drabbles. nirvana

BACKSEAT. / 10

smut warning.

Maybe sitting in the backseat isn't that bad after all?

—♡—

A rigid grasp on the wheel, Dave found it hard to concentrate just on the highway when his colleague was virtually jamming out to the radio right next to him. It was the outcome of a club— not something Kurt would agree to too easily, but whenever alcohol or any other substances were involved, you could essentially count him in, and now here he was; high on coke. Dave had gladly managed to make him linger away from alcohol that night because mixing the two would've been disastrous.

Dave was, of course, the only sober out of the two this time. No matter how much he enjoyed going out clubbing after a long, tiring concert— he had to stay sober, as he had to take care of a very high Kurt and on top of that, he had to drive.

Dave had just about enough of Kurt's oddly wild behavior, though surprise surprise! He was on coke, and there, in reality, was no surprise at all. It excuses his behavior just fine, and it does piss the very tired brunet off.

Chestnut eyes met blue for a brief second and said brunet sighed. "Kurt, please calm the fuck down or we're going to crash," he warned calmly— his imaginary thread of patience thinning within the second until he eventually couldn't take the blasting radio, so he reached over and turned it off.

The blond glared at Dave in confusion. "Or what now? Speak up, I don't understand mumble language." The sass was definitely standing out now— and it was too much for Dave to handle.

Dave let out an irritated huff. "I said," he cleared his throat. "Calm the fuck down."

"Or what?" Kurt repeated innocently, and maybe it was too innocent for Dave's liking, even though Kurt was fully aware of what he was doing.

"Or I'll make you," Dave shrugged. "Gosh, you're disobedient as hell."

"'Kay. I'm going to the backseat," Kurt announced with a grin as he undid the seatbelt and crawled over the seats, rolling over to the backseats instead in the weirdest way ever, and Dave was this close to swerving.

"Turn the radio up!" The dirty blond exclaimed, leaning over the front passenger's seat backrest— trying to reach for the radio, but Dave swatted his hand away.

"No more radio."

Dave had decided to stay strict this time— basically make sure that Kurt knows his place, and if not then he'll simply get put in place instead.

Kurt let out a loud, over-exaggerates groan, letting go of the passenger's seat and leaning back in his own, sliding further down like jello on the smoothest surface. "You're really fucking boring sometimes, David." His attempts at being intimidating were pointless now— his sudden bursts of energy made him seem all happy and friendly— probably more or less the barely approachable hyper type though. "Backseat's boring as hell. Can we go back?"

That last whine was enough. Dave has had enough now.

The brunet swerved, pulled over in a parking-esque spot super close to the woods— further from the road.

He turned the engine off and turned to look at the latter with a stern; almost disappointed look.

"What? Why'd you stop?" The blond smirked, blue eyes glaring teasingly back at Dave's chestnut brown ones, as if he was challenging him.

"Proving they being in the backseat isn't that bad after all."

And so, the brunet unbuckles his own seatbelt and crawls across the seats, now on the backseats with Kurt— who was still staring at him, a wide smirk still worn out on his face.