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"Why are you so...kind?" It left Storm's mouth before he could process the words. "What?" Monty looked up from his twiddling thumbs. Both stay out on the balcony, it was midsummer night, with just the right amount of cold. Crickets chirping Jacuzzi in the background bubbling. "You're too kind. Giving everyone a second chance like 'kumbaya'. Even if they hurt you mentally, no matter what, you're literally going to waste your time with them just so they could be happy." The cool steel of the railing, reeks of rust and stingey metal, like holding pennies for too long. His forearms lean against it thank goodness he's wearing sleeves. They’re far apart and none get closer, being far away is rude and Jackson wants to be rude. But to McQueen; being far away from Storm is politeness, and giving the other space, he wanted to be polite and give the other space.
Lightning ponders pale brows draw closer, "Oh,"
Storm looked at the city below, then he smiled to himself. How did the crickets manage to get up here? storm turns his head to the left, the pool's blue glow cast shadows and light behind both of them, on Montgomery's hair, his blond and dust of brown every now and then, his pale brown freckles gently scattered and sprinkled on his nose bridge, on his cheeks, and slightly above his forehead. His eyes focused on the glowing cars in the free way. Zooming in and out, and up into the lit-up bridge below. His eyes, they're a frosty blue, pale yet sharp. They're about six feet away, but he could see the little details on his face so very vividly. He notices that lightning held a thermo flask in his hand. His hands carried a golden slightly tanned tint. Probably because he's always in the sun, ah, Radiator springs. You can't help it over there, the UV ray lights must be everywhere. “Gonna answer champ? Don't you wanna teach this rookie some 'wisdom?'" His joke was stale and mordant, and mcqueens nose crinkled and brows drew together practically wincing in disgust. "I reckon you've been waiting for my wisdom for a long time, huh?" He smirks a toothy smirk, and shakes his head, blonde hair falls in front of his face.
Jackson wanted to say no, was about to even, it almost left his lips. But he just couldn't bring himself to speak it, he couldn't deny that, that was the truth. He wanted his wisdom ever since he was nine watching McQueen race like that, on the old beat up television in the garage, working on the car with his uncle. When McQueen was in his rookie years, lightning would frequently do wild stuff. It made Jackson Storm eyes wide and glimmer, and mouth drop, it made him believe he can do it too, he wanted that. He wanted to be lightning McQueen.
He made it this far so what was he missing? He had the charm, he had the speed, yet he was the exact foil of McQueen, what had he done wrong? Where is that one puzzle piece? He had seemed to have them all until he put it together, leaving an empty nagging gap between the pictures. That's why he asked the question. Kindness was the difference to their problem.
"What was it, you said? Was it, and I quote 'I've been your role model for years,' and you meant alot." He didn't even glance at Storm. His blond eyelashes downward, studying the red side and white side of the freeway, car noise faint. Jackson looks up, the stars look spinny. "What are you even doing out anyway...?" Jackson huffed, ignoring McQueens snide remark. And despite the fact that he was out too. "Air...ever get car sick? Hotels kind of feel that way for me, and also I was getting more ice for my coffee." He holds the thermoflask up with a small sincere chuckle.
Jackson couldn't help but smile, not laugh but smile. He noticed Monty could've asked the same question, what was he doing out here...but he didn't. That was kind of him, a trait he envied of the other racer.
And yeah, he didn't get car sick, he was the most whiniest racer out there for crying out loud. But you're not supposed to. Or so he thought. Going as fast as 214 miles an hour,skid marks on the floor throwing him off course making his head feel light. Ray yelled at him that day on the track he complained. He said he has more things to worry about than feeling a little 'carsick'. He exhaled through his nose looking up. The sky a navy blue, stars scattered like Montgomery's freckles. The air is cool, and the breeze is perfect. He looks back at the bridge then to lightning. "Is it still warm?" Jackson eyed the cup.
"Huh? Oh yeah it's actually pretty hot. Heh haven't got the ice yet." He nervously tilts it and smiles. A bright one that he wears frequently. "Who made it your girlfriend?" Jackson rakes a. Hand through his deep black hair. He wouldn't take it if his girlfriend made it, that's just weird. Or was it not? Do friends do that? Psh, like he would know. "What jealous? But no, she didn't, I did. I like to make it a specific way, I hate when I taste way too much coffee creamer. She always asks if I want her to make some and I always have to say no, she likes it sweet unlike me," He leaves a low chuckle. "She gets so mad at me when I turn the offer down." Lightning admits. Storm smiles at his old married couple issues. Look at storm! Talking with the one and only lightning Mcqueen! Why did he expect it to be different and not about coffee?
"How's that going? With Sally and all." Jackson wanted something else besides coffee talk. And Sally, that was her name, right? Jackson saw her on the news once when lightning had crashed his car in the big race. She had been talking to the press, that Lightning should get away from racing and stay in radiator springs for a while yada, yada, ect.
McQueen sighed. Light blond and almost white eyelashes flutter, like he's trying to blink debris away. "Well...the truth is, she really didn't like me leaving to go racing." His blond eyelashes shimmer, and something falls, sticky, salty, and hot. Jackson moved closer, he doesn't know why. "I'm away a lot so...it was mutual y'know." He wipes his face quickly, cheeks a puffy rosey pink. "Can we keep talking about coffee? I like that conversation more." He Waverly smiles and storm could only see half of it. "Sure." Storm knew he touched a personal boundary. What was he thinking? He was the best race car who had no feelings, he was practically a rock, with a fake smile painted on. He shouldn't be caring about touching personal boundaries. But somehow he stopped from any more questions and the night was quiet again. Besides the crickets chirping and the faint sound of cars. "Alright, well I gotta get going." He pushes off the railing rubbing off rust from his loose baby blue jacket. It was big, and the zipper had been shut. Storm wide eyed backs off the railing as well. Heh, dinoco blue.
"Wait, champ?"
McQueen hesitated looking up at storm." Huh?"
"What about my valuable life lesson?"
McQueen raised a brow, eyes curious. "What?"
He laughs, and it was so sincere it ached storms heart.
"I'm not that old."
Storm grins, he couldn't help it, his body going against him and smiling so much his cheek muscles ached, eyeing the blond dusted brown hair again. "C'mon take your time."
McQueen smiles too this time, not toothy and dorky like Storm but warm and quietly, and a heart squeezing smile. "Don't drink coffee at night...?" He holds his flask up once again, and chuckles walking to Storm patting his shoulder. Storm froze, unsure what to do next, the features up close, the moon right in front of them both, between the starlit sky. "Y'know you're a good guy..." He frowns and Storm squints waiting for the catch.
“So why be mean when introduced? Isn't there like some rule, first impression or something?" His fingers warm on Jackson's jacket. Pale and a shade of pink. "I..." he could only sputter gibberish. What if it's the person you envy? You looked up to all your life? You watched your dads brother’s TV every weekend? Every single time you got the chance to go to the garage, you'd click on the radio box and flicker through the static channels to find Nascar racing live, while your uncle teaches you how to renew spark plugs. And begging your dad to take you to finally see one of his races, and when you do, you jump off your seat as he almost hits that finish line only to break dramatically harshly. The cup was as good as his, yet he still goes back to push the other racer's car to go first and give up the cup. That day the crowd went wild, and so did Storm. When he was little all he wanted to see was the one and only Lightning, who, now, didn't even look like he aged since his rookie years, defying the laws of time, that was definitely another thing to envy.
"I'm not sure."
McQueen smirks. "Been there."
Jackson was being nice and he felt his stomach acids come back up to his throat, his sweater becomes hot and suddenly, well suddenly he's irritated. He wasn't meant to see him be nice. He felt like it was his fault McQueen had crashed. Glass shattering and the crowd silent. It brought him back to his bitter ending. Cruz had beat him. Not lightning. Cruz. He wanted to race with lightning, not that trainer. He wanted that chance to finally be beat by lightning himself, feel the adrenaline the other races McQueen had raced himself. He opened his mouth to speak kindly. But he couldn't. Not anymore, he suddenly felt like pushing McQueen, yelling at him. Lightning, unknowing of Storm's true nature, intently leaned in, waiting for the other to speak. But Jackson couldn't speak.
A smile still there he squints searching his eyes. "I'm not sure what we're getting at." Monty's eyes worried, yet his hand was so steady. "It was nothing." He pushes past McQueen, the back of his hand slapping the other's arm. "Anyway, so no wisdom, right? Night Mr. Mcqueen." Jackson didn't want to look back. What did he just do? "Oh and by the way," Jackson now just had to look back. He always did when he beat McQueen, wanting to see his shocked disbelief face all over again. But when Storm turned around it ached his heart more. There stood a once again, shocked McQueen...he looked sleep deprived and heart broken. Storm tried not to care once he met his watery pale baby blue eyes. Tried not to give him a hug. Tried not to tell him how much he was an idol to him. Instead he laughs at his face, a mockery type of laugh. "You look good in dinoco blue."