Miniminter [sidemen]

The Highway

It was an early winter's morning, and Simon was asking you what you were thinking about.

You pursed your lips, considering what to respond. You were thinking about a lot of things during that car ride, as you dragged your index finger lazily through the frost that fogged up the rear window. For one, you were thinking about how quiet it was—about how JJ and Vik hadn't managed to stay awake for the late night drive back home from the airport from which you'd just been retrieved. About how Josh was singing quietly to himself in the driver's seat—surprisingly in-tune—to a song you'd never heard before, unaware that two of his passengers were still conscious. And you were thinking about how Simon was the only one fully wake beside yourself, sitting so, so close to you, whispering in your ear.

But you told him, in a voice as quiet as his own, "I don't know."

Simon shifted his body slightly in his seat, one long leg of his invading more of your space. In hindsight, it would've been more comfortable for everyone had you or Vik taken up the spot in the middle. But Simon had only himself to blame for his cramped seating arrangement; he'd been glued to your hip ever since you'd met up with the guys at the airport. As soon as you'd slid into the back of Josh's truck he'd slipped in behind you. Of course, you didn't mind. You never minded Simon's nearness to you.

"I'm kind of thinking about you staying at the house tonight," Simon told you. "You know we've got the extra room now."

You laughed quietly, bitterly. "And what, make it more obvious to your friends that we're...?" You let the question drift off into limbo, not because you were afraid of Josh overhearing, but because you weren't even sure of how to finish it.

Simon dismissed your hesitation, his blue-eyed gaze fixated on your finger, gliding still across the windowpane. "They're your friends too," he whispered back. "It's not weird for you to stay over. You haven't seen the new house yet, I'm sure they'd love to have you."

"And I'm sure they'd love to have me another night as well." You dropped your hand into your lap and looked up at him. "I need to go home and unpack, Simon."

"Y/n, you were away for weeks, I just want to spend time with you--"

"We aren't even dating," you interrupted him, voice still low. "You can handle waiting another day."

Simon paused, looking down at you curiously. "If this is about me not wanting to label us--"

"No, Simon, it's not." You sighed, drowned out by JJ's snores. "It's not about your fear of real, tangible relationships--"

"What does that--"

"It's more about the fact that I'm being forced to hide... whatever this is from our closest friends. You know?"

You thought that the car was heavy with tension in the backseat—unbeknownst to Vik, whose head lolled against his window—but the heat that was suffocating you might have just as well have been pumping out of the vents in the back of Josh's truck. The song on the radio had run its course and became another, just as foreign to you, but Josh knew all the lyrics to this one too. His ignorance of the conversation being had in his backseat seemed absurd to you.

Something bright caught your eye; a reflection of a light from the highway off of Simon's ring on his little finger. Your eyes were drawn instinctively down to where it'd come from, where his hand rested unnaturally still on his knee.

And then suddenly his hand was on your knee instead, and he was leaning even closer to you to whisper more quietly. "Y/n, I know you don't like it. I don't like it either. You think I don't want to pull my hair out everyday for having to bite my tongue when you come up in conversation? It's just that I really don't want to mess this up. I don't want anyone else to get in the way until I absolutely know what I'm doing."

You'd heard this spiel from Simon before when you'd first gotten together, if you could call it that. I'm no good at relationships, he'd said. They never work out for me. I make myself nervous when I feel like everyone's judging it and then I wanna back out. I want to feel safe and comfortable and secure for a while first.

Even though friends with benefits was anything but secure.

Except he didn't like to call it that.

He could tell that you were upset. You moved your hand to rest beside his on your leg, and you kept your gaze low on your boots. Simon's voice cracked just slightly when he whispered into the darkness, "Tell me to fuck off and I will. I promise."

This caught your attention. Was he trying to cut ties after so desperately trying to get you to stay with him? His gaze was locked steadfastly with yours, but there was no way to decipher what the look in his eyes meant.

You met his unwavering stare testily. "Seriously?"

Simon swallowed thickly, moving just a little bit closer to you with a scared look on his face. You hated this--his insecurity as well as your own and having to sneak around all the time. But you did love being this close to him, and making him happy. You reached out to touch him.

His hand was on your thigh, your hand was on his face, and his face was illuminated by the fluorescents on the highway shining in through the car window, bathed in amber light every other second. Your fingers traced the shadow on his cheek, and you breathed, "Fuck off."

Simon's head recoiled a fraction of an inch as if he'd been struck. Is this serious? he appeared to wonder. But of course it wasn't. You were far too near to him to want anything else.

Simon reached up to your face as you had. You were mirror images of each other, foreheads touching only slightly and cold fingers gliding slowly across soft skin.

You could vaguely hear Josh still singing along to the car radio in the front seat, and that was enough to remind you that the backseat of his truck was not the place for intimate embraces.

"Simon," you warned, but your body betrayed you, still pressing into him.

"Tell me not to," Simon breathed, nose fitting itself beside yours. His eyes fluttered shut, and yours followed suit. "Tell me not to and I won't."

"Don't lie to me."

For an instance, you'd felt his lips on yours, but the occurrence had gone just as soon as it'd come. And when you'd discerned his breathy chuckle over the rumble of highway traffic you opened your eyes in confusion.

Simon was still with you, still holding you, but he was smiling, muttering, "I can't believe I'm about to kiss you in the back of Josh's truck."

You released his face to hook your arms around the back of his neck. "Would you have preferred someone else's car, then?"

"Fucking Vik is breathing in my ear."

"Tell him to fuck off."

Simon stiffened only just. He said, "I really like you, you know. I don't think you know that. I really, really, fucking like you. And I know you probably don't feel the same way yet, but you will."

"I hope not," you said. "You're a piece of work, Simon Minter."

He kissed you, then, with reluctance and fear, hesitation and grace. With strength and security and gusto and relief. And you weren't sure where you were or exactly what you were doing there, but you knew who you were with just by the taste of him, and that made it okay. JJ's snoring in the passenger's seat was okay; the cramp in your side from your awkward positioning was okay; the overwhelming blast from Josh's car heater was okay. Everything was okay.

And so you made out in the back of Josh's truck for the next ten or so minutes, which maybe wasn't okay, but he didn't know, so he couldn't mind. And you didn't mind your sore lips or slight panting, either. Because this is how you were with Simon. You were there for each other, even if you weren't always exactly sure what to call it or how long until he felt safe enough to call it anything at all.

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It was requested I update this book, so I have. Here you are lovelies. Leave a vote if you want more frequent imagines please and thank you. Might change the title as well. Any suggestions? :)    -sydneyxix