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xxanaduwrites · 2 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

m’no good

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which honey gets the call from johnny that benny’s in the hospital :( cal takes her to him. :’)

warnings: talks of being beaten, descriptions of injury, cursing, lying, crying, being judgy again. it’s an emotional one to say the least, but there’s some sweet moments & a happy ending :)

author’s note: this is NOT in order with the last two parts posted. instead, it’s a future installment in “bein’ married.” you can find the timeline in da main hive masterlist. this is heavily based on the events of the bikeriders movie of benny getting beat up & hospitalized. of course this is my own made-up spin on the situation at hand. idk this idea struck me at 3am & i wrote it in less than a day, so i figured i’d just release it now. you can find a mention of this scenario in session 1 of from the hive 🎙️🐝 this can be read alone if you like, but the interview context could help for sure! x

+ also if you were wondering, i personally picture honey as brittany murphy’s character in uptown girl’s molly gunn! i’ve been obsessing over her style in it & that’s what inspired honey’s style in my writing — especially with the embroidered overalls. you can picture her however you please, & i hope you continue to do as yourself ofc <3

word count: 4.7k (2x longer than the other parts, yay!)

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

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You were in the midst of Sunday dinner with your parents when you got the news. News that would leave you scrambling out of the house in an instant with no thoughts behind your honeydew drop eyes besides him — besides Benny.

Your Pa was comfortable at the head of the table, a cigarette between his lips as he scanned the paper under reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. Your Ma had just taken her seat at the table, a forkful stabbing into her salad. So when the phone rang your Pa didn’t even flinch. A result of him being too engrossed in his paper. On the other hand, your Ma sighed in a way that made you know she was evidently too tired to be on her feet again. This led you to announce that you’d get the phone. And you did, pulling it off the reciever and twisting your little finger around the warm yellow chord.

“Hi, you’ve reached The BeeHive. Honey speaking!” You chirped into the phone in your usual honey coated tone. Between your family business that consisted of beekeeping and honey jarring, answering the phone in such a way became rather customary and oddly normal. So much so that no one seemed to bat an eye besides your cousins who laughed every time they called. Absolute menaces indeed.

“Honey?” It was Johnny’s drawl on the line, rough and edgy with a twinge of something you couldn’t catch.

“Oh hi Joh— Mr. Davis!” You cleared your throat and corrected yourself. Trying to remain formal. Trying to remain respectable. Sure, you and Johnny were far from past that. Calling him Johnny instead of Mr. Davis was an entirely different respect that only you, Benny, the wives, and the rest of the guys would ever understand. So your parents? Well, they wouldn’t get that, and besides his kids were still your students after all. “How’s it goin’? Y’need to speak to my Pa? He’s right ‘ere.” You asked, your father’s demeanor easily shifting at the mention, his paper going flat against the table. It wasn’t unusual for Johnny to call your house. No — Johnny was a consistent buyer of your family’s honey. He incorporated it into the Club, handing the guys out honey beers during picnics and meetings. He learned of it from those community events you frequented with your parents, always having some sort of incorporation when catering was involved.

“Nah — nah.” He brushed that idea away rather quickly and your brows furrowed in confusion. “Gotta speak to yuh. Look I — I needa tell y’something, but if your Pa’s overhearin’ I need yuh to pretend we’re talking about the girls, alright?”

“I —“ you began but stopped short trying to compartmentalize what he was saying without reacting. “Oh, right I remember we were gonna talk about the girls' grades, yeah?” You rambled out, your words feeling far too thick coming out of your mouth, it almost didn’t sound like you. You feared your parents would catch on instantly, but instead their interest deflated as soon as nothing you said resembled anything to do with their business. It only took a second for your father to go back to his paper and beer and your mother to her salad.

“That’a good, Honey. Very good.” Johnny praised as you motioned with your hand that you were gonna step out of a sec, which really meant you were gonna pull the chord as far as you could into the other room. The distance — well it wasn’t much. The open archway from your parent’s kitchen to the living room wasn’t sound proof, so they could still technically hear every word you said, but your volume would be at lower frequency for sure, and your reactions practically undefinable.

“They’re doing real good, Mr. Davis. Bright girls you got there.” You muttered out so Johnny would know you were still there. You could feel your heart going a mile a minute as you paced the short distance available you could in restraint of the phone.

“I know. I know. They love ya, Honey, and they’re just fine. No need to worry ‘ere.” He reassured you, and a sigh of relief escaped your lips. The last thing you needed to hear was something bad about those babies. It would absolutely break your heart. But what you weren’t expecting to hear was something that would shatter it into a million little pieces. “It’s uh — it’s Benny.” Johnny said, and every fiber of your being went on fire, burning to ash. “He’s — he’s banged up, Honey. Got ‘im in the hospital and everything. ‘parently some jackasses got ‘im real good at some pub not too far from us. Beat him the fuck up, and broke his foot. Could’a lost the damn thing over his colors.”

A gasp left your lips in an instant, and you almost choked as you swallowed down a whimper to conceal the sudden volcano of tears bound to erupt. Now you understood why Johnny wanted — no needed this conversation to be under wraps. Your parents were already nervous about your ridin’ and to hear about some guys jumping your husband for bein’ part of the Club 'would have your parents in a frenzy. “I’m — I’m so sorry t—to hear that, J — Mr. Davis.” You continued the facade, a facade that pained you even more now as you tied back your emotions so forcfully wanting to rip from the seams. “Is your l-little girl okay?”

“He’s fine. They’re takin’ good care of him last I heard from Cockroach. He’s up and talkin’. Took ‘im to the hospital on the West End.” Johnny explained and little by little, piece by piece the fragments of your heart were starting to come back together, but you knew for certain, they wouldn’t be mended until you saw him. Until you got to touch him. Inspect him. Coddle him. Got to know who the fuck messed with him. “Go ‘n see ‘im. He needs his wife, alright?”

“I will.” You assured him, stepping back to peek through the archway at your parents who were still eating. Thankfully nothing seemed amiss. “I’ll be over soon with the homework she’s gonna miss for the week. Does she need anything else from me? Need a friend to bring her books home tomorrow?” You added in code. Code for ‘Who the fuck did this to him, and how could you help make sure those fuckers never got as close as a mile away from Benny again?’

“Nah. Don’t you be worryin’ now, Honey. The guys and I are on it. We’ll take care of ‘em. You take care of ‘im.” He settled on the plan. “Capisce?”

A wave of relief washed over you then. A relief that could only come from Johnny’s word alone. Cause you knew he’d take care of it. He always did. “Capisce.” You sniffled, not caring anymore if your parents caught on.

“Cal’s already on the way to pick ya up at your Ma’s.” He informed you. “Told ‘em to park around the corner so there’s no suspicion. You can tell ‘em you're stoppin’ by the house.” You never thought a time like this would leave you feeling extra grateful that Johnny and his family only lived a block away from your parents. But here you were, feeling just that.

You wanted to thank him then. The words were resting against your tongue heavily, so you made do with what you could. “Thank you, Mr. Davis. I’ll tell ‘em you said ‘ello. Please send my parents regards to your wife and the girls. I’ll be there soon.”

“Anything for ya n’ Benny. Y’know that. Yuh take care of y’self now, o—kay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, itching to run out of your house and into Benny’s arms already. If you could. God, you sure hoped he wasn’t too banged up for a cuddle or two. Makin’ him feel a whole lot better was your main concern. “Bye Mr. Davis. See ya soon,” you spoke into the line before stepping heavily across the threshold and accidently putting the phone back on the hook with a little more aggression than you anticipated.

“Sorry,” you tensed and broke out in an innocent smile, “I gotta go to Mr. Davis’s. His girl is sick real bad with the Flu. Doctors says she’ll be out of school for a week and of course there’s all this important testin’ going on. Gotta keep ‘er on track, y’know? Such a good cookie. Get in a fit if she misses one lick of school.” You rambled on, adding more and more to lie you rather not tell, but knew it was for their own good. For your own good. For Benny’s. Your marriage. Your future. What you’d hope would become a bundle of joy or two with his pretty blue eyes and freckled face to match.

“‘Course she does. She’s a Davis after all.” Your father added, a fond smile stretching across his face.

“Oh that’s too bad,” your mother frowned, and then stood unexpectedly, her chair scraping against the kitchen flooring. “Here, I’ll pack ya some honey buns to take to ‘er.” Before you could protest your Ma was already piling some of her homemade buns into a metal cookie container and passing them to you.

“Real sweet, Mama.” You could feel your eyes startin’ to tear up again, that familiar wave of remembrance coming back to remind you what you were really leaving for. A wave of impatience that made your anxieties spike higher and higher at the prospect of more minutes ticking away without you being next to Benny. “M’sure it’ll make ‘er feel so much better in no time.” You kissed your Ma on the cheek in appreciaton and turned to head out.

“Wait,” your Ma said right when you were about to exit the front door with your backpack in tow. Thankfully she didn’t see you mouth a curse into the air with your back towards her. “Y’didn’t even get to touch your dinner. Will ya be back to finish it or should I wrap it up?”

“Nah. That’s ‘ight.” You declined. “I still got leftovers in the fridge for me and Benny from Rosie’s. Heat it up when I get home, but thanks Mama. Save it for yuh and Pa.”

“‘ight. Get’ome safe, Honey.” She called out. Safe. Safe. Benny didn’t get home safe, but he was safe now. Safe in the hospital that is, but was he really safe?

Your fingers gripped the doorhand, knuckles burning white as you took a breath to calm yourself. “I will, Mama. Love ya. Bye!” And then you were out the door, trying to keep your composure as long as you could, until you were out of eyeshot of your Ma and Pa’s. Your ballet flat feet banged against the pavement as you went on running down the rest, a sharp turn at the corner showing Cal by his bike, waiting and ready for you. A fresh cigarette between his lips, just ‘bout to be lit, long forgotten once his eyes landed on you.

It only took one look at him. One frown on those deep set features of his for you to be barrelling at him, strong arms encircling you in a hug.

“Oh Cal!” You cried into his tattered shirt, the dame of tears breaking out of you uncontrollably. Too uncontrollably. But you didn’t care. Couldn’t care. It was Cal after all. The brother you never had. The brother you should have had. The family you now had because of Benny. Because of Johnny. And it wasn’t that you didn’t love your parents — you loved and appreciated them of course, but you never felt fully accepted by them. So being in Cal’s arms was far more comforting than being in the arms of your parents because you could be yourself with Cal, without judgment.

“M’so sorry, Honey. So sorry.” He mumbled into your sun kissed up-do, smelling of fresh vanilla and honey scented soap.

You were crying so hard. Too hard. You’d become a total mess of hiccups and hard breathes. Of course, Cal accessed you accordingly, pulling you from his chest to take a good look at ya. And boy did your rosey cheeks and red rimmed glossy coated eyes destroy him. They really did. He hated seein’ you like this. All the guys did. They loved you far too much.

Cal’s warm calloused fingers circled the apples of your cheeks, brushing away the tear tracks that resided. “It’s gonna be ‘ight. ‘erything gonna be okay.” He cooed, trying to calm you down. “Gotta stay strong for ‘im so he can get betta. Can’t take ya like this. It’ll break ‘im, Honey.”

“I — I know. I know.” You squeezed your eyes shut, wet lashes bowing down. You took a breath. Then another. And another until you felt somewhat better. More calm that is.

“Ready t’go?” Cal asked carefully when he noticed your breaths evening out.

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding your head.

Cal helped you onto his bike and you clung onto him as you rode. The weight of his jacket felt oddly comforting in your hold. Even though the circumstances of such colors were alarming in such a time, it didn’t leave you on edge by any means. Before you knew it, you were pulling up in the West End. Cal parked his bike, leading you to the front desk and of course the receptionist looked at the two of you kind-of funny.

“Family only.” She said to Cal, immediately putting two-and-two together who he was here for before turning to you, a big smile gracing her features. “How can I help ya, Miss?”

Your emotions were all over the place. Anger bubbling up inside you in an instant, ready to burst at the assumption of such a thing. Sure, it was a common mistake. To be misplaced next to one of the guys in your floral knitted cardigan and patterned jeans to match. But now — now, of all times. It was your last straw.

“That’s ‘is wife. Uh — Honey Cross.” Cal motioned to you, explaining who you were before your rage could ensue.

“Hm — I don’t see a Honey here,” the receptionist said, amusement crossing her features. Clearly pleased by shooting Cal’s advances in an instant. “I’m going to need to see some ID.” She pushed, and you were already ripping off your backpack before she could even finish the sentence.

Cal’s hands materialized around the straps without a second thought, helping you out of the thing but also holding it up for you while you fished for your bedazzled wallet. It was in the deep depths of the thing, mushed around with all your work sheets and lesson plans for the week. You were always equipped and extra prepared, making your supposed trip to the Davis’s for his little girl not amiss one bit. Your cutesy keychain clipped to the end flung about as you finally uncovered it, whipping out your ID with ease. This wasn’t your first rodeo in such a situation, learning from the last time Benny was tossed in a jail cell to get your ID updated with your new last name as soon as humanly possible.

The receptionist looked between you, Benny’s paperwork, and your ID for longer than necessary. “Hmmm, okay. Second floor room twelve, Mrs. Cross.” She finally gave in. “But you’ll have to stay here, Mister.” She told Cal.

He raised his hands up in the air like he was bound to be incarcerated, and the sight almost got a laugh out of you. Almost. “Fine. I’ll be out front when y’ready, Honey.” He informed you, and you nodded.

He helped you put your things back together, and when he caught wind of your name etched into your ID, his eyes widened. “Huh? So that’s y’real name then.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, wedging the thing back into your wallet, snapping it close. And if you thought the receptionist was suspicious earlier, she was far more suspicious now.

His features scrunched up in an innocent way, that long earring of his shaking as he shook his head. “S’cute, but I can’t see ya as anything else but Honey. Be weird if I called y’anything else.”

“I get it,” the edge of your clip curled up in a faint smile then. Your first smile in what felt like ages. You couldn’t help it with Cal. It was hard not to smile around him. “Feels weird calling you Calvin, Caleb, or Calum or whatever. Which is it anyways?” You asked, brows furrowed in confusion at the thought as you zipped your bag closed.

“Don’t matter now.” He patted your shoulders once your backpack was shelled around you. “Time to go see y’man, anyways.”

Turning on your heel, you nodded when you faced him, thanking him profusely and giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek as you gave him a tight hug. Once you let him go, you were off. Darting across the halls and climbing up the stairs, you weaved around the patients in their hospital beds being pushed by nurses and doctors in their lab coats until you made it to room twelve. For a moment, you stopped in your tracks, attempting a warm honey smile to grace your hubby with. To distract him from the evident pain he was having and the deep rooted distraught you felt inside.

But once you turned the corner, oh — you were a goner. There was Benny with a blue blooming zygoma, a swollen and bandaged eye, and his right foot propped up in a form fitted cast. Your heart shattered all over again without your control. Your hubby looked like a beat up puppy dog, and you couldn’t help but frown at the sight.

His blues — well his good one that is — caught your eye immediately. It was hard not to when you came waltzing in like that, all dolled up in a swarming buzz of color and sweet honey perfume. It wafted across the room and the smell touched his nose, warming him up for the first time since he’s been placed in this cold sterile room.

“Honey?” He blinked. Once. Twice. Wondering if your sweet face was an apparition. He told Cockroach not to tell you. Didn’t want you to see ‘im like this. Not until he was out and the brusin’ subsided at least, but he guessed Roach forgot to relay the message to Johnny and the rest of the guys when he told ‘em.

“Oh — my poor baby!” You cooed, racing across the room as soon as his gravelly voice hit your ears. You dotted on him in an instant. Fitting your form on the small empty space at the edge of the bed near his hip, you didn’t even bother pulling over the chair adjacent to his bed. And Benny didn’t mind no.

Even though he wasn’t too happy to see you here, he was happy to feel you here.

Your hand brushed through his hair and caressed the good side of his face, sweet and delicate. Benny couldn’t help but lean his cheek into your comforting touch. For the very first time you watched as a hot warm tear trickled down his cheek and landed on your hand.

“Please don’t let’em take my foot,” he begged, his large warm hands circling around both of yours and dropping them in his lap. “If — If they take my foot then I can’t ride again, and — and then how will I-I take y’to school?”

His sweep of emotions took you by surprise. You’d never seen him cry. Not when he was beaten and bruised in a bar fight. Not when a shard of glass wedged itself into his skin after punching through a car window. Not when you were applying alcohol to his cuts or when he was gettin’ stitches. No Benny never cried. And here he was now. Crying in front of you. In front of his wife. God, of course that just wrecked you.

Sure, maybe someone else would have made a stink. Would have told him that there were bigger things to worry about then his riding. But you wouldn’t do that — no. Besides you, ridin’ was Benny’s biggest passion. And both showed in the way he was most concerned about you. Concerned about taking care of you. How’d he do that if they took his foot and couldn’t take you to work every day. You couldn’t drive. Didn’t know how. It’s not that you didn’t want to, you just never had the time to go get your driver’s license. Not between working at the local diner while you were studying and getting your degree. And now that you had it and Benny well — you had all that you really needed.

“I won’t let ‘em, baby. I promise. I promise.” You assured, pulling his strong hands up with yours and kissing each and every rough rimmed knuckle of his. “As for takin’ me to school. Don’t you worry about that. Took the bus before I met y’anyways. Doesn’t make a difference. I’ll do it until you’re better again, alright?”

But it did make a difference. It did to him. He adored those mornings and afternoons when he had you on the back of his bike, taking you to and from school. He especially loved it when you were still living with your Ma and Pa. It was the little things like that that not only got him through his day, but also made him feel like he was doing something good. Doing something good by you. Makin’ himself seem responsible enough to your parents for being on time and prompt, to marry you. And it worked after a while. He had you now as his wife. In the apartment you shared. In his home. In his bed. While that was all good and great, he couldn’t help but wonder if something like this would set them off.

He grimaced, the thoughts gnawing at him and makin’ him ask you, “do y’parents know?”

“No, no. They don’t. Think I’m at Johnny’s dropping off homework for his sick little girl. Think you’re at work. ‘Member I told ‘em you were working today so you didn’t have to come?” You reminded him.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to throw a little white lie around here and there to your parents about Benny. Sure, he was on good terms with them now thanks to Johnny. Thanks to the fact that their little girl had him as her husband, and they didn’t have too much of a choice. But, that didn’t mean things were perfect. Benny wasn’t much of a fan at the way they treated you from time to time. Especially when they made comments about your decisions. About the way you dressed. He thought you were perfect as is, and it boiled his blood whenever he heard them goin’ on and on about it, especially at Sunday dinners. So sometimes he just didn’t come. Sometimes you didn’t go either. But of course you did today cause you felt bad you hadn’t been in awhile and felt like you needed to see ‘em. They were your parents after all. Now you were regretting not going with him instead. Maybe none of this would have happened if you had never gone to your parents in the first place.

“Hm, right,” he sighed, squeezing your hand in appreciation. “How was it anyways? Did they give ya a hard time?”

“No. Not today,” you replied. “Didn’t have time to. Didn’t even get t’sit down. I should’ve been with y’anyways.”

“No y’shouldn’t of.” He shook his head in disagreement, and then revealed, “m’no good for ya, baby.”

“What?!” You gasped, absolutely baffled by what he was sayin’. “What you goin’ on about?” He hadn’t just really said that? Had he? He did! “S’not true. Not true at all.” Your cute little bee earrings shook as you moved your head back and forth in earnest. “You’re too good t’me —“ He bowed his head down in a silent no. “Far too good,” you repeated, trying to search his eye so he could see you. Really see that you meant every word you were sayin’. “Y’loyal to Johnny and the guys. To me.” You reminded him, but his gaze was still downwards, trained on your conjoined hands in his lap. You brushed your thumb back and forth against his skin. “Lemme ask you somethin’..” you began, “What did y’do when those guys came up to ya, huh?”

“Told ‘em they’d have to kill me to get my jacket off,” he revealed, his response making your lips curl up soundly. That was your Benny right there, your loyal Benny.

“And why’s that?” You asked, pushing on. Trying to get him to the root of his decision.

“Cause…” he shrugged, taking a moment to think about it. “It represents my family….represents you. Hell, I got your patches on it!” His voice was slowly rising in defense, in bits of anger. “Got your name sewed over my heart bigger than a goddamn weddin’ ring will ever be and those fuckers laughed about it!”

A full, bright toothed smile had your dimples peaked like two pretty mountains, and when Benny’s eyes finally found your sweet honey speckled ones — well his anger dissipated. “Ah, c’mere.”

“I don’t wanna crush y—“ you began, worrying about hurting him, but he cut you off immediately.

“C’mere,” he cooed, scooting over just a tad so you could lay next to ‘em. Of course you couldn’t say no to him. Could never ever. Not when he wanted y’so bad. “Need my girl.”

“Alright, alright,” you hummed, rolling your eyes playfully as you curled yourself next to ‘em. A comfortable silence landed over the two of you, one that you were thankful for after everything. After all the fuss of the day. You just wished you could be just like this with him at home in your own bed. His strong arm wrapped around your back, hand cupping your shoulder and you tilted your head onto his own. His lips found your forehead quickly, feeling more pillowy than usual from the impact on his face and your eyes fluttered at the contact. “Oh that reminds me. Did ya eat?”

“Huh?” He hummed confused.

“Did they feed y’here yet?” You tried again.

“Nah,” he replied.

“Fuckin’ hell. Got y’propped up, but can’t feed ya…” you shook your head in disappointment, and your concern for him over something so miniscule within the swarm of everything warmed his heart tenfold.

You moved to get up, but he stopped you short with his hand that was once on your shoulder now materializing on your waist. “Where y’going?” He pouted.

“Nowhere, baby.” You assured him, fingers curling under the good side of his chin so you could leave a soft kiss on his lips which he relaxed in as soon as it came. “Just grabbin’ my bag from the floor. Got some grub — well…” you trailed off, a laugh escaping you as you unzipped your bag and took out the tin your mother gave you. “I know it ain’t dinner, but I say dessert won’t hurt. Doctor’s orders, y’know?” You opened the tin to reveal the fresh honey buns your Mama made then, and God did Benny wanna just eat you up instead. “Y’want?”

He nodded, so you didn’t hesitate in passing one over to him. Both of you enjoyed the sweet treat. So much so, that when a crumb or two fell on your chest, Benny dived right in to access it — and well who were you to protest when his soft lips met your warm skin? When his lips continued their assault around your fingers, cleaning off the sugary residue that remained. And you were happy. So happy and giddy because you were with your Benny. You knew no matter what happened. No matter what came next, the two of you would be alright. Cause that was what marriage was all about, signing up for the good, the bad, and the ugly, being there for each other in sickness and in health.

And in that short hour or so that remained in visiting hours, before the nurse flagged you down to kick you out, you laughed and giggled more than you had in days, and even when you scolded him, warning that a nurse may catch him licking down your chest or sucking your fingers, a smile graced your sweet features the entire time and Benny ate up every single second soundly.

“I fuckin’ love ya, y’know that Mrs. Cross?” He said to you at some point, in the midst of everything.

“I fuckin’ love ya too, Mr. Cross. Always and forever.”

And always and forever it was.

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additional author’s note: AH I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF. PWETTY PLZ DON’T BE MAD AT ME FOR JUMPING OUT OF ORDER. (with a cherry on top 🍒)

my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝

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#miss honey x benny cross #from the hive 🎙️🐝#benny cross x reader #johnny davis #cal the bikeriders #the bikeriders fanfiction #austin butler fanfiction #tom hardy #benny cross fanfiction #a residue installment #residue da series #the bikeriders x reader

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mara-and-its-the-same · 2 months

Note

hello there! I would love to read any of your thoughts/fics about Cal and/or Danny!

OR?! I could never pick between them, but for the sake of introductions let's start with thoughts because the fics are coming don't you worry. They just need a little fine tuning

Teeny thoughts/HCs for both below the cut (it's yap central up in here)🥰

Cal

I'm so obsessed with the way he talks, like absolutely entranced by his cadence and I love every scene of him telling some story. and I know that he'd know that, maybe not right away but eventually he'd recognize the look you give him around the bonfire while he's talking to the group is the same one you give him late in the evening close to the final page of your date nights. OH MY GOD!

when you find out he speaks french! i'm woozy just thinking about it, (i don't even care that i can't understand quebecois for the life of me) you'd ask him to say something to you just so you could hear the sound of it. even if he's gotten a little rusty since he hasn't has anyone to speak it with, and even if all he can recite are the few stories he remembers from his childhood, or motorcycle parts he's learned from the translations on the back of manuals. like a late night and you cant sleep and you just want the sound of his voice to relax to...he might not totally understand the attraction, but he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth and if you're into it who is he to deny you such a simple wish?

and I don't think he'd be the type to be one of those "my old ball and chain" guys, like he's undoubtedly in love with you and in love with being around you as often as possible. so if you're home while he's working in the garage he's setting up a lawn chair for you to relax in, just to keep him company, if the weather's nice he's putting it out in the sun for you and if it's a little too hot he sets you up in the shade with a little cooler with whatever the two of you are into that week. and he's certainly not letting you lift a finger. not because he thinks you'll break something (which like you might, but who am i to judge) but because he doesn't want you getting grease all over your outfit or roughing up those soft, pretty hands of yours. he just wants your company

Danny

for right now in this moment, i'm all over the idea of being his "girl back home" like he's out in chicago with all these bikers getting into god knows what kind of trouble, while you're safe at home just thinking about him every hour of every day. of course he calls whenever he gets the chance, but it's never a sure thing with the amount of time he spends out on the longer runs. and long distance calls are expensive, but every time he does it's so precious. the few times you hear some new midwestern phrase or pronunciation slip in and get a few extra seconds on the call just to poke a little more fun at him.

the guys get ahold of his wallet one day and can't believe he's kept you a secret this long. 3 different pictures of you sit in the accordion folded holder between the fold of his wallet and he thanks god for the feeling he got that morning he should change the ones he had in before (much more,,,invigorating if you will), for these three that he brought with him too, just to be sure he can see all your different expressions every time he reaches into his back pocket.

AND WHEN YOU COME TO VISIT!! at first he's not so sure it's the best idea, worrying you won't like the guys or something might happen once you're there, but all that is secondary the moment he thinks about how long it's been since he's last seen you, and before he knows it he's calling you back and taking you up on that offer to get a week off of work and coming to see him. Once you're there he's not leaving your side for a minute, firstly because he feels the need to let everyone else know you're his (and that you are real, as much as Zipco and Wahoo tried to get him to admit to the pictures in his wallet being magazine clippings because what's a girl like you doing with a pinko "college-boy" like him) and second because he's missed you so much for so long and he doesn't know the next time you'll be back so he's getting every second he can with you

and oh goodness are you impressed with this new look he's adopted. so different from what he used to wear to class or out walking around the city together, but still it fits him so well. your knees almost give out the 3rd day of your visit when he comes out from his bedroom in a black tank top and his denim vest...and maybe you do feign heat exhaustion just so he'll take you home early on the back of the bike he's spent so many phone calls telling you about...just because the heat was a more internal kind doesn't mean it's any less real. or maybe the exhaustion was just that you were getting tired of seeing him look that hot without doing anything about it. either way he hasn't seen you pull him up his apartment stairs that fast since you first started dating

and not maybe, but certainly, your trip goes from one week to two to a month until the tragic reality of responsibility sinks in and you realize you really are running out of clothes...

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pacifymebby · 1 month

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Cal / Sleepiest Girl In The World

🪻warnings: drug use, reader is a stoner, slight nsfw in places, somno right at the end and I've put a warning before it so you can read the rest and just stop before it x🪻

🪻There isn't a single place in the world you couldn't fall asleep, Cal knows that by now, having found you napping in some truly ridiculous places (across the bonnet of someone else's car, on a picnic bench at the side of a race track where there were bikes being revved right next to you! On the bedroom floor even though your bed was literally right there for the taking...)

🪻You've slept through races, through fights, through stunts you wished you hadn't slept through. The fight at that picnic over Milwaukee? Yeah, you were napping.

🪻And whenever you're found napping at the back of the club anyone who finds you always gets Cal.

🪻once you fell asleep on the pool table because you'd lay on your back on it for only a moment just to look at the ceiling light swaying in the breeze, and drifted off... Your little legs dangling over the side, your socked feet swaying in the breeze too. You'd looked so pretty and peaceful he hadn't wanted to disturb you, couldn't even be mad at you for risking damaging the table, and he'd picked you up as gently as he could and carried you somewhere more suitable for sleeping.

🪻He doesn't mind that it's always him though, in fact he thinks it's adorable how sleepy you always seem to be. You're his sleepy sleepy girl and he is head over heels for you.

🪻 Danny's never really successfully interviewed you, it doesn't help that you're a little shy, but every tape he's ever run of you is littered with your little yawns, you all, "I'm sorry Danny don't know why I'm so sleepy today..." And then someone else in the background, usually Corky, "don't listen to her Danny, she knows exactly why she's so "sleepy" today..." Followed by the guys sniggering and scuffling.

🪻You've barely ever got your eyes open in the photographs he takes of you either, he's always trying to capture your peaceful, dreamy nature but all he really ends up with is a collection of photographs of you sleeping against Cal's shoulder whilst he talks about his bike.

🪻It was always obvious you were Cal's girl, even long before you were Cal's girl, the two of you just fitted together so well, made so much sense. You were so laid back, so calm, so happy to just sit and listen to the world going round (or Cal talking on and on about bikes and his bike and all the things he was going to do to it next) you would often choose to sit near him at picnics so that you would have an excuse not to talk, so that you could rest your cheek on your knees and shut your eyes, enjoy the warmth of the sun on your back through your jacket and let the sound of his drawling low voice and the warm afternoon lull you.

🪻 And when the guys would start teasing him telling him he was boring you to sleep you wouldn't have to say anything, you'd just smile at him from where you sat, waiting for permission, and he would nod you over and let you rest your head in his lap, let him place his joint between your lips for you to take a drag as he returned to his talking and you returned to his listening.

🪻None of the other guys ever made a pass at you unless it was specifically with the intention of winding Cal up... Because even if you weren't officially his girl, he already thought of you as his, he could see how made for one another you were, and he was protective of you...

🪻Your sleepy, sweet, a little shy nature made you an easy target for the boys teasing and games, they liked to try and make you blush, embarrass you or trick you (because in truth you were also very gullible). It always took you that second longer to work out when they were talking shit or when you were the butt of one of their jokes and Cal would always rise to the role of your defender, throwing an empty bottle at whoever he thought needed settling down. Offering you solace in his arms or on the back of his bike when you needed an escape from the middle of another joke.

🪻Cal was always warning the other guys not to give you too much of their pot but they'd only ever roll their eyes at him, call him a square and offer you more... Because you're an adorable stoner, the way you get all giggly and pliable. The way your shimmer shadowed eyes glisten as they grow heavy and hooded.

🪻Sometimes the Corky and Wahoo liked to pinch something from your hair or your back pocket, steal your sunglasses and play piggy in the middle with you... Because you're smaller than them, because you get this giggle on you when you've had a smoke that is so sweet and contagious all the boys love to hear it, because you sound so cute when you get tired and you start whining at them to "quit it!" "Leave me alone, give it back!"

"Well which is it doll you want us to leave you alone or give it back?"

"Corkyyyyy! Give!"

🪻Well Cal doesn't want to hear you whining anyone's name but his and so of course he jumps up and joins in, catches your sunglasses and sidles up to you, his own teasing grin on his face when he offers you them and snatches them away at the last second. Only he has ever been allowed to tease you. He holds them up just out of your reach making you jump for them, keeps it up until he's heard you whine his name too. Then he's happy. Grins and tells you to ask nicely.

"Where's your manners baby doll, man I thought you was sophisticated..."

🪻 He'll make you say please, Cal, and when you do he places your sunglasses back on your face over your eyes and holds your cheeks in his palms. He's definitely going to leave a grease stain or two behind but when you stand on your tiptoes to thank him with a kiss to his cheek you leave your lipstick stain on him in return.

🪻 Back then when you started to get sleepy (you were always the first to fall asleep but never had the sense to call it a night and go home) you would find somewhere quieter to curl up and shut your eyes. You'd take a picnic blanket and find the shade of a tree, or sometimes less conventional places, and you would drift to sleep. Cal didn't really like it, you just wandering off, sleeping alone at meetings or picnics because although he knew most the guys there would never lay a finger on you, he didn't know all the guys, and he certainly didn't trust all the guys.

🪻So he always had one eye on you and he was always looking to keep you safe, he'd always make a point of telling Johnny when he saw you wander off, so that he'd know to look out for you too. And Johnny would always say the same stupid thing, with the same shit eating grin, "if you're bothered so much where she sleeps Cal why don't you ask her to sleep with you."

🪻But back then you were only friends...

🪻Now things are a little different... Now when you get sleepy at a meeting or a picnic all you have to do is come find him (not that you're ever particularly far away from him) he can tell just by looking at you what you need and he opens his arms up for you before you've even had to ask.

🪻 "There she is my sleepyhead, those boys been letting you smoke too much?" He teases, his low drawl luring you in. You're too sleepy to talk but his teasing makes you blush when you shake your head and try to deny being stoned. "C'mere doll," he says gathering you up in his arms, your head resting in the crook of his neck as you nuzzle into him and he kisses your head meaningfully.

🪻 The guys will try to razz him up about it but Cal doesn't really care, he'll just smirk a little sheepishly when they tell him he's whipped, he'll remind them they're only jealous they ain't got a girl of their own to show off. And fuck has he got a lot to show off about.

🪻Because he's got you with your sleepy smudged eyeliner, charcoal black around your big doe eyes, your long lashes shadowing your cheeks when your dewy eyes flutter shut. The little whimpers and whines you make when you're getting tired and you just want to curl up and sleep... The little whimpers you sometimes make when you are asleep and you're dreaming youre with him. The way you tend to chew your sleeve or suck your thumb when you're tired, how sweet you look with something in your mouth...

🪻You smell divine, this dusty lavender scent, your perfume and your clothes, your long hair, all smell of it. Like the fields in the evening when the air is thick with pollen, this summer night smell which calms and holds him in a trance whenever you walk by and he catches your scent on the breeze.

🪻He loves to bundle you up in his arms, bury his nose in your hair and breathe in that sweet lavendery smell, loves to tickle you with his beard as he smothers you in kisses to make you giggle and wriggle away from him in your sleep. Loves to hold you tighter whenever you do.

🪻He no longer has to worry about where you're going to nap because you always, always come to him. He is your favourite place to nap, in his arms, wearing his t-shirts, nuzzling into his chest.

🪻There's a chair in his garage that's there especially for you because you love sitting listening to him talk away whilst he works on his bike and on the various cars that get sent his way. And there were just one too many occasions that he'd come up from having been tinkering away beneath a car for several hours, only to find that the reason you'd been so quiet was that you'd fallen asleep curled up against the side of the car using his Vandals jacket as a blanket/pillow.

🪻Your peaceful, daydreamy nature has quite a calming effect on Cal... And he's a pretty laidback kinda guy anyway... Well for the most part. He loves lying atop your covers with you, or on the rug sharing a joint and listening to your LPs, youve tried to make him dance with you on a couple of occasions but it's never really dancing because you're so slow and sleepy, it's always you leaning against him, this cute little smile on your face, your eyes closed peacefully as he rocks you gently to the music.

🪻he loves to curl up in a hammock with you out back, or reclining on the bench on your front porch, you tucked between his legs, drifting to sleep against his chest. He can play with your hair and kiss your cheek and close his eyes and drift off alongside you and it's the best sleep he's ever had.

🪻But when he wants to wake you up he's got certain methods, for certain occasions...

🪻when he needs to wake you up at the bar after a meeting when it's time to get you on the back of his bike and ride you home, he likes to tease you, slip your shoes off and tickle your bare feet, his touch making you jump out of your skin and squeal delightfully - the sound really is music to his ears. Especially because he's given you a fright and left you pissed off and flustered all at once. Because he's made you jump you immediately grasp for him, arms thrown around his neck clinging to him for protection. Realising too late that you should be mad at him so that by the time you are and you try to push him away he already has too good a grip on you and he pulls you in tighter, carrying you bridal style, triumphantly out the front door. You giggling and hitting his chest playfully in protest.

🪻When he wants to wake you gently he will prop himself up on his elbow beside you and stroke your hair from your face, lean down to talk all low and gentle in your ear, "Time to wake up baby." He'll kiss your cheek and then your ear, maybe steal a little nibble as he tries to rouse you from your dreams.

🪻Nsfw Below

🪻And when he's feeling a certain kind of way he has a favourite way to wake you up... With lots of soft, teasing caresses, his fingers trailing tickled lines along your thighs, his hands squeezing your ass, or slipping beneath your t-shirt to graze your belly and your breasts. He'll kiss along your neck, whisper teasing lines in your ear, "know you're dreaming about me babydoll... C'mon baby open your eyes..."

🪻It is of course entirely consensual and he would never try anything with you you hadn't already talked about. Cal adores you and would never do anything to you he wasn't completely certain you wouldn't want him to.

🪻And in truth it's your favourite way to wake up... In fact sometimes when you really want him, you'll pretend to be sleeping just to tempt him into trying to tease you... And sometimes when you've woken up to his gentle touch on your skin, you'll keep your eyes closed and try to hide your smile hoping he'll take things further and push the boundaries... You're not a very good actress however and you always give yourself away with a moan or a needy, sleepy little whine.

#cal x reader #the bikeriders #the bikeriders fanfiction #the bikeriders imagine #cal the bikeriders #the bikeriders x reader

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drabbles-mc · 3 months

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Something I Need

Cal x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: two things. one, i went down a rabbithole because i thought i missed Cal's real name when i watched the movie only to learn they never said it. i still found it anyway. shout-out to google. two, i will be back on my regularly scheduled johnny/benny bullshit soon but this idea hit me and i couldn't not write it down 😂

You had known Cal for a long time. You knew him before he was Cal—back when he was just Arthur. You’d met back when he wasn’t “from California”, he was from Canada and living in California. You were both living there at the time. He was a mechanic back then, tinkering with bikes and cars alike even if the tinkering was outside of the actual job at hand.

His hair had been a little longer back then, still tied out of his face by the makeshift bandana he wrapped around his forehead. The dangling earring was a new accessory at that point, not that you would’ve known that the first time you met him.

You’d dropped your car off earlier in the morning because you needed an oil change. Cal wasn’t the person you’d handed your keys to a few hours before. Whoever that had been looked like a kid who wasn’t even old enough to drive, let alone work on your car. It felt silly to tell him that along with the oil change to let you know if there was anything else that needed to be done on the car, but you said it regardless.

When you showed back up again you were expecting to see the same kid from before, but instead you were met with Cal. Arthur. Compared to the kid that you’d met when you showed up in the morning, he seemed like a seasoned professional. Grease on his hands and dirt on his work-shirt, he spoke to you like you’d met a thousand times before.

“Swapped out the oil,” he said casually enough. “All set there. Car’s good to go as-is if you want. But I think if we actually switched, I mean I got a couple parts from this other—”

“Sorry,” you cut him off, hand resting on your hip, “who are you?”

His brows pinched for a moment and then he cracked a smile. “Arthur.” He held out his hand for you to shake, and you did, not deterred by the grease or callouses. “The one gettin’ your car to the point where she can get up ‘n go.”

“Took a lot to get her there, did it?” you asked, unable to hide your amusement.

He cracked a grin. “Nah, nah not really. Kid said you wanted to know if anything else needed work, though.”

“And you found something?”

He shrugged, hooking his thumbs on the beltloops of his jeans. “Depends.”

You didn’t even bother trying to hide the smile on your face. “On?”

His smile widened right alongside yours. “What d’you mean when you say need?”

That was the start and the end of it all. Almost six years had ticked right on by and there were still days when you would walk outside in the morning and find him sliding underneath your car to mess around with something else. California had been in the rearview for years now, but no matter where one of you went, the other always followed. Chicago had been good to the two of you so far.

Every now and then you’d make a comment about your car. You’d mention scrapping it and getting a new one, saying that it was probably just about past its expiration date by now anyway. Cal, even if he was halfway across the bar or at a different picnic table would hear you. In no time at all he’d be plopping down to sit next to you, or standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders as he leaned down to talk to you. He’d always ask why you would be going around saying something like that about a perfectly good car.

“What don’t you like? Tell me what it is—I’ll fix it. Guarantee, baby, I’ve got something for whatever it is.”

Most of the time there wasn’t actually anything wrong. You just liked to get a rise out of him. If he ever caught onto that, he never told you about it. Within the next twenty-four hours, though, you’d be sure to find him popping the hood of your car, determined to find whatever problem you didn’t disclose to him because it didn’t exist. It was good for him—gave him something else to work on alongside his bike.

This time, though, he was working on your car for a reason. You made an offhand comment about a ticking noise while you drove and when you woke up in the morning to an empty bed you had no doubts about where he was. You pulled a sweater on over the tank top you’d gone to bed in and made your way outside to the garage. He had the radio on, although you could hear more static than you could music. Between that and his laser-focus on your car, he didn’t notice you walking in.

It wasn’t until you turned the volume down on the radio that his head snapped over in your direction. The look on his face only remained tense for a moment until he realized it was you. Then he eased, the same cheesy grin taking over his face as a handful of years ago. He maneuvered so that his arms were up, hands braced against the edge of the popped hood of your car.

“So?” you said as you walked over, arms crossed over your chest as you looked back and forth between him and the open front of your car. “She gonna make it?”

“Psh.” He shook his head. “’Course she is.”

You laughed, leaning back against the car so that you were facing him. “I think you’re only a couple parts away from making this a completely different car.”

He smiled. “I don’t think so.”

“Think of all the parts you could take from this car and put into a new one if I got it?”

That was enough to give him pause for a brief moment. The idea of a new project to mess around with was always enticing. But eventually he remembered the topic at hand and shook his head. “No. No way.”

You laughed, crossing one leg over the other. “Why not?”

“I wouldn’t have you if you didn’t have this,” he said as he gestured to the car. “And, this is the car that got us all the way out here.”

You shook your head. “It got me out here. Someone had to ride—”

“Alright, alright,” he laughed and playfully waved you off. He paused for a moment. “You know I’m right, though.”

“Yeah,” you conceded. “You’re right.” You held one hand out to him. “C’mere.”

He gave a small shake of his head as he stepped back, arms falling down to his sides. He turned his hands over, revealing the dark stains on his palms from the work he’d already put in over the morning. “Nah, baby, I’ll get shit all over your—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as you grabbed his hand and pulled him towards you. He stumbled right into you, not having expected it even though he probably should have. His other hand that you weren’t holding instinctively found its home on your hip, having slipped beneath your sweater. He was shaking his head at you, already able to see the smudges on the fabric, already knew that there were going to be marks on your hands. But when he saw the smile on your face he also knew that you weren’t going to care about that—you never had.

“Know what I need?” you asked as you rested your other hand on his chest.

He tilted his head, earring swaying as he did. “What’s that?”

You smiled. Moving your hand up from his chest to his cheek, you pulled him in and pressed your lips to his. You felt it, the smile before he kissed you back. His hand on your hip held on a little tighter as he moved himself closer to you. A mildly precarious balance of wanting him pressing and leaning into you but not wanting to lose your balance and topple backwards. Not that it’d be the first time the two of you had gotten carried away and ended up in a pile of laughs rather than anything else.

Pulling his lips off of yours, he stayed close enough for your lips to just barely brush as he spoke. “You said you needed somethin’?”

You felt the curl of his lips into a smile as he said it, a joke that only the two of you were around to be in on. Your nose brushed against his as you shook your head at him. “Yeah. Just need one more thing real quick.”

He hummed in amusement. “Real quick, huh?”

You laughed, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “You don’t sound like you believe me.”

“I know better.”

You kissed him again, soft and lingering. “You gonna let me tell you what it is?”

He shook his head, a knowing grin on his face as he felt the small, playful tugs on his hair you were messing with. “I know what it is—‘s why I know it’s not gonna be quick.”

(divider by @cyberangel-graphics 💞)

The Bikeriders Taglist (if you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!): @garbinge

#the bikeriders #the bikeriders fanfiction #cal #cal the bikeriders #cal x reader #cal x you #x reader #x reader fic #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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redpool · 2 months

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Meet the cast & their characters

Jodie Cormer as Kathy Cross (née Bauer)

Austin Butler as Benny Cross

Tom Hardy as Johnny Davis

Michael Shannon as Zipco

Mike Faist as Danny Lyon

Boyd Holbrook as Cal

Damon Herriman as Brucie

Beau Knapp as Wahoo

Karl Glusman as Corky

Norman Reedus as Funny Sonny

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boydholbrook-fan · 25 days

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Boyd Holbrook as Cal in The Bikeriders

Part 1/2

#boyd holbrook #<3 #love him #admire him #he’s incredible #he’s the best #cal #the bikeriders #the bikeriders movie #cal from california - born in canada #cal the bikeriders #my gifs

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babotaee · 1 month

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my self indulgent Cal x Reader headcanons!

a/n: forgive my absence, covid has been kicking my ass :)

♥ That man has been head over heels with you ever since you walked into that bar wearing your pink mini dress and those chunky white mary janes.

♥ He thinks you look so precious when you tease your hair into those delicate beehives, but he always prefers when you choose to leave it down in its natural state. (mostly because he can touch it without being lectured)

♥ Despite not having much, He will do whatever it takes to give his girl everything she wants and more.

♥ Eying a pretty little blouse at that department store downtown? He’s working a double to make sure it’s sitting on the kitchen table a week later.

♥ Tear a hole in your favorite scarf? He’s picking up another shift so an even better one is waiting on your bedside table in a few days.

♥ You might also occasionally come home to find a new lacy lingerie set laid out perfectly on the bed… but that’s more for his enjoyment than yours.

♥ He just wants to provide for his girl… and who are you to argue with him about that?

♥ In return, you are always there to listen to him ramble about various subjects.

♥ If there’s one thing about Cal, it’s that he can talk for hours and hours, and you love to listen.

♥ You two could spend an entire Sunday just sitting on the porch and talking until the sun sets.

♥ When he takes you to club meetings and parties, you are never let out of his sight, let alone his reach.

♥ There’s always a protective hand on the small of your back or a long arm slung lazily over your shoulder.

♥ He can’t help but feel self conscious when he’s with you and compensates by being over protective.

♥ He’s afraid people might think, what’s this dirty old biker doing with a pretty little thing like that?

♥ But when he finally voices his insecurities to you, you do everything in your power to reassure him that he’s the only man you ever want to be with.

♥ ugh he’s just THE BEST HUSBAND EVER i know it

♥ I do feel like one of his red flags is that he’s ones of those dramatic ass men when they get sick and need to be babied the entire time.

♥ but hey, I’d baby him.

#the bikeriders #cal the bikeriders #the bikeriders x reader #cal dion #cal x reader

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bludpudding · 2 months

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bend over more actually

#cal the bikeriders #the bikeriders #boyd holbrook #my posts

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ofcourseiwillmydarling · 2 months

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…3 months later you married him.

(You can find the fic that inspired this HERE)

#the bikeriders #60s #cal the bikeriders #cal dion x reader #cal x reader #boyd holbrook #boyd holbrook x reader #cal the bikeriders x reader #cal !#the bikeriders fanfiction #cal fanfiction #moodboards #scrapbook #benny cross #austin butler

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groovyangelkisses · 3 months

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cal is soooo "he looks like he works with his hands and smells like marlboro reds"

#hiiii boyd holbrook hi #cal !#the bikeriders x reader #cal the bikeriders #boyd holbrook #ETHEL CAIN/THE BIKERIDERS SUPREMACY

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garbinge · 2 months

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Cal & Sylv's Story

Cal x OC Sylvie Hawke

Summary: Cal & Sylvie's Love Story.

Word Count: 5k

A/N: I pulled lyrics from two songs here as songs the OC sings because I felt the lyrics really speak to her story. (July - Noah Cyrus // Lavender Haze - Taylor Swift Acoustic Version). Warnings: All my fics are 18+, regardless of content. Light angst, attitude, rudeness, light fluff. Grumpy/Sunshine-esque.

All Writing Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989

“I just need someone to help me get it started!” The voice echoed throughout the auto body shop, pretty much disrupting everyone from their work. Through the corner bay she was working in, Sylvie looked up and saw the man. He was tall, had a headband placed over his messy blond bedhead but it was tucked back just enough to see a dangling solo earring from his ear. It was very obvious he was annoyed and waiting for someone to answer him at the front desk of the shop. She laughed to herself and turned her speaker up a bit more, not enough that anyone would notice but enough that the voices would be tuned out. It didn’t take long for the owner of the shop, Rod, who was a relatively big guy, to come out and quiet down the man who she believed went by Cal by the sound of things. Rod seemed to be familiar with Cal, he told him to calm down and had no problem offering himself to start the bike that had millions of modifications and needed a heavy foot to start it. When Cal had rolled it out of his truck bed a few minutes prior to him entering the shop, Syvlie had taken a quick glance at it and noticed immediately that it wasn’t stock in the slightest.

She had moved from the bay she rented and into the community kitchen to grab herself a pop and make her way to the lot to see what was going to unfold. It wasn’t her thought alone, the whole lot of employees along with a good majority of customers from the shop had made their way out there too, eager to see how the events of starting this bike would unfold but also admiring the bike

Cal was impatiently waiting for Rod to make his way from behind the cashier counter and was on his heels when he finally did. Eagerly he turned to the lot but took a couple steps back when his eye caught a bike in an empty bay that looked like it was being worked on. He took a few steps closer, his hands leaning against the window glass to get a better look at it. The smile grew on his face before his name was being called from outside.

The audience wasn’t small, even those who neighbored the shop had heard the commotion and gathered to see what was going to happen. Was the bike going to stall out? Was it just one big hunk of junk? Or did this guy actually have some credibility to him? Rod stepped on the clutch and it turned over immediately sending the roar of the engine throughout the lot mixed in with the cheers as well. Sylvie managed a small chuckle over the top of her soda can before turning back into the shop to grab her things and head home for the day.

As she locked up her bay, she noticed most of the guys were still outside surrounding the modded bike and it was obvious the rest of the work day was going to shit from the distraction.

“Peace out, Sylvie.” Rod called out as he looked up from the front desk and caused her to turn around and give a polite nod.

“Have a good night, Rod.” She slightly lifted her hand to give him the peace sign while adjusting her bag over her shoulder. The grease from her bike still stuck in the lines of her palms and the beds of her fingernails.

“Yea, gonna be here late because these idiots have never seen a fully custom build.” He was teasing even though there was definitely truth behind it. This was one of the very few shops that had specialized in bikes in the area, so the few that did come in were pretty fresh off the dealership lot and looking for basic maintenance to be done to them. “You oughta open your bay up to them once in a while, show ‘em what you’re workin’ on, maybe then when people come in with shit like that, my boys won’t need their jaws scraped off the ground.” He was now closing out the register, counting bills as he finished speaking.

“Ain’t my fault you don’t teach your guys how to look and not touch.” Her eyebrows raised and her arms folded across her chest as the smallest glimmer of a smirk filled her face. She knew the exact reason down to date and time of why she started closing her bay doors and locking it up when she wasn’t here.

“Ahhh yea, it was Derek that accidentally pulled the kickstand down, right?” He laughed as he shook his head, knowing despite his employees being good mechanics, they sometimes didn’t have the brightest brains.

“Wrecked the whole left side of my shit. Added an extra month to my time here.” The thought of what happened about 4 months ago started to bring that rage back slightly. The marks on the side of the body work, the bent metal from the pieces you had ordered in from out of state, even out of the country, not to mention the rent alone of the bay.

“A month you made him pay for if I remember.” Rod was now locking up the register and leaning against the counter as he looked at the girl.

“Fair’s fair.” She shrugged remembering how she threatened to break into his bay at night and steal his shit and sell it so she could pay for the rent herself or he could just take a percentage out of his paycheck and give it to Rod directly.

“It’s looking good though, got a look when you popped out earlier.” His arms were crossed now too, along with one of his legs twisted over the other as they chatted.

“Yea, just gotta find a couple more things before she’s done. Got my feelers out. I’ll find it soon enough.” She looked over her shoulder into the bay where the moon was now shining through the outside window and onto the bike she was chatting about, another shrug left her shoulders.

“You sure we don’t have what you need layin’ ‘round here? You can take whatever, just give me the heads up so I can mark it down on inventory.” He shrugged too, his was more in a nonchalant way compared to Sylvie’s avoidant one.

Rod was a good egg, as she so described it to her friends who’d always worry that she’d spend her time in mechanic shops and bars. He was older, middle-aged, had no kids, no wife, small one bedroom house with a big detached garage. This shop was his family, it was his wife, his kids, his heart and soul. And when he met people that shared that love, he was a little more inclined to open his heart up for them as well.

“‘Preciate it, Rod. I wish it was that easy, but I’m too fuckin’ specific with what I need. Looking for an air filter. Not stock, want one of those mushroom ones, black, but not so big and bulky, they make ‘em with a metal cap, they’re small, punchy.” Her hands were waving around as she explained the part. This side of Sylvie was rare to see, the side of her that got so detailed and carried away with every small thing she could with her bike. The excitement around what she needed, why she needed it and how it was going to perform was the opposite of her usual stand-offish tone. It helped that she was also usually overly nice to Rod, he wasn’t a dick like so many of the guys that loved to tease a girl who got her hands dirty.

“Know what you’re talking about, they’re new. Not a lot out there. I’ll put my feelers out too though.” Which coming from Rod, was a big deal. He knew a lot of people who knew a lot about cars and car parts.

Their conversation was cut off as the engine roar from outside filled the area again while a couple of the guys stood on the starter together to achieve the weight needed for it to kick over. Their laughs were almost louder than the engine.

Rod lifted his hand to use his thumb to point at the group outside as he pushed off the counter. “You better get out of here before this whole place turns into whatever the fuck this is.”

Within 20 minutes, Sylvie had left and the group from outside had dispersed. Cal came back in to thank Rod and drop him a couple bucks for his help. “You’re a great mechanic, Rod, you know that?” Cal was dropping the bills on the counter as he spoke.

“I don’t need to be reminded. Maybe you can just let my guys work for once instead of fuck off.” He was grabbing the bills and trying his best at a firm stare.

“They’ll get the message when you drop 2 hours from their checks this week, don’t worry.” Cal smirked and turned his head to see the bay he looked in before having its door locked and curtains drawn so the windows weren’t able to be peaked in anymore. “Hey, say, uh, whose bay is that?”

That made Rod laugh. “Noneya.”

“M’serious. Saw some decent work in their earlier, custom built Indian, right? ‘65?”

“‘64. And it ain’t decent. It’s damn near flawless.” Rod was shaking his head, not needing to see the bike to know what the year of the bike was and how perfect the build was too.

“Whoever it is must work after hours, looked like it’s damn near finished.” Cal was fishing for any information on the bike or bike owner that could help him sneak his way in to get a look.

“Sylvie don’t work here, just rentin’ the bay. Think she’s just lookin’ for one of those metal cap mushroom air filters to replace the stock one.”

“Sylvie knows her shit.” Cal stood impressed as he stared at the closed off bay again. They were standing in the middle of the shop now, the big main garage door being the only one open and the light on the outside of it being the only thing lighting up the space besides Rod’s desk lamp.

“Knows how to give you shit too, don’t even think about it. I’m warning you.” Rod pointed at him.

“Have a good night, Rod! Ain’t scared of ya!” Cal was turning to leave the auto body garage now, he gave a quick lazy salute with his hand tipping off his headband as he walked out and Rod had to laugh at his naivety.

Rod spoke under his breath through a smirk. “Ain’t me you gotta be warned about, Cal.”

__________

It was obvious from the lot being packed that the bar only a few blocks from Cal’s house was filled to the brim. It was his last stop before heading home. He could have dropped his bike off in his own driveway, but that’d be too much work, plus it didn’t matter about a packed lot much when you had a bike, one could squeeze into half a spot and it’d still be plenty of room. But Cal didn’t need to. He was able to pull in next to another motorcycle. A smile formed on his face as he looked over the bike. It was the one from the auto body shop a few weeks ago, but there was a stock air filter now on the bike. It was then that Cal frowned, still smiling as the thoughts filled his head before he made his way into the bar. Curiosity was all over his face as he entered, his eyes were scanning every inch of the bar, every face in the place.

“Next is a local favorite, Sylvie Hawke!” A voice in a microphone alerted Cal to look at the small corner stage in the front of the bar where he saw the curly haired wonder who went by the name Rod had mentioned.

A smile grew on his face as he found an open seat at a random table and sat down, oblivious to those around him confused why he was sitting there.

“Somethin’ I wrote called July.” Her voice was raspy but soft, the microphone felt like it was almost an intrusion on the beauty of it, at least that’s what Cal was thinking as she spoke. “Tips are not only appreciated but extremely encouraged and I’m working on getting the place to make ‘em required.” Sylvie was getting her acoustic guitar settled on her lap and situated on the stool as many in the crowd laughed at her joke but soon realized she wasn’t joking at all which made them laugh more. It worked though, because it did earn her a couple bills from some people immediately before even one string was strummed on her guitar.

Cal wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he could describe what he was feeling similar to shock as he heard the girl begin to strum the chords and sing. Her voice was even more beautifully raspy as she sung, it was unique but one that any music producer would love to have on their roster.

“Check it out, it’s the chick.” One of the guys sitting next to Cal elbowed the other across from him.

“That’s her?” The other man questioned.

“From what I’ve heard, she gets down. Real bitch, but–”

“SH.” Cal cut the guy off, rather loudly so there was no room for any misinterpretation of what he meant. His eyes were still glued to Sylvie, not even bothering to look at the low lifes at the table with him as Sylvie continued to sing the song.

Feels like a lifetimeJust trying to get by while we're dying insideI've done a lot of things wrongLoving you being oneBut I can't move on

Find someone that loves youBetter than I do, darling, I know'Cause you remind me every dayI'm not enough, but I still stay

It was then that Cal stood up, his chair screeching against the floor but it went unnoticed by most everyone in the bar due to the noise, the only people slightly observing him were the ones at his table that were more annoyed than concerned. He ran out of the bar, didn’t even bother grabbing his bike and just jogged the two blocks to his house. Within minutes he was inside his garage, looking around for something and when he found it, he audibly cheered and grabbed the black mushroom air filter, shoved it into the inside pocket of his patched jean vest and began his jog back to the bar pretty quickly.

Similarly to before, he searched around the bar for her. She must’ve only sung one song because someone else was up on stage now. As he scanned the room again, he found her, and he smiled so wide, his silver tooth was showing as he approached her.

“Hi.” He was still grinning as he spoke.

“Captain Morgan.” Her face was twisted in a funny smirk as she took in the tall blonde greeting him with a sarcastic tone behind her slight laugh.

Cal’s face dropped in confusion at that greeting. “Huh?” He was searching for some explanation.

“The silver tooth.” She pointed to her own mouth before pointing to his. “Pirate thing.”

“Oh,” He pointed to it as well and smiled even wider. “yea, I lost it ridin’ my scooter a couple years back.”

“Scooter?” Sylvie was looking at him but moved her head back to trying to push through to the bar.

“That’s what people call them out in California.” He shrugged, a chuckle coming from him before he took in the frustration of the girl trying to push through the crowd. “What’s your drink?” He leaned down to make sure the girl heard him.

“Just tryna get a beer.” The way she spoke was answering his question but in a way where she hoped he got she wanted nothing to do with him. Hell, she wasn’t even looking his direction as she spoke, just standing on her tip toes in hopes to make eye contact with the bartender.

“Pauly, let me get a brewski!” He called out over the crowd and within seconds, who Sylvie also knew to be Pauly was handing Cal a bottle of beer. She had performed here a good amount of times over the last weeks to get acquainted with the man tending bar but not enough to call out over a crowd of people to get his attention, let alone deliver on the request.

“Here, on me. You–uh, got a real talent.” His finger was pointing to the stage as he handed her the bottle.

“Look,” She stopped for a moment realizing that she didn’t know his name, “whatever your name is, I’m not really here for the small talk flirting and shit, I’m here to collect my tips, maybe try and grab another song slot and get the hell home.”

“Cal, my names Cal.” He was still cheery as he spoke, not taking defeat yet.

“Because you lived in California.” Despite the girl not wanting to be in this conversation didn’t mean she didn’t listen and pick up on things.

“Yea.” He smiled proudly at the fact and also because she had been listening to him. “I, uh, got something for you, remind you that you’re enough and stuff.” He referenced the lyrics of her song as he started to reach in his pocket before she spoke up again.

It was then that she immediately recognized him from the shop she rented the bay out of and she was even more eager to shut the conversation down. “Well, Cal. Thanks for listening, song wasn’t really about you, don’t think I’d ever write a song about you but, uh, great chatting. Thanks for the beer, I’ll let you have it back.” She handed the bottle back to him before squeezing by and finding a hole in the bar to talk to Pauly about cashing out her performance tips. Cal didn’t even get the air filter out of his pocket yet when the girl dismissed him.

Cal saw what Rod meant now but it didn’t matter because he was enamored by her. He didn’t even try and get her attention back, just took the bike part and slipped it in her open messenger bag that was on her shoulder as she pushed by him.

_______

“Where the fuck did I put it?” Sylvie mumbled under her breath as she searched for her keys. Her feet were moving down the stairs rapidly as she stressfully looked around. First her bedroom, now the small table near the door of her apartment, which was offering up nothing besides some empty gum wrappers and spare change. Now she was moving toward her messenger bag, the bag she’d bring to the shop and to the bar. It was unlikely it’d be there, she needed the keys to open her front door, she’d rarely ever put them back in her bag.

But alas. They were there.

“Found you.” She whispered again as she celebrated her win. Just as she was about to head out, she did a double take as she saw something deep and buried in her bag. Opening her bag a little wider to see something shiny, her hand dived in to grab it and pull it out. In her hands was a black metal cap mushroom air filter. The answers to her prayers if she was honest with herself, which she obviously wasn’t at this moment. The shock quickly faded to questions. Her mind started running, where on earth did this come from? She hadn’t been back to Rod’s shop in a while, considering all her searches came up empty for the very thing in her hand right now, the only logical explanation was that it was someone at the shop. But how could that be when she hadn’t been.

Suddenly it hit her.

Sylvie was out the door before the thought could even soak in for a second. It felt like without blinking she was in front of the bar, where she knew the Vandals hung out. The patch was something she remembered instantly as she realized who gave her the part.

Without hesitating, she pushed through the doors and froze as she entered the building. Some of the guys that turned to look at the commotion must’ve thought she was frozen in shock or nerves but in reality she was scanning the room for him. During her second look over the room is when she spotted him, only when a couple of the guys standing towards the back of the pool table moved to get a better angle of their shots is when she saw the messy haired blonde and his headband sitting at a table with a couple other Vandal guys.

“I thought I told you I didn’t need shit from you.” The words were spoken in pair with the slamming of the filter on the table. A couple of the guys jumped, not expecting such a bold, semi-aggressive move from anyone let alone this random woman.

Cal turned, already knowing who it was just from looking at the part. “I actually think you told me you’d never write a song about me.”

“Same shit.” She was letting go of the part now and standing firm in front of him, her arms crossed over her white tank top, the curls framed around her face were kinked in different directions from her ride over.

“Heard Rod mention you needed it, saw that you had the stock part on your bike at the bar and had one laying around.” He shrugged, his voice sounded like he was in a whole different conversation than Sylvie.

“Thanks but no thanks. Enjoy your–” Sylvie looked around and chuckled a little, “boys club.”

As she made her way out, her eyes fell on the bike that she knew had to be Cal’s. It was fully custom, had the same air filter she wanted and just slammed on the table but in blue. She pulled out her cigarette box from her front pocket and searched for a lighter but remembered it was likely in the bag that she left home in her urgent run out.

“Thought you’d be gone.” Cal was stepping out of The Stoplight, his voice just as calm as before.

“Bike ain’t fast enough with my stock intake, you’d have seen me stopped at the red light still.” Sylvie pulled the cigarette out of her mouth to speak.

“Can’t have that.” Cal was extending his hand out, his lighter flame flicked and Sylvie plopped the thing back in her mouth and leaned in to light her cigarette.

“Too embarrassing.” She inhaled the smoke as she stood back up straight.

The two stood silent, Cal lighting his own cigarette now as they stood nearly 6 feet from each other. One of them kicked their feet against the concrete sidewalk, the other awkwardly looked up at the sky. All until Sylvie broke the silence. “That one’s yours isn’t it.” She pointed with her cigarette.

“It is.” He nodded and grinned. Constantly grinning. That was what Sylvie was starting to realize about him.

“Different from the one you had at Rod’s.” She crossed her arms now, trying to hold back her own curiosity of a smile.

“I have a couple back at my barn.” Cal had turned to look at her now, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it to crush it against the concrete.

“You build on your own property?” This was probably one of the girl’s first real reactions, despite the angry burst in.

“I do.” He nodded, staring right at her.

She was shocked. Her apartment was tiny, while it had an upstairs, it was more of a loft than a true second floor. For Sylvie to work on her bike, she had to rent spaces, put a cone out on the side of her street, maybe take up two parking spaces, but never just have everything you could need in her backyard like that. She was in awe.

“I’m gonna go now.” She dropped her cigarette bud to the ground and slid her foot across it as well before pointing to her bike.

“Alright,” Cal nodded with that same grin again. “See you on the road.”

She was stepping over her bike now, kicking up the stand. “Until I find that mushroom filter.”

_________

“I’ll buy the filter off you.”

Cal dropped the wrench he had in his hand. “Jesus Christ.”

Sylvie was standing in front of him, at his barn, with her hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans and looking relatively at ease in comparison to the times he’d seen her before.

“How’d you find where I live?” He was getting up from the milk crate he was sitting on and grabbing a towel to wipe the grease off on it even though it barely did its job.

“Rod’s got a big mouth.”

“‘Course he does.” He laughed and grabbed a cigarette and placed it in his mouth before offering the box to Sylvie who lifted her hand and shook her head.

“Just the part. What’ll you let it go for?”

Cal nodded and took his time lighting the cigarette before looking around the barn for the part. He clocked it, in one of his tool boxes sitting on a shelf. He started to think how he wanted this to go before turning back and speaking to the girl.

“I was givin’ it to you for free, you know.”

“Don’t like handouts.” There was the attitude he knew so well.

He nodded again. “Tell you what.” He scratched his head, his headband getting misadjusted as he did so. “The part’s yours, but you gotta work for it.”

“Work for it?”

“Could use a hand on this ol’ girl.” He pointed behind him at the half built chopper.

Sylvie stared at the bike for a good full minute before a slight nod escaped her.

“Deal.”

The rest was history. That was the moment that changed it all for both Cal and Sylvie. Eventually, Cal won the girl over. Despite Sylvie being a hard book to crack, Cal and her were pretty similar. Sure, Sylvie was full of attitude and spunk and Cal was goofy and grinny, but they both loved bikes, where they’d take them, and the inner workings of ‘em.

Cal brought her to The Stoplight, introduced her properly to all the guys, who fully understood why Cal was so taken by the woman, but she held her own with each one of them. It was one of the many things that made Cal really fall in love with her. He called her Sylvs, the rest of the guys did too, mimicking Cal, all but Johnny, who knew she wasn’t one to be fucked with and to him calling her by her full first name was his way of showing her that he respected her.

It had been just shy of a year since Cal had met the girl, and now he found himself in the same spot, the bar a couple blocks down from his place watching her perform. But this time, he wasn’t at a table with random men, most of the Vandals had come down and were taking up half the building space and running up their tabs.

“One of our lovely locals, singing an original song of her own, I’ll make her speech for her since we were ever so politely told by some lovely gentlemen and fans of the many talents that showcase here that we should make tips required, so we’ll be passing around the bucket, drop what you can.” The person introducing the performers spoke into the microphone. “Anyways, Sylvie Hawke, everybody!”

Sylvie came out and adjusted herself on the stool, there were already tons of cheers she knew came from The Vandals. She chuckled into the microphone, a new trait of hers that Cal should have taken all the credit for. “Not sure what my intro should be now that my tip speech is officially null and void. I guess uh, this is something I never thought I’d write but here we are. Enjoy.”

Starin' at the ceilin' with you

Oh, you don't ever say too much

And you don't really read into

My melancholia

I find it dizzyingThey're bringin' up my historyBut you aren't even listening

I feel the lavender haze creepin' up on meSurreal, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

I just wanna stay in that lavender hazeThat lavender haze

One of the locals started whispering, near Johnny who was perched up by the bar.

“She’s a real bitch that one, real attitude on her.”

“Ey–uh, some of us, we’re–uh, tryna enjoy the song, maybe you guys can quiet down?” He waved his beer in the air dismissing them but they just looked and continued their gossip.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time, I said you guys should quiet the fuck down.” Johnny was leaning down now, still speaking at a whisper but his tone didn’t show that.

With that the men stopped talking and turned their attention to Sylvie who was finishing up her song. Cal was in the audience, grinning the entire song, enamored by the girl just as much as that first night he saw her in the same spot. He leaned over and whispered to Corky. “She wrote this one ‘bout me.”

Just as she strummed the last cords on her guitar, the bar broke out in cheers, again, mainly from The Vandals but what truly brought the smile on Sylvie’s face was when she found Cal in the crowd clapping so eagerly all while he was grinning from ear to ear and she could see that silver tooth shining in the dim lit bar lights.

#the bikeriders #The Bikeriders fanfic #The Bikeriders fanfiction #Cal #cal the bikeriders #Cal Boyd Holbrook #OC Sylvie #OC Sylvie Hawke

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emilyshiftss · 3 months

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me when i realize i’m shifting to the 60s n i won’t have my phone

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drabbles-mc · 2 months

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Stickin' Around

Benny Cross & Cal & Johnny Davis

Warnings: 18+, language, minor injuries

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: shout-out to mj, my beloved, for bantering back and through this fic with me and thinking about how they all met just as much as i do. i owe you my life 😌

He came to with a wince. A wince that turned into a low groan as he lifted his head up off the asphalt. He didn’t even remember going down, really. There was a clank and a tiny sputter and now he was waking up on one side of the road while his bike was on the other side. He still seemed to be in one piece even if his bike wasn’t—small wins.

He tried not to think about the throbbing in his head as he propped himself up on his elbows, then got himself sitting fully upright. His legs were stretched out in front of him, denim a little ripped up but it did the job of saving his legs from road rash, from the long arduous process of needing asphalt and gravel picked out of the skin. His arms weren’t so lucky, smeared with blood and tiny little stones that were going to hurt like a bitch to take out when it was finally time to.

The least he could do was give himself a minute to get his head right. The throbbing would take a bit to subside, but what he was really waiting for was for the dizziness and the spins to stop. Once that happened he could get up and stagger his way over to his bike, check the state of it.

Another minute under the beaming sun, sweat starting to bead at the edges of his forehead, he decided it wasn’t going to be getting much better now. With a grunt he managed to get his feet under him so he could stand upright. Out of instinct he went to brush his hands off on his jeans, but all it did was smear the blood from his palms onto the denim, agitate the tiny stones buried into the meat of his palms because when he lost his last pair of gloves he hadn’t bothered to go grab another pair. That’d be first on the list now, after getting his bike fixed.

The road was long and flat enough for him to see miles in either direction. Even so, he’d probably hear cars or another bike way before he saw them. He still looked around though. Checking both ways before crossing seemed like a measure taken too little too late but he still spared a quick glance in either direction before limping over to his bike.

It was a moment before he even tried to lift it back up. He spent a minute just staring at it, looking at the parts of it that were scattered across the road and the grass lining the fields on either side. Little scraps of metal here and there, although from a quick glance it was hard to tell if any of them were necessary pieces. He’d ridden with missing parts plenty of times before—most of the time it hadn’t made things too much worse.

Sucking in a deep breath, Benny leaned down and gripped onto the handlebar of his motorcycle. The grunt he let out was mostly from the effort of pulling it back upright, but it was also from the jolt of pain that started in his hands and then shot up his arms and then straight back down his legs. It wasn’t enough to make him stop or drop the bike, just enough to make him cuss through the process of getting it back on its two wheels.

His bike didn’t start on the first try, but he was too disoriented to feel too much about it one way or the other. He gave it another try. Then another. When it finally rumbled to life, he could immediately hear that it didn’t sound right anymore. He couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong with it based off the sound alone, but he knew there was something. That was an issue to worry about solving once he reached the next town.

The last road-sign he’d passed said that Chicago was only twenty miles out. That must’ve been close to twenty miles ago now. So regardless of what was wrong with his bike, he should be able to limp it into town. Even if he couldn’t, he was going to have to. It was all he had.

He was able to get it inside county lines without it crumbling apart or somehow catching on fire. The sounds it’d been making when he started it up were getting worse, but he knew that there was no point in thinking too much about it yet. Once he came across someone who looked like they had a shot at fixing it, he would worry about it then.

After everything that had happened over the last hour or so, Benny found himself on the receiving end of a small stroke of luck. He rolled just over a block into town when he came across a gas station. While the amount of gas in his tank was the least of his issues, he also noticed that there were two men there with their own bikes. Matching patches on their backs that Benny would have to take the time to be curious about later when his vision wasn’t still fuzzy around the edges.

He'd barely gotten his back tire onto the lot at the gas station when both men that he’d been looking at before turned around to face him. When he got a little closer he could see that their expressions were laden mostly with confusion, almost concern but not quite.

“Hey,” one of the men called out as Benny rolled to a stop a couple yards away from them. He had dark hair, slicked back real smooth. There was a grin on his face as he walked up to Benny’s bike while he was putting the kickstand down. “Hardly got a bike left to stand,” he joked.

Benny didn’t say anything at first, just watching as the two men looked not just at him but at his bike. The other man who’d been standing with him started to walk around Benny’s bike to get a better look at it. He cocked his head one way then the other, earring swinging as he did. The man had stains on the white t-shirt he wore underneath his colors, grime in the beds of his fingernails that told Benny that the man was looking at his bike with the eyes of someone who might be able to fix it.

“Jesus, man,” the guy finally spoke up, shaking his head as he ran his fingers back through his hair, managing not to mess up the strip of fabric that was currently passing for a headband. “What’d you do to her?”

Benny was still sitting on his bike as he looked at the two of them. He shrugged, leaving his hands on the handlebars because it hurt to put them anywhere else. “Cracked up on her just outside of town.”

The first man laughed. “Well what’d you do that for?” He shook his head, not really expecting or waiting for an answer. “What’s your name, anyway?”

Benny sniffed, looking the guys up and down. “Benny.”

“Benny,” they both parroted back in unison, differing levels of amusement in their voices.

“I’m Wahoo,” he reached out, clasping Benny’s hand in his own despite the lack of an invitation to do so. Benny winced but didn’t pull away until Wahoo dropped his hand. If he noticed the traces of blood that had smeared onto his palm from Benny’s, he didn’t say so. “This is Cal.”

Benny nodded in recognition of what Wahoo had said to him, but he didn’t repeat their names back the way that they had done with his. They were at a bit of a stalemate. Even though Benny had come here with the hopes of getting help, he certainly wasn’t going to just sit there and ask for it. The guys seemed to be sizing him up, although the lingering grins on their faces certainly didn’t seem to make Benny think that he was in for any sort of trouble with them. Cal was chuckling, shaking his head, his attention more on Benny’s bike than Benny himself.

“You won’t even make it to the other side of town with this, man,” Cal said as he finally made eye contact with Benny.

“Probably not,” Benny agreed, his tone flat.

“Where you headed, anyway?” Wahoo asked as he pulled out and sparked up a cigarette.

Benny shrugged. “Nowhere. Ridin’. Passing through.”

Wahoo laughed, watching as Cal squatted down to get a better look at the extent of the damage. “I think you’re done passin’ through anything. Least ‘til you get this bike fixed.”

Benny raised his eyebrows a bit. “You know somebody?”

Wahoo groaned. “Don’t—”

“Do we know somebody?” Cal repeated as he popped back upright. He placed his hand to his own chest, grin stretching across his face. “Man, you could not have rolled into a better gas station.” He patted the handlebar. “I could fix her up.”

Wahoo was still shaking his head. “Don’t let him—”

“What?” Cal said, holding his hands out disarmingly. “Don’t let me what?”

He didn’t look at Cal, instead keeping his eyes on Benny. “Let him work on that bike and you’ll never get it back. He’s gonna keep messin’ with it.”

Cal gave him a playful shove. “I swear, I will return your bike to you in a timely fashion.” He grabbed his own pack of smokes and lighter. “No one knows ‘em better than me.” He put the cigarette in his mouth, mumbling the words out around it. “Even Wahoo’ll tell you that.”

Benny didn’t have much of a choice, really. He needed his bike fixed. It wasn’t like he had any other friends in Chicago that he could call up to help instead. So he nodded, carefully flexing and unflexing his hands as the burn and the ache started to come back into them.

Cal’s grin split a little wider as he nodded in approval, ignoring the joking, nettling comments that Wahoo was making. “I’ll call my buddy, have him pick this up and bring it to my garage. I can get ‘er running for you no problem.” He watched as Benny simply just gave another nod. “Did your fall knock all the words out of your head? Or you always this quiet?”

Benny shrugged, earning a laugh from both men as it reinforced their sentiment. Cal scampered off then, heading to the payphone that was bolted to the side of the gas station. Neither Benny nor Wahoo could hear what exactly he was saying, but he was gesturing around with his hands as though the man on the other end of the line could see him.

It didn’t take long for Cal’s friend to show up with the truck. Didn’t take long to drop the bike off, either. It wasn’t until the pickup was fading off into the distance once more that Cal really recognized the fact that Benny was sort of, for lack of a better phrase, at his mercy.

He pulled the half-smoked cigarette from behind his ear. “You seem alright.”

Benny gave a small shrug and nodded, finally picking the tiny stones from the palm of his hand.

“Wanna meet the guys?”

Benny’s eyes lifted even though his head didn’t. “The guys?”

Wahoo slapped Cal’s chest with the back of his hand. “Cal.”

“What?” He lit his cigarette. “What do you want me to do with him? Leave him sittin’ outside my goddamn garage?”

That was how Benny ended up sitting on the back of Cal’s bike, heading back into town with him and Wahoo. They took a longer route back than they’d taken going out—any excuse to have a few extra miles on the bikes. Even though it wasn’t his hands on the handlebars, Benny still enjoyed it. It wasn’t dark yet, but the sun was starting to go down, the sky starting to change color. Only a few of the lamps had come on along the sidewalk.

When they parked the bikes outside the bar, Cal hopped off and motioned for Benny to wait. “Just hang here a sec. I’m gonna talk to the guys, let ‘em know what’s going on.”

“Okay,” Benny said, figuring that now was as good of a time as any to finally have a cigarette.

He was watching the two of them as they made their way towards the door. He caught snippets of what Wahoo was saying, still chastising Cal for the entire situation that they were now in.

Johnny was looking up at Cal from where he was camped out at his usual table. He was shaking his head. “We don’t need no fuckin’ strays.”

Cal laughed. “Nah, man. You gotta meet this kid.”

“No I don’t.”

“C’mon. I wouldn’t have said anything to ‘em if he seemed like some sorta guy.”

“I’m not—” Johnny stopped himself short when the door to the bar opened. He turned and looked at the person who was standing in the doorway. When he didn’t recognize him, he had to assume that this was the guy that Cal had been talking to him about.

Cal gestured to the door before waving Benny over. “That’s him! Look at him, man. He’s cool.” He waited for Benny to make his way over. Then it was the two of them standing in front of Johnny, somehow the noise of the bar didn’t seem to burst the bubble that the three of them were in for the moment. Cal clamped his hand down on Benny’s shoulder like he was someone that he’d known for years, not hours. “This is Benny.”

Johnny nodded, looking Benny up and down as he did so. “Benny.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m Johnny.” He gestured to Cal with the hand that was holding his cigarette. “Cal says you’re alright.”

Benny cast a glance at the man standing next to him, and all Cal did in response was crack a toothy grin.

“You stickin’ around?” Johnny asked.

Benny shrugged. “Might be.”

The frown on Johnny’s face was a thoughtful one as he nodded slowly. “You should. You should stick around.”

Another shrug, another nod. “Okay.”

Something about the flippancy of Benny’s response got Johnny to let slip a smile too. Kid came crashing into town, in the most literal sense, and he was standing there like he’d simply stepped off the bus at just the right stop. Blood still smeared on his jeans, tears in his clothing, but the expression on his face completely unfazed.

“Alright,” Johnny said, still grinning. “Grab yourself a beer, then.”

(divider by @saradika-graphics 💞)

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