Chapter Text
Late. Late again. Not the first time this semester and certainly not the last.
You can probably count the amount of times you’ve been early or on time for a function on one hand. You must admit, not one of your best qualities as a human but you manage.
Was it such a good idea to live in an apartment off campus on damn near the other side of town? Your wallet and bank account would both agree wholeheartedly, but your need to sleep in an extra fifteen minutes and scroll through your phone for another ten laughs in your face.
Your poor cat watches you run through the hallway of your apartment; between your bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, back to the bedroom, once more to the kitchen to check if your Mr. Coffee is even working properly (damn that thing is going to croak at some point), and of course the bedroom once more to grab your sneakers.
A pathetic sounding meow catches your attention as you’re hopping on one foot to get a shoe on. Jeff Goldblum (yes, that is your cat’s name and you are so damn proud of it) sits at the end of the hallway, green eyes following your every movement and probably questioning his owner’s sanity.
Fuck, I’m definitely putting the shoe on the wrong foot.
“There is food in your bowl, you greedy monster. Meowing louder will not make me give you more, either!” You manage to finally put each sneaker on the correct foot, after much effort to keep yourself from falling flat on your face and scoop up the little grey cat in an embrace.
You coo as he makes a desperate attempt to escape, “While I’m gone, you know to stay out of the sink and away from the laundry basket. Finding my underwear in the middle of the living room after I bring home an adorable and potentially fuckable study date is still on my shit list, Jeff.” The cat manages to squirm out of your hold, jumping onto the floor and hurrying over to his food bowl.
Let’s see what time it is.
You slip your phone out of your pocket to just briefly check the time-
9:35.
“SHIT! I have less than thirty minutes to drive to campus, park, walk, and be in class by ten o’clock!” You groan out loud, jogging over to your kitchen to search through your cabinets for an insulated mug big enough to hold all your coffee.
How were you even going to make it to class on time? While you were unsure, you had to go. The professor stresses the importance of just showing up to class to get credit or else “enjoy watching your grade plummet.” The professor happens to be a nice guy and pretty lenient when it comes to assignments, but attendance is his biggest worry. However, your best friend and you were already on thin ice with this guy, as he’s caught you two laughing in the back of the room on two separate occasions. So, in order to stay on his good side, you must show up to class.
Grabbing the mug off the shelf, you rush over to the coffee maker, pouring as quickly as you could and sealing the lid, not even bothering to take a first sip as your feet move you quickly towards your car keys and backpack that reside on your small dining room table.
Alright, keys, coffee, my wallet, backpack… do I even have my laptop? Ah, there it is. Behind the giant fucking eighty-dollar textbook required for this class. Have I even opened it once? Nevermind that.
You pick up your hoodie, slipping your arms through the sleeves before throwing your backpack over your shoulder and stuffing your keys into your pocket.
“Alright, Jeff. Remember our little talk and be good! I’ll be home later.” You yell out to your cat as you finally check the time before opening the front door.
9:39. Four minutes, not bad. Still late as fuck though.
Fumbling with your keys for a moment, you finally lock up your apartment door and head out towards the stairs. It’s easily a fifteen-minute drive to campus, twelve if you truly speed. You’re calculating your total drive time as you open your passenger door to your shitty compact car, throwing your backpack down into the seat.
Maybe I could even make it in ten if I don’t have to stop at any lights AND I speed…
You circle around the front of the car to the driver seat, starting it up and buckling the seatbelt while also connecting your phone to the car speaker to play music on the way there. You’re hoping that you can make it within fifteen minutes to campus, since you still need to walk (at this point – run) to the art building to get to class.
Literally why did I even need to sleep in? How ridiculous am I? I really could’ve used those extra twenty-five minutes to de-stress- NO- Make it on time to campus for once.
Pulling out of the apartment complex parking lot, you were immediately greeted with a familiar tune on your Spotify.
Sometimes you gotta bleed to know
That you’re alive and have a soul
Alright, I am going to start waking up on time. I cannot take this “rushing out of the front door just to make it” routine I’ve somehow developed anymore! I mean I didn’t even get to eat a cinnamon raisin bagel that I bought a whole package of this weekend! Do I really want to live like this for the remainder of the semester? Rushing and starving in the mornings?
First stoplight – green.
But it takes someone to come around
To show you how
Okay one out of seven down. Smooth so far. Just need to get through the other six. Wait – the bagel reminds me; did I even turn off the coffee maker? Not that it has anything else to brew but that’s going to be so hot to deal with when I get home.
She’s the tear in my heart
I’m alive
She’s the tear in my heart
I’m on fire
She’s the tear in my heart
Take me higher
Than I’ve ever been
Oh no, what about the sheets in the washer? I completely forgot to move them over to the dryer! Geez I’m a mess. This is exactly why you need to start waking up earlier, _______! You have so many chores to deal with right when you get home from class and are you going to want to do them? No, you’ll make a stupid excuse as you always do.
You drive through stop light number 2, practically praying that the rest of this trip will be this easy to get through. If that’s the case, your internal debate with yourself may not be necessary after all.
The songs on the radio are okay
But my taste in music is your face
No, I cannot excuse my behavior and stupid choices I make anymore. I absolutely need to start trying to get a better sleep schedule because staying up late to talk on the phone with my new cute boyfriend and then reading the latest chapter of my favorite fic will no longer cut it. Okay but, I seriously couldn’t miss this new chapter- what if the scientist I’ve been lusting after for twenty chapters has finally declared his undying love for me, the reader, who is also his assistant? Shit – I still haven’t even tasted my coffee!
And it takes a song to come around
To show you how
You pick up the mug that sits in the center console, waiting in the cupholder for you to acknowledge it. Bringing it to your lips, you’re not prepared with the taste of bitterness on your tongue. Your face scrunches up in disgust as you put the mug right back where it was, trying to hold back the urge to spit it out instead of swallow.
Yuck! Did I forget to put sugar and creamer in this thing? AGAIN, nonetheless? See if I wasn’t running late, I probably would’ve remembered to make my coffee taste less like ass.
She’s the tear in my heart
I’m alive
She’s the tear in my heart
I’m on fire
She’s the tear in my heart
Take me higher
Than I’ve ever been
You see the next stoplight up ahead, glowing green as car after car goes through. A car is pulling up to the intersection, ready to turn left whenever their own light turns green. As if on trigger, your light turns yellow, but to your judgment, it looks like you can pass through if you just went a little faster.
C’mon, c’mon; this light itself is the bane of my existence. This is what caused me to be dreadfully late to my biology final last semester. So late that the teacher was hesitant to even let me take it the same day! Thank god for Dr. Dellinger.
I gotta make it through! I just gotta. Almost there-
“hey sugar, what’s the rush?” A voice says right next to your ear, coming from the backseat.
Gasping, you immediately slam on your brakes so hard, you can hear your tires skid across the asphalt, your car coming to a complete halt in no time. You bounce in the seat as your car shakes after impact, feeling your head hit the back of your fabric seat as you pant. Looking down, your knuckles are completely white as they grip the steering wheel. You have to calm yourself for a moment from how absolutely startled you are, as you were completely unaware that another person - or being rather, was in the car with you.
Luckily you know exactly who he is.
“STRETCH! I SWEAR TO GOD!” You shout, looking into the rearview mirror to find your best friend chuckling and leaning forward in the seat.
Stretch, oh boy, where to even begin with Stretch. You met him in high school when monsters were suddenly free to roam where they please rather than be stuck in the underground. You approached him first, as you were completely fascinated with the whole concept of monsters and it certainly wasn’t everyday you see a walking, living, breathing skeleton.
Well, now it’s an everyday thing, but still.
You two became fast friends as he always had something funny to say in conversation and you showed a lot of kindness and patience towards his brother, Blue. You enjoyed a lot of the same music too, passing notes between classes about different bands you should each check out during your free period. He was also always emotionally there for you especially during your first breakup, or when you had to let go of a friend who decided she was better off in the popular clique rather than with you. He certainly was your biggest support in your life besides your parents and Blue.
Before you both graduated, you weren’t sure you could stand to be away from him, so you convinced him to go to the same university as you. He was set to go to the community college nearby, but he realized it would be boring if it meant he couldn’t be with his best friend. So eventually, you were able to persuade him and now you’re both in your junior year, somehow managing.
Somehow.
Stretch watches you glare at him in the mirror, grinning in amusement at the frazzled hairstyle you’re now sporting, “damn. didn’t mean to scare you like that. however, i’m surprised you didn’t notice the orange lump in your backseat.” He reached forward to smooth down your hair, his phalanges tucking a few strands behind your ear.
You keep scolding though, swatting his hand away, “It’s probably second nature for me by now to see an orange lump in my backseat, considering you’re always leaving your sweatshirts in here! I cannot believe you were back there the whole time and didn’t say anything when I first got in the car!”
“sorry, was nappin’.” He shrugs, completely apathetic to the alarm written all over you.
You roll your eyes in response, “Whatever. Can you at least explain to me why you were sleeping in my car when you have your own dorm room with a perfectly good, functioning bed?”
There’s a deep rumble in Stretch’s voice as he lets out a single laugh, “sometimes ya can’t kill old habits, sugar. ‘sides,” he leans back in the backseat, putting his high-top sneaker covered feet on the center console and his arms behind his skull, “i figured i’d hitch a ride for our class together.” His eye sockets were closed when you checked the rearview mirror again, seeing as the light finally turned green again and you had a solid eight minutes to go to get to campus.
“Look, next time you want a ride, please just ask me rather than making me almost piss myself because I had no idea you were in the car with me. For god sakes, Stretch, I was close to punching you in the jaw because I seriously thought you were a serial killer!”
Again, he shrugs his shoulders and hums in response, “i deserve that.”
A comfortable silence falls between the two of you as you pass through the fourth stoplight, just peacefully enjoying the surroundings of the city your university is centered in. You’re sure that Stretch fell back to sleep right after he spoke to you; he always does that at the drop of a hat. It certainly is a special talent of his, you’ve noted that over the years of being friends. A small snore from the backseat confirms your suspicions and you can’t help the small grin that grows on your face as you watch his sweatshirt somehow rise and fall to the rhythm of his breathing.
However, Stretch’s pleasant nap is interrupted not too shortly after it starts as your phone buzzes on the center console. You observe him open a single eye socket in the mirror before he eyes your phone.
“hm, lemme guess: our man ‘if i were to describe him as a color, i’d pick gray’ is texting you good morning?” Stretch raises a bone brow (somehow), a hint of sarcasm in his tone. All you can do is give him a disapproving look from your view in the front seat.
Indeed, you’re in a relationship; a new, blossoming relationship, so to speak. You met Marc over Tinder (how romantic) after you read that the two of you have similar movie tastes and he was enrolled in the same college as you. Immediately after scrolling through his pictures (he was pretty cute, in your opinion, with those handsome hazel eyes on display behind those brown-framed glasses along with his six-foot tall figure), you chose to swipe right and there was an immediate match between the two of you.
Of course, Marc initiated the conversation with a simple hello and the two of you fell into a routine of texting back and forth throughout the day, quizzing each other on certain interests. You enjoyed finding out the little details about him and eventually you would start seeing each other for little coffee dates at the campus cafe or he’d walk you to certain classes.
Stretch had noticed a change in your behavior immediately after you and Marc had started talking, observing how you would grin down at your phone whenever it vibrated or how you would make him repeat whatever he just said because you didn’t pay attention to a single word he said in conversation. He decided to leave it alone until it really started to irk him and Stretch rarely gets annoyed about anything. I mean, c’mon, does your phone really need to in your face at all points within the day?
“what’s got you all distracted, hon?” He questioned out of the blue one day as you two were cozied up on his dorm bed, a B-List horror movie playing on his laptop in front of the two of you. You and Stretch were sharing a blanket with your backs against the wall of the room. But his attention was on you now, peering down at you as your phone was, of course, right in front of your face and completely diverting all of your attention from the movie. And him.
You glanced up at him from your phone, completely unphased from his obvious annoyance, “Hm?”
Stretch continued, “usually you’re in stitches about my jokes of who’s gonna die in these shitty flicks. won’t lie, sugar, that cuts kinda deep for a guy like me.”
Oh no, you definitely felt bad now. He still had his usual lazy grin on his face, but it looked somewhat strained and he sounded slightly irritated, which was rare for Stretch in itself. You let out a sympathetic sigh, “Oh Stretch, no. No, I’m so sorry for not paying attention to you. I’ve been so caught up in Marc and-“
“marc?” A curious raised bone brow indicated he has zero knowledge of the guy even existing. Of course he didn’t, you’d never uttered a word about Marc around Stretch. You didn’t know that this relationship between the two of you would even go so far.
You leaned forward to pause the movie, unlocking your phone and opening up your Tinder app, “I’m not extremely proud of this, but I met this guy on Tinder-“
“oh no. don’t tell me this is gonna be another ‘derrick with a doorknob dick’ incident.” The sarcastic smirk across his features pointed out he was only joking, but that didn’t stop you from giving him a playful smack on his sternum through his orange sweatshirt.
“Shut up! No! I thought we agreed to never bring that guy up ever again,” you dramatically shuddered, causing Stretch to chuckle before moving his hand in a way to urge you to continue, “but anyway. I saw Marc and after reading his bio and how we both like the same movies, as well as searching through his pictures. Well... I swiped right.” After searching through your photos on your phone, you found a recent selfie of Marc to show to Stretch. You easily picked the one he sent to you on Snapchat where he was walking to class, a small grin on his face as the sun hit his hazel eyes just right.
Stretch took the phone out of your hands and examined the picture for a few, agonizing moments. He was absolutely judging him; he’d done this with every single boyfriend you’ve had in the past. You don’t blame him but the anticipation of his reaction killed you because he never tended to express any emotion during the judgment. You couldn’t even read if he would go one way or another.
Before another second could pass, he simply shrugged his shoulders and handed the phone back to you, “dunno, sugar. think ya got your left and right mixed up. do you need a trick on how to remember? it’s simple really.” Stretch held up both of his hands and stuck out his phalanges in an “L” fashion, playfully grinning at your eye roll. You pushed his arms down to his sides as you groaned.
“Smartass! No, I knew what I was doing. I’ll have you know he’s working towards hopefully getting his Master’s next fall.” You added in with confidence, hoping this would convince Stretch to like Marc just a tiny bit more.
Stretch snorted, “i’m workin’ on my master’s too. masterin’ in baiting. you could say i’m a master baiter once i graduate.”
“STRETCH!” You gasped out as he laughed at your surprised reaction.
“hey, four more years after that and you can call me doctor baiter, hon.”
You shook your head, putting your blushing face into your hands, “I can’t even BELIEVE you right now. We’re going back to the movie! I am not discussing this with you any further!” You fumbled to hit start again, putting your phone far off to the side as possible as you snuggled back into the blanket, doing your best to ignore the teasing from Stretch about you blushing.
A few months later and you’re here, still not able to convince Stretch that your significant other is not a dull, two-dimensional character with a lack of drive to do anything remotely interesting.
“He’s a gentleman, so of course he’s sending me a good morning text rather than almost making me crash my car by popping out in the middle of nowhere because he was taking a nap in the backseat of my vehicle.” You tease, reaching over to pick up the phone as you notice you’re finally making your way through the fifth stoplight, meaning you’ll be at the school soon enough.
You’re about to unlock the phone when Stretch, who is now in the front seat and you know for sure did not climb over that seat, takes the phone out of your hand and clicks his tongue at you, “textin’ ‘n drivin’, sweetheart? you were raised better than that.”
“Oh now you’re going to lecture me? If I recall, you didn’t say a word when we were FaceTiming the other day while I was driving because you needed some answers on that quiz for class!” You were glancing between the road and Stretch as he was holding your phone, reading the message notification on your front screen.
He rereads the message out loud to you, “‘good mornin’, beautiful’. that’s it? no ‘good mornin’, can’t wait to dick ya down later?’ he’s so lame.”
Ignoring Stretch’s comment, you feel your heart leap from just the sweet compliment Marc sent you. He really is a sweet, adorable guy and so far there isn’t a flaw that he has that annoys you. Sure, sometimes it’s hard to pick a place to go out to eat because he’s picky about his food choices (the quality has to be the best of the best) and certainly trying to pick a place to hang out with him can be tricky. But all in all, you really appreciate how accepting Marc is and how easy it is to get along with him.
Stretch’s voice interrupts your thought progress, reeling you back into the conversation between you and him, “d’you want me to respond for you? i don’t mind.”
His offer, which he’s presented quite happily (and Stretch is anything but thrilled when it comes to Marc), is suspicious. But you will give your best friend the benefit of the doubt and let him give it a shot, “Alright, I’ll let you. Try to say something like ‘good morning, handsome! Can’t wait for lunch later!’ And end it with a heart eyes emoji or something.”
Your eyes are too focused on the road ahead of you as you pass by the last stoplight on your trip to the university (thank god it stayed green. It’s even worse to get stuck at that intersection, especially on school days since many students were also driving to campus at the same time as you) and your brain is too overloaded with joy at the thought of spending some time with Marc later today.
But the rustling in the seat next to you finally snaps you back to your attention as you looked directly at the perpetrator. Stretch, whom you knew you couldn’t trust with your phone, is working at untying the strings of his black sweatpants with one hand and holding your phone at such an angle with the other that truly raised your suspicions. He’s only truly doing one thing-
“Are you… are you taking a dick picture, Stretch?! Oh my god! Why?! I have so many questions!” You want to yank your phone out of the grasp of his phalanges immediately and just pray that he didn’t say anything embarrassing about you.
“aw, c’mon, sugar, i was only kiddin’. i wasn’t actually gonna do it. jus’ wanted to spook ya.” He’s laughing as you reach over to seize your phone from him, shaking your head at Stretch’s actions. You place the phone in your lap (that text to Marc is just going to wait. You’ll finish it when you get to campus) and huff out a frustrated sigh.
You mumble under your breath, “You are never allowed to send a reply to Marc, ever. I cannot trust you to not send him something embarrassing.”
You’re too distracted with Stretch and his nonsense to notice you’ve finally made it to the turn for campus. The time on your car radio clock reads that you had five minutes to park, walk, and make it to your Art History class within the time limit. Parking is already a struggle enough when on time for any of your classes, so this should be another interesting adventure to have.
You pull into the giant parking lot, starting your trek to find an open spot, “Ugh, next year, I’m taking shitty online courses and avoiding this mess, I swear.”
Stretch yawns, gazing over at you, “mmm, then how could we have these fun, college adventures together, hon? by the way, there’s a spot to your left.” You immediately slam on your brakes again, looking left to see, indeed, an empty parking space.
“Oh sweet Jesus, it’s a miracle,” you turn in to park, finally shutting your car off before reaching over and giving Stretch a dramatic kiss on his cheekbone, “I forgive you for all that’s happened this morning since you managed to find a close space.” You don’t miss the slight, but very rare, orange blush that crosses his cheeks.
He says nothing but winks as the two of you exit the car, both grabbing your backpacks while you lock your car.
As you begin walking towards the art building, he reaches over, wraps an arm around your shoulders, and pulls you close, “stick with me, darlin’ and we’ll get through just ‘bout everythin’.”