his eyes out the passenger window again.
The radio plays.
And for as long as Steve needs, there's nothing but peace. )