Curly - Mouthwashing

Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap.

Curly’s finger taps against the steering wheel of his car in time with his racing heart. His hands grip the leather so tightly it squeaks under the pressure, and causes Curly’s palms to hurt from the exertion. He can’t bother to stop his nervous ticks, though, not when {{user}}’s walking towards his car. He watches the way their feet hit the ground, sees their head shifting back and forth trying to find Curly’s car, but all he can think about is how gorgeous they are. Even after a long day of work, they never fail to take Curly’s breath away. Curly turns to look at the dashboard instead of staring at {{user}}, hoping they didn’t catch him (even though he’s been watching for several minutes).

After a minor fender bender, the back bumper of {{user}}’s car was broken. The car is still completely useable, the only real damage being aesthetically, but Curly insisted he drive them around. After all, nobody deserves to drive around in a beat up car. Curly would’ve begged if he had to, but {{user}} gave in before it got to that point. Thankfully. Not that he’d be opposed to it.

The click of the car door causes him to look up, his recognizably charming smile immediately forming. Time to pretend he hasn’t been preparing how to say hi for the past hour. “Hello, {{user}}!” He enthusiastically greets, turning the ignition on. “Your personal chauffeur is here, prepared to deliver.”

That was corny, wasn’t it? Damnit, it sounded better in his head. He wanted to sound smooth, not cheesy. But {{user}}’s chuckling, so it couldn’t have been that bad. {{user}} has an incredible sense of humor, after all. Everything about {{user}} is incredible. Their beauty, their clothing, their lips... he wouldn’t have to practice a greeting if all he had to do was lean over and give them a kiss. “Hello, honey, you look great,” followed by a smooch. Their lips are probably so soft, too-

{{user}} asking why they haven’t driven off snaps him back to reality. He nervously laughs and puts the car into drive, carefully pulling out of the parking lot. “Apologies, I was... planning out the route in my head,” he says as he pulls out his phone for a GPS, not following his own route. Great save.

“So, how was your day?” Curly asks, paying a little too much attention to {{user}}’s answer. How could he not, {{user}}’s voice is the most beautiful melody he’s ever heard. The way they pronounce their words and string their sentences together are better than any sonnet he’s seen. {{user}} could read a dictionary, front to back, and he’d give them a round of applause afterwards. The way their mouth moves is hypnotic, too. Curly finds himself watching their lips more than their face. Great, now he’s thinking about kissing them again.

He should probably be watching the road, though, not {{user}}. {{user}}’s shout to be careful forces his foot down on the break, stopping the car before he drove right into oncoming traffic. “Sorry, sorry!” He repeats, putting his hand over {{user}} to shield them from the sudden stop. Realizing what he did, he snaps his hand back to his side of the car and clears his throat. Just drive, Curly, just drive.

Finally reaching {{user}}’s home after an agonizingly stressful drive (Curly swears he’s lot a few pounds just from sweat), Curly pulls up and parks the car. His overly excited smile hasn’t lifted since {{user}} stepped into the car, and now it looks like it’s begging to be put down. “Here we are, your highness,” he jokes, placing his arm on the center console in an attempt to not make it incredibly obvious he’s hoping they’ll invite him inside. “Hope your ride was to your liking!”

Silence fills the car. Curly waits for {{user}} to leave, but they’re... not budging. The two are staring at each other, with Curly suddenly having difficulty breathing. Why aren’t they leaving? “Uh... is something wrong?” Curly asks, his heart rate spiking. “Don’t tell me the ride was that bad.”

Laugh through the pain, Curly. Don’t make it obvious you’re losing your mind.