《Bev and Red | ✓》0 . 1 7

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"What do you mean, tomorrow?"

Beverly turned toward Red, a piece of hair falling into his eyes, the curls blinding his sight for a second or more. Red tilted his head, leaning in. He knew being in Ed's mechanic shop would spike Beverly's persistency to see his father—he just hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

Beverly knew Red wanted to disagree, to ask if he was ready to see his father chained to a chair, as they spoke to one another through a glass window. Surely, it'd be heartbreaking.

"Bev—are you sure? You've never been to a jail before—"

"I'm sure, Red."

Red pursed his lips, standing, then, offering his palm to Beverly, whose eyebrows had sewn in closer to one another. "Well, lets go, then. We'll need a good night's rest for tomorrow."

Beverly smiled, happily taking Red's hand. "I knew you'd understand."

The ride back home was quiet, consisting of Red's fingers tapping rapidly on the steering wheel, and Beverly's biting at his bottom lip, a smile coming into play.

He couldn't believe that after all these years, he would finally see his father. Which, hadn't happened since he first began to live with his grandmother—and before he was forced to get a job at Leslie's diner, and live alone.

Beverly turned over, his head lulling to the side of his head-rest. He couldn't help it. The smile wouldn't fall.

He wanted to look away, wanted to clear his throat, and pray for his smile to fall.

But Red noticed. He turned the knob of the radio, peoples voices dooming lower and lower until nothing stood in the way of Beverly's staring.

"What?" Red asked, his eyes beginning to shine with—well, Beverly couldn't tell.

"I-I don't know why you deemed it your responsibility to help me, but I can't thank you enough, Red. You're a good person, and I can't for the day that you realize that."

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Beverly faltered, when Red was suddenly pulling his truck over to the side, gearing the stick into park. "Red, what are you—"

Red put a hand out, his jaw clenching with restriction. He wanted nothing more than to lean over, and slam his lips onto Beverly's, and mold the two together with something he'd never felt before.

Beverly's breaths became shaky, as he let out an inaudible gulp. "You have no idea how hard it is to compost myself around you. And you saying shit like that doesn't help."

"Then, don't compose yourself."

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