Chapter Text
Vic Fuentes had never been able to resist the pull of a beautiful subject. Sometimes it was a person with a face that caught the late afternoon light just right, sometimes it was a mural blooming with colors on the side of a forgotten building, sometimes it was something as simple as steam curling out of a coffee cup against a windowpane. But today, it was a car. He had only meant to duck into Walmart for a pack of batteries and maybe some instant ramen to keep him from starving during another week of late-night editing marathons. He parked his beat-up Toyota in a sea of minivans and sedans, slung his camera bag over his shoulder, and started walking toward the sliding doors. That was when he saw it.
The Corvette Z06 practically shimmered in the parking lot, its paint a deep, glossy black that seemed to drink in the sunlight before spitting it back out in gorgeous highlights that danced across its curves. The car looked like it was sculpted rather than manufactured, low, sleek, and unapologetically fast even while sitting perfectly still. The red brake calipers peeking through the rims made it look even cooler.
Vic stopped dead in his tracks. His photographer’s brain lit up like fireworks. He had the camera with him, he always did, and his fingers itched to snap a picture. He looked around once, twice, hesitated, then thought: Screw it. It wasn’t like anyone was around to care, right? Cars like this practically begged to be photographed. The thing looked like it belonged in a magazine spread, not a Walmart parking lot.
Vic slipped the camera out of its bag with ease, adjusted the strap around his neck, and crouched slightly as he brought it to his eye. The satisfying click of the shutter filled the air as he framed the Corvette’s front end, getting the grill angled just right, so the sun was streaking down across the hood like a spotlight. He shifted, snapped another shot, then circled slowly, squatting lower to capture the reflection of a passing cloud on the windshield. He lost himself quickly, as he usually did. The rest of the world fell away until there was nothing but angles, lines, light. He adjusted exposure, leaned closer, caught the details in the Z06 badge near the fender. His heart sped up the way it always did when he felt the click of a perfect capture.
He was so wrapped up in it that he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until a voice cut through his concentration.
“Usually,” the voice drawled, not hostile but not exactly warm either, “people ask before they start taking pictures of someone else’s car.”
Vic jerked upright so fast he nearly dropped his camera. He spun around, and there was the owner. Had to be . A tall guy with broad shoulders and tattoos climbing down his neck and both arms, with his dark hair in a quiff. He wore ripped black jeans and a faded Misfits t-shirt, and the way he crossed his arms gave off the impression he was pissed but didn’t want to say it.
“Oh uh,” Vic stammered, caught completely off guard. Heat rushed to his face, and he lowered the camera like a guilty kid caught stealing candy. “Shit, I’m sorry. I wasn’t, uh, I mean, I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful or anything. I just… it’s a gorgeous car. Couldn’t help myself.”
The guy arched an eyebrow, still watching him, then he gave him a smirk and sighed, like he was used to this happening.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice smoother now. “She does that to people.”
Vic let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, scratching the back of his neck. “I should’ve asked first, I know. Bad habit. The whole ‘better to ask forgiveness than permission’ thing doesn’t really hold up when it comes to… well, expensive things.”
That earned him a small chuckle. The guy stepped closer, glancing at the camera still hanging from Vic’s neck. “Are you a photographer or something?”
“Yeah,” Vic said quickly, then added with a self-deprecating shrug, “Well, trying to be. I do freelance gigs, band shoots, that kind of stuff. But I can’t turn it off. If I see something worth shooting, I’m already framing it in my head before I even realize it.”
The guy studied him for a moment, then looked back at the Corvette, pride flickering across his face. “I guess there are worse things than someone thinking your ride’s picture-worthy.” He extended a hand. “Tony Perry.”
Vic blinked, then shifted his camera to one side so he could shake it. Tony’s grip was firm, warm, and confident.
“Vic,” he said. “Vic Fuentes.”
“Nice to meet you, Vic. Glad you stalked my car.” Tony’s grin widened enough to show he was teasing now, not accusing.
Vic laughed nervously, the embarrassment fading away. “Yeah, that’s gonna look real good on my resume.” He glanced back at the car, the photographer in him still itching. “For what it’s worth, though, I wasn’t lying. That’s one hell of a car.”
Tony’s expression softened at that, a kind of pride glowing behind his eyes. He turned his head toward the car, like he couldn’t help admiring it too. “Yeah. She’s mine. Put a lot of work into her.”
“Z06, right?” Vic asked, gesturing toward the badge.
Tony looked back at him, slightly impressed. “You know your cars?”
“Not… really,” Vic admitted with a sheepish grin. “But I know enough to recognize when something looks like it could outrun the devil.”
Tony laughed, a low, genuine sound that made Vic’s shoulders relax. “Not a bad way to put it.”
For a moment, they stood there together, both looking at the Corvette as if it were a piece of art in a gallery. Vic’s embarrassment had melted into curiosity, and maybe a little awe, not just of the car, but of its owner. There was something magnetic about Tony, the way he carried himself, the mix of coolness and humor. Vic cleared his throat. “So… if I, uh, asked properly this time- would you mind if I took a few more shots? Nothing weird, I swear. The lighting’s good right now, and cars like this don’t exactly pop up at Walmart every day.”
Tony tilted his head, considering. His eyes flicked from Vic to the camera and back again, like he was sizing up his sincerity. Finally, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“You ask nicely, and maybe I’ll even pop the hood for you,” he said.
Vic’s grin broke across his face before he could stop it. “Deal.”
Vic shifted the camera strap nervously, thumb running across the worn leather like a tic. “Okay, properly this time.” He cleared his throat and forced himself to meet Tony’s eyes, though they were prettier than he expected up close. “Would you mind-” his voice cracked, and he winced, then tried again. “Would you mind if I took a few more photos of your car? I promise I’ll respect boundaries. No leaning on it, no fingerprints. Just… shots.”
Tony didn’t answer right away. He tilted his head, scanning Vic like he was trying to decide whether this stranger with messy brown hair and camera in hand was worth the risk. Finally, Tony gave a short nod.
“That’s better,” he said. “See? Not so hard to ask.”
Vic grinned, half embarrassed but relieved. “Lesson learned. Always ask the cool car guys for permission.”
“Damn right,” Tony said, smirking as he stepped closer to the car. He slid his keys out of his pocket and twirled them once around his finger before pressing the fob. The Corvette chirped, headlights blinking. “Go ahead. Knock yourself out.”
Vic didn’t need to be told twice. He crouched again, repositioned himself, and snapped a shot that captured the whole sleek line of the car against the sprawl of the lot. He adjusted, taking one from the rear, the sunlight glinting off the polished chrome. Then he lowered the camera for a moment, squinting at the composition.
“You know,” he said casually, “this thing’s way too pretty for a Walmart lot backdrop. It deserves, like, a desert road with mountains behind it. Or a cityscape at night.”
Tony laughed under his breath, leaning against a shopping cart corral as he watched Vic work. “Guess I should’ve thought about that before I came here for toothpaste.”
Vic chuckled. “Hey, some things can’t wait.”
Tony didn’t move, just let Vic circle the car, snapping away. After a moment he called out, “So you always carry a camera with you? Or just when you’re creeping on random cars?”
Vic lowered the camera long enough to shoot him a mock-offended look. “Always. It’s my job. Well, job and obsession. I’m a photographer. If I don’t keep it with me, I spend the whole day wishing I had.”
“Makes sense,” Tony said, watching him with an unreadable expression. “You good at it?”
The question caught Vic off guard. He blinked, shifting his weight. “I… hope so? I mean, I’ve gotten paid for it, so someone thinks so.” He lifted the camera and snapped another quick shot, hiding behind the lens like it was a shield. “Bands, mostly. Sometimes portraits if people don’t mind me bossing them around.”
Tony hummed thoughtfully. “So why’s a car going in your portfolio?”
Vic grinned again. “Cars are like portraits of people’s personality.”
That earned him another chuckle, and this time Tony pushed off the cart corral and walked closer, resting his hands casually in his pockets as he stopped by the hood. “Alright, philosopher. Since you asked nicely, want me to pop the hood? Get the engine in the shot? She’s prettier on the inside.”
Vic’s jaw practically dropped. “Wait- you’d let me shoot the engine?”
Tony shrugged, lips twitching into a smile at Vic’s excitement. “Long as you don’t drop your camera in there.”
Vic laughed nervously. “That only happened once. And it was an old Nikon, so it doesn’t even count.”
Tony raised a brow but didn’t press. Instead, he leaned down, flicked the latch, and lifted the hood. The engine gleamed, polished, clean, humming like it was alive. Vic sucked in a breath, already angling his camera.
“Oh my god,” he muttered, the shutter snapping rapidly. “This is- okay, yeah, you weren’t kidding. She’s gorgeous.”
Tony’s pride was obvious in the way he stood just to the side, watching Vic like the Corvette’s beauty was reflected in every click of the shutter. “Told you.”
For a few minutes, Vic forgot entirely that he was in a Walmart parking lot. It was just him, the car, and the perfect interplay of light on metal. When he finally lowered the camera, grinning, Tony caught the look and shook his head.
“Man, you look like you just shot a supermodel.”
Vic shrugged, his cheeks warming. “Kinda feels like I did.”
Tony leaned against the fender, careful not to actually touch it, and gave him a sideways glance. “You get this into everything you shoot? Or just cars that make you drool?”
“Both,” Vic said honestly. He hesitated, then added, “Though, for the record, it’s not just the car. The owner’s half the story.”
That line slipped out before Vic could stop himself. His face burned immediately, and he busied himself with checking the camera settings even though he didn’t need to.
Tony’s smirk deepened as he lowered the hood, like he’d heard the slip perfectly well. “That so?”
Vic coughed. “Uh. Yeah. Y’know. Context and all that.”
“Mm.” Tony didn’t press, but he didn’t look away either.
The silence stretched, though it wasn’t awkward- it had tension. Finally, Vic broke it by lifting the camera slightly, angling it toward Tony. “Can I-?”
Tony blinked, then tilted his head. “You wanna take my picture?”
“Well,” Vic said quickly, “you kinda go with the car. Balance, contrast, all that. But only if you’re cool with it. I mean, you’ve already been patient with me-”
Tony chuckled, holding up a hand. “Relax. If it makes the shot better, go ahead.”
Vic adjusted quickly, snapping a frame where Tony leaned next to the car, tattoos on display, the Corvette gleaming beside him. The shot came out electric, the kind of photo Vic knew people would stop and stare at.
He lowered the camera, breathless. “Okay. That one’s a keeper.”
Tony watched him for a beat, then smiled- really smiled, it made Vic blush. “I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Photographer.”
Vic smiled back, his pulse hadn’t quite slowed when Tony nodded at the camera dangling from his neck.
“Alright,” Tony said, his voice casual but edged with curiosity, “show me this masterpiece you’re grinning about.”
Vic hesitated, suddenly nervous. He wasn’t usually shy about his work, his whole career depended on showing it off, but this felt different. He scrolled quickly through the shots until he landed on the one that had made his stomach flip: Tony leaning against the Corvette, Tony’s tattoos stood out in sharp relief against the glossy black hood, the sunlight haloing the strands of hair that had slipped loose from his perfect quiff. The whole frame buzzed with attitude and quiet confidence.
“Damn,” Vic muttered under his breath.
Tony tilted his head. “Good shot?”
Without giving himself time to chicken out, Vic turned the screen toward him. “You tell me.”
Tony stepped closer, leaning just enough to peer at the display. His arm brushed Vic’s shoulder, light but enough to send a jolt down Vic’s spine. After a moment, Tony gave a low whistle.
“…Okay,” he said, lips curling into a grin. “Yeah, that’s sick. Didn’t think I could look that cool standing next to a Walmart cart return.”
Vic exhaled, relief rushing through him. “Really? You like it?”
“Yeah.” Tony leaned back, arms crossing as his lips tugged into a half-smile. “I mean, I don’t usually let strangers take pictures of me, but if they all came out like that, maybe I should start charging.”
Vic laughed, embarrassed heat crawling up his neck. “Please don’t. I can barely afford ramen as it is.”
Tony chuckled at that, the sound warm enough that Vic’s shoulders relaxed. “You gonna post it somewhere?”
“Only with your okay,” Vic said quickly. “I mean, client stuff, yeah, that’s different. But random people? I don’t exactly have a release form handy.”
Tony smirked. “So professional.”
Vic shrugged. “Gotta cover my ass.”
There was a small pause, then Tony said, “Well… if you don’t post it, at least send me a copy. Kinda want proof I looked that sexy once.”
Vic blinked, caught off guard. “Send it to you?”
“Yeah,” Tony said simply. He dug his phone out of his pocket and held it out like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Number swap?”
For a second, Vic just stared at the phone, his brain buffering like a bad WIFI connection, then he scrambled to pull his own phone free, fumbling with the cracked screen. “Uh- yeah. Sure. Totally.”
They exchanged devices, fingers brushing briefly as they passed them over. Vic tried not to think too hard about how warm Tony’s hand had been. He typed his number into Tony’s contacts with a nervous kind of precision, adding his name and, because he couldn’t resist, a little camera emoji.
When he handed it back, Tony glanced down at the entry and smirked. “Vic - camera emoji - Fuentes, huh?”
Vic flushed. “What? It helps people remember what I do.”
“Mm,” Tony said, clearly amused. He finished typing into Vic’s phone and handed it back. Vic looked down to see Tony Perry 🚗 saved in his contacts.
He laughed. “Really? Car emoji?”
“You started it,” Tony said, his grin widening.
“Fair enough.”
Another beat of quiet passed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable this time. The late-afternoon sun dipped lower, painting the asphalt gold. Around them, Walmart life buzzed, shopping carts squeaking, car doors slamming, but it all felt far away.
Tony leaned back against the Corvette again, casual, like he belonged there as much as the car itself. “So, Vic… are you always out here hunting down muses in parking lots, or was today special?”
Vic fiddled with his camera strap, a small smile on his lips. “Guess that depends. You planning on parking here again tomorrow?”
Tony’s smirk sharpened. “Smooth.”
Vic flushed but didn’t look away. “I try.”
Tony chuckled, shaking his head like he couldn’t decide if Vic was bold or just a dork. “Well, I’ll give you this- you’ve got guts, pointing a camera at someone else’s ride without asking. Not everyone would’ve been cool about it.”
“Yeah, I got lucky,” Vic admitted. “Could’ve been chased off with a gun or something.”
Tony tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Maybe I just wanted to see what you’d do when I called you out.”
Vic raised an eyebrow. “And? Impressed?”
“Not bad,” Tony said. His tone was teasing, but the look in his eyes was steady, thoughtful.
Vic’s chest did that twisting thing again, the one that made his stomach flip. He swallowed and lifted the camera slightly, almost like a shield again. “So… you’ll let me send you the photos?”
Tony nodded. “Yeah. Text ‘em to me. Maybe I’ll even let you shoot her again sometime. In a better spot than Walmart.”
Vic’s heart skipped. “Really?”
“Sure,” Tony said casually, though there was a spark of something more behind his smirk. “You made her look good. I respect that.”
Vic smiled so wide his cheeks hurt. “Then it’s a date.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them. His eyes widened, and he fumbled, waving his free hand. “I mean- not a date-date. Just, like, a photography date. Car date. Uh, shit.”
Tony stared at him for half a second, then burst out laughing. “Relax, man. I got what you meant.”
Vic groaned softly, rubbing his forehead. “God, kill me now.”
“Don’t worry,” Tony said, amusement still dancing in his eyes. “I’ll let you live if you text me.”
“Deal,” Vic said quickly, grateful for the out. “Alright then. Guess I should actually buy the crap I came here for before the sun goes down.”
Tony smirked at that, then walked around to the driver’s side of the Corvette. He paused with his hand on the door, glancing back once. “Text me those shots tonight, Fuentes. Don’t make me chase you down.”
Vic held up his camera in a mock salute. “You got it.”
Tony slid into the driver’s seat, door closing with a solid, expensive-sounding thunk . A moment later, the engine roared to life, deep and throaty, vibrating through the pavement. Heads turned in the lot, but Tony’s gaze was fixed only on Vic through the windshield. Vic’s mouth went dry. He lifted his hand in a small, awkward wave, but before he could even think of something clever to shout after him, Tony shifted into gear.
The Corvette glided out of the parking spot. But just before pulling onto the main road, Tony gave it a sharp rev, it was loud , and powerful , the kind of sound that rattled through Vic’s ribcage and made his heartrate jump. The smirk that flashed across Tony’s face in that split second was impossible to mistake, and then he was gone, the car tearing down the street like he had somewhere better to be.
Vic stood there in the fading gold light, heart hammering, camera still dangling forgotten around his neck. He hadn’t just gotten the best shots of the month. He’d just been revved at .
It felt like the beginning of something between the two.