Work Text:
Beck rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt, his palms sweaty despite the cool evening air. He caught his reflection in the mirror and huffed. It’s not a date. Just two dudes going to a drag race. Nothing strange about that. Except, of course, that it was Sinjin he was taking—Sinjin, who somehow always managed to make things a little weird.
Grabbing his phone, Beck checked the time, only to see Sinjin’s latest post glaring back at him:
“Getting ready for my man date.”
There he was, posing with his bike—a bicycle, not even a motorbike—his green jacket zipped halfway up and his trademark smug grin on full display. Beck stared at the screen for a moment, his heart doing something stupid. Man date? Really?
“Yep. Definitely weird,” he muttered, stuffing his phone into his pocket before heading out the door.
The soft whir of spinning wheels caught Beck’s attention as Sinjin pedaled up to his driveway. Sinjin hopped off his bike with an exaggerated flourish, propping it against Beck’s truck. His green jacket stood out against the fading light, and Beck tried not to notice how the fabric hugged his shoulders.
Sinjin shot him a grin. “Nice flannel, Beck. What are you, chopping wood before the race?”
Beck snorted, leaning against the truck. “What’s your excuse? Delivering papers on that thing?”
Sinjin laughed, patting the handlebars of his bike. “Don’t knock it. This beauty’s eco-friendly, and she gets me where I need to go.”
“Yeah, at five miles an hour,” Beck teased, opening the passenger door for him.
Sinjin didn’t miss a beat. “Faster than you in those boots, lumberjack.” He tossed his bag into the truck and climbed in, stretching out like he owned the place.
Beck climbed into the driver’s seat, shaking his head as Sinjin smirked at him. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”
“Yeah, but you still asked me out,” Sinjin shot back, buckling his seatbelt.
“It’s not a date,” Beck said quickly, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck.
Sinjin just hummed, tapping a rhythm on the dashboard as Beck started the engine.
The drag race was alive with roaring engines and flashing lights by the time they arrived. Beck parked the truck, and they joined the crowd gathering around the strip. Sinjin stayed close, his shoulder brushing against Beck’s as they made their way to a good vantage point.
“You nervous or something?” Sinjin asked, leaning in close enough that Beck could feel his breath against his ear.
“No,” Beck said quickly, crossing his arms. “Just not a fan of crowds.”
Sinjin raised an eyebrow, his grin softening. “Relax. You’ve got me here to protect you.”
Beck rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at his lips. They watched the first few races in relative silence, the energy of the crowd and the roar of engines filling the air. Beck couldn’t focus, though—not with Sinjin standing so close, his green jacket catching the glow of the neon lights, his laugh making Beck’s chest ache in a way he didn’t want to think about.
During a break in the action, Sinjin turned to him, his eyes gleaming. “So, what’s the plan after this, lumberjack? You treating me to dinner, or what?”
“Dinner?” Beck asked, caught off guard. “Why would I—”
“Man date rules,” Sinjin interrupted with a shrug. “You invite me out, you buy the food. It’s only fair.”
Beck stared at him, searching for any sign that he was joking. Sinjin’s grin widened, and Beck realized he didn’t care if it was a joke or not. He just nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide their trembling.
“Fine,” Beck said, trying to sound nonchalant. “But you’re paying next time.”
“Next time, huh?” Sinjin said, his voice low and teasing. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
Beck didn’t respond. He was too busy wondering if he was imagining the way Sinjin’s gaze lingered, the way his smirk softened into something almost serious. Maybe this wasn’t a date—but maybe it didn’t have to be. Not yet.