#i could probably write 5k more words of this lkasjdf

[socialsymphony]

Seth sighs. Of course this is his life, of course. He illuminates the screen on his phone again to check the time, and to see if any of the numerous messages he’s sent have been answered. It’s almost 2:30 in the morning, there are exactly zero messages, and his phone only has 8% of its battery life left. He curses under his breath, shoving his phone back into his pocket. It’s not going to do him a lot of good anymore. Of all the places to get locked inside, it had to be a grocery store.

A fucking grocery store, all because he was too absorbed in reading the nutritional facts on almost every item he picked up to hear the store closing announcements. He hadn’t even realized the store was closing until all the lights went dim, and then he was abandoning his shopping cart, rushing to the front of the store, only for all the doors to be locked and for there to be no one in sight. He’s sent a text to everyone he could think of, but no one’s bothered to reply. Probably because it’s Friday night, and he’s the only loser not out at the bar, or at some party getting drunk. Seth settles back against the wall, legs pulled up to his chest. He’s tired and frustrated and he wants to go fucking home, and he doesn’t even know what time the store opens, how much longer he has to sit here. He feels pathetic for wanting to cry, but his dog and cat have been at home alone for too many hours now, and they need to be fed and his dog needs to be taken out, and he’s such a fuck up, who gets locked in a fucking grocery store? The distant sound of footsteps has Seth on alert, breath trapped in his lungs. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t even blink. He thought he was alone, but apparently there’s someone else in the store with him, and he doesn’t know if he wants to cry in excitement or fear. The footsteps draw closer, and Seth whips his head from side to side, until the owner of the footsteps is standing in front of him. ”What are you doing down there?” The voice is deep, raspy, and it somehow suits the guy standing in front of him. He’s tall, probably around Seth’s height, with broad shoulders and a slim waist, dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a plain white t-shirt. His hair is a dark blonde mess of short curls, and he has a few days of stubble on his chin. ”Got locked in,” Seth says, simple and straightforward. “You?” The guy laughs, and his whole face lights up, deep pockets of dimples carved into his cheeks. “Man, I thought I was the only one with that kinda luck. Get kinda lost in my head sometimes, y’know? Missed the closin’ announcements apparently. Got tired of sittin’ on my ass, so I decided to walk around. Didn’t exactly expect to find anyone else, though.” ”Nah, not just you,” Seth says, for lack of anything better to say. ”Mind if I sit…?” ”Seth. And no, man, go ahead.” Seth gestures at the space of floor in front of him, an invitation for the guy to sit. ”Seth. Alright, name’s Dean.” Dean sits and stretches his legs out until the soles of his boots are almost touching Seth’s feet. “So, what do you do, Seth? When you’re not trapped in grocery stores.” Seth laughs softly. “I’m a personal trainer. Was doing some late night shopping for one of my clients, and next thing I knew, the fucking lights were going out and the doors were locked.” Dean gives Seth an obvious once over, and he feels warm down to his toes. “Huh. I do construction. Me and my friend, his dad owns the company or whatever.” Seth tries not to stare at Dean’s shoulders, tries not to imagine his white shirt soaked through with sweat, the way it would cling to the breadth of his shoulders, highlight the slim trim of his waist, how his hands, undoubtedly rough with calluses, would feel moving over his skin. It must not have worked, because when Seth brings himself to meet Dean’s gaze, Dean is smirking at him, an eyebrow quirked. Seth flushes, clears his throat. “Time’s this place open?” ”6, I think,” Dean replies. “Got somewhere important you need to be?” Seth’s pretty sure Dean’s asking if he has someone waiting at home for him, which, no, he doesn’t, and he hasn’t for months. “My dog and cat have been at home alone all night.” Dean hisses out a breath. “Well, shit,” he says, which, yeah, pretty much sums it up. “Rome’s probably snorin’ like a fuckin’ Mack truck right now. Won’t even notice I’m gone.” It feels like Seth’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach. Of course. Of course Dean is taken. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s all kinds of mindblowingly attractive. ”Is Rome your boyfriend?” Seth asks anyway, trying not to sound like a jealous teenager. Dean laughs, a loud, raucous thing. “Roman? God, no. He’s been datin’ this girl for like, 3 years. Pretty sure he’s gonna pop the question soon, and if he doesn’t, imma have to beat some sense into him. Girl’s perfect for him. But uh, no, he’s the one whose dad owns the company we work for. Pretty much like my brother,” he explains. “But yeah, not seein’ anyone at the moment.” If Seth were braver, he’d toss out some cheesy line about how Dean could be seeing someone at the moment, if he wanted, but Seth’s not, he never has been, the kind of person who can just throw out lines like that and have them work in his favor. ”That’s too bad,” he says instead. It’s a statement that could go either way, depending on how Dean interprets it. Dean hums softly, but doesn’t comment on it otherwise. They spend the next hour talking about music, movies, and games. They have a lot more in common than Seth would’ve thought, and he’s finding that as much as it sucks being locked in a grocery store, it sucks marginally less with Dean, who has all these ridiculous stories to tell about growing up, about the trouble he and Roman would get into when they were younger. Dean has such an infectious laugh, and his sense of humor is so similar to Seth’s, he spends almost the entirety of Dean’s stories laughing over something or another. Simply put, Seth is enamored. Enthralled. He wants to know more. He wants to know everything. He wants to know what makes Dean smile, what makes Dean happy. He wants, so much, and it’s ridiculous, he knows it is. He just met Dean, and he’s 31 years old. He’s not a teenager anymore. He shouldn’t be reacting so viscerally to someone. Except that he is, and he doesn’t even care. He wants, in a way he’s never wanted before. He wants to take Dean home, and he wants Dean to stay. Dean inches his way over, moving until he’s no longer sitting across from Seth, but beside him instead. The conversation has petered out, but it’s a comfortable silence that surrounds them, and Seth’s surprised to find his eyelids getting heavy, his body slowly listing to the side. Dean’s arm comes around him then, pulling him into Dean’s side. “Shhh,” he says, fingers slowly stroking the skin of Seth’s arm. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you when someone finally comes in.” Seth doesn’t want to, but there’s something comforting and peaceful about being in Dean’s arms. It should feel wrong, should make his skin crawl, to be embraced by someone he hardly knows, but he already feels like he knows Dean, really, actually knows him, and he feels nothing but a bone deep contentment, his head pillowed on Dean’s shoulder. -- It feels like too much and not enough time has passed when Dean lightly shakes him awake. ”Think the manager’s here,” Dean says. His arm is still around Seth’s shoulder, and he doesn’t look like he has any plans on moving. Seth sits up a little straighter, though, unsettling Dean’s arm in the process, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He hates sleeping with his contacts in, and he wishes he would’ve traded them for his glasses before he left his house last night. Dean climbs to his feet and stretches, his arms reaching high above his head, and Seth has to drag his eyes away from the strip of exposed skin on his belly, the faintest trail of hair there. ”C’mon,” Dean says, offering his hand out to Seth. It’s warm and callused when Seth puts his hand in it, pulling himself up to his feet. He was right. He and Dean are pretty much the same height, though Dean’s a little broader in the shoulders. They navigate their way to the front of the store, side by side, and the manager jumps in shock when Dean gets his attention. ”I mean,” Dean says, “don’t your employees do a sweep of the store to make sure people ain’t locked in?” That’s a damn good question, and one Seth would like to know the answer to as well. ”I’m sorry, sir, but they make a closing announcement every five minutes the last half hour the store is open,” the manager apologizes, like that’s supposed to be good enough, like that’s supposed to make it okay that they were locked in the damn store all night. ”It’s obviously not good enough,” Dean says, his voice rising, “because we were still stuck in here!” ”I really am sorry, sir, but there’s nothing I can do.” ”I really am sorry, sir,” Dean repeats, mockingly, “I”ll just be taking my business elsewhere from now on. And I’ll be sure to tell Reigns Construction to do business elsewhere as well.” The manager’s eyes widen, and his mouth opens and closes half a dozen times before he gives up, defeated. Seth doesn’t blame him. Reigns Construction is the biggest construction company in the state, and losing their patronage is going to be a huge hit to their revenue. Seth doesn’t say anything, shrugs in the manager’s direction and follows Dean out the unlocked doors. It’s a little cool out, and he’s wishing he had a sweatshirt. ”So,” Seth says, “Reigns Construction, huh?” Dean scrubs a hand through his hair, looking a little self-conscious. “Yeah. Roman’s been my best friend since before the company was even established, way back when we were kids. He did the whole architecture thing in college, to be like, a foreman, supervisor, whatever it is he does, but I’m just a crew member. Still pretty cool, though.” ”It sounds pretty cool,” Seth agrees. He’s trying to work up the courage to ask Dean out, to ask if he wants to grab dinner sometime, but the words just won’t come out, stuck on the tip of his tongue. ”Hey, so,” Dean says, licking his lips. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and he’s rocking back and forth in place. “Did you wanna grab dinner or something?” Seth laughs softly, relief flowing over him. “Yes, definitely,” he says, grinning. “I wanted to ask, but I’m super fuckin’ awkward sometimes, sorry.” ”It’s cute,” Dean says, winking. “Can I get your number? I’ll call you later with a date and time. I gotta look at my schedule and see when I’m free.” Seth rattles off his number, not even bothering to get his own phone out. He knows it’s dead, probably died a couple hours ago. “So,” Seth says, drawing it out. “I’ll see you later?” Dean nods. “Yeah, you will.” Seth starts off in the direction of his car, only for Dean to call his name. He turns, and Dean’s jogging up to him, his hands immediately going to the sides of Seth’s face. Dean’s lips are a little chapped, is the first thing Seth notices, but they’re soft, dry, and they feel perfect the way they are, pressed against his, Dean’s thumbs moving over the scruff on Seth’s jawline, sending shivers down Seth’s spine. It’s a simple kiss, lips pressed to lips, but it rocks Seth down to his core, and Dean looks the same when he pulls back, blue eyes wide. ”I…will see you later,” Dean says, jogging off in the opposite direction, to the only other car in the empty lot. Seth’s a little breathless, but he forces himself to move, to unlock the doors to his car and climb inside. He’s smiling like an idiot, can feel the ache in his cheeks from grinning so hard, so wide. He spares one last glance back in the direction of Dean’s parked car, his heart fluttering in his chest.