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Cars were a curious creation in the life of Joseph Kavinsky. They meant a lot to him, more than some people had, and he'd worked hard at the perfection of a vehicle. He'd never been an expressly creative person, not in the way that he thought of creativity. He was a technical soul, which made the creation of vehicles, of drugs and drinks, something of an art form to him.

When Newt had said he wanted to start doing landscaping professionally, or at least that he was seriously considering it, Kavinsky thought about what that looked like. The sorts of tools that went into that. And first and foremost in his mind was a truck. Something that Newt could drive around to jobs, to carry the sorts of bigger things that he'd work with, but still be small enough that his husband wouldn't be intimidated by the vehicle and would be able to manage it by himself.

Kavinsky thought about it for a while, and it took him a couple tries before he got what he was looking for.

And then, one day, he drove up in a little red truck to pick Newt up from classes. He was early. He leaned on the front bumper and waited, juggling the keys in his palm. He hoped that Newt liked it.

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Newt almost misses him, standing there by the unfamiliar van. Eventually though, he picks out his boyfriend, tall and narrow and beautiful. He makes a beeline for him grinning, his bag slung across his chest.

"You dream yourself some new wheels while I was in class, shank? Do we actually have room for two cars on the driveway?"

"Dreamt you some," Kavinsky said, a lazy smile tipping his mouth up. He juggled the keys one more time, and then low-pitched them to Newt. "Happy early birthday, baby. The first step toward starting your business."

Kavinsky was pretty sure they could fit both cars in the driveway, but if worst came to worst, he'd park on the street. The Evo had that glorious gouge in the side, and he wasn't worried about it getting more damage.

"It's for me?" asks Newt, his eyes widening as he takes in the little truck. A shocked, sudden smile spreads across his face. "But I can't even shucking drive yet, Joe."

"It's an automatic," Kavinsky said, smiling easily. He'd thought about a stick shift, but they could save that lesson for another time. The Evo would be fine for that--as long as Newt didn't drop the transmission out shifting gears. "So, it's pretty intuitive to drive. Just takes practice."

He reached out for Newt, hooking the strap of his bag and pulling him in close. "You wanna take her for a spin?"

Newt's eyes widen a little bit and he looks up at Kavinsky, eyebrows raised.

"Really? Now? Are you shucking sure?"

"Truck's yours, sugar," Kavinsky said, smudging a kiss on his forehead. "You can learn to drive it whenever you want. And whenever you're ready to start doing your landscaping, we'll make sure everything's ready. You might wanna learn to drive before then, though."

"I mean...Yeah. We can try it," he says, still looking a little bit worried. "If you're...yeah. If you're sure I can manage it?"

"I have total confidence," Kavinsky said, smiling broadly. And he meant it too. There was a learning curve going into driving, but Newt was fast, smart, observant. He knew that Newt had watched him drive the Evo, and that was a lot more complicated than driving an automatic.

He led him over to the truck, opening the driver's side door for him to get in.

Newt slides into the driver's seat, leaning forward to run his fingers reverently along the dashboard. It's a beautiful thing that his husband has dreamed for him, and Newt's heart flares up with love.

Kavinsky slid in on the passenger's side and smiled, loving even just the look of Newt behind the wheel of the car. He sat patiently, watching him, letting him take his time. The bench was comfortable, a supple leather that would take years to break down. Kavinsky slid across it, taking up the middle part of the bench.

"So, you're gonna want to make sure all your mirrors are in good places, first, so you can see out the sides and behind you easily. I tend to have mine pointed out a bit more, so I can see the road but no parts of the car. It gives the best view of the blind spots."

He's watched Kavinsky do it for enough time that it feels natural to reach out and adjust the mirrors so that he's got the right lines of sight. He checks them at least a couple more times than he probably needs to.

"Right," he says. "Okay."

"Okay," Kavinsky said, breathing a little bit of a laugh. "Now, when you're ready, turn the car on. Let it idle a little, get used to the feel of it before you try to go anywhere. This baby doesn't have the get up and go that the Evo does, you won't feel her as much, but there's a rhythm to how it feels."

Newt's surprised by the sudden, nervous pounding of his heart. He breathes deep and steady and then turns his head to look at Kavinsky. He turns on the engine and just listens to it for a moment.

"Why am I this nervous?"

"It's a new experience," Kavinsky speculated, which seemed as reasonable an answer as anything. He didn't know what the nerves were. He'd never been nervous about driving, and he'd taught himself manual in a sports car when he was fourteen. This seemed blindingly simple in comparison, even if they were a bit higher off the ground.

Gently, Kavinsky leaned over and pressed a kiss to Newt's cheek. "It's gonna be okay. It just takes practice."

He remembers riding in that truck with Tommy and the others, remembers how it had felt to have the breeze in his face like that. Yeah, he thinks. Driving could be fun.

"Okay," he says, the engine humming. "Now what?"

"Okay, now we pull out."

Kavinsky explains the processes gently, but not as if Newt is incompetent. He tells him to keep the lines on either side of the truck, to keep his distance from other cars, to trust the spacing of the road. There's no need to go fast right now. The truck's barely built for speed anyway, a slow rumble up from a dead stop to a decent city clip, but she sustains it well.

Kavinsky's pretty proud of himself for this sort of novice vehicle.

"You shouldn't have to be slamming on your brakes or anything like that, unless someone jumps the curb or runs a light. Just easy."

Newt takes it slow. It feels weird to be the one who's driving, not the one in the passenger seat but, as he gets into it, he realises it's easier than he feared it might be. He does occasionally go a little bit to heavy on the breaks, apologising every single time.

"Shit," he mumbles, as the truck lurches a little. "Sorry."

By the third time it happened and Newt mumbled his apology, Kav was just laughing about it. He reached out and scrubbed his fingers into Newt's hair, gently squeezing the back of his neck.

"You're fine. You're fine, sugar. It takes some getting used to. You're doing good, though, see? I told you it wasn't that hard." He beamed at him, ecstatic that Newt was taking to this, that he'd accepted the gift so easily.

"You're still going to drive me places, right?" says Newt, risking a glance at Kavinsky before he gives his full attention back to the road. "Because I shucking love it when you drive me places."

"Of course," Kavinsky said. He ruffled Newt's hair gently, but didn't distract him any more than that. Driving took a lot of focus, especially when you were still learning. So they drove on, and after a while, Kavinsky said, "This'll be the work truck. And whenever you want to use it for yourself. And the Evo will be the...the family card."

"Family," says Newt, biting his lip over a grin as he slows down in a more controlled fashion for a stop sign. "I like the sound of that."

"Not so bad, is it?" Kavinsky said with a charmed laugh. His eyes were light and happy as he watched Newt. "Family as good a sound as Kavinsky, sugar? Because you know--you know I'm really into that sound. You thought about what you're gonna call your business yet?"

"Nothing sounds as good to me as Kavinsky," he says. Even though he remembers his birth-name now, it doesn't matter to him anymore. It isn't who he is. Newt Kavinsky? That's who he is. "I don't know. I keep coming back to the Glade, though."

"It's a good name," Kavinsky said, nodding a little. It didn't really matter either way, but he wanted Newt to be happy with whatever he chose. He knew Newt had a lot of good memories from the Glade, even if it was a wrought time of his life.

He leaned over and kissed his cheek gently. "Whatever you're pick, I'm behind you, a hundred and ten percent, sugar."

"I'll figure something out," says Newt as he pulls to a stop at an intersection. "What's the best way home from here?"

"Left," Kavinsky said without too much thought. He was used to this drive by now, could probably do it in his sleep, or at least with his eyes closed. He smiled, and prompted Newt with directions until they got back to the house.

"Let's just park on the road for right now."

Newt lets out a little huff of relief when Kavinsky suggests that, because it means there's no chance in him scraping the Evo.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he says, giving Kavinsky a doubtful look. "I did okay?"

"You did great, sugar," Kavinsky assured. He ruffled Newt gently, leaned over and smudged a kiss on his temple. "You did really good. We'll get some more practice in, get you a license. It'll be good. Don't you worry, okay?"

"Yeah," says Newt. His cheeks are flushed with quiet pleasure. "I can't believe you did this for me."

"Of course, sugar," Kavinsky said, soft and full of affection. Seeing Newt like this, confident and self-assured and only a little nervous about the path laid out in front of him, soothed some rumpled feeling in his chest.

They were going to be okay. This was going to be okay. Not because Kavinsky had dreamt a car, but because he'd done it for good reasons.

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