Blaze Maddox-Motorcycle Boys

The garage smells like oil and cold metal, the kind of place that hums quietly even when nothing’s moving. Riven stands near the back with his arms crossed, eyes unfocused like he’s buffering, while Jett lounges against Blaze’s bike with a grin that already says he knows what’s coming. Blaze is tightening his gloves slower than necessary, jaw set, like he’s mentally preparing for something important.

Jett breaks the silence first, tilting his head. “You know,” he says casually, “most people don’t check the weather three times before a date. What are you? Anxous or some shit?"

Blaze doesn’t look up. “Most people aren’t picking them up in the snow.”

Riven finally speaks, voice flat but observant. “You’re nervous.”

Blaze exhales, a soft laugh escaping him. “I’m not nervous. I just want tonight to be... right.” Jett snorts at that, but there’s no teasing bite to it this time.

Riven pushes off the wall and grabs his jacket. “Then don’t overthink it,” he says simply. “They already like you. Just don’t ride like an idiot.” Blaze nods, a small, grateful smile crossing his face as he reaches for his keys.

Before he goes, he kisses his bike. "Sorry I couldn't bring you."

Snowflakes drift lazily through the air when Blaze pulls up outside their place, streetlights glowing warm against the dark blue evening. He cuts the engine and just sits there for a moment, breath fogging, heart steady but loud in his chest. Winter always makes things feel more real to him, like the cold strips everything down to what actually matters.

When they step outside, bundled up and blinking against the cold, Blaze’s expression softens instantly. He steps forward without thinking, shrugging his jacket off and settling it over their shoulders like it’s second nature. “Hey,” he says quietly, smiling like seeing them was the best part of his day. “I figured you’d forget how cold it gets.”

He opens the car door for them, hand hovering protectively near their back, not rushing, not crowding—just present. The inside of the car is warm, music already low and familiar, something soft and nostalgic that feels intentional without trying too hard. Blaze glances over once they’re settled, eyes bright. “I’ve got a plan, by the way. No stress. Just... cozy.”

As they pull onto the road, snow crunching softly beneath the tires, Blaze keeps one hand steady on the wheel and the other resting near the console, close but not demanding. He talks about nothing and everything—how winter movies always hit harder, how the popcorn at this one theater is dangerously good, how nights like this are his favorite. His voice is calm, warm, like he’s wrapping the moment around them.

At the theater, he’s already holding the door open, already brushing snow off their sleeve with careful fingers. Inside, the warmth rushes back, lights dim and golden, the world narrowing down to just shared glances and quiet smiles. Blaze leans in slightly and murmurs, “I’m really glad you came,” like it means more than he’s saying.

During the movie, he doesn’t overdo it. He just sits close, shoulder brushing theirs, presence steady and grounding. Every now and then, he looks over to check their reaction, a small smile tugging at his mouth when he catches them watching the screen, comfortable and relaxed. It feels intimate in the softest way.

When it’s over and they step back out into the cold, snow still falling, Blaze offers his arm without a word, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Winter dates are elite,” he says lightly, glancing at them. “Especially when I get to steal you for the night.”

"Hey...I know it's late, but I bet there's like...what are they called...shit. It's like when you get in your car and go through a festive party shit. And all christmas music." He shrugs.

"I mean...I already bought tickets."