Two weeks after their first date, Vince is pushing a cart and following Ash through what might be one of his least favorite stores ever - Bed, Bath & Beyond. He's fine with doing domestic stuff, but the sheer volume of things, most of which he's utterly uninterested in, is threatening to drive him insane after less than 5 minutes.
"Do you want new dishes and silverware and stuff? Towels? Sheets?" she's questioning as they move slowly through a maze of window dressings, looking for whatever she'd decided on after he'd told her to pick what would look good for each room in his house. He'd picked everything for the remodel with only minimal input from her, but is lost on what to do in terms of decorating and shit like that.
Sighing and resigning himself to spending awhile here, he answers, "Probably. I think Gran bought all the kitchen stuff in like the 70s, and the towels probably aren't too much newer." He's beyond accustomed to the faded yellowish flower pattern on greying ceramic dishes, but, thinking about it, they could definitely do with some updating, since most of the rest of the house has been. He's even planning on updating the kitchen next, though not doing a full remodel. New cabinet doors, appliances, maybe countertops, probably paint.
"Alright. We'll get you new sets, and, if you want, I can help you go through all the pans and stuff. If any of it's cast iron, it's worth keeping. It only gets better with age." Ash tells him idly and she stops in front of a rack and starts finding the particular size of whatever she's after.
"Could use new knives, too." he says just as idly, thinking about how often he's had to pull out the knife sharpener since moving home.
She makes a noise of acknowledgement, pulling out several packs containing, apparently, curtains, before tossing them in the cart and moving the conversation - and their progress through the labyrinthine section - along. "Do you know what size beds you want for upstairs?"
This is only their first stop for the day, the furniture stores all being further away. All he'd gotten besides the entertainment center, tv, gaming console, and sound systems is a bean bag chair to have something to sit on in the living room until he gets couches. And before you think it, no, he's not a total dudebro who's planning on keeping it there. It's going down in the basement den once he has real furniture.
"Uh… whatever size I have downstairs for my room. Don't think anything much bigger would fit very well." Sizes of beds has never been a thing he's had to worry or learn about, all of that having previously been just taken care of for him, first by Gran, then Mia when he'd moved into the Fort. "Was thinking I'd put some gym stuff in the spare room, or turn it into my music space and put gym stuff downstairs, or something." He's undecided. He doesn't have a lot of call for needing an extra bedroom, much less 2 including the one down in the basement. But the upstairs gets fucking hot most days for at least half the year, and hanging out or working out up there would be miserable, so Vince doesn't really know what to do with it.
"Well, heated workouts are suppose to be more effective," Ash muses as she stops at a shelf and start rifling, pulling several boxes out. "Or you could just work out first thing in the morning, or in the evening after it's cooled off. But you could want to sit down and play anytime, and that would be fucking miserable in a room that's like 100 degrees at 2pm."
Her next turn takes them, blessedly, out of the narrow aisles of mixed racks, shelves, and hanging displays and back into the wide walkway going around between each section. Vince's relief is short-lived as they go straight across it to a different area filled with more shelves, massive wire bins full of pillows, and displays of cross-sections of said pillows of different varieties. He doesn't know why he's surprised when she picks out a few different options of pillows, ultimately stuffing 8 into the space under the cart but over the wheel base, then tossing 4 sets of sheets into the cart. These, he at least gets to see the colors of. Or, lack of colors. They're all white.
The next stop is still in the bedroom section, and things in the cart get rearranged to make room for 2 thick, rectangular plastic bags that both proclaim "Light Weight - Perfect For Summer!" and he assumes it's comforters. This fabric also looks white, and he's wondering what's up with that but doesn't ask, instead just trusting her. It's not like he hates it, but he'd've probably gone with black if he was choosing.
Their journey through the bathroom section is surprisingly quick, with Ash just running her hands over different towels until she finds a variety that suits whatever criteria she's looking for, then she grabs a stack of 6 each of bath towels, hand towels, and washcloths. She's sticking with the white theme. Then there's a shelf stacked with what Vince thinks is those small rugs for outside the tub, and 2 join the approaching-full cart.
Pursing her lips as she looks over everything so far, Ash asks, "I know you want to get everything in as few trips as possible. Do you want me to get another cart for kitchen and miscellaneous stuff, or come back another day? We're almost done with the bathroom, but no way are we fitting dishes, pans, and all the other kitchen stuff in here."
The trip has been less painful than he expected, so he tells her, "We'll just come back for all that. Probably have a better idea what I need after we go through it all, anyway." Ash looks a little relieved as she nods and moves him to yet another section, getting things he wouldn't have even thought about - toothbrush holder, soap dishes, a tension-rod shelving thing for the corner of the bathtub/shower, and a few other things. Another 15 minutes, and they're wheeling the cart out to his Chevelle in the lot and loading the massive bags into the trunk and back seat. It all barely fits.
Ash quizzes him surprisingly subtly about what furniture he likes/wants on the way to the nearest of the stores on their list as potential stops for the rest of the day.
Thankfully, she's just as efficient in these stores as she'd been in the first, and it takes them 3 stops to find a bedroom set for his room, a futon and a couple tables for the spare room, mattresses for both, and a couch/chair set, tables, and some shelves for the living room. He's pleased with all the options she presents for him to choose from, and he's extra glad he'd asked for her help. She knows him well enough by now not to get anything girly or high-maintenance, and he probably would've gotten frustrated after the first store and picked the first thing that he didn't hate, and ended up not really liking any of it.
After her initial inquiry about his budget had been answered with, "Don't worry about price, I just wanna like it and have it look good.", she'd raised a brow but not questioned him further, and pointed at the first couch set that she wanted him to sit and see if he likes the comfort level.
Vince doesn't know what he's going to say if she ever does question him throwing around money like it's nothing. And she's bound to, eventually, especially if things continue between them romantically.
In the last 2 weeks, they've been out on 5 more dates in addition to their Sunday jam sessions, and he's only liking her more and more with each one. The low-key happiness he'd noticed about her early on, tinged with nervous excitement as he insists on surprising her, is incredibly endearing. He's also discovering a side of her that he has mentally labelled as 'moderately girly'.
Before, she'd always been bare-faced, or very near it, in simple clothes, hair pulled back. When he takes her out, it's suddenly dresses, and heels, and something done with her hair, and a bit of makeup on. Not a ton. Nowhere near even what Letty would put on to go out for the night or go to races. But enough that he notices and appreciates the effort, even if he thinks she's pretty without it. And perfume. Fuck. The perfume. He's never really noticed women's perfume before (unless it was absolutely horrible), but, for some reason, he can't get enough of how she smells as he holds her to him, dancing, or for a cuddle or kiss goodnight.
They've yet to make it further than some making out when she's over on Sundays, or for a few minutes in his car when he drops her off at home after they go out..
He doesn't know what he's waiting for, exactly, but there's just some part of his brain saying not to jump in too deep too fast.
"Fuck, I can't wait to be done with this," Vince mumbles as they truck the second (final) load of bags upstairs. All the furniture is due to be delivered over the following week, and he sets down his haul and watches as Ash starts sorting through them.
"Well, we've got at least one more day of shopping once all the furniture is here. Still need lamps, all the kitchen stuff, and to figure out what you want to do about actual decoration. I know there was family photos up before, did you want to rehang them? Get some art? Mix of both?" she questions as she removes sheets and curtains from their packaging, and tears tags from all the bathroom linens, splitting them up what he thinks is arbitrarily between 2 now-empty shopping bags, but maybe there's some sense to it that he just doesn't see. "And I forgot laundry baskets. You'll need at least one."
"Uh, probably at least some of the photos. Not sure what else." he answers the question, still a very clueless dude on the subject of interior decorating. "You've done a pretty good job knowing what I like so far, was kinda hoping to get your help all the way through."
She smiles up at him as she drops the last piece of cloth into a bag. "Sure. Might take awhile. We'll start with new frames for the pictures and work from there." Motioning to the bags, she goes on, "Each bag should be about one load, but one of them has green curtains at the bottom. Wash those separately. Don't need the color bleeding all over the white."
As she picks up all the other bathroom stuff and heads out to the hall, then into the bathroom that's between the bedrooms, he knows that had been a very nice order to take the bags down to the basement and start a load, so he does.
They meet in the kitchen several minutes later as he's on his way back up, and his hands go to her hips as she leans up to give him a kiss. When she drops back to flat-feet, he realizes he's smiling down at her.
"I don't feel like thinking about food. Wanna order something for delivery?" she suggests after a moment, her hands threading up behind his neck.
"Sure." he agrees easily. While she'd made it pretty damn easy on him, the long day of shopping had still been tiring, if only for all the time and walking and decisions. "Want anything in particular? We got at least one of most things that'll deliver here."
Thinking for a moment, she says, "I could murder some satay and phad thai." in a slightly dreamy, but emphatic tone, and Vince chuckles at her enthusiasm.
"Chicken?" he asks, releasing her and moving to where his small collection of takeout menus is tacked up by the kitchen phone.
"Pork, please. 3 stars. And whatever fried spring rolls they have."
After dinner, he asks if she wants to stay for a movie, and she agrees. Since there's just the one beanbag chair them to share, she ends up in his lap, and they spend more time making out than watching the movie.
At one point, she pulls back running the hand that's caressing the side of his neck up to his scruffy jawline as she quietly asks, "Am I staying tonight?"
Vince lets out a slight groan and drops his forehead to rest on hers. Closing his eyes for a moment and taking a couple deep breaths to get some control back, he then opens them back up to meet hers. "Much as I want you to, you should probably head home." His tone is disappointed, even as his hands continue to slowly run over the skin on her back where they'd found their way up her shirt.
Ash lets out a resigned sigh, but her eyes are understanding. "Keep this up much longer, and I'm going to start asking if you even want me."
Shifting hips up into her thighs and ass, he knows she can feel he's hard through both their jeans, and he grinds out, "That feel like I don't want you?" Not waiting for her to answer, he continues, "Just… doesn't feel right yet."
It's not a good explanation, but it's all he's got. And it's honest.
She smiles a little wider. "At least you aren't humping and dumping me, I guess. Frustrated as I get sometimes, it's nice to know you aren't just out for sex."
"Well, if we'd met a couple years ago, I can't guarantee I wouldn't'a done that." he tells her honestly.
Ash shrugs lightly. "A couple years ago, I probably would've been fine with it. People change." she tells him simply. "It's called growing up." With this, she leans in to kiss him again.
He gives it a few more minutes before regretfully pulling back. "Don't you have to be up early for that shift you're picking up tomorrow?"
"Yeah." she sighs out, then turns to climb off of him. She'd picked up a shift for a breakfast/lunch tomorrow, covering for a friend. "I don't know how wiped I'm gonna be tomorrow afternoon. Jam on Tuesday instead?" she asks, making sure she has her wallet and phone, which had been discarded on the floor when they realized that she would have to be in his lap.
"Sure." Vince agrees easily, heaving himself up to walk her out, snagging a final, slow kiss before she turns to go down the steps and head to her Camaro.
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"I don't know if I can move. You'll have to roll me up the stairs." Vince groans out, leaning back in his chair and rubbing both hands over his stomach.
Ash giggles as she swirls the last of the wine in her glass before swallowing it down.
She'd shown up early Saturday afternoon for some planned hanging out with bags of groceries, declaring it's her turn to cook dinner, since he usually does it. They'd proceeded to spend a couple hours in the kitchen, her refusing to let Vince help and him insisting on keeping her company while she cooked. The whole time, they'd talked, mostly trading family stories.
The stuffed cabbage rolls - which she'd called something that he couldn't hope to pronounce without a tutorial - are apparently her grandmother's recipe, as are the cheese-and-bacon pasta dish, the thick, creamy vegetable stew, and the rolled pastry with cherries inside that she says will be desert. As she cooked, she told him about learning how to make all of it at her grandma's elbow as soon as she could see over the counter, and learning the Irish equivalents with her other grandma. Vince had responded in kind, telling stories of his Gran guilting him into helping her cook when he was a teenager so he'd know how.
The food was filling, and he'd absolutely stuffed himself with it because it was delicious as well. He'd even liked the wine she'd cracked open, most of the label looking like gibberish to him.
Ash had apparently found a wine store somewhere out in the Valley a couple years ago that will import just about anything as long as it's legal and there's someone willing to pay for it, so she'd initially had them order her several bottles straight from another wine-seller in Budapest. They'd gotten a couple cases, due to it being more cost efficient, and it had ended up selling well enough that they now keep it as regular stock and she goes out to get a few bottles every couple months, and has them ship some home to her grandparents a couple times a year.
Not a wine drinker in general, Vince is impressed by how much he ends up liking it, especially with the food. He probably won't be popping a bottle just to have some, but he might try ordering it instead of beer when they go out, depending on where they're eating.
"So, I guess you won't mind me leaving the leftovers?" Ash asks teasingly.
"Not at all," is his immediate reply. "Can't let you cook too often, though. I'll weigh 300 pounds in a couple months."
Her only response is to laugh again as they get up - Vince moving noticeably slower than usual - and start cleaning up. The one thing she'd allowed him to do was wash dishes as she was done with them, so there's only a few pans and what they'd actually eaten on left to do. Vince gets half of the new split sink filling with water while Ash pulls out saran wrap and starts stretching it over the dishes the remaining food is in and packing it into the fridge, and begins wiping down the stove, counters and table.
After awhile, they're relaxed on the couch, some sitcom on the tv that they only halfass pay attention to as they chat about whatever comes up.
Vince is reclined with the footrest at that end of the couch up, and Ash is laying across his lap, head on the arm of the chair. He plays with her hair idly, eventually realizing she's been quiet for awhile and looking down to find she'd dozed off.
When he starts to get drowsy himself, he clicks the tv off with the remote and tries to put the footrest down without waking her. He fails.
"Hmmm." is the sleepy noise she makes as she shifts to stretch a bit, eyes blinking open. "Wha' time izzit?" she asks after a moment.
"Not too late, but I'm not letting you drive home nearly asleep after half a bottle of wine." Vince tells her as she sits up and he moves to stand.
"'Kay." is her unquestioning acceptance, and she stands while he locks the front door. Knowing he'd locked the back when he took the garbage out after dinner, he then ushers her up the stairs as he turns the living room lights off.
As if she's done it a million times, Ash heads straight into his room and strips off her jean shorts at the end of his bed, then reaches under her shirt to unhook and pull off her bra, which she drops on her shorts. Vince swallows hard where he's standing just inside his bedroom door, debating if he should take the futon in the other room.
"Stop dawdling and come snuggle me." she demands as she climbs in the far side of his bed, on the opposite side from the alarm clock and his cell phone charging cord that's visible on the night stand.
Well, he can hardly say no to that.
Stepping into the room, he strips off his own jeans and his tee shirt, tossing them in the general vicinity of his hamper, and hits the light switch before moving to get in on his usual side of the bed.
Other than that weekend she'd helped him paint, this is the first time she's stayed over. They've been dating about 6 weeks, and he's having a harder and harder time making himself stop every time they end up making out. He's managed, though, not letting things get much further than some very heavy petting.
Ash in his bed, settling almost bonelessly into his side, is a thing he could get used to. Easily.
Hell, considering she'd basically picked it out - from the frame and mattress to the very soft snowy-white sheets and matching comforter, to the pillows - it may as well be her bed, too. For intents and purposes. Yes, he'd had the final decision, but she's the one that had presented him with options, and many were very similar.
Despite having never seen her room, he still thinks the simple and high-quality things she'd picked are probably her style, too.
Once he'd gotten all his furniture in and she'd come over to hang the curtains, he'd even managed to understand without an explanation why she'd picked what she did.
Both bedrooms and the small window in the bathroom had all gotten simple white fabric, the bedrooms additionally getting a tie-thingy attached to hooks at the side of the windows to hold them open if he wants, and it looks good with all the paint colors. Since he'd also stayed with medium or dark stained wood for the furniture, white linens had lightened the rooms up. Especially his room.
The darker shade of green, plus the darkish furniture, plus the black sheets and blankets he almost assuredly would've picked out would've made it feel like the cave all the little old ladies had warned him about.
But thinking about all that is just him trying to distract himself at this point.
Ash's head is on his shoulder, and he can feel what seems like every curve as she curls around him, hand on his opposite hip while one leg is between his. He's pretty sure she's already asleep again - he slightly envies that she seems to fall asleep so easily - but he's suddenly a lot less tired than he'd been down in the living room.
Settling for fiddling with the ends of her hair, Vince keeps his mind away from the idea of waking her up and stripping off the rest of their clothes, instead thinking about the things he wants to get done tomorrow until he eventually drifts off.
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He doesn't realize he's awake at first the next morning.
Ash is still pressed up against him, but, instead of being asleep, she's sucking and nibbling at a sensitive spot near the bottom of his neck that she'd discovered at some point. Additionally, her hand is down his boxers, very softly moving over him, and it's not until he hears himself moaning that he realizes this isn't another in the long series of dirty dreams he's been having about her for months at this point.
"You tryin' to drive me insane?" he eventually grumbles out sleepily as he moves the arm that's around her shoulders down to squeeze one ass cheek.
Feeling a chuckle against his neck, she increases the pressure of her hand, making his breath hitch for a moment. She pulls her head back just enough to reply, "Just because we're waiting to have sex doesn't mean we can't do other stuff." before going back to her previous activity.
Vince doesn't argue that point, instead bringing his free hand over to work her tank top further up than it had already ridden before grabbing one of her tits. He's going to have one hell of a hickey for awhile.
Several minutes later, he's ignoring the mess in his boxers as he shifts them so Ash is the one on her back and him on his side, slipping his own hand into her panties to return the favor.
She's quick and confident in directing him how she likes things, and is soon letting out moans of her own.
He ends up giving her the first shower, and by the time he's done with his, he gets dressed and finds her downstairs in the kitchen, bacon sizzling in Gran's old cast iron skillet while she pours pancake batter into one of the nonstick ones from the set she'd ended up picking out for him once the kitchen had been cleaned out a couple weeks previously.
Stopping right behind her, Vince wraps his arms around her waist and leans his head down to kiss behind her ear for a second before asking, "Whatcha got goin' on today?"
"Not much," is the answer, and he can hear her smiling as she talks. "Couple things I need to do at home, but they can wait."
"Wanna jam after breakfast so you can get home and take care of stuff?" he suggests easily.
Lifting the edge of one of the pancakes slightly to check of it's ready to flip, she agrees, then tells him to set the table.
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Dom looks curiously at the front porch of his best friend's house as he approaches the front door, examining the changes. The white paint on the house looks fresh, and the old swing looks like it got sanded and stained, too, along with the railing. There's new-looking cushions on the swing, and a handful of flower pots that had sat empty since Mrs. Connelly died now have some kind of cactus or other plant in each?
Dom knows Vince has been sprucing the place up. The process had been in the early stages last time he was here, just after him and Letty came back. But potted plants and cushions? It just doesn't scream 'Vince'.
As he opens the screen door - which no longer has the slight squeak that had been there for years - and tries the handle, he's surprised to find the front door locked.
Turning, he confirms that Vince's Chevelle is parked in the driveway and he wasn't imagining things even as he pushes on the mailbox next to the door slightly, revealing the little nook that's sanded into the siding that has contained the spare key since forever. After unlocking it, he replaces the key and puts the metal box back in position before going in.
Inside, he has to stop and look at a nearby hanging photo to confirm he's in the right house. Obviously, he'd known about some of the changes, having seen the fresh paint and floors, and the partially-built entertainment center at the time. But holy fuck.
Closing the door behind him, he looks around in shock.
Interspersed with the old family photos on the walls are framed prints of classic cars. There's green curtains at the sides of the windows, and partially-see-through thin white ones covering them to let in light but maintain privacy. The light is probably for the plants he sees dotted around on little tables and shelves and the top of the entertainment center - is Vince turning into a gardener or some shit?
The brown suede couch and 2 matching chairs look comfy as fuck though. There's even a blanket thrown over the back of the couch and a few of those little pillows on the furniture.
He hears the sounds of guitar coming from the general direction of the back and knows Vince is down in the basement, so he wanders that way, also taking in the new-looking kitchen on his way. The only thing he recognizes in there is the same old 4-seater table and matching chairs.
As he quietly starts down the steps, he realizes Vince has company, as evidenced by the female voice he can vaguely hear over the strumming guitar.
Or, guitarS, as he sees once he catches sight of the couch in the den. Both of them are holding one.
He only has a moment for a cursory glance at her before she catches sight of him, abruptly stopping playing, making Vince do the same and follow her gaze. He looks annoyed but hides it quickly. Dom would be offended, but things with them ain't exactly copacetic lately, and, even if they were, Vince has never been a fan of getting interrupted when he has a girl around. Understandably.
"Hey, bro." Vince greets as Dom wanders closer, aiming for the empty chair off to the side. "What's up?"
"Not much. Thought I'd stop by an' see what you're doin' this afternoon. See if you wanna hang out. Mia was pissed you missed lunch." Dom replies, trying to sound and look relaxed as he sinks down into the chair.
Vince gets partway through rolling his eyes before he catches himself, making Dom smirk. "Mia can get the fuck over it."
Not disputing that, Dom flicks his eyes down to the massive mark on his friends neck, then over to the girl. "You gonna introduce us?" he asks.
After letting out something between a sigh and a snort, Vince does, in his usual brief and gruff way. "Ash, Dom. Dom, Ash." He seems to realize Dom's not going away anytime soon and moves to lean his guitar against the outside of the arm of the couch, the girl following suit after a moment while Vince rearranges himself to sit forward instead of sideways facing her as he had been.
Dom nods at her while she flashes him a friendly smile.
She looks over to Vince and says, "It's probably about time for me to head out, anyway. I still need to go grocery shopping and do laundry so I have clean clothes for work." Vince doesn't look thrilled, but nods understandingly and makes a motion to stand when she does. Laughing a little, she waves for him to stay, saying, "I'm perfectly capable of grabbing my stuff and getting out to my car on my own." before leaning down to kiss him quickly. Turning to Dom, she says a final, "Nice to meet you." before moving easily toward the stairs.
Dom watches Vince track her progress until she's out of sight. The men are quiet for a minute, just watching each other, until the sound of the back door closing floats down the stairs and Dom raises a brow as a loud engine starts up what sounds like outside the kitchen window. Listening for a moment, he questions, "350?"
Vince shakes his head. "302. '67 z28." he corrects as she pulls through to the alley behind Vince's house, the rumbling fading steadily.
Dom nods, waiting a beat before going on. "Man, curtains, house plants, classic muscle cars, girlfriend? What happened to you?"
Scowling, his friend replies, "It's called growing the fuck up. Maybe you should try it." sounding VERY annoyed.
He scowls back for a few seconds before pulling himself back. "I didn't come here to fight, man. I just wanna make sure we're okay. We didn't exactly leave off on the best terms, and I fuckin' miss my best friend." Knowing Vince isn't going to just accept that (rightly), he keeps going before the other man can speak. "It was shitty of us to take off like that and not even make sure you and Mia were taken care of. And it was just as shitty how we were treatin' you the last couple years before that. All of us got caught up in bein' on top o' the world. Lost sight of what was really important. And I'm sorry."
It's something he's been doing a lot of ruminating on since he'd been confronted with it weeks before. He's had his mom's unfairly calm and reasonable and slightly disappointed voice in his head, asking questions he didn't want to answer about how exactly he'd been treating the guy that was supposedly his best friend, and more questions to figure out why. It had taken awhile to admit to himself that he'd gotten pretty fuckin' full of himself and really screwed the pooch in terms of bein' a friend.
Despite the fact that they had fallen into treating him like the team meathead towards the end, Vince had always really been the caretaker. The dad of their little group.
He'd taken care of Mia and Letty and the shop and the garage and TWO houses - once his gran had passed - all on his own when Dom had gone inside. He'd always been the one to point out that this repair needs to be made or they needed to replace that thing because it's about to crap out. And, yeah, he'd gotten in some fights. But it was always on behalf of their family.
Once Dom had gotten them into the cockamamie situation in pursuit of a rush and a payday or 20, Vince had put himself in the most dangerous position, so that it would be him instead of the others if shit went sideways. And he'd spotted the danger that Brian posed and tried to warn them, and Dom had rather arrogantly blown him off.
And ditching him to take whatever fall was coming was a shitty way of thanking him for all of it.
His oldest friend studies his face intently for a long minute, judging his sincerity, before nodding his acceptance of the apology. Letting out a long breath, he stands, saying, "C'mon. Let's grab some beer and you can tell me what the fuck you were up to south of the border for almost 2 years."
Now he just has to get the girls to admit the things he'd realized, and maybe the family, such as remained, would be back together again.
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Ash picks up a basket from the stack just inside the automatic glass doors of the grocery store, making herself ignore the display of plants and flowers only a few feet away at the edge of the flower and garden section.
She and Vince haven't even been dating for 2 months and she's already begun turning his house into her personal nursery. No need to go overboard and end up freaking him out.
Yeah, she basically furnished and decorated the whole place, just keeping his tastes in mind, but she doesn't live there. There has to be a point where it's just not appropriate to keep showing up with things she sees that she thinks would look good. It's just a little hard with the plants especially, because the thing she misses most living away from home is all the greenery everywhere.
If she had her own place, she could easily just keep some humidifiers blasting and put the special grow bulbs in all her lamps and live in a small jungle.
Alas, she's completely unwilling to pay LA prices for her own place, and has spent the past 8 years occasionally switching from room rental to room rental. The rooms she's been in are little bigger than a shoebox, often cramped even with her minimal amount of stuff. Adding more than one or two small plants would simply be impossible. Additionally, her current room doesn't get ANY light, as it's north-facing and there's a taller house just next door, blocking all direct exposure it may get. And she doesn't think her 4 roommates - 2 couples, occupying the 2 other bedrooms in the house - would appreciate their electric bill being even higher because she wanted to put grow lamps in her postage-stamp-sized room for a few plants.
She considers her boyfriend as she moves through the crowded store, grabbing the usual things for her meals that week as she goes. All of it has to go in the minifridge next to her dresser and not need more than a microwave to cook, so it's a lot of sandwich stuff and a few frozen things, including a pack of breakfast burritos.
Vince doesn't know, but she'd had a crush on him since before they'd even met.
One of the first friends she'd made back when she moved down here, Manny had noticed her checking out the hot guy covering for Robby for a few days when he was sick the previous autumn, and smirked, beginning to occasionally drop little tidbits about him. That he's into cars, drives a classic Chevelle. He's in a band. He's single.
The epitome of her type, basically. Gruff, a bit quiet, gearhead, into music. The main difference between him and the guys she had dated before being that Vince is actually a good guy instead of a total dickbag.
From that point, Manny had made a point to text her every time Vince was working at his place. She didn't show up every time those texts came in… but sometimes she did. She'd keep herself well away from the bar, basically just enjoying the view. Watching him work, and occasionally return some flirty behavior from all the women hitting on him.
When Manny had passed on that his band would be playing a big place up in Glendale that early spring weekend, she doesn't know why she'd gone. Vince'd been concealing his boredom pretty well as he mindlessly played his all-white strat off to one side of the stage, but she'd picked up on it. She'd intended to finish her drink and discreetly leave once their last set was over, but he'd appeared before she could, and something has possessed her to invite him to sit down.
A few weeks later, she was slated for her every-couple-months gig at Manny's, and the little shit had made sure Vince was bartending, flat out daring her to make some kind of move.
At that point, they'd spoken less than 2 sentences to each other, and she had no idea what to make of the quiet man despite all of her friend's assurances that he's a good guy. So, she'd made her move in the one area that she knew for sure they have in common - music.
Given his lack of reaction to her in general, she was floored when, another few days later, he'd actually called her about jamming.
Thus had begun a fast friendship. It had taken no time at all to find out that they had much more than music, friends, and cars in common. A shared heritage, similar sense of humor, and general lack of many close friends - the ones you can REALLY talk to, not just who you hang out with when it works out - had brought them close quickly.
Through all this, Manny and, after a few weeks, Eddie had begun teasing her relentlessly.
Other than a couple times she thought he might've been checking her out (most notably when they were both half naked painting his house in the sweltering early-June heat), she'd been convinced he hardly even noticed that she was a chick. Unfortunately, even not being particularly close, Manny had known her for nearly 8 years, and could push her buttons if he was really determined. Just like that night she'd first given Vince her number, she'd ended up being goaded into making a move.
Ash had been terrified, and knew it was visible in her performance.
From what she'd heard over the past several months from their various mutual friends, he didn't have a reputation for dating, or relationships. More like one-night-stands, though Eddie insisted that he'd chilled out a lot with chicks since something happened with a bunch of his friends a couple years back. He wouldn't say what, and she has a feeling it was at least somewhat related to the local street racing scene she knows Eddie's a part of.
Actually, now that she thinks about it, she is almost certain of that. At her time around Eddie's, she'd figured out that he goes by Edwin in the scene, and only people from it roll into his place calling him that. Vince had only ever called him Edwin.
Ash snorts lightly as she grabs a bag of sliced salami and dodges around a mom juggling 3 kids and a cart, and a guy that's inspecting every pack of bacon in the display to get one with the PERFECT amount of fat. Vince being a street racer would be absolutely no surprise to her. Especially with that monster of a car his "best friend" had rolled up in today. If that thing isn't built to race, she doesn't know what car is.
She's far from an expert, but her dad had been a restorer and, naturally, classic muscle car enthusiast, and she'd spent many afternoons and Saturdays handing him wrenches and listening to him yammer.
To a layman, his Chevelle might seem to be mint or perfectly restored to factory, but she can see the small things, hear the difference in his mechanics just enough to know that modifications had been made. There's not a bunch of obvious things, but there's definitely clues if you know what to look for.
Chevys had always been dad's favorite. Hence why she has her baby. It's not what real collectors would necessarily term as 'rare', but less than 700 had been made, so it isn't exactly common either.
Smiling more as she picks up a block of cheese, she remembers driving around with her dad going to look at different cars from the classifieds when she was 14 and him whispering to her as they sat in the car that the owner clearly had no idea what he had. They'd bought it for dirt cheap, they'd fixed it up together in his off-hours, and she'd had a car 9 months later when she got her license at 15, just a few months before Mia died.
Anyway. Vince.
Given the things she'd heard, it had been more than a bit of a shock when he'd asked her out on a date instead of just to come back to his place. It had been even more of a shock when he'd told her he wants to take things slow instead of jumping into bed right away.
Scanning the lines at the registers, she gets in the shortest one, thinking about that morning.
Slow was one thing, but he'd apparently meant snail's pace. Up until today, they'd done little more than make out like 16 year olds, and she was getting frustrated enough to push it, seizing the opportunity when she'd woken up before him and he'd had the very common affliction known to penis-owners everywhere - morning wood. The fact that he'd been open to her bossing him around on how to touch her in return had scored him a lot of proverbial points.
With any luck, things will start moving along a little bit faster going forward.
As Ash parks back at her place, she's relieved to see that the cars belonging to Amy and Jeff, the owners of the house that are perpetually at each other's throats, are nowhere to be seen. Gabbie and Andrew are home, but they're pretty quiet. She'll be able to do her standard weekly 2 loads of laundry in peace.
After she's thrown the first load in, she unpacks her groceries in her little make-shift kitchenette. She'd learned fast renting rooms that food kept in communal kitchens disappears constantly, so the little fridge and microwave had joined her in every one of the 4 rooms she's rented down here. And, in this place in particular, just being out in the common areas is a crapshoot on if you'll get caught in the crossfire of the tumultuous relationship of your landlords.
To say home-cooked meals and being able to cook occasionally over at Vince's are a welcome change from cold sandwiches and microwave burritos would be an understatement.
Hell, last night was the first time she's had any of her favorite Hungarian dishes since nearly 3 years since she'd last gone home to visit her family. She'd done it as much out of her own desire for it as wanting to introduce Vince to it. At least there's Irish pubs around for her to go get fish and chips or shepherd's pie if she has a craving for that. Hungarian restaurants are virtually nonexistent on the west coast.
Once everything is stowed away, she has nothing left to do until it's time to switch laundry, so Ash flops back on her naked mattress and thinks about getting some time off to go up there for a week or two. Maybe in October. Catch the last bits of summer and some of fall before any of the passes get nasty for the winter, spend time with her family.
It's not like she doesn't have the time available. She's almost never sick, so she has to be regularly reminded that she can only roll over 40 hours of PTO at the end of the year. She'd lost hours last year.
She'd had her day job as a low-level accounting clerk for… fuck, 5 years now? She'd actually done alright before that, waitressing and gigging, but the steady paycheck and schedule of office work suits her. And she lives well below her means, half out of fiscal responsibility hammered into her by her immigrant grandparents and half because the biggest general expenses are so outrageous in LA that she just refuses. For what she pays for this room, she could have a decent one-bedroom apartment to herself at home.
So, yeah, she can definitely afford a few weeks off.
She'll just have to be careful about what she says while she's there. And before she goes. If her family find out she's dating someone, they'll demand she bring Vince with her. Or, worse, possibly decide to come down and visit her. *shudder*
Not that she's necessarily opposed to introducing Vince to her family. Just not… yet. Even by October, they'll have only been together about 4 months. That seems like very soon to take someone on a 1200-mile-each-way roadtrip to meet her family. If they're even still together by then. Not that she's anticipating it ending soon or something, but you never know, right?
Sighing, she tries to distract herself from that thought and stands to do the miniscule amount of chores that a room this small can possibly produce.
_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_
The sound of a tinkling ringtone interrupts their conversation as Vince sets 2 pork chops in the hot pan and seasons the 'other' side.
"Szia, nagymama!" Ash answers her phone cheerfully after glancing at the screen on the front of the flip phone. He listens interestedly as he checks on the potatoes that are boiling in a different pan to prepare for mashing. Other than a few words here or there, and the names of the things she'd cooked for him the week before, he's never heard her use the other language he knows she speaks. "Igen, október végén."
Whatever family member's on the other end of the line must chatter for a bit, because her expression slowly morphs to a mix of amused and exasperated over the course of several minutes while she occasionally interjects a couple words or noises.
"Nem! Nem! Semmi különös. Egy kis vacsora a családdal. Ne feszítsd túl magát." Her gaze returns to him as he turns the meat over in the pan, making it sizzle loudly, then moves to take the potatoes to the sink and drain the water. "El kell mennem, vacsora készen áll." Another small pause, then an eye roll. "Igen, nagymama, jól eszem. Igen, igen…. beszéljen veled a jövő héten. Szeretlek."
Reaching for the butter to add to the potatoes for mashing, he curiously asks, "Exciting stuff with the fam?"
She snorts out a slight laugh. "Kinda. My parents told my grandparents that I'm coming home to visit in a couple months, they're excited. I'm the only granddaughter on both sides, and the only grandchild that lives more than about an hour away, so it sounds like they're gonna go all out when I get there. Both grandmas have called this afternoon raving about party plans. I'm trying to get them to reduce it down to just a couple family dinners each, but I doubt they'll allow it."
"Do you get home much?" is his follow-up, as they hadn't actually discussed it before.
"Last time was about 3 years ago." Ash tells him. "I went home more in the beginning, but largely because they'd pay my gas for it and slip me money because they worried about me. Now that they know I'm in a stable job, I'm expected to just do it on my own. Which isn't really any hardship, but without the extra motivation, time just slips past without me noticing. I realized last weekend how long it's been and decided to head up there for a couple weeks to burn up some of my PTO and get a nice long visit in before winter hits."
"When's that?"
"Last 2 weeks of October." she tells him, watching as he shakes garlic salt into the potatoes the reaches into the fridge for milk before mashing. "Over my mom's birthday."
"Why don't you ever speak Hungarian? Like, in day-to-day life?" he continues asking the questions that pop into his mind. He's surprised when she laughs aloud this time before answering him.
"Who would I speak it with? The Hungarian community in LA is practically nonexistent. Most that are in California are up in the Bay Area. Unless I'm talking to my family, it would be pretty pointless. I mean, I have a few movies and a handful of cds that have somehow found there way over here that I'll watch if I'm homesick, but other than that? The language is useless here."
"That's too bad. It's pretty." is his simple reply, though he understands. "We could always talk to each other. You could speak Hungarian, I'll speak Spanish, we'll compare notes after and see if we were having the same conversation." he proposes with a grin, getting the desired result of a big smile and small shake of her head at the ridiculousness.
Later, they're on the couch watching tv when both their attention is caught by a loud rumbling pulling up and stopping in front of the house.
Vine looks immediately annoyed and stands from where he'd been sitting with his arm around Ash, holding her to his side. He goes out front, presumably to stop the guy, Dom, that she sees approaching the house through the front window.
"Last chance," Dom says as he slows in the yard, looking up at his friend on the front porch.
Shaking his head, Vince insists, "I told you, man, it's not my scene anymore. And even if it was, I ain't gonna ditch my girlfriend to go and stand around watchin' everyone else." He's keeping his voice down, wary both of neighbors and Ash hearing.
"Could always bring her with." Dom suggests with a pointed look. "Besides, you may get to participate. Never know who's around."
Incredulous expression splashing across his features, Vince replies, "Man, even when we were on top I hardly ever saw any action when we weren't in the desert. As long as you're around, that ain't ever gonna change, and when you aren't around, anyone who does throw down just thinks I'm a halfass, watered-down version of you. No matter how many times they get schooled and shown that I'm not."
This makes an almost sad look come over Dom's face, unable to deny the point, but a bit upset, because Vince is damn near as good as him. Tony'd taught both of them everything they know about driving, and Vince is one of the few people that could consistently challenge him.
Before he can say anything, both their heads turn at the sounds of another high-performance engine pulling up, and they see Letty, in what Vince thinks is a newer 240 than the one that the government had destroyed, Mia in the passenger seat. The girls stop next to the Challenger and both look out the window expectantly.
With a heavy sigh, Dom turns back to his best friend, saying, "Have a good night witcha girl." solemnly, then turning to go back to his car.
Resuming his position on the couch a minute later, Vince tries to put the short visit out of his mind and get back to just having fun hanging out with Ash. He's surprised when she asks him a question. Well, he's more surprised with what she asks.
"If you don't race anymore, why'd you mod your SS for it?"
His head almost whips down to look at her in shock. "Huh?" is his ineloquent reply.
She rolls her eyes a bit. "Come on. I'm friends with Eddie. Even if I wasn't, I used to work at his place regularly. I know damn well that only people from the race scene call him Edwin. He mentioned that your SS is way different than whatever you used to drive. And I know you were trying to keep your voice down, but you were standing right outside the open window." With this, she raises her hand to gesture at one of windows looking out into the yard over the porch. "So, if it's 'not your scene anymore', why build your car to race?"
"How do you know it's built to race?" is the question he manages to get out around his lingering astonishment.
Pursing her lips slightly, "I told you, my dad's a restorer and custom builder. I'm his only kid. No way was I escaping my childhood not knowing about cars. And classic Chevy is his favorite." After a breath, she goes on to explain, realizing it might take a bit to draw an answer out of him. "Power steering and disc brakes didn't come standard until '74. Could be written off as ease-of-driving updates, but that hood scoop is custom, and no way is that intake, carb, or exhaust GM stock. And I'll bet my Camaro that you have a high-performance injection system that's equipped for nitrous."
For his part, Vince is dumbfounded. Yes, she HAD told him about her dad, but it genuinely hadn't occurred to him that she would share her father's interest at all. He'd just assumed the dad had been responsible for her less-than-common model car.
"You're into cars, and you've been holding out on me all this time?" he still can't get his head around it enough to answer her question. Or maybe he just doesn't want to.
Rolling her eyes again, she answers, "It's not like I've made it a secret. You think I picked those prints at random? They're all the original year models." Ash points at a nearby framed print of a '65 Mustang hanging on his wall as an example. "And, really, given the advances in fuel efficiency in the last 35 years, you think I'd be driving a '67 302 if I didn't love the damn thing? With gas prices what they are these days?"
"I…. didn't think about it." he admits. He hadn't even noticed that the framed photos of cars she'd hung on his walls are all the original models.
"So, you gonna answer me about why you built a racecar that you don't race?" she presses. "I mean, you don't HAVE to if you don't want to, but I've been curious for awhile."
With a sigh, Vince rubs his face for a moment before answering her.
"I built it meaning to get back to the scene as soon as I was cleared, medically. My arm took a long-ass time to rehab. But, when the time came, I just….. didn't really want to. Didn't see the point. Basically my whole team was gone, and nobody really took me seriously even when they were around. I went a couple times, thinking maybe I just needed to get used to bein' there on my own, but it just wasn't the same anymore." His eyes unfocus as he thinks back to the lackluster nights flying solo at races. "I nearly died, was fuckin' lucky to keep my arm, my friend got murdered in front of our house…. Punks who think they're hot shit 'cause they threw a shitton of money at a Civic they can barely drive and chicks that'll go home with any guy who has a neon kit... just looked pathetic."
He's pulled back to the present as Ash wedges herself back under his arm and cuddles into his side, squeezing him around the middle for a moment. "I'm sorry." she looks genuinely remorseful. "I didn't mean to drag that up. I had no idea whatever happened was that serious."
Shaking his head a little, he tucks his arm around her and pulls her firmly into him, saying, "It's a'ight. Even in the scene, not many people know much about what went down."
They go quiet and try to get back into whatever they'd been watching, but they're both obviously distracted and not sure what to say from there. Ash doesn't want to pry, no matter how curious she is, and it's clearly an upsetting topic. Even if she thinks talking about it might be good for him, she doesn't know how far is too far in their still-new relationship. Vince just doesn't want to think about it, much less talk.
