#motorway services

[ineffablemossy]

From the flavours available at these M1 services at 1am:

Quite a nice display of the traditional travel sweet. Cost: £2.99 each

[out-of-the-roadside]

1970s Welcome Break badge

Here's perhaps my favourite of the old badges in my collection. This is a badge for a relatively obscure diner chain that operated in the 1970s on A-roads in southern England. It was a chain called... Welcome Break.

Yes - this is a very familiar brand name around here as it's the name of the second largest chain of motorway service areas.  But modern Welcome Break was formed in 1983, a while after this chain closed. So what happened here?

To start, original Welcome Break has interesting origins. It emerged as a result of the disastrous merger between Trusthouses and Forte - two huge hospitality brand names in the early 1970s. Charles Forte talks at length of his side of the story in his 1980s autobiography if anyone fancies a detailed reading of it, but to summarise and simplify the story: Trusthouses and Forte's management did not get on well together... at all.  The two businesses had two completely different managerial styles which quickly caused rifts between the two sides. The whole situation got so severe that Allied Breweries, a similar big company, tried to buy out the merged Trust Houses Forte (THF) after spotting the group's increasing weakness. True to the situation, both sides disagreed immensely on whether to let Allied take over. Team Trusthouses wanted the merger, Team Forte did not. In the end, Forte's side won and Allied quit. As a result of this and the general unhappiness with the THF merger as a whole, a whole wave of Trusthouses staff left the company here. Two names of these leavers key to this story are Michael Pickard and Allen Jones.

Both men decided that they wanted to rival the company they once worked with. They both went to roadside catering, setting up their own chains to rival THF-owned Little Chef. Michael Pickard set up Happy Eater - and Allen Jones set up Welcome Break.

Original Welcome Break roughly operated from about 1972 till 1978. Little is documented on the chain, but it gained about 11 restaurants, many located within small villages on busy a-roads.

This badge was likely handed out at one of these sites as a promotional item, and like other badges shown on here recently it has a noticeable resemblance to the famous yellow badge of it's rival.

The logo of Welcome Break here is interesting - the chain's original name was to be Mr Chef and I wonder if this logo was designed for that name considering the overall design. Similarly, from a distance it looks an awful lot like a certain Chef rival's logo... or is that just me?

Allen Jones and Michael Pickard would strike a deal c.1978 to merge their two chains, and Happy Eater was chosen to be the unified chain's brand – ending the Welcome Break chain. The Welcome Break name would however remain owned by Happy Eater.

Happy Eater would be bought by big conglomerate Imperial Group in the early 1980s. It just so happened that at the same time, Imperial had recently gained control of food company Ross' four motorway service areas - and clearly looking for a new name, decided to reuse the former diner chain’s name for a new motorway service area operator. And thus modern @welcomebreak was created.

In a twist, both Happy Eater and new Welcome Break would be bought out by THF themselves in 1986, New Welcome Break was merged with their existing motorway service areas - with the whole chain taking the Welcome Break brand, in a way not dissimilar what had happened with Happy Eater and original WB nearly a decade prior.

[russell-crowe]

[src]

[kermitheefrog]

first week of new job number one done n dusted. so bleddy boring im fitting n selling school uniforms in a department store in a small deaddd town and HARDLY ANYONE BUYS FROM THERE so im just rooting around trying to find something to do. plus two of my coworkers went on a rant about trans ppl in the olympics today 😭 and it's only a seasonal contract so likeeee i might not even be kept on. starting new job two tomorrow in a health shop in a busy shopping centre so hopefully it's better craic

[in-elysium]

glad to know that someone else thinks the moto lancaster services are shit

[gatalentan]

the most liminal photo i've ever taken

[nerdie-faerie]

Coach was supposed to leave at 1:20 instead we ended up leaving at 2:06 😐 I love traveling to uni

[bacony-cakes]

ok so, there was time when i was in the bathroom at the motorway service station, right? and this bathroom has speakers that play music, and the music that started playing was so lame i thought it was a guy with a portable bluetooth speaker.

[d-e-w-p]

If ypu dreamed about stealing shoes yhat were 2 sizes too big for you. What does that mean.

[afterthefeast]

it seems they have added a conan o’brien air pump to the obama plaza since i was there last. to be totally honest i don’t think the nation needed that

[autofixtowingnz]

Reliable Motorway Breakdown Recovery and Towing Services in Auckland

When you find yourself stranded on the motorway due to a breakdown or in need of towing services in Auckland, having a reliable and efficient solution is crucial. Fortunately, there are professional towing services available in Auckland that offer prompt motorway breakdown recovery and towing assistance to get you back on track quickly and safely.

Motorway Breakdown Recovery: A breakdown on the motorway can be a stressful and inconvenient experience. Whether your vehicle has suffered a mechanical failure or you've run out of fuel, motorway breakdown recovery services are equipped to handle a variety of situations. With their fleet of specialized recovery vehicles and experienced technicians, these services can quickly reach your location, assess the situation, and provide the necessary assistance to get you moving again. From jump-starting your vehicle to providing on-the-spot repairs, motorway breakdown recovery services in Auckland are dedicated to getting you back on the road as soon as possible.

Towing Services Auckland: In cases where your vehicle cannot be repaired on-site or requires transportation to a repair facility, towing services in Auckland offer reliable and efficient solutions. Whether you've been involved in an accident, your vehicle has broken down beyond repair, or you simply need to transport a non-roadworthy vehicle, towing services are available to assist you. Equipped with modern tow trucks and trained operators, these services ensure that your vehicle is safely towed to its destination with minimal hassle and inconvenience.

Towing Auckland: Towing services in Auckland cater to a wide range of towing needs, including local and long-distance towing, vehicle recovery, and transportation of heavy machinery and equipment. Whether you're stranded on the side of the road or need assistance moving a vehicle from one location to another, towing Auckland services are just a phone call away. With their commitment to customer satisfaction and prompt service, you can trust towing Auckland services to handle your towing needs with professionalism and care.

In conclusion, motorway breakdown recovery and towing services in Auckland provide essential assistance to motorists in need. With their prompt response times, experienced technicians, and modern equipment, these services offer peace of mind to drivers facing unexpected roadside emergencies. Whether you're stranded on the motorway or in need of towing assistance, you can rely on these professional services to provide the help you need when you need it most.

[serviceerw]

Motorway Breakdown Assistance | 24 Hour Towing | Auto Towing

Motorway breakdown assistance - Are you looking for a reliable towing company in Manukau? Look no further than Autofix Towing! We are the leading private towing company that provides all kinds of towing services in Auckland. Whether you need your car, truck, van, trailer, or any other vehicle towed, we have got you covered. At Autofix Towing, we understand how important it is for our customers to get their vehicles safely and quickly from one place to another. That’s why we use only the latest equipment and technology when providing our services. Our team of experienced professionals will ensure that your vehicle is handled with care and transported safely without any damage or delays. If you ever find yourself needing a tow in the Manukau area then don't hesitate - to contact Autofix Towing today! We guarantee fast response times and quality service at competitive prices

[randombush3]

roadside romance

leila ouahabi x reader

summary: when leila’s car breaks down, you come to the rescue

words: 2037

notes: this is an ode to british weather and hot mechanics. i know nothing about cars but i learnt something while writing this!!!!

this was requested btw 🫡

It’s just fucking inconvenient. A closure on the motorway means that they have to take a detour down winding, country roads. And Leila has a sneaking suspicion that her car is going to stop functioning at any given minute now that the blinking, red light has become a permanent fixture on her dashboard.

Leila had looked at her friends apprehensively the minute the light had appeared, but Ona didn’t care and Laia was too wrapped up in posting their day trip to Blackpool on her Instagram to offer any worthwhile advice.

So, lacking expertise and a good enough grasp of English geography to find a nearby mechanic, Leila had carried on with their journey. It was only another hour to Manchester after all.

Which leads them to now, stranded on the side of the road. Laia and Leila stood outside of the car, while Ona spreads out as she naps in the backseat, none the wiser to the situation they have landed themselves in.

“Can’t you just fix it?” Laia asks her friend as they stare at the bonnet helplessly. “You seem like you know how to fix cars.”

Leila places an uncertain hand on the shiny metal, wondering if she even knows how to get the bonnet open. “That’s Mapi, not me. I have no idea what to do.”

They try to call someone, but there is no service and no pavement to walk down the road to see if elsewhere has a few more bars.

Frankly, it’s so unlucky that this has happened that Laia and Leila both have to hold in their laughter, not wanting the other to think they don’t understand how bad the situation actually is. Because, being stuck in a foreign country with no service and no knowledge about the inner-workings of a car is quite comical. It would be a great scene of a movie.

It’s Ona, when she returns to the land of the living, who comes up with a solution.

The defender gets out of the car, joining her friends as they sit on the grass verge adjacent to the road. “We’ve just got to wait here and look like three damsels in distress until someone drives past and helps us.” Though Leila knows she could probably think of something better if she really put her mind to it, she agrees to Ona’s plan, too lazy to do anything other than wallow in her misery. Now she’s going to have to take her car to the mechanic, and she hates doing things like that here because she has to drag Hempo with her to translate strong Mancunian accents into normal, more understandable English.

…

“Yeah, I’m coming. The motorway’s just chock-a-block and so I’ve taken a back route,” you tell your impatient sister, who is annoyed that you are late to her daughter’s birthday party. “Don’t be angry with me, be angry with the M6.” She chides you for your tardiness anyway, and you internally curse her for moving to Blackpool. It’s not like she’s a ballroom dancing fan or anything.

The countryside looks miserable when it’s just your car zipping down the empty roads, and it doesn’t help that the grey sky above makes you think it’s going to rain. While you have lived in Manchester your whole life and strive to not get bummed out by the weather, it makes you a little annoyed that the country can’t get its act together. You wish you had the power to teleport to Spain or something.

You pity anyone who is stuck outside as it begins to drizzle.

…

“Can we get in the car now?” Ona whines, completely going back on her plan after feeling the droplets of rain hit the top of her head. “I don’t want to get wet.”

“Please, Leila,” Laia adds. She hopes to sway her friend's adamance to stay where they can be seen, in case a helicopter flies over and lands in a nearby field to offer their aid (which seems more likely than someone driving past at this point).

“No, it’s only a bit of rain,” she tells her friends. A low rumble of thunder echoes in the fields. Ona and Laia raise their eyebrows. “Fine. You two be pathetic. I’ll stay here, doing the saving.”

“Our hero,” Laia replies sarcastically, chasing after Ona as she sprints to the car. “Have fun getting wet!”

It begins to chuck it down.

When a black Ford pulls up, a bit further up the road, coming from the direction they were heading in, and you get out, Leila finds that getting soaked has become worth it.

“Are you alright?” you shout to her, crossing the road and walking along the grass verge to get a better look at what is happening.

“My car is not working!” Leila shouts back.

You frown, approaching the brunette with concern. She has had to sit in the rain so that someone notices her. You’re a sympathetic person.

“Hi,” Leila says shyly as you help her up, wiping the water from her eyes so that she can see you properly.

“Hi.” You give her a once-over (solely for the purpose of checking she’s okay), and then turn to her car. “What’s wrong with it?” She squints at the sound of your strong accent, and you flush red, embarrassed. “What is wrong with your car?” you repeat with more clarity.

“I don’t know.”

“Was there a red light on the dash?” Leila’s vindication comes out in a muttered Spanish swear, before she nods and follows you down the verge to the road. “Can you pop the bonnet? I’ll give it a look.”

And, while you are doing that, Leila is giving you a look. Along with Ona and Laia.

“Es guapa,” an enviably dry Ona comments to her friends as Leila settles in the driver’s seat. You have instructed her to stay put for a moment while you puzzle at the state of her engine, wanting to know what is wrong before you explain it to the pretty woman you have found on the side of the road.

“Y lesbiana,” Laia points out as you tie your sopping hair up into a bun. Your t-shirt is so soaked that it is no longer of any use, so you pull it up over your head, getting to work in just your bra after wringing out enough water to fill a swimming pool. On your wrist is a bracelet from a Pride event you were dragged to by your friend the other day. You are secretly hoping Leila notices it. “Lei, dile tu nombre. Coquetea con ella.”

“Sí, pregúntale cuál es el problema.”

Leila scoffs, unimpressed with herself at how easily they have picked up on her attraction to you.

“Va. Es de Manchester, también.”

“Guapa, local, y lesbiana. Es perfecta.”

“No sé…” Leila starts, undecided as to whether she should let them convince her she has a chance or not.

Just when Laia and Ona are about to list more of your enticing physical qualities, you appear by the door, knocking on the window to tell her to open it.

“Good to see you’ve dried off a bit,” you joke, feeling as though you are so drenched that you will never be dry again. Leila blushes, but you are unsure whether it's because your joke is terrible or because her friends in the backseat have squashed together in the middle so that they can see what’s happening. You clear your throat. “So it’s a coolant leak. Took me a minute to realise half the water on the ground was actually your coolant and not the rain, but I figured it out eventually! The radiator’s hose clamps were damaged and, obviously, they’ve failed…”

But Leila isn’t listening to you telling her what is wrong with her car, because her friends are whispering in Spanish about how good you look topless. And she is inclined to agree with them.

It is only when you stop talking and the white noise of your ramble is no longer present that she realises what has happened, and she snaps out of staring at you. “Perdón, please could you repeat that?” It’s a phrase she has become very accustomed to, after all.

You laugh, and Leila likes the sound of it very much. “There was a leak, but I can fix it for you. If you’d like?”

“Yes!” Ona answers for her, making Leila practically jump out of her skin.

At Leila’s apparent hesitance, you remember you never introduced yourself to the three women in need of a car mechanic. It’s handy that that is exactly what you do for a living. “Fuck, sorry. I’m Y/n.” You hold out your hand for her to shake, and ignore the tingles where your skin meets hers. “I’ll need, like, an hour to do it, but I can. I’m a mechanic.”

“Es tan perfecta,” Laia giggles, poking Leila to remind her to tell you her name too.

“My name is Leila. I am not a mechanic, but can you… teach me?”

It’s an excuse to watch you fix her car.

You both know it.

“Yeah, sure. I have an umbrella in my car, and I’ll need to get my toolkit and stuff. I’ll bring it over, and then you won’t get wet.”

“I already am.”

You blush, though you know it’s probably not what she meant. All three of them speak with strong Spanish accents, reminding you of your grandmother.

…

It takes slightly longer than expected to sort out the clamps, but you don’t mind having an excuse to not go to a little kid’s birthday party. You love your niece, but the thought of thirty hyper five-year-olds running around and begging you to play with them makes you gulp. You’d rather arrive when the guests have left and your niece has crashed from her inevitable sugar-high.

Leila stands beside you as you work, holding the umbrella above both of your heads. You are too focused on your task to see her check you out every so often, but she has left the car door open so you can hear the eager encouragement from her friends. Ona even takes a picture because the scene is so hilarious.

“What does this do?” Leila quizzes as you finish up, pointing at the engine and enjoying the way you answer so effortlessly. “And this? And that?”

You wipe the sweat (and rain) from your brow, sighing as you step back to observe your work. For an impromptu fix-up on the side of the road, it’s not bad. She may need to bring her car into the garage to get it properly sorted once she gets to her destination.

“Could I borrow your phone?” you ask after catching her staring. It gives you a surge of confidence.

Confused, Leila nods, handing it over to you.

“Mi madre es de España.” All three Spanish women feel their mouths open in shock. And horror. And the realisation that you definitely heard everything they have been saying about you.

Leila feels like jogging to the nearest motorway and diving in front of a truck.

“I’ll give you my number and you can update me on the car? You’ll need to get someone to look over it more thoroughly.”

“Sí,” Leila breathes, hoping that you are signing yourself up for that job.

“I’m based in Manchester, so if that’s convenient, you could always bring it into my garage.”

“We live in Manchester too,” Laia helpfully shouts from inside the car. “And she will do that!”

“And… I could also text you a restaurant where you can ask me even more questions about car engines over dinner?” You grin at her, and she grins back.

“Sí, por favor.”

“It was nice to meet you, Leila,” you say slowly, pleased with yourself but dignified to hold in your cheering until your return to your own car.

“Igualmente,” Leila replies, handing you your t-shirt that you had previously discarded onto the floor. She’s still embarrassed that you understood what her friends said about you, but at least that means she now has a date.

Or two.

Or three.

It depends on how many more problems she can find with her car.

[sneakyparsnipslicer]

A Chance Encounter

[A request from @leathercanuck90, enjoy folks!]

Neil had been on the road for hours. Driving down the motorway returning home from work, the sky was blackened and the rain was chucking it down. It wasn't exactly his ideal weather to be driving in, in fact he was anxious each time a car sped by on another lane.

It had been a rough few months for Neil, work had needed him to stay on for overtime in the office, his wife had divorced him taking the kids with her, his luck was just about running out and sometimes he wished it was all over. But he kept telling himself it had to get better at some point.

Driving on, he checked a sign at the side of the road, about 5 miles to home, and a service station coming up. He considered it for a moment. He did need to piss from all the coffee he'd been drinking on his shift, wouldn't be a bad idea to stop and get something to eat either. He switched on his indicator and moved to the left-most lane, turning onto the road that led to a car park. Neil parked his car and undid his seatbelt, turning the engine off. He sighed and looked ahead. He could see the lights of the garage in the distance. He put on his raincoat and opened his door, being greeted to the cold, wet rain hammering down outside. He shut his car door, locking it and proceeded to hurry over to the building.

Getting inside he lowered his hood and dried his shoes on the mat. Looking around he could see a little cafe with a seating area, nearby toilets, not too many people around. It wasn't too bad, quite charming infact. Neil wanted to have a look at the cafe to see what was available, but then he remembered his bladder was full. He could get some food after.

Hurrying into the men's toilet, he ran over to the urinal closest to the door, unzipped his trousers and began to piss, sighing in relief. He hoped for a moment that nobody had heard him, but there seemed to be nobody else there. He shrugged and continued pissing. A few seconds later he heard footsteps and the door was slammed open. A sweaty-looking man dressed in motorbike leathers burst in panting, spooking Neil. The man looked to see Neil and composed himself, giving Neil a nod and walking over to the urinal next to him.

'Hey, sorry if I frightened you pal. I'm bursting! Bit of a bad night huh?' the man asked, unzipping his trousers and pulling his dick out.

'Oh yeah, it's awful!' said Neil, nervously chuckling. He eyed the man next to him, he seemed to be impressively built and he couldn't help noticing the size of his cock.

'Where you coming in from then?' the biker asked, looking to Neil, who he noticed was looking and began to chuckle. Neil looked to him and read the situation.

'Oh, oh no sorry!' stammered Neil.

'Hey it's alright. Hell, I've got nowhere to be if you've got time' said the biker, winking at him. Neil froze on the spot. Was this man offering himself to him.

'Umm, sorry Sir, I'm not about that life' said Neil, looking away and beginning to zip up his trousers.

'Aww come on buddy, it'd be just us, nobody has to know!' teased the biker, leaning towards him, knocking him playfully on the shoulder. Neil thought about it. It wasn't like he was married anymore, life had been pretty shit lately but this absolute leather stud of a man was offering something he knew he'd always been curious about.

'C'moooon!' whined the biker. Neil looked to the ceiling, shaking his head.

'Fine, why not?' said Neil, flapping his arms in surrender.

'Oh hell yeah!' cried the biker, zipping up his flyers and getting a good look at Neil.

'So, uh. How would we go about this?' asked Neil. The biker approached him, sizing him up.

'Well first' began the biker, lifting Neil up by his armpits and slamming him into the wall, pinning him close to it, giving his neck a good, deep sniff.

'Oh, my…' said Neil in surprise, not expecting such force.

'Mmmm, you smell so good' said the biker seductively, kissing Neil's neck. Neil could feel himself hardening in his pants.

'It's Imperial Leather' Neil chuckled, the biker thrusted his pelvis into Neil causing him to moan out.

'Oh you like leather huh? Guess it's your lucky night!' said the biker smiling, looking at Neil's lips. He moved in and kissed Neil passionately, pushing him even more into the wall.

'God I want to be inside you!' the biker growled, moving his hands to feel Neil's slim frame. Neil thought about it, he'd never actually been fucked in the ass before.

'Does it hurt?' asked Neil absent-mindedly, to which the biker pulled back and looked at him confused.

'I mean does it hurt when a guy's entering your backside? I've always wondered' said Neil. The biker began laughing.

'Oh Honey! You're new to all this huh?' he asked, kissing Neil gently.

'Well I mean this is the first time I've had the chance to have sex with a man' Neil explained. The biker nodded in understanding.

'I see, well from my experience it doesn't. You'll love what I'm gonna do to you. You're a bit of a tight squeeze, but I can work with that' the biker said, reaching around to caress Neil's ass.

'Oh, I see. Well then, should we go somewhere so nobody finds us?' asked Neil. The biker shook his head and turned Neil to face the wall, pinning him to it again.

'Nah, this shouldn't take long' said the biker, massaging Neil's ass, crouching down to undo Neil's belt and pull his trousers and pants down. Neil placed his hands on the wall and looked down as he saw his own dick spring free of it's confines. The biker proceeded to plunge his tongue into Neil's ass hole, making him yelp out in surprise. He could feel it tickling the sides as it explored, lubricating it. It felt amazing. Neil looked to the ceiling, breathing heavily, moaning and panting.

'Alright buddy, going in!' said the biker as he unzipped his own leather trousers and dropped them to his ankles, pulling down his own boxers and placing his dick between Neil's ass cheeks. He started out slow as it slid into the untouched territory. Neil began moaning, slapping his right hand on the wall. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced and he was loving it. The biker began grunting as he began to fuck his way in gradually deeper and deeper. Eventually his whole dick was inside Neil's ass.

'Now here's where the magic happens Baby' whispered the biker, and he placed his hands on Neil's shoulders, which to Neil's astonishment began to sink through his shirt's fabric and merge with his shoulders. He was lost for words, he could only watch as the biker's arms proceeded to slip into his own, taking control of them and giving ownership to the biker. The arms began to feel Neil's body.

'Feels good don't it?' asked the biker. Neil nodded, gasping from the warm, orgasmic sensation he was feeling. The biker rested his chin on Neil's right shoulder and placed the hands against the wall, pressing his chest against Neil's back.

The biker began to move his feet into Neil's legs, starting with his right one, letting it sink in, and then the left one. Neil was beginning to lose all feeling as this new sensation of the biker invading his body overtook him. All responsibilities, all the shit going on in life just didn't matter to him anymore. It was all about this biker now.

The biker began gyrating his hips, sinking further into Neil's body, merging with his ass, back and chest. Then he pushed Neil's head against the wall as he proceeded to merge his head with Neil's. Eventually the biker was fully inside Neil's body and grabbed his new dick, pumping several loads of cum out, alongside all of Neil's memories, anxiety and sorrows. He stood there a new man with a mix of Neil's clothes and the biker's leathers. He began to chuckle.

'Well, Mr. Neil that was glorious, but I think I'm gonna go by Larry now' said the man, removing his clothing. He felt everything, his new ass, his dick, he checked himself out in the mirror. A lot of Neil's face had been kept.

'Oh Honey we're looking cute as fuck now!' Larry chuckled, flexing and admiring his own muscles. He put on the biker's leathers, leaving Neil's clothes behind and walked out of the toilets, he took a nose ring out of his pocket and clipped it on and headed back to the car park. It was still raining outside, but that wasn't a problem. He sauntered over to his motorbike and began to rev the engine.

'Mmmm, yeah. Hear that baby purr!' whispered Larry. Putting on his helmet and speeding off into the night.

[loki-zen]

seriously who goes to these

someone alluded to diners being an american thing lately and it blew my mind. do you guys not have diners. diners are so good. god i love diners. pancake.

[youssefguedira]

i dont know when ill get around to writing the larger fic this is part of but you know brain worms have this

Nicky offers to pick him up at the airport like it’s nothing, like it hasn’t been almost ten years since they saw each other, because he knows Joe hates planes and won’t want to try and navigate the two trains and two buses it’ll take to actually reach their hometown after the flight. And Joe doesn’t even try to protest, just texts him Thank you before he gets on the plane and then tries not to think about it for the entire flight. He fails.

When he arrives he’s exhausted, because it never really gets easier no matter how many times he does it. Moves through the airport like a zombie, operating mostly on muscle memory. He hasn’t been here in a long time. Still knows it well enough to navigate without really thinking about it. 

His suitcase is one of the last to come through on the carousel, but it does come through, and then he’s walking to arrivals with his heart in his throat. 

Nicky’s hanging back from the crowd, hands in his pockets. His hair is a little longer now, and at some point in the last decade he’s gotten his ears pierced, which Joe didn’t know. He’s wearing a dark green sweater and blue jeans. When he catches sight of Joe he smiles, small and restrained, straightens slightly.

“Hey,” he says as Joe gets closer, voice soft.

Joe has to swallow. “Hey,” he says hoarsely.

And he doesn’t even need to say anything else, because Nicky pulls him into a hug before Joe even has to ask, and Joe buries his face in Nicky’s neck and tries to breathe around the sob catching in his throat. One of Nicky’s hands comes up to cup the back of Joe’s neck, his thumb moving back and forth gently, and Joe is fragile enough that that gesture alone almost undoes him. 

Nicky pulls back first. Smiles at Joe. “You look good,” he says.

Joe has to swallow before he trusts himself to speak. “You too.” 

They linger just a moment longer, Nicky’s hand still on the back of Joe’s neck. Ten years ago, Joe would’ve kissed him; now there’s a gap neither of them quite know how to fill.

Finally, Nicky steps back fully, and Joe feels the loss of contact sharply. “We should go,” Nicky says. Joe nods, and follows him out of the terminal.

The car Nicky heads for is the same battered old thing he’s been driving since he got his licence. Joe wonders to himself how the car is even still going, and the look Nicky gives him tells him he knows exactly what Joe’s thinking.

It does something funny to Joe’s heart. He looks away, and gets in the car. 

“I brought you something to eat,” Nicky says before he starts the car, reaching for the bag by Joe’s feet. 

“You didn’t have to–” Joe begins, but Nicky cuts him off with a knowing almost-smile. 

“You hate plane food,” Nicky says, “and it’s almost two, and the other option would be whatever we can find on the way. I thought you might prefer this to service station food.”

It makes Joe want to cry a little. “Nicky,” he says, and can’t manage anything else. 

Nicky seems to understand. He pulls out what he had been looking for - a silver thermos, and a fork - and hands it to Joe. The contents are still warm when Joe opens it: pasta, warm and comforting. 

“Good?” Nicky asks, watching him.

Joe nods. “Good.”

“Okay.” Nicky looks at him for a beat longer, then turns away and starts the car. 

There’s a moment of delay before the CD player starts up, but when it does, Joe knows it from the opening note: he bought Nicky this CD from a thrift store the summer before he left for university, when they’d taken off for two weeks, just them and the car and the road. And there’s no chance that Nicky’s kept it in his car for ten years, but as they leave the airport and turn onto the motorway it makes it feel like they’ve done this a thousand times before, even though Nicky never picked him up from the airport when he came home, only met him at the station once or twice.

Joe finishes the pasta and tucks the thermos back in the bag. “Thank you,” he says, and it comes out a lot quieter than he means it to. 

Nicky glances at him. “We’re still a few hours away, if you want to try and sleep. I will wake you when we’re almost there.”

Joe might protest under other circumstances, but the flight was long, and he doesn’t sleep well on planes anyway. So he takes off his scarf and folds it into a makeshift pillow before leaning back and closing his eyes. Nicky drums his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat, hums along with the tune, and Joe lets the sound of his voice and the tapping of the rain on the window wrap around him like a blanket, carrying him off to sleep.

----------

Joe wakes to Nicky shaking his shoulder gently. “We’ll be there soon,” he’s saying. The rain has stopped; the radio is on, now, chattering in the way in the background. They’ve left the motorway behind for a much narrower road. Joe has to blink a few times before he catches sight of a sign and realises what Nicky means. 

He sits up. The position he’d been sleeping in hadn’t been great for his back or his neck, and he’ll probably regret it soon, but he’d slept a lot better than he might’ve expected. 

Being back always makes the rest of his life feel like a dream, like he’d never left at all. When the sign for their town passes Joe sits up, panic coiling in his stomach. He’s had days to prepare himself and still isn’t ready.

“Wait,” he says when they turn a corner two streets away from Joe’s parents’ house, “Nicky. Wait.”

“What?” Nicky asks. He doesn’t stop, but he does slow down.

“I can’t– I can’t do this.”

Now Nicky does stop, pulling into a lay-by. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, I just. Not yet. I need time.”

Nicky looks at him for a long moment. “When are they expecting you?”

“I didn’t give an exact time. Just sometime this afternoon.” He’d told his sister Nicky was coming to get him over the phone; she hadn’t said anything, but the silence had been enough. 

Nicky doesn’t say anything, but he’s got the look on his face that means he’s thinking.

“I’ll be okay by myself,” Joe says then. “If you need to work.”

Nicky shakes his head. “I have today off.” And then, before Joe can really think about that, he turns the car around and heads back the way they came. This time, he recognises the path Nicky’s taking almost immediately, turning away from the area Joe’s parents live in and towards the outskirts of town, where it starts to become mostly farmland.

“I can park the car by my uncle’s house,” Nicky says, glancing at Joe. “Then we can go from there.”

Joe doesn’t need to ask where; they’ve walked the same route so many times he could probably do it in his sleep. 

The sheep are out in the fields by Nicky’s uncle’s house, but he doesn’t see any of the lambs yet, though they must be coming soon. Nicky’s uncle let Joe try and help with lambing once, up until the point where Joe saw what exactly that entailed, and immediately lost his nerve. But he’d still let him help Nicky feed them every year.

There’s a little paved yard outside the farmhouse, where Nicky parks the car before grabbing the bag that had been by Joe’s feet. “I’m going to drop these off,” Nicky says. “You can come in, if you want?”

Nicky’s aunt and uncle have always been kind to Joe, but they will inevitably ask about his father, and Joe cannot quite bring himself to talk about that, not yet. 

“I’ll wait,” Joe says. 

It’s a few minutes before Nicky reappears, this time without the bag, but carrying a different thermos. He smiles apologetically as he jogs over. “I didn’t mean to make you wait long,” Nicky says. “But you know how they are.”

All Joe can do is nod. Nicky sets off down the path towards the woods that border the farm and Joe falls into step beside him. They don’t talk much on the way there, but they don’t need to: the silence is comfortable enough.

It’ll be spring soon. It’s cold but not cold enough to be uncomfortable, and the snowdrops are in full bloom, bright shards of white in the grass. The rain has stopped, but the smell of it still hangs in the air. They must’ve spent hours walking this path, enough that Joe doesn’t really need to look to know exactly where Nicky’s going.

This part of the river is just secluded enough that he can’t hear cars passing by anymore. The bench by the path is still there, though at some point they’ve built a shelter over it, which probably leaks but has kept it dry even after the rain. Nicky makes for it immediately. 

If he looked at the back of the third slat from the left he’d find their names carved into the wood, side by side. Joe very deliberately doesn’t look. 

Nicky sits down. Nods to the space beside him. When Joe joins him, he holds out the thermos.

“Tea,” Nicky says. “If you want.”

How many times have they done exactly this, over the years? In summer, they’d wade into the river; in winter, Joe always wanted to try skating on it, but the ice was never quite thick enough. Every time Nicky got into a fight with his father, every time Joe couldn’t bear to be in the house one second longer, they’d come here. 

Joe gives into memory and rests his head on Nicky’s shoulder. Nicky brings one arm up to hold him close, hand on Joe’s upper arm.

Joe closes his eyes, listens to the birds, listens to Nicky’s breathing. 

Nicky says, “When is the funeral?”

“Thursday,” Joe says. He doesn’t want to think about this, doesn’t want to think about the last conversation he had with his father, doesn’t want to imagine walking into his parents’ house and finding him gone. Of all people, Nicky will understand. It’s what brought them together when they were younger: being the only two students in their class who spoke English as a second language, and difficult fathers.

Silence falls between them, and Nicky doesn’t let him go, and Joe’s missed him, more than he really knew. He’d tried to stay in touch, and they had, for the most part, but it’s not the same as having Nicky beside him again.

Joe doesn’t think there’s anyone in this world who knows him the way Nicky does.

He doesn’t know why he says it, but they haven’t talked about it, and it feels like something they should, if only so Joe can lay this all to rest. 

Joe opens his eyes. “You, uh. You seeing anyone?”

Nicky doesn’t pull away, but Joe feels the way he goes still, tense. Slowly, softly, he says, “I don’t think this is the right time, Joe.”

“Is there ever a right time?” Joe asks, half-joking. 

Nicky doesn’t laugh. 

Joe clears his throat. “I’m not. So.”

Nicky exhales slowly, like he’s steadying himself. His thumb moves back and forth, back and forth where it’s resting on Joe’s arm, catching on the fabric of his coat. “Me neither.”

Joe’s not sure if that’s better or worse than if Nicky had said he’d found someone. If he had, perhaps Joe could put to rest the little part of him that will always be in love with Nicky. Not get rid of it entirely, but fold it away in a little corner of his heart and leave it there. This, though – this is possibility he doesn’t know what to do with.

“How long are you here?” Nicky asks quietly, moving his hand up to run his fingers through Joe’s hair, like he used to whenever Joe needed something to keep him grounded.

“I got two weeks off work,” Joe says. “After that I don’t know.”

Two weeks feels monumentally long and yet vanishingly short at the same time. And after?

They don’t talk about much after that. Small talk, more than anything else: Nicky’s still living in the same apartment, still working the same job, but Joe knows he loves it from the tone of his voice when he talks about the shelves he built for his most recent client, how he’s starting to make more of his own stuff, how his boss has been talking about retiring and leaving the whole business to Nicky. Joe could listen to him talk about it for hours. Maybe he does. 

It settles the frantic thing that had woken in his chest when they crossed the town line, and eventually, Joe says, “I think I’m ready.”

Nicky turns his head inwards and kisses the top of Joe’s head. Lingers there for a moment. It isn’t anything; it doesn’t have to be anything. 

“Okay,” Nicky says. “Okay.”

The walk back to the farm is largely silent, just as the walk there had been, passing the thermos of tea back and forth between them. They get back in the car, and Nicky drives them back to Joe’s parents’ house. 

Nicky pulls up on the curb outside the house. “Call me, if you need anything. Or just– call me.”

“I will,” Joe promises. He has two weeks; he’s not going to waste them. They haven’t been in the same timezone in a long, long time.

Nicky smiles, small and hopeful, and there’s nothing really to say, after that. 

Joe gets out of the car, and prepares to face his family.