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twobirdsonesongTitle: Surge
Pairing: Chris/Darren
Length/Rating: ~1,350 / G
Summary: Quite simply: a meet-cute in an UberPool
Read on AO3
Darren just wants to go home. Rehearsals for the reading the next week had been a bitch that day; some of the songs weren’t coming together and too many of the actors had early outs that were fucking with the schedule. There’s not much Darren can do about it though – he shows up at his call time, knows his parts, and just hopes that this reading might be the one to lead to something more.
As he steps out of the studio space, the air is heavy with the threat of rain and he doesn’t have an umbrella. Gazing down the hustling street, Darren knows he should take the subway home like he usually does. He’s got an unlimited MTA card, a budget, and the stop is only a couple of blocks away. But in his heart wants an Uber. He wants the easy option. He wants to not sweat it out in the bowels of the subway system when his feet are tired and his stomach is hungry. But he also has a budget.
The app tells him it’s going to be at least $25 to get himself home. Likely more, considering the traffic this time of day. But when Darren shifts over to the UberPool option, the price drops considerably. He sighs.
Darren hates UberPool. He gets its purpose in theory, but he hates it. People are weird, and riding in the back of a stranger’s car is bizarre enough without adding one or two extra nutbag strangers to the mix. Which isn’t to say that he himself is not also a nutbag, but his own weird doesn’t bother him. Some random guy watching fetish porn on his phone without headphones at 3 o’clock in the afternoon definitely bothers him.
Laziness and general ease overpowers budgetary concerns and Darren requests an UberPool, hoping he’ll end up with someone mostly normal, or, even better, luck out and end up with a car all to himself.
He does not luck out. There’s another passenger in the backseat already when the black Highlander pulls up to the curb more or less where Darren is waiting for it. He double-checks the license plate and the driver’s name because he’s already gotten into the wrong car before and it doesn’t turn out well for anyone involved.
It’s not until he’s got his bag arranged semi-comfortably on his lap that Darren notices with whom he’s sharing a ride.
The other passenger is a tall, slim young man in dark jeans and a dark shirt with the sleeves cuffed at his biceps. His face is turned towards the window, revealing just the long line of his jaw and the white earbud in his ear as he talks on the phone.
“–you don’t have to remind me that he’s an asshole. I’m perfectly aware of the fact.”
Darren had been about to put his own headphones in to render the ride home as painless as possible, but the timbre of the man’s voice and the obvious gossipy nature of his conversation stays Darren’s hands.
“–he stole the cat bowl, Amber. The cat bowl. He doesn’t even have his own fucking cat.”
Darren snorts a little too loudly; he can’t help it. He should give this guy some privacy, but Darren firmly believes that people who have personal conversations in public deserve to be eavesdropped on and silently ridiculed. And besides, he’s already invested in what happened between this guy and the douche who stole his cat bowl. He’s got to pay attention.
The man next to him shifts a little and the fabric of his jeans pulls snugly across his hips. Darren pays attention to that too.
“–and you know he still owes me last month’s rent. Do you think I’m gonna get that money back? No I am not. Just like I’m not going to get the last year and a half of my life back.”
A bad break up, then. Darren’s been there. He nods sympathetically when the other passenger makes a frustrated noise at whatever is being said on the other end of the line.
“I should have known you know? No one goes to the gym that often and doesn’t lose any weight. Boot camp my ass.”
The man scratches his fingers through his hair and rolls his neck, like he’s trying to work some tension out. He turns a bit more towards the front and suddenly Darren can see more of his face. And he’s lovely, with a sharp nose and freckles and surprisingly wild eyebrows (not that Darren can say anything about that).
“–no, I mean, if you want to shake him down for the money you have my blessing. I could use a new soup pot. But I don’t even want to think about him for at least the next six months, let alone try to pry $900 from his fat, sausagy hands.”
Darren grins. He can’t help it. The guy is cute and funny, in a sharp-tongued, acerbic, sort of bitchy kind of way that usually does it for Darren. It’s doing it for him now.
Darren has asked people out in strange situations before. He chatted up a girl at an ER once, while he was holding his friend’s broken arm in place. He definitely gave his number to some guy he accidentally followed around the grocery store one Saturday afternoon. In his defense, he needed that cheese and the sauce for a pasta he was making, not because the guy had amazing shoulders and nice eyes. Though those things helped.
He can definitely ask out a guy he’s sharing an Uber with. Especially one this good-looking.
But Darren isn’t quite sure how to get this guy’s attention. He can’t just tap him on the shoulder and say, “Hey, I’ve been listening to your conversation and your ex sounds like a grade-A douche waffle. Want to get a drink sometime?” There are limits, after all.
The Uber takes a sharp turn around the corner, jostling them both, and the other passenger finally flicks his gaze towards Darren, as if just realizing there might be someone else in the car with him. He does not pause in his conversation, but his eyes are blue and wide as they quickly sweep up Darren’s form.
“–now I have to get a goddamn roommate again,” he gripes and looks away quickly, turning his face back towards the window.
But Darren knows an interested look when he sees one.
He scribbles his name and number down on a scrap of paper torn from his sheet music from rehearsals. He’s a got a few blocks to figure out how to get it to this guy without looking like the same kind of asshole he just broke up with. Though Darren would never steal a cat bowl. That’s just a low, dirty thing to do.
The car eventually slows in front of his apartment and fluttering nerves suddenly fill Darren’s belly. But he tamps it down; after all, if this guy doesn’t call him he’ll probably never awkwardly run in him ever again. New York is a big place for being so small.
“Thanks, man,” Darren calls out to the driver as he pushes the door open. But he pauses and turns fully towards the other passenger, who looks at him with wide, confused eyes.
Darren says nothing, just slides the scrap of paper with his name and number across the seat towards the man’s thigh, making sure to meet his gaze with intention. And then he winks. Because he can.
The man’s mouth opens, “Oh,” he says. Or almost says; it comes out more an exhalation and Darren resists pumping his fist.
Or at least he waits until he’s walked up to his apartment and the car has pulled away to take the other man to his own home before Darren gives a little victorious fist clench. He’s made his move, now he just has to wait for a counter-offer.
And maybe UberPool isn’t so bad after all.
Pairing: Chris/Darren
Length/Rating: ~1,350 / G
Summary: Quite simply: a meet-cute in an UberPool
Read on AO3
Darren just wants to go home. Rehearsals for the reading the next week had been a bitch that day; some of the songs weren’t coming together and too many of the actors had early outs that were fucking with the schedule. There’s not much Darren can do about it though – he shows up at his call time, knows his parts, and just hopes that this reading might be the one to lead to something more.
As he steps out of the studio space, the air is heavy with the threat of rain and he doesn’t have an umbrella. Gazing down the hustling street, Darren knows he should take the subway home like he usually does. He’s got an unlimited MTA card, a budget, and the stop is only a couple of blocks away. But in his heart wants an Uber. He wants the easy option. He wants to not sweat it out in the bowels of the subway system when his feet are tired and his stomach is hungry. But he also has a budget.
The app tells him it’s going to be at least $25 to get himself home. Likely more, considering the traffic this time of day. But when Darren shifts over to the UberPool option, the price drops considerably. He sighs.
Darren hates UberPool. He gets its purpose in theory, but he hates it. People are weird, and riding in the back of a stranger’s car is bizarre enough without adding one or two extra nutbag strangers to the mix. Which isn’t to say that he himself is not also a nutbag, but his own weird doesn’t bother him. Some random guy watching fetish porn on his phone without headphones at 3 o’clock in the afternoon definitely bothers him.
Laziness and general ease overpowers budgetary concerns and Darren requests an UberPool, hoping he’ll end up with someone mostly normal, or, even better, luck out and end up with a car all to himself.
He does not luck out. There’s another passenger in the backseat already when the black Highlander pulls up to the curb more or less where Darren is waiting for it. He double-checks the license plate and the driver’s name because he’s already gotten into the wrong car before and it doesn’t turn out well for anyone involved.
It’s not until he’s got his bag arranged semi-comfortably on his lap that Darren notices with whom he’s sharing a ride.
The other passenger is a tall, slim young man in dark jeans and a dark shirt with the sleeves cuffed at his biceps. His face is turned towards the window, revealing just the long line of his jaw and the white earbud in his ear as he talks on the phone.
“–you don’t have to remind me that he’s an asshole. I’m perfectly aware of the fact.”
Darren had been about to put his own headphones in to render the ride home as painless as possible, but the timbre of the man’s voice and the obvious gossipy nature of his conversation stays Darren’s hands.
“–he stole the cat bowl, Amber. The cat bowl. He doesn’t even have his own fucking cat.”
Darren snorts a little too loudly; he can’t help it. He should give this guy some privacy, but Darren firmly believes that people who have personal conversations in public deserve to be eavesdropped on and silently ridiculed. And besides, he’s already invested in what happened between this guy and the douche who stole his cat bowl. He’s got to pay attention.
The man next to him shifts a little and the fabric of his jeans pulls snugly across his hips. Darren pays attention to that too.
“–and you know he still owes me last month’s rent. Do you think I’m gonna get that money back? No I am not. Just like I’m not going to get the last year and a half of my life back.”
A bad break up, then. Darren’s been there. He nods sympathetically when the other passenger makes a frustrated noise at whatever is being said on the other end of the line.
“I should have known you know? No one goes to the gym that often and doesn’t lose any weight. Boot camp my ass.”
The man scratches his fingers through his hair and rolls his neck, like he’s trying to work some tension out. He turns a bit more towards the front and suddenly Darren can see more of his face. And he’s lovely, with a sharp nose and freckles and surprisingly wild eyebrows (not that Darren can say anything about that).
“–no, I mean, if you want to shake him down for the money you have my blessing. I could use a new soup pot. But I don’t even want to think about him for at least the next six months, let alone try to pry $900 from his fat, sausagy hands.”
Darren grins. He can’t help it. The guy is cute and funny, in a sharp-tongued, acerbic, sort of bitchy kind of way that usually does it for Darren. It’s doing it for him now.
Darren has asked people out in strange situations before. He chatted up a girl at an ER once, while he was holding his friend’s broken arm in place. He definitely gave his number to some guy he accidentally followed around the grocery store one Saturday afternoon. In his defense, he needed that cheese and the sauce for a pasta he was making, not because the guy had amazing shoulders and nice eyes. Though those things helped.
He can definitely ask out a guy he’s sharing an Uber with. Especially one this good-looking.
But Darren isn’t quite sure how to get this guy’s attention. He can’t just tap him on the shoulder and say, “Hey, I’ve been listening to your conversation and your ex sounds like a grade-A douche waffle. Want to get a drink sometime?” There are limits, after all.
The Uber takes a sharp turn around the corner, jostling them both, and the other passenger finally flicks his gaze towards Darren, as if just realizing there might be someone else in the car with him. He does not pause in his conversation, but his eyes are blue and wide as they quickly sweep up Darren’s form.
“–now I have to get a goddamn roommate again,” he gripes and looks away quickly, turning his face back towards the window.
But Darren knows an interested look when he sees one.
He scribbles his name and number down on a scrap of paper torn from his sheet music from rehearsals. He’s a got a few blocks to figure out how to get it to this guy without looking like the same kind of asshole he just broke up with. Though Darren would never steal a cat bowl. That’s just a low, dirty thing to do.
The car eventually slows in front of his apartment and fluttering nerves suddenly fill Darren’s belly. But he tamps it down; after all, if this guy doesn’t call him he’ll probably never awkwardly run in him ever again. New York is a big place for being so small.
“Thanks, man,” Darren calls out to the driver as he pushes the door open. But he pauses and turns fully towards the other passenger, who looks at him with wide, confused eyes.
Darren says nothing, just slides the scrap of paper with his name and number across the seat towards the man’s thigh, making sure to meet his gaze with intention. And then he winks. Because he can.
The man’s mouth opens, “Oh,” he says. Or almost says; it comes out more an exhalation and Darren resists pumping his fist.
Or at least he waits until he’s walked up to his apartment and the car has pulled away to take the other man to his own home before Darren gives a little victorious fist clench. He’s made his move, now he just has to wait for a counter-offer.
And maybe UberPool isn’t so bad after all.
