Sid Shmorgenheigen (shmorgenheigen) wrote,
Sid Shmorgenheigen
shmorgenheigen

Maybe This Town Isn't So Bad, Chapter 2

Title: Maybe This Town Isn't So Bad
Author: shmorgenheigen
Chapter: Two
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Pierre/David
Word Count: 6661
Summary: After coming out of the closet to his friends in Canada and getting disowned by them, Pierre Bouvier moves to a hick town in the states to escape. Life is dull and grim for the twenty-one year old Canadian until he meets David Desrosiers, a young man who could change it all for the better.
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, didn't happen!
Author's Note: So! Yay! I'm starting on the remake! I'm super stoked. :)



Chapter 1







“You’re working on Christmas?”

Pierre gave a forced smile and shrugged his shoulders in response to the question that he’d been asked, oh, about fifteen-million times that day. Yes, it was Christmas. Yes, Pierre was working. Why? Well, he worked at a gas station that stayed open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week; the station didn’t even close for national holidays, like Thanksgiving and Christmas. Plus, it just so happened that on that particular year, Christmas fell on a Sunday. It didn’t matter what date that Sunday fell on — Easter, Memorial Day, even his birthday — you could bet that he would work it. That was just the way the scheduling worked! Pierre had his set schedule, and unless he requested a day off, his schedule wouldn’t change. To be honest, the thought of requesting Christmas off hadn’t even occurred to him. Why would he? Who did he have to spend it with? Besides his uncle, of course.

“Oh, you poor thing,” the woman continued, smiling sweetly up at him. Pierre smiled and shrugged his shoulders again, trying to get across the fact that he really didn’t care. Christmas was just another day, after all. “Doesn’t your girlfriend mind?” the woman asked softly. Pierre could tell from the way she was talking that she definitely was not hitting on him; she was simply concerned for his well being, because how could anyone work on Christmas and be okay with life? God, people could be stupid.

“She doesn’t mind,” Pierre said with a shake of his head.

“Well, it sounds like you’ve got a keeper,” the woman told him with a wide smile.

Pierre sighed and gave a laugh of irony. “Yup, she’s definitely a keeper,” he told her with a nod.

Another day in fucking paradise, Pierre thought with a sigh as he finished the woman’s gas and sent her on her way. Another day, another lie, another little piece of his soul repressed. Pierre sometimes wondered if there would come a day when he wouldn’t be able to lie anymore. Would the truth just come spilling out of his mouth one day? Quite possibly offending everyone around him and getting himself hurt in the process? He wanted to fight against that fate with everything in him, but he couldn’t help but feel that every time he denied who he was, there was a little piece of himself that was pushing itself to the surface of his cool façade, struggling hopelessly against his closet walls, simply waiting for the brief moment when he would let down his senses enough to escape and quite possibly mess up his entire life… again.

“Okay, I’m leaving,” Pierre said to Wendy as he walked into the store.

“Three o’clock already?” she asked, turning to look at the clock.

Pierre nodded and smiled before walking to the back of the store where the office was and clocking himself out. As he went back to the main part of the store, Pierre made his way to the beer cooler and picked up a twelve pack of beer and one forty-ounce bottle of the type of beer his uncle liked. He walked up to the cashier’s counter and placed both items on the counter. “I need cigarettes, too,” he said with a nod. Wendy raised an eyebrow at Pierre as she eyed the beer on her counter. “What? It’s Christmas,” he told her with a winning smile.

She rolled her eyes at him before grabbing a pack of his preferred cigarettes and throwing them on the counter. “This is Christmas for you?” she asked skeptically. “Cigarettes and a forty?”

“Hey! The forty’s not for me,” Pierre told her quickly. “It’s my uncle’s Christmas present.”

She laughed and shook her head as he reached in his wallet and handed her a twenty dollar bill. “That’s a terrible Christmas present,” she informed him as she handed him back his change.

Pierre shrugged, watching as Wendy grabbed a small paper bag and put the forty-ounce beer inside of it. “He’ll appreciate it,” he said, before putting the pack of cigarettes in his pocket and grabbing the twelve pack in one hand and the forty in the other.

“Alright,” she said with a shake of her head.

Pierre smiled before starting toward the door. “I’ll see you later,” he told her with a nod.

“See ya later, hun,” Wendy said kindly. Pierre pushed open the door and was halfway out when he heard her call out to him again. “Oh, Pierre?” Pierre turned and looked at her questioningly. She merely offered him a sweet smile and a wave. “Merry Christmas.”

Pierre smiled softly in return and nodded. “Merry Christmas,” he said gently, before walking out the door and heading down the street to his uncle’s house, where he would be spending the majority of his Christmas. What else did he have to do, anyway? Pierre thought of indiscriminate things as he walked slowly down the street, his eyes staring at nothing in particular, and most certainly not taking in a centimeter of his surroundings. Why should he? He’d seen it all before. And while it wasn’t a bad little town, and was by no means trashy or dilapidated, Pierre was simply bored of it. He wanted something new! He wanted something exotic! He wanted something in tight black pants and a form-fitting green t-shirt with shiny facial piercings and gorgeous black hair!

“No!” he told himself aloud as she shook his head vigorously at himself. “No! I’m not doing this to myself.” With a sigh, Pierre let his mind wander again to the man in the red truck; the red truck that didn’t belong in Junction City. It was nice and clean and small; it looked as if it had never been off road and driven through a mud pit for 'fun’ in its entire existence, and the driver? Ungh. Pierre didn’t even want to get himself started on the man driving, the man who was still the most beautiful man that Pierre had ever laid eyes on. If Pierre closed his eyes, he could still see him perfectly. He could recall every detail of his face with ridiculous ease, from his glittering piercings to his gorgeous hazel eyes. “No, Pierre,” he told himself again loudly. “He’s not coming back.”

With that final thought, Pierre looked up to see the front door of his uncle’s house. He sighed and walked in, not even bothering to knock. He entered immediately into the living room, noticing his uncle Martin sitting on the couch in his pajamas and watching a corny Christmas movie. “Pierre!” Martin said warmly when he caught sight of his nephew. “Merry Christmas, kid!”

Pierre smiled and tossed him the forty in the paper bag. “Merry Christmas, old man,” Pierre responded warmly as he closed the door behind him.

“Hey, you watch it with that ’old man’ stuff,” Martin warned him, though she smiled and laughed just the same.

“Oh shut up, before I dump all your denture-cream down the toilet,” Pierre responded smartly.

Martin glared at him, though as soon as he looked in the bag Pierre had thrown to him, the scowl fell from his features and he smiled widely at him. “Awww, you shouldn’t have!” Martin told him, giving him a fond smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” Pierre said with a shrug. “There’s more if you’re still thirsty afterward,” Pierre said, indicating the twelve pack of beer in his hand.

Martin smiled and nodded. “You’re a good kid,” he informed Pierre with a nod, before unscrewing the lid off his beer and holding it up to Pierre in toast.

“Ah, hold on,” Pierre said, before getting into the twelve pack, pulling out a can of beer and cracking it open. “Okay, here’s to spending Christmas with family,” Pierre said in a mock-corny voice.

Martin grinned and bumped his glass bottle against Pierre’s aluminum can, before taking a drink. “Ooooh yeah. This tastes like Christmas,” Martin said with a grin.

Pierre laughed and shook his head as he sat down on the couch next to his uncle. “How is it you’re single?” he asked rhetorically. Martin shrugged in response. “You’re, like, the coolest dude ever.”

Martin laughed and nodded his head. “If only the ladies would see that…” he trailed off, shaking his head slowly. “Speaking of!” he said, sounding rather excited. “Have you met any pretty ladies lately?”

“Oh… uh…” Pierre started nervously.

“Right! Right! Sorry!” Martin said, and he scrunched up his face and shook his head slowly, truly feeling bad for his slip of memory. “Met any smokin’ guys lately?” he corrected himself quickly as he opened his eyes and looked back at his nephew.

Pierre gave an awkward laugh and shook his head. “Are you kidding? Here?” he pointed out fairly.

“Oh come on. You have to have met at least one person…” Martin said slowly. Pierre thought about the man in the truck and felt as if someone had tied a string around his stomach and was pulling on it. The look on his face was enough to peak his uncle’s interest. “Aha! There’s someone. Spill it, kid.”

“Well… I kinda met this guy…” Pierre started awkwardly. He’d told himself not to talk about the man in the truck; it would only make him want him that much more. “He came into the station about a week and a half ago, and he was super flirty… like, ridiculously obvious about it,” Pierre said, giving a soft, reminiscent laugh. “And my God, he was beautiful,” he added, shaking his head slowly as the memory of the man’s face came into his mind again.

“Beautiful?” Martin asked with a knowing smile. Pierre looked at him questioningly. “Not handsome?”

“If you could see him, you’d understand,” Pierre told him with a nod.

“Well, why can’t I?” Martin asked.

Pierre gave a sad sigh and looked down at the beer in his hand. Suddenly he was visited by the very strong impulse to smoke, though he bit the inside of his cheek and fought against it with everything in him. “‘Cause I’m never gonna see him again,” Pierre said with another sad sigh.

“Well why not?” his uncle pressed on.

Pierre looked up at him and offered a sad shrug. “It was the first time I ever saw him, and I haven’t seen him since. It’s been a week and a half… he’s not coming back.”

Martin offered a shrug. “You never know,” he said wisely.

Pierre laughed and shook his head slowly. “Sure…” he muttered disbelievingly.

“It’s true!” Martin continued quickly. “You never know! You could run into him tomorrow!”

Pierre simply laughed again at his uncle. “Sure,” he repeated, this time with more amusement in his voice.

“Have you always been this much of a pessimist?” his uncle asked seriously.

Pierre smiled and nodded once. “Yup.”

Martin shook his head at his only nephew. “Well I’m not buyin’ it,” he informed Pierre with a nod. Pierre raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “I’m calling for a Christmas miracle!” Martin said brightly. Pierre rolled his eyes and laughed lightly. “You think I’m joking, but just wait! That Christmas miracle is gonna come knocking any second now.”

As one, the two seemed to look at the front door, as if expecting Pierre’s mystery man to come walking through it, or even to knock. When nothing happened, Pierre grinned wide, before bursting into laughter at his own stupidity. “Oh God, I need to get laid,” he said with a laugh and a shake of his head.

“Just keep your eyes open for that Christmas Miracle!” Martin told him sternly. Pierre stopped laughing, attempting to give his uncle a serious look, though he couldn’t quite wipe the smile entirely from his face. “I’ll get you laid yet, kid.”

Pierre smiled and leaned back against the couch before taking another drink of his beer. “Thanks, Martin,” Pierre said with a nod, the grin working its way back onto his features. “That’s, uh… sweet.”

Despite Martin’s assurances that Pierre could run into the man the following day, no such thing occurred. How could it? It was Pierre’s day off, so he didn’t leave his apartment. A small part of him told him to walk around in hopes of finding this mystery-man, but Pierre wouldn’t let himself give into such childish hopes. He wasn’t going to find that man wandering aimlessly around town, because surely it would be beneath such a gloriously beautiful human being. With that in mind, Pierre didn’t leave his apartment the following day, either. That was pretty much how he lived; if he wasn’t at work, he was at home. Where did he have to go? Who did he have to see?

It was with a heavy sigh that Pierre pulled himself out of bed that Wednesday morning to head to work. That day didn’t feel any different than any other day. Pierre felt hopelessly lost, as if he was swimming in circles and no matter how far he went, he would never find his way back to land. His life never changed; he simply continued to live the same day over and over. Perhaps if he made an effort to change it, he might start to feel better about things, maybe feel a little glimmer of hope again, but he just didn’t think he had the energy. So, with another sigh, Pierre pulled open his apartment door and stepped out, preparing himself for another long morning at work.

Pierre walked slowly down the stairs to his apartment, keeping his eyes trained on the ground during his entire descent. It wasn’t until he stepped in the grass in front of his building and his foot was buried in snow that he realized the scene outside had drastically changed. His eyes widened as he took in his surroundings, watching as a puff of startled breath escaped his lips into the cold. “When the fuck did this happen?” he asked himself as he stepped into the snow covered street. The last time he’d walked through the front door, it definitely hadn’t been snowing. “Wow… I need to get out more,” he told himself with a nod, before heading down the road to work, regardless of the snow. He knew the gas station would still be open, even if they wouldn’t have any customers. The place never closed, after all.

Throughout the day, Pierre couldn’t manage to wrap his mind around the fact that it had snowed a foot and he hadn’t even noticed. When he said that he never left his apartment, it was always with an air of over exaggeration, though he now had to come to terms with the fact that he literally never left his apartment unless he had something specific he had to do, like go to work or see his uncle. God, my life is pointless, Pierre thought bitterly as he handed thirty dollars to Wendy. I might as well just fucking end it now.

“You okay, kiddo?” Wendy asked as she took the money and put it in the cash register.

Pierre blinked several times as he was pulled out of his thoughts, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Huh? Oh… Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” he lied quickly, and not very convincingly. When Wendy raised an eyebrow at him, giving him a classic ‘mom’ look, he forced a more believable smile on his lips and shook his head slowly. “Really, I’m fine,” he told her softly. “Just a little tired.”

“You sure?”

Pierre nodded and looked around. “Yeah, I just need to keep myself busy,” he informed her with a nod. “That was, like, my eleventh customer all day!” he added, giving off a soft, real laugh this time. “Americans need to get their shit together. A Canadian would never let a foot of snow stop them from driving,” Pierre added, laughing a bit more.

“Hey, I’m from Ohio!” She pointed out quickly. “I know how to drive in the snow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pierre muttered disbelievingly. When she glared playfully at him, Pierre gave her a sweet smile, the kind that no one could resist; he really was far too attractive for his own good, sometimes. “Oh well… I’m gonna go find something to do,” he said softly, before turning and walking to the back room. He looked around, trying to think of something rather mindless that would occupy him for at least ten minutes. That was when he noticed the soap for the squeegee buckets and he shrugged to himself. “Why not?” he asked himself as he picked it up and made his way slowly outside.

Pierre walked slowly through the lot, stopping at each bucket, squirting some soap in, mixing it up with the squeegee and moving onto the next. Yes, this was just the kind of mindless activity that he had been looking for, something he could do to keep himself busy, and yet something that allowed his mind to wander. The man he’d met almost two weeks previously was far from his mind as he contemplated everything that had happened to him, and how pointless his life seemed to feel as of lately. If he wasn’t such a damn coward, he might have considered suicide. “I’d be doing everyone a favor,” he said bitterly as he reached the gas pump closest to the street. He turned his back to the street, though he didn’t do anything initially; he merely stared into the murky water as he thought. His mind had become completely absorbed in his thoughts, so when a perfectly aimed snowball hit him square in the back, Pierre gasped, jumped, and looked around quickly, his eyes wide with shock.

His hand found his back and he was surprised to brush snow off of the material of his work coat. Really? Someone had thrown a snowball at him? Pierre sighed and shook his head, before turning back to the bucket and pumping some soap into it. That was when a second snowball made contact with his body, this time hitting him high on the shoulder. “What the fuck?” he asked as he turned quickly, hoping to get a view of the culprit, but again, he saw no one. The street was completely devoid of cars and pedestrians alike. Pierre glared at his surroundings, feeling his irritation levels spiking. Snowballs didn’t throw themselves. Someone was fucking with him and he was determined to find out who it was.

With a huff of indignation, Pierre turned around, though he didn’t turn entirely; he wanted to be ready to turn around as quickly as possible, that way he could catch his assailant. When a snowball hit him again, Pierre turned quickly, his eyes scanning the road in front of him, though he soon realized that the person throwing the snowballs was making no attempt to hide from him. Pierre’s jaw fell open and his eyes widened, all breath getting caught in his chest as he stared at the person across the street: a man with silky, smooth, black hair, his face glittering with piercings, his smile wide and almost childlike. Even from across the street, there was no mistaking this man’s identity: he was the man that Pierre had so effectively not been allowing himself to think of; the man in the small red truck.

Pierre continued to stare as the man wiggled his fingers in a flirtatious wave, before sticking his hands in his black work jacket and leaning back against the gas pump closest to the street at the competing gas station across the street. In a dazed fashion, Pierre raised a hand and waved in return, his wave much more masculine than this man’s had been. “All this time… I’ve been dying to see you… and you’ve been across the street the whole time?” Pierre asked breathlessly, knowing that the man couldn’t hear or understand what he was saying. Pierre allowed himself to fall back against the pump as he continued to stare, unabashed in his shock. The man was very obviously amused by Pierre’s shock because he grinned wider and Pierre could tell from the movement of his body that he had let out a few laughs, as well.

And then without being able to help it, Pierre was smiling bigger than he’d ever smiled in his life. Suddenly all of the bad things were pushed out of Pierre’s mind entirely. Everything he’d gone through in Canada didn’t matter. The past six months spent in solitude and depression were erased from his mind and that feeling of self-loathing was ripped from his chest. Looking at this man, who was still smiling and laughing at him, made Pierre feel legitimately happy. God, he never wanted to stop looking at him.

Of course, that wish had to be directly disobeyed. Pierre turned his head as one of the rare customers pulled onto the lot. He sighed and looked back at the man as he pushed himself off of the pump, noticing the man’s grin had been replaced with a soft smile. Pierre felt his insides squirm at that smile and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. He pulled his hand from his pocket and gave another wave, unable to keep his lips from breaking into a toothy grin when the man waved in return, this time in a quick, excited, almost childlike manner. Pierre shook his head slowly and walked to the customer, feeling light and dazed as he talked to the woman in the large, grey SUV. There was nothing discreet in the way he rushed back over to the pump closest to the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man again. He was half afraid that he would be gone; that Pierre would turn back around and never see the man again. He was still there, however, smiling defiantly, almost as if he had been sitting there waiting for Pierre to come back to him. The man certainly seemed pleased that Pierre appeared so eager to see him again.

The rest of the day went something like that. Pierre spent the rest of the day outside, and every time he wasn’t helping a customer, and every time the mysterious man wasn’t helping a customer, the two simply smiled and waved at each other. Before that day, Pierre wouldn’t have thought it possible to while the hours away simply staring at another person, but before he knew it, Bill was walking up to him. “What do you look so damn happy about?” Bill asked with a smile as he smacked Pierre on the arm in an ‘affectionate’ way.

Pierre turned to look at him, his cheeks flushed pink. “Oh, nothing,” he said quickly. When he turned back to look across the street, he saw the man was gone from sight entirely. Perhaps he knew it wouldn’t have been good for Pierre’s co-worker to see him staring in such a way at another man, and that was the reason he disappeared. Or maybe Pierre was just certifiably nuts and had only imagined he’d been staring at the man for the past few hours. “Time to go home already?” Pierre added distractedly.

Bill stared at him skeptically for a moment, before nodding and turning his back. “Yeah, get the hell out of here,” Bill told him with a laugh.

Pierre watched him retreat, before turning his attention back to the gas station across the street, where, apparently, the man of his dreams worked. As he looked back, he saw the top of the man’s head poking out at him from behind a pump, and again, Pierre was grinning like an idiot. The man stared at him from behind the pump for a few seconds, before walking around and standing facing the street again. Pierre pulled his hand out of his pocket and waved once, grinning wider at the excited wave he got in return, before reluctantly turning around and walking back to the store. Now he didn’t want to go home anymore. Now he wanted to walk right across that street and introduce himself to the man of his dreams, but would he do that? Pierre was entirely too shy for that sort of behavior, so with a sigh of pain, he clocked himself out and headed in the opposite direction from that man, though he was still in one of the best moods he’d ever been in throughout his entire life. His good mood was such that he even took a picture of himself surrounded by snow with a huge, childlike grin on his face and sent it to his mom with the text, “It snowed here! I love you! Tell dad I miss him!” Oh yes, he was definitely happy.

That night, all Pierre could think about was the man with shiny black hair and the most gorgeous hazel eyes he’d ever seen. It seemed amazing to him that not even eight hours previously he had thought he’d never see the man again. He had felt earlier that his life was pointless and had to talk himself up to getting out of bed to go to work in the morning. Now he couldn’t wait to go to work, hoping that he would catch another glimpse of the man that seemed to steal his heart with nothing more than a raised eyebrow and a suggestive smirk. It seemed even crazier to Pierre that he was willing to give his heart entirely to the man, when he knew nothing about him. Was this what love at first sight was like?

It was with a bounce of excitement that Pierre got up for work every day for the next week, hoping beyond hope that the man would be working, that they could flirt across the street, hell, that the man would even storm over and demand a kiss. Pierre was sorely disappointed almost every day, however, when he looked across the street and saw nothing but hairy, old men working. There were a few instances when Pierre saw the small red truck pull into the lot across the street at one in the afternoon, and Pierre had to assume that the man worked nights. Even if it only gave them two hours of relentless, across-the-street eye-fucking, it was better than nothing, and Pierre took advantage of every moment of it that he could.

“Hey, Canada!”

It was New Year’s Eve and Pierre had just finished stocking the beer cooler and was headed back outside when he heard someone talking to him from behind, using the oh-so-clever nickname that had only taken half of a day to stick. He turned, seeing Bill, who was working a rare morning shift with him because he wanted to have New Year’s Eve night free. “What?” Pierre asked quietly.

“Dude, did I tell you about this chick I went out with last weekend?” Bill asked as he caught up with Pierre and together the two walked out onto the island.

Pierre smiled, though inwardly he sighed. “Kinda. You said you were gonna go out with her. How’d it go?” he asked, feigning interest in a very convincing way.

“It went great, if you know what I mean,” Bill said with a smirk and a nod.

Pierre gave a soft laugh and nodded his head. “I think I can work that one out,” he said softly.

“Dude, she was limber!” Bill explained, and Pierre grinned wider and rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, man! A gymnast!” Pierre smiled but slowly his gaze moved across the street, where his favorite across-the-street co-worker was standing, though it took Pierre a second to realize what he was doing. Pierre’s brow furrowed as he watched the man attempting to change the prices on the sign that displayed gasoline prices per gallon. The word ‘attempting’ was perhaps a bit too nice. Perhaps the word ‘failing’ paired with the word ‘miserably’ would be much more appropriate, because that was a more accurate description of what he was doing: failing miserably. The man let off a shriek that could be heard across the street and jumped back as a thick, plastic number fell down toward him from twenty feet above, and Pierre couldn’t help but laugh.

“I mean, at one point I had her leg over her— are you even listening, Canada?” Bill asked suddenly.

“What?” Pierre asked, turning back to look at Bill with wide, surprised eyes, as if he was shocked that Bill was even still there.

Bill looked across the street and laughed a few times. “Poor kid,” he said with a shake of his head.

Pierre smiled and turned his attention back across the street, though the smile fell from his lips as three cars pulled onto the lot, joining the two that were already sitting there waiting to be helped. The man looked at them frantically, which caused the plastic number to fall down again, this time very nearly hitting him. “Where’s his help?” Pierre pondered pointlessly.

Bill shrugged as he continued to watch. It seemed very important for the man to change the sign before helping people, that was for sure. “Dude could really use a hand,” Bill pointed out with a nod.

“Man, I’d go help him out if I wasn’t working,” Pierre said with a soft laugh.

“Well why can’t you?” Bill asked as he turned to look at Pierre curiously.

Pierre blinked several times and looked back at Bill. “Because I’m on the clock!” he explained.

“So?”

Pierre stammered helplessly, his cheeks turning pink. Sure, it was true that he probably shouldn‘t have left work, but the main reason he didn‘t want to go across the street was because then he would have to get up the courage to talk to that Godsend of a man. “I don’t wanna get in trouble,” Pierre explained lamely.

Bill chuckled and shook his head. “You’re not gonna get in trouble. You know Rodger won’t care,” Bill pointed out, speaking of their manager, who was working inside at that moment.

“Weeeelll….” Pierre said slowly, his cheeks turning pinker. When Bill continued to stare at him skeptically, Pierre sighed and nodded his head. “Alright.”

“You got your walkie?” Bill asked suddenly.

“Yup, I’ll make sure the volume’s all the way up,” Pierre said with a nod as he nervously started toward the street.

“Kay, I’ll call you if I need you!”

Pierre nodded once before turning his back entirely to Bill and making his way quickly to the sidewalk. He stared across the street, noticing how completely absorbed this man was in what he was doing; he didn’t even seem to see Pierre approaching. Pierre looked left to right, watching the cars zooming past on the four lane road. With a deep breath and a nod of encouragement to himself, he stepped into the road and quickly made his way to the middle. He stood there for a few seconds, watching as cars sped past him on either side, before the second half of the street was clear and he jogged across it, slipping a little when he neared the other side. “Shit!” he exclaimed softly as both arms flew out to stabilize himself. “God, I’m gonna get myself killed like that one of these days,” he told himself with a soft laugh.

Pierre looked up slowly, feeling his stomach twisting itself into knots the closer he got to the man that had been plaguing his thoughts since they’d first met about three weeks back. He swallowed nervously as he walked up behind him, his mouth opening and closing several times as he attempted to work himself up to talking. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, willing something smart to come out. “Hey, do you, uh…” Pierre started, though he stopped when he heard a soft gasp of surprise. He opened his eyes in time to see the man turning quickly, his eyes wide and his cheeks tinted light pink. Pierre offered a nervous smile and forced himself to continue. “Do you want help?”

The man stared at him for a half second, before words were spilling from his mouth, his voice high and frantic. “I don’t know where my co-worker is, he was supposed to show up an hour ago, and the owner is pissed that we still haven’t changed the prices and we told him we need two people here to do it but he doesn’t care and he said if I don’t get it done by one-thirty I’m gonna get written up for not doing my job and I have ten minutes to finish it and Alex still isn’t here and I’m not strong enough to do this and I don’t wanna get fired but people keep coming in and I can’t get it done by myself!” he ranted, his hands clutching desperately to the metal pole with the suction cup on the end that was used to grab the numbers and replace them.

Pierre stared at him with wide eyes, before a smile slowly spread across his lips. He didn’t know what inside him made him do it, but he reached his hands forward and placed one on each of the man’s shoulders, smiling down at him sweetly. “It’s okay,” he said softly, feeling his body temperature rising at the way the man stared avidly up at him with a glint of childlike need, almost as if he was waiting for Pierre to tell him what to do, like he needed his direction. Pierre gave his shoulders a gentle shake before grabbing onto the pole and lightly pulling it from the man’s grasp. “I’ll get this, you go help the customers,” Pierre told him with a nod.

The man stared at him for a moment longer, before nodding once and running onto the island. Pierre stared after him, biting down gently on his bottom lip as the reality of what he’d just done began to sink in. Sure, maybe it seemed a bit juvenile, but he’d just touched the man of his dreams. Pierre cleared his throat and forced himself to look up at the sign. It occurred to him that he hadn’t asked the man what the prices were changing to, but as there were three large numbers on the ground and each of them was a nine, it was easy to assume what the prices were changing to, only going up two cents, as they just had at his own work; the two gas stations often matched in price. With a dreamy sigh, he began to change the prices, smiling at the memory of how much trouble the man had with the signs compared to how easy it was for him. It really wasn’t an easy task for someone shorter or less muscular than Pierre was, and the man had to be at least four inches shorter and was definitely not built in a muscular fashion.

Pierre finished with the numbers and began to take the pole apart, putting the pieces down on the ground in an organized fashion. When he was finished, he turned to admire the man more closely, smiling when he realized how often the man glanced over at him. It amazed Pierre that even in his work uniform, this man managed to be the sexiest man he’d ever seen. The uniform was simple: black pants, a dark grey button up tucked in, and with it the man was wearing a black hoodie underneath a fleece, black, zip-up jacket with the gas station logo on it. Pierre assumed that the dress code simply called for black pants, because surely no boss would require their employees to wear such skin-tight jeans. That must have been the man injecting a bit of his own personality into his work life, something which Pierre admired, even though it was nothing more than speculation. Even though he didn’t really know him, Pierre thought he had a feel of this man’s personality; he just couldn’t turn out to be a horrible person, there was simply no way.

It was with a flutter of nerves that Pierre watched the final car drive off the lot. The two men stared at each other for a short moment, before the man smiled and began to walk over to Pierre. Pierre subconsciously stood taller and began to fiddle nervously with this hands. The man, now that the frantic situation was over, seemed to fall immediately back into his stride, appearing sexy and suave as ever, something which made Pierre feel instantly ten times more nervous. At least before, when the man was losing his cool, Pierre had felt in control. Now that James Bond was back, Pierre felt like a complete bumbling idiot.

“Thanks for the help,” the man said with a suggestive smirk as he neared close enough to reach out and touch Pierre, though he didn’t, and Pierre certainly kept his hands to himself.

“No problem,” Pierre said softly, his cheeks pink as he gave a nervous laugh.

The man stared at him for a long moment, his tongue running slowly over his lip ring before he pulled it into his mouth and bit down on it. Pierre swallowed hard, completely aware of the fact that the man could see how much he affected him. The man smiled at him and gave a soft laugh as he looked down at the ground, before looking back up at him with determination in his eyes. “So, do you wanna—”

“Hey, Canada, get your skinny ass back over here!”

Pierre closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh as the nickname rattled through the back of his mind. He pulled the walkie talkie out of his pocket, wanting to stab Bill for his terrible timing, before speaking into it. “Kay,” he said softly, his gaze flicking back to the man, who was smiling sweetly at him.

“We got a job for you that’ll remind you of home,” Bill’s voice came through his radio, loud and clear.

Pierre stared blankly at the man in front of him as he replied. “It’s something in the freezer, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice monotone. The man in front of him grinned and laughed, obviously getting the joke about Canada instantly. Pierre smiled and shook his head slowly.

“Man, you’re ruining all the Canada jokes,” Bill informed him.

“Get new jokes, then,” Pierre told him, before placing the little radio back in his jacket pocket. He turned back to the man, giving him an awkward, nervous smile. “Well… duty calls,” he said softly, before very reluctantly turning his back and starting back toward the street. He sighed softly, wanting to turn around and touch the man again, wanting to grab him and kiss him with more passion than he’d ever kissed anyone in his life. God, how badly he wanted to. But would he? No. He sighed softly to himself as his feet hit the sidewalk and he looked up at traffic.

“Hey, Canada!”

Pierre stood still when he realized what the man had called him. Suddenly he didn’t hate the stupid nickname; suddenly he loved it so much that he could have change his name legally to Canada Charles Bouvier. He tried to control the idiotic grin on his lips as he turned around, flashing the man an expectant smile, who smiled back sweetly, though didn’t approach him.

“I’m David.”

Pierre was doing his best to keep from positively giggling with glee at the man’s — David’s — declaration. Pierre swallowed and cleared his throat lightly, knowing that had he tried to open his mouth and speak, nothing would have come out. He took a deep breath before flashing him a flirty smile and saying, “Pierre.” David grinned at him and Pierre knew it was because of how traditionally French his name was. With a final nod, Pierre turned and headed back to work, his mind buzzing and his heart soaring. “David…” he said the name to himself softly. “His name is David…”



Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic
    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 10 comments