Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Clyde Logan was simple. He didn’t much mind it, had never stopped to think about it, really. Simple was good.

For as long as he could remember, everything felt simple.

Keep your head down when you can, which is hard when you’re pushing six foot four, and don’t make trouble.

If trouble finds you, well… handle it.

Simple.

When the time came to fight that seemed simple too. Americans were good, Iraqis were bad.

Clyde liked the army, he liked having orders that felt important and that pushed him physically. He liked being on a strict schedule and he liked the easy comradery of a unit.

He liked it, and would have probably continued to serve for the rest of his life if not for… well...

See, bad things happened to Clyde Logan because he was cursed. Also simple. He’d had a lot of time to come to terms with this, even if Jimmy and Mellie didn’t believe it. All he had to do was look down at his left arm and he knew it was true.

Nothing truly good was ever going to happen to Clyde Logan, and from time to time something truly awful was bound to happen, so the best he could do was do his best in the meantime.

Losing his hand, not his arm, just his hand— and a little extra— had meant relearning everything.

His balance was off, it was strange to feel slightly off kilter all the time.

It also took months to stop trying to use his left hand. He would still reach for things, try to catch himself, go to brace his weight and— nothing— just the flailing of his stump.

When he took over Duck Tape, he didn’t really know how to bartend, so he didn’t have to relearn it. He just had to learn it the one time. That made it easier, he supposed, easier still because he liked it.

He didn’t look like a reader but Clyde had always loved books, and he went down to the little used bookstore on 5th and got at least two new books a week, trading in some of his old ones. He mostly read spy thrillers, high powered men in big cities chasing down foreign terrorists and wooing beautiful women.

Clyde had never left Boone County, except with the army, and that had been mostly sand. When he signed up they said he could go to Paris or Egypt or New York City but really he had gone right to Kuwait.

It didn’t matter, he was able to see all of those places through books.

But the little shop on 5th hadn’t  had what he’d needed so he’d used the computer over at Mellie’s shop to order a copy of The Cocktail Bible off amazon and then he memorized it.

And then he figured out how to do it all one handed.

It had gotten a little easier with the new robotic hand, his fancy hand , he sometimes called it, privately, of course.

Clyde knew that being quiet and being stupid weren't the same thing, and he knew for sure he was one of the two, and figured he was probably both.

It didn’t matter, his life was simple and if he was too, that was fine.

He lived a little more comfortably now in the double wide he bought after the job, but he still woke every day and went running, did his push ups one handed, did squats and lunges and benched 220.

Then he opened the bar a little after noon and there he stayed until midnight, later on weekends, later if anyone was having a rough day, if they needed to talk at him or just sit at the bar and sulk.

He hadn’t really considered dating, not since the accident— he wasn’t sure anyone would really look at him twice now, even if he’d had a few flings before, he was no Jimmy. He’d always been goofy looking, too tall and too sharp and then he’d been in the arm and then he’d been disabled and really, Clyde was a shy man, he wasn’t one to chase ladies like his brother and he had none of his sisters easy charm so he spent almost all of his time at the bar, or alone.

If was fine. Simple.

And then one day it wasn’t.

“Did you hear there’s a girl working down at Earl’s shop, and it ain’t your sister?”  The words were half slurred, longer and more drawn out then they normally were on account of how drunk their speaker was. Bud was a regular at Duck Tape, he came in every day at 5:00 and he was drunk as shit by 7:00.

“I did not,” Clyde said.

“Heard she’s just as cute, younger even.”

Clyde glared at Bud, who raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just sayin— she’s new in town and not from around here, California I think, Los Angeles. Tell me, how does a cute little thing from Los Angeles—“ he said it like laws angelees , “end up in Boone county West Virginia?”

“I have no idea,” Clyde said honestly, picking up another glass from the sink and and drying it slowly.

Bud shrugged and turned back to his beer.

Clyde remembered something his mother used to say, that people never came to Boone county, and if they left it was either on a military bus or in a coffin.

Eventually she’d left in her own coffin, buried in the cemetery behind the trailer park.

The idea that someone from a big city had made their way into town was odd at best and suspicious at worst. Appalachia was known for its isolation, its tight knit communities, its— inbreeding . It wasn’t all unsubstantiated, this was not a place people tended to end up if they weren’t born here.

Clyde knew that he would probably come across this new girl at some point, he just didn’t expect her to change everything.

Clyde had watched those old cartoons as a kid, with the coyote. The ones where the animal would walk past an attractive lady coyote and suddenly his eyes would bug out of his head, literal hearts.

It’s possible his eyes did the same thing the first time she walked into his bar, but he knew that most likely he just stood there like an idiot, unable to speak because he could feel his mouth actively not working.

She was easily the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, her skin was sun kissed without being burned, as if the sun was a luxury and not a constant unwelcome companion. Her hair was honeyed with natural highlights and she had wide hazel eyes and a severe mouth and… freckles. So many freckles.

“I’ll just have whatever lager is on tap, I’m not picky,” she said, smiling at him with teeth.

Clyde swallowed and got her a beer, realizing too late that he was angling his body away, desperate to keep his fancy hand out of  sight. It had never felt so important to be seen as whole .

He managed it for about three minutes before inevitably he had to turn around and help someone else and he swore he could feel her eyes on him, taking him in.

He chanced a glance back at her and found he was right, those wide eyes were on him but when his eyes met hers she didn’t look sorry or try to avert her eyes, she just smiled, licking those pink little lips as she did.

Clyde had never felt his heart rate double for reasons that weren’t crime or war related, not since his first fumbling kisses in high school, and she wasn’t even kissing him, just looking.

He had to actually catch his breath, busying himself at the far end of the bar until he saw her glass was empty.

“You want another?”

“Sure,” she said, still smiling. “I’m Rey, by the way, with an e not an a, I know, dumb name.”

“It’s pretty,” Clyde said, and then he cleared his throat and looked down because it wasn’t really, but she was. “You the girl workin down at Earl’s?”

“Yes, you heard about me?” she said, leaning forward on the bar and he could smell her shampoo, flowers, fruit, and under that the smell of gasoline and sweat.

“Yep, not often we get strangers round here,” Clyde said with a shrug.

“Johnson,” she said suddenly, holding out her hand. Clyde was confused for a moment before she said, “Rey Johnson.”

Clyde put out his right hand and it met hers, swallowed it, and he felt his heart beat impossibly faster. Every inch of skin that connected with hers felt electric.

She looked down at their hands too, blinking a few times before letting him go.

“Clyde Logan,” he said, voice a little lower than he meant it to be.

“Nice to meet you Clyde Logan,” she said, and maybe it was a trick of the low light, but Clyde swore he saw her blushing.

Rey came back the next night, and Clyde poured her beer before she asked and she kind of beamed at him and even though they spent the next two hours hardly speaking, it was the best day he’d had maybe ever. Until she came back the night after that and they actually did talk.

“How long have you run this bar?” she asked. It was dead, everyone was down at the high school to watch the football game and only Rey was sitting at the bar. He couldn’t even pretend to look busy.

“Five years,” he said.

“What did you do before that?”

“I was in Iraq,” he said, words flat and slow, his accent too thick next to her dry and clipped one.

“Is that how you lost your arm?”

She didn’t say it with pity, just mild curiously. He wished she didn’t have to say it at all, he wished he wasn’t missing any body parts, that he was whole and able to sweep her up and run both hands through her hair and down her back and—

“Yep, end of my second tour. I was almost at the airport.”

“That sucks,” she said.

“I figure I lost it on account of the Logan curse,” he said.

Rey leaned forward, interested. “What curse is that?” she said.

Clyde was spared answering by the door swinging open.

“Don’t tell me you’re moaning about that damn curse again, I told you it’s bullshit,” heeled boots clicked across the floor as a lithe frame in a tight dress hurtled through the bar and collapsed next to Rey. “I’m Mellie, Clyde’s baby sister,” she held her hand out and Rey took it. “I heard you was working down at Earl’s, he’s a good man, taught me everything I know about cars.”

“He’s been wonderful,” Rey said, warming to the other girl, instantly warming in her presence.

The two girls quickly began talking cars and since Clyde had no interest in cars whatsoever, he leaned back and watched Rey as she became excited and animated.

She was in jean shorts a white tee shirt and her hair was pulled back and she looked like she belonged here, with him.

“Don’t let Clyde weigh you down with all that curse shit,” Mellie said, “he’s been spooked since he lost his arm.”

“Hand,” Clyde corrected.

“Right, speaking of which, I have new batteries in the truck, give me the robot arm and I’ll go switch them out, I need the tools in the trunk.”

Clyde froze, eyes flicking over to Rey. He didn’t want her to see his arm. He usually got a quiet, little thrill from people’s reaction to his amputated limb but he didn’t want to see Rey flinch with disgust, avert her eyes, or worse— look at him with pity.

But Mellie was tapping her long, jeweled nails on the bar and waiting and he didn’t know what to do besides comply, because he’d never been shy about this before and Mellie was starting to look at him like he’d grown an extra head so he unhooked the prosthetic and handed it over to her.

He didn’t look at Rey as Mellie hopped down and carried his arm outside. The door closed and he counted to five real slow in his head before looking at her. She was still looking at him. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

“Can I see?” she asked softly, and he really didn’t want to show her but it turned out he couldn't really tell her no so he swallowed  and thought, fuck it , and put his severed limb on the bar in front of her.

Her eyes fell down to his arm, taking in the way the skin at the end was puckered and scarred. Her fingers followed her eyes, short little nails tracing from the crook of his elbow to the edge of the X shaped scar and Clyde hadn’t ever had anyone else touch him here— like this— not since— and he let out a shuddering breath as his eyes squeezed shut, and then open again.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“No, not anymore, not really— not like you think it would. It’s more—” Clyde stopped and swallowed again. He had never been good with words. He didn’t know how to explain how missing something could hurt, how he hadn’t known that before. “It’s different,” he shrugged. “No one has— no ones ever touched it like that.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Rey asked him, and Clyde shook his head.

Please don’t stop.

Rey’s little fingers ghosted patterns across his skin until the door opened again.

She pulled back, not quickly enough to appear suspicious, but fast enough that Clyde knew what they’d been doing a moment ago was indeed as charged and elicit for her as it had been for him.

“Okay, try this,” Mellie said, tossing the arm back to him . He caught it easily, hooking it back in place, robotic fingers flexing and retracting.

“S’good, thank you Mellie,” Clyde said, trying to get his heart to slow. He turned around and opened a Hi-Life for his sister, slowly placing the beer in front of her.

Rey was playing with her phone, not making eye contact.

“Okay well, I gotta go, I’m supposed to catch the end of the game, just wanted to swing by. If you talk to Jimmy will you tell him to call me? I haven’t seen Sadie in weeks.” She ignored the beer so Clyde shrugged and took it for himself. 

“Yes ma’am,” he said, as Mellie waved at Rey.

“Nice to meet you sweetheart,” Mellie said with a wink, pushing the door open with her hip.

“She’s nice,” Rey said, into the silence that was left behind.

Clyde nodded, wiping down the bar. He wanted to take the prosthetic off again, wanted her to go back to rubbing her fingers along his skin, wanted maybe to feel her mouth there, maybe other places too like on his mouth or his neck or—

Clyde swallowed hard, turning away from her. He didn’t really know what else to say, had never been good with words, so he just poured two shots of tequila and passed one to Rey who raised it, smiling, and drank with him.

Chapter Text

Clyde always worked every day but this week he called Johnny Carl to come cover for him so he could get some other things done.

His truck had been acting up for weeks and he’d asked Mellie to look at it twice already.  

“Clyde, you’re being ridiculous, go down and see Earl and he will fix you up. I have no parts and no time,” she snapped at him when he asked her to come around a third time. So, resigned, Tuesday morning Clyde brought his truck down to Earl’s.

Rey was working. He knew she would be, but still something about the sight of her in the sunshine knocked him sideways.

She was in coveralls and her hair was back in a bun and she had engine grease on her cheek, covering up a few of her freckles, and Clyde had a flashing thought of kneeling down and licking it off of her.

“Well look who’s out and about,” Rey said, smiling too big. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s— my truck— it’s— makin’ noises.”

Rey nodded, craning her neck to look at Clyde’s old Ford.

“What kind of noises?”

Clyde let a little breath huff out through his nose, eyes scrunching. “Well… it’s kind of a— errrrrrrr.”

Rey laughed, coming closer to him, and then even closer , until she was just a few inches from him and he could see that her eyes were flecked with gold when she was outside.

“Come show me what you mean,” she said, tilting her head toward his truck, so he followed her out and climbed in the driver seat while she got in the passenger seat and he started the car up, creeping along and sure enough— errrrrrrrrrrr.

Rey nodded, as if now it made sense.

Clyde wasn’t even thinking about the noise or the car or the cost, he was focused on this little moment, this false facsimile of a life where Rey actually rode around next to him, where he shared this small space with her, inhaling her scent and her laughter.

“Okay, I think I know what’s going on,” she said after a minute. Clyde pulled the truck back up to the garage. “If I have the right parts, this won’t take long, but I gotta check,” she said, jumping down and bouncing off into the garage.

Clyde waited for her, toeing dirt with his boot.

“You’re lucky, Logan, look what I found,” she did, smiling as she held up a little silver part that meant nothing to Clyde except that she was clearly very pleased about it.

Clyde Logan was absolutely not lucky, but it was possible that Rey Johnson was.

Both Jimmy and Mellie had loved working on cars, but Clyde had always hated it. Jimmy had tried to get him into it but Clyde had always preferred to be reading. He hadn’t thought anything of it, but watching Rey dissect and reassemble his truck made him wish he could help, could have come down here knowing the problem and looking for the part and standing next to her as she worked, helping even.

Instead he hung back, trying not to let his eyes slide down her body, a little shapeless in the coveralls. He could see her ass though, the outline of it, and he quickly looked away. He didn’t want to be gross. Rey was beautiful and she was exotic; she had come from Los Angeles and she was smart and the day she wanted Clyde Logan’s eyes or hands on her ass was the day the world was ending.

He looked anywhere but at her as she worked, or he tried to, sneaking little glances. Of course she caught him, popping out from behind the hood with a smile. Clyde’s eyes dropped as she said, “I think I fixed it! Try it.”

He ducked around to the other side of the car and climbed in, starting it as she closed the hood and climbed back in next to him, leaning close.

Clyde circled the dirt lot, no errrrrrr noise. He pulled the truck back up and they sat for a moment.

“What do I owe you?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a shrug.

“Rey— come on,” Clyde said. She deserved to be paid for her work.

“Clyde, you let me drink for free almost every day. It’s an eight dollar part, please, let me do this for you.”

Clyde felt uncomfortable. He eyed her but her face was open and genuine and so very pretty that again, he found he couldn't tell her no, so he shrugged and said, “Thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I reckon so,” Clyde said, smiling a little.

She bit her lip and nodded before opening the door and getting out of the truck, then she waved at him as he pulled away.

Clyde left the garage with the rest of the day free, and he didn’t want to think about Rey but also couldn’t stop, so he went by the bookstore and found a crime novel set in Los Angeles and then pictured Rey instead of FBI agent Elizabeth Parker.

He wondered if she had really grown up among mansions and palm trees, celebrities and paparazzi and mountains that were brown instead of purple and smelled like sage. He wondered if she’d grown up in the sea, waves lapping at her bare thighs as she straddled a surfboard, squinting into the sun.

Maybe beach days had birthed all those freckles.

Clyde laid in bed in his double wide, the book open next to him as he got lost in thought.

He wanted to see Rey on the beach, in a tiny bikini like the ones in Sports Illustrated . He could imagine the how warm her skin would be from the sun, how it might taste like sunscreen and seawater, if he put his mouth on her.

Clyde felt himself harden in his pants. He bit his lip, thinking about the real Rey and how close she had leaned in to him, how interested she always been in what he had to say, how she kept coming into the bar even when it was empty, to --see him? To drink? He didn’t know.

He thought again of the beach, of how much skin she might show, how little her waist would look under his hand—hands— it was his fantasy, he could have them both if he wanted to. Could use two hands to hook into her bottoms. He thought about Rey’s pussy. She must have one, he’d never really get to see it, but he pictured her with a soft thatch of hair and slick folds. She’d be wet for him, if he had her like this.

He’d press his mouth against her neck, her ribs, her chest, little tits still covered by spandex as he pressed his breath, hot and wet, against her.

Clyde wanted to make her moan, wanted her to say his name. That had never seemed important before, but he needed it now.

He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but he unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down with his hand, wiggling to get them around his thighs, and then he gripped his cock hard, shivering.

He worked himself a few times until the friction was too much, and then he ducked around the side of the bed for lotion.

Even jerking off was slower one handed, and— less— than it used to be, when he had another hand to rub his balls or trail up his ass to prod at the hole there. But his dick felt good when he gripped it tight and he was harder than he’d been in a long time, thinking about Rey, about pushing fingers inside of her, his dick inside of her.

He wanted her to ride him, and he pictured it, the way her mouth would part in surprise as he fucked up deep into her, hands gripping her hips to move her.

But that wasn’t right, was it, just the one hand, one hand digging into the soft flesh of her hip and—

Clyde remembered that night in the bar, her little fingers tracing his scars, the puckered skin of his arm.

If he really had her-- if she really wanted to fuck him, just as he was-- she would be touching him again.

And he could see it, the way she would lean down, soft breasts teasing his chest as his arm came up to touch her face. She would hold him there, both hands on his left arm as her mouth worked against him, kissing his scars, the sensitive flesh that always sort of tingled.

And that did him in, more than the thought of her little pussy or her sun warmed skin or the idea of his cock buried inside of her, it was her mouth on his arm, accepting him, tasting him in a place other people didn’t even let their eyes linger.

Clyde grunted as he came, spurting up over his fingers and onto his stomach.

He took a minute to catch his breath, glowing, and then shame came to eat him alive.

He shouldn’t have done that . He shouldn’t think these things about her. He tried to convince himself that the fantasy could have been about anybody but the truth was it wasn’t— it was about Rey, and only Rey, and Clyde didn’t know how he was going to look her in the eye.

Rey must have  been off on Wednesdays because she usually came in early, and a little less covered than grease.

Clyde wasn’t sure he could handle seeing her, and had Johnny Carl cover for him again.

He stared at himself in the mirror. His hair was getting too long and he looked a little worse for wear so he brushed his teeth and grabbed his keys and drove down to see Mellie. She would clean him up, and something about being around his baby sister always calmed him down.

Clyde had been five when they’d brought Mellie home and he remembered it very clearly, because before that he had never fallen in love. He loved his parents, but that was a given, he had always loved them, and Jimmy too, but he hadn’t really cared about the idea of this baby until he laid eyes on her and suddenly, five year old Clyde knew he would die to keep her safe.

Something about Mellie’s even tone and dry humor always made things easier. Even though he was her big brother, she had often been the one to comfort him.

He pulled up to the salon and opened the door, little bell chiming as he entered a room thick with the smell of Aqua Net and bleach.

“Well, speak of the devil,” Mellie said, turning to face him. Sitting in the chair below her was Rey, and she shot Mellie a scandalous look at her words.

Clyde didn’t say anything, wondering if it was possible to just walk back out of the salon without a word.

“What are you doing here?” Rey said, smiling at him. Her hair was half in curlers.

“Just need a haircut, but if you’re busy I can come back—”

“Nonsense, come in and sit down,” Mellie said, nodding at the chair next to Rey.

Clyde nodded and slowly ambled into the chair next to Rey, eyeing her. What was she getting all done up for?

Clyde swallowed thickly and faced forward.

“I was just tellin Rey about Sadie’s pageants, how I help do her hair and makeup and costumes,” Mellie said, chewing her gum as she finished putting Rey’s hair in big curlers. “Go get hot,” she said, nodding at the heat helmet. Rey smiled at Clyde and then crossed the room to let her curls set.

Mellie took a pair of scissors and a comb and started trimming Clyde’s hair.

“I wish you’d let me cut it shorter,” she said. Clyde just glared at her. She turned to face Rey. “He won’t let me cut it short because he hates his ears, even though he looks much more handsome without all this shaggy hair.”

“I think he looks perfectly handsome even with all that hair,” Rey said. “Actually, I really like it.”

Clyde blushed and Mellie giggled as she fetched a razor to trim his beard.

Clyde held still and kept his eyes shut.

“You’re extra quiet today,” Mellie said as her long nails dug into his jaw, tilting his head so he knew he was facing Rey, even with his eyes shut.

He still felt immeasurably bad about jerking off to thoughts of her the night before. He was trying to avoid her, wasn’t even planning on going into work today in attempt to get just a bit of space to flush out his shame, but here she was. He couldn’t help it-- he opened his eyes.

She was watching him, smiling. He let his eyes stay on her and they just watched each other for a minute, until Mellie jerked his head the other way.

“Why aren’t you at work?” Mellie asked.

“Oh, uh— Johnny Carl needed some extra shifts and I don’t mind—”

“But you’re working tonight, right?” Rey said, concerned.

“Oh, uh,” he looked at her, her eyes narrowed. “I’ll be in later.”

“Good,” she said, relaxing.

Mellie finished shaving his face in silence.

“Okay you’re all set, and while you’re here, I forgot: Kenny dropped off a book for you. Let me grab it.” Mellie clicked her heels against the floor as she went to retrieve the book. “All he wants to do is read,” she told Rey, “hardly even watches TV,” she came back over with a book. Clyde flipped it over. It was about a spy living abroad in Russia; it looked neat.

“Thanks Mel,” he said, holding it tightly. “So I’ll uh— see you later?”

“Definitely,” Rey said. Clyde nodded and quietly left, feeling shaken and uneasy.

Why was Rey getting all dressed up? Why did she want to make sure he was working? Was she bringing a date to the bar? Maybe she worried it was closed. Shit. Clyde caught his breath for a minute in his truck before peeking out and heading to work.

Johnny Carl didn’t mind being relieved, he thanked Clyde for the shifts and headed out, and Clyde began slowly wiping things down and topping off beers for the two people inside.

And he waited for Rey, a sick, twisting feeling in his stomach.

She was so beautiful, of course someone had asked her out. Of course she wanted to go out on dates like a normal girl, with normal men. Why wouldn’t she. He tried to swallow down the bile and fear rising in his throat.

About two hours later, Rey came in, early as always on Wednesdays. Her hair was loosely curled and shiny, she had makeup on, simple and clean and bright, and she was in jean shorts and a black little tank top and Clyde thought about a book he’d read once, where the man literally swept the girl off of her feet and placed her down on the bar and…

He shook his head lightly, and smiled as she came and sat down.

“Your hair looks real pretty,” he said, slow and twangy so it came out perdy .

“Thanks,” she beamed, “your sister is amazing. I can never get it to do this.”

“She is good at everything she does, Mellie is,” he said fondly. “Do you have siblings?”

Rey’s face fell the tiniest bit. “I wish. I have someone who’s almost a brother to me but— not by blood.”

Clyde nodded, reading for her a pint glass.

“Actually, could you make me a cosmo? Mellie said you usually keep the stuff on hand and I’m craving one. But if you don’t have it don’t worry.”

Clyde checked under the counter and said “I can do that,” and then he did.

Rey just sort of watched him, mouth open slightly, as he managed it one handed.

“Okay wow,” she said, as he pushed the drink toward her. “That was very cool.”

Clyde shrugged and turned to hide his blush. She looked so cute tonight, it wasn’t fair. Whatever minor attraction he had felt had warped into something deeper. He couldn’t stop thinking about Rey on the beach, Rey on a surfboard. Her life was another country.

He didn’t get her courage to ask her about it until she’d had two cosmos and switched back to beer and he’d taken a few shots himself.

“Do you know how to ride a surfboard?”

Rey looked up at him and smiled. “Yes,” she admitted, a little shyly, “but I’m not very good or anything. It’s just sort of always there, the ocean, surfboards, like riding a Gator through mud,” she said.

Clyde smiled. He knew it.

“I have never seen the ocean,” he told her, “haven’t really seen anything that isn’t Boone County or Iraq. They told me I could go to France, you know, or San Diego maybe, but—“ he shrugged.

Rey’s face fell, she opened her mouth to speak and then closed it, and then opened it again.

“Well, how far is it to the ocean?” she asked.

Clyde thought about. “A day, maybe less? Virginia has beaches. Just never had a reason to go.”

“Well, we should go!” she said excitedly.

We as in she and him ?

Clyde smiled, licking his lips. The door opened and someone ambled in, already drunk, and Clyde moved to pour him a beer.

“What was it like? Los Angeles?”

Rey runs a finger across the ring of her glass.

“I like when you ask me questions,” she said, “you normally don’t, so I’m glad you are, I just— are you sure you wanna know? About me?”

“Yes,” Clyde said instantly.

I  want to know everything about you.

“LA is beautiful, it really looks like the postcards, cotton candy sunsets and sprawling beaches and mansions and steep roads on glittering hills. But it’s— it’s lonely. There’s no sense of community.”

“What’s your family like?”

“I don’t know, I grew up in foster care. They were drunks, as far as I can tell, probably worse. Junkies, whatever, I don’t know. They left me in the parking lot of a Walmart when I was five.”

Clyde accidentally slammed down the glass he was holding.

“Five?” he asked in disbelief. He thought of Sadie, who was already almost nine, and how little she had been at five. He wanted to murder Rey’s parents.

“Yeah— I know, it’s dark. So I uh, I bounced around a lot. And when I decided to leave LA I wanted to get as far away as possible, so I spun my finger on the map and landed here and figured this was as good a place as any to start. And I like it, so…” She trailed off with a shrug.

Clyde wanted to hold her.

“I’m sorry they did that to you, when you was so little,” he said. “No kid deserves that.”

He felt bad for asking, but remembered she told him that she liked him asking questions, and figured that wasn’t a nice place to leave off.

“What do you miss most about California?” he asked.

She smiled.

“The hot wind, the smell of the sea mixed with smoke in the summer, Mexican food from carts on the street, how everything is tinted gold.” She sighed, leaning forward a little. “But I gotta tell you, I’m pretty fond of it here,” she smiled.

Clyde’s eyes traveled down her body again, she looked so cute tonight, he wondered again if she was meeting someone. If she would find some hick country boy a few years out of Valley View and settle down and pop out three kids before she could really think about it, trapping her here.

Clyde poured them shots, they took them in silence.

But no one showed up to sweet talk her, and so Rey stayed in his bar all night, and talked to him.

She asked him about his parents, both dead for a while now, and he asked her if she knew how to cook, she didn’t. She asked him about the war and he was as honest as he ever was, since she didn’t ask him about killing people, just what he liked and disliked and he didn’t feel like she was prying, and he realized he wouldn’t have minded if she was because he wanted her to know these things, to know about him.

She stayed until the bar was empty and he had finished closing up and was about to turn the lights off.

“Rey,” he said softly. She had been nursing her last two beers for hours, and he knew she wasn’t too drunk to drive. “I’m closing up.”

He came to stand by her where she hovered by the door. She wasn’t leaving.

“You okay?” he asked her.

“Sure,” she said, shrugging, and her eyes were so bright in the low light, shining. She was too close to him, he didn’t trust himself, his desire to kiss her, to hold her, to drop to his knees and press his face against her soft belly— it was overwhelming.

She should go, she deserved better than a redneck bartender with three quarters of his limbs. She should leave this town, leave this state. Her light was brighter, her future bigger.

She stepped closer to him, licked her lips.

“You should get going,” he said, looking down at the floor.

“Oh—” she took a step back and he looked up, eyes finding hers. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes, still overbright, looked wet now too. “Right. Okay. Sure I’ll— I thought— okay,” she grabbed the door handle and  turned her back to him, before looking over her shoulder at him. “I’ll see you around Clyde Logan.”

She said it like she knew she wouldn’t.

Only after she left did it occur to Clyde that maybe , just maybe, she had gotten dressed up just for him.

Chapter Text

Rey didn’t come back to the bar at all that week, or the week after that.

Clyde tried not to hate himself, and failed. He had fucked up, he was sure of it and yet— the idea that Rey really had wanted him… it just didn’t make any sense.

He wanted to go declare his love for her, bring her flowers at work, grovel on his knees but— he was sure he would look like an absolute idiot.

Rey deserved better, anyway. Someone smarter and more— whole.

So Clyde stayed away and kept his head down and if he contemplated driving out to the sea and never coming back well, he kept it to himself.

Mellie had come by a few days after he’d last seen Rey to tell him he was an idiot, and storm back out of his bar. He didn’t appreciate that one bit but didn’t really think he could argue.

He sure felt like an idiot.

So he’d blown it, and that was that, and if he just worked until he died and Rey avoided the bar he would never have to see her again.

The plan worked for about two weeks.

On Friday night Valley View won the homecoming game and while all the kids went to a bonfire down by the pond, all the adults trickled into Duck Tape and it was the busiest night Clyde’d had maybe ever.

Everyone was there, even Rey, who had come in with Mellie and two men, Hank Roberts and Mikey Wyland. Both younger than him, both with all limbs attached.

Mikey was kissing his sisters neck in a way that didn’t seem decent for public spaces and Hank— well Hank was drooling over Rey.

Clyde closed his eyes, pulling in a deep breath. He could do this, he could get through this.

He opened his eyes and found Rey watching him. She was in a red little sundress and white cardigan, and Hank was leaning close, talking non stop.

She looked a little sad, but only for a moment before she turned her head and smiled politely at Hank, nodding along as he spoke.

Clyde turned his back on her. He poured beers for the other people at the bar. He tried to get his heart to slow.

If she starts kissing him, that’s her business, you can’t kick him out just for liking her. Who wouldn’t like her? She’s perfect.

Clyde worked. He poured shots. He watched Hank touch Rey’s hair. He wiped the counter down. He saw her laugh, touch his arm. He double checked the glasses for spots. He brought up more beer from the cooler. He caught her eyes on him and she blushed, looking away.

The night went on and they stayed, she never came up to buy her own drinks, always Hank or Mikey coming up to order, getting drunker.

Clyde knew Rey had stopped drinking a while ago. He’d been watching her closely, even as he tended to everyone else in the bar.

He watched as Hank leaned down and kissed her, just as last call was rolling around. She dodged him with a smile and mouthed something, leaning close. He nodded and headed up to the bar.

“Hey man, I need to close out,” Hank said to Clyde.

He was taking Rey home. He was going to— he was going to touch her.

“Sure,” Clyde said, and he ignored Hank for a while, closing out everyone else around him first. Mellie and Mikey disappeared, so did nearly everyone else, until Clyde had no excuse but to hand the bill to Hank and watch him leave with Rey.

He didn’t even tip well.

Hank slung his arm around Rey and led her to the door. She turned back to look at Clyde as she reached the threshold, and he gripped the bar with his hand for support. He wanted to call out to her, beg her not to go, tell her he was sorry— he was wrong— he didn’t. She walked out of the bar.

Clyde came around from behind the bar but didn’t make it to the door, which he been planning on locking.

He crumpled on the floor, knees against his chest and cradled his face in his hand.

He couldn’t remember being this sad since his mother died. His heart hurt, his stomach hurt. He wanted to sleep forever.

Fuck .

Clyde felt tears sting his eyes, and he closed them tight, willing them not to fall. His head jerked up as he heard the door. He hadn’t locked it. Shit.

Rey walked inside. Had she forgotten something? He jumped up off the floor, trying to look casual.

“Clyde?” she said,voice soft, careful. He met her eyes, confused.

“I thought you was goin’ home with Hank,” he said.

“I don’t want Hank.”

His heart soared inside his chest.

“Rey…” it was both a plea and a warning. He couldn’t help himself anymore, he had to tell her— she had to know how he felt. “Rey I— I—”

He didn’t have to say it, she crossed the floor and was pressed against him before he could finish his sentence. Her mouth slid against his, her little hands coming up to his face, soft and warm.

Clyde picked her up, he only needed the one arm to do it, and brought her over the bar, setting her down on the countertop. She gasped as he lifted her, wrapping her legs around him to pull him close, closer.

Her hands moved into his hair and she let out a soft little noise against his lips. She tasted sweet as she sucked his lower lip down into her mouth. Clyde’s hand moved into her hair, cupping her face and tilting her chin up, deepening the kiss. They made out like that for a few minutes before Clyde pulled back.

“Rey I am so sorry— I’m an idiot. I didn’t think you would— that you could like me and—“

“Clyde Logan,” Rey said, kissing his chin, his jaw, his ear. He shivered. “I like you so much, you’re all I think about.” Clyde groaned brought his hand up to cup her face. “Please take me home?” she asked him, holding onto the front of his flannel.

“Yes,” he whispered, and he picked her up again, placing her gently down on the floor. He shut off the lights and locked the door. He didn't care if he still had things to do, they could wait. He had Rey— Rey was coming home with him.

They got into his truck and he started the heat, the weather had started to turn rapidly. He pulled away from the bar and Rey reached over and took his hand, bringing it to her lips and kissing his knuckles.

“I should have just told you how I felt,” she said.

“No Rey— I’m an idiot, it’s a known fact round these parts, it wasn’t your fault. I just— you’re so pretty and—“ Clyde sighed. “I’m bad at this, talking, but if you let me… I’ll show you how much I like you.”

Rey smiled, “Okay.”

Clyde pulled his truck up to his double wide and parked. They sat for a beat. “You’re sure about this?” he asked her.

Rey leaned over and pressed her mouth against his again, hot and eager. Then she pulled back, smiling and jumped out of the truck.

Clyde let them inside and Rey immediately began to look around. She trailed her fingers over his little herb garden in the kitchen window, basil, mint, rosemary.

“I uh— bring herbs for drinks sometimes,” he said.

She smiled, looking at his other plants, the ficus, the succulents on every shelf.

“You like plants,” she said softly. Clyde nodded. “And books,” she said, turning to face his impressive collection.

“Yes.”

She turned to look at Clyde and she had tears in her eyes.

“Clyde,” she said softly, “I think I’ve been looking for you for a long time. I think maybe— maybe I came here just to find you. Is that crazy?”

Yes, probably. But that don’t mean it isn’t true.

Clyde rushed toward Rey and kissed her again.

“You taste so sweet,” he said, backing her up into his room until her knees bumped against his bed.

She brought her hands up to hold him, one on each arm, her fingers finding the  cold plastic and metal of his robotic arm.

“Can you take it off? Please?”

Clyde looked down at her and nodded, reaching over to unhook the straps to his arm.

He tossed it aside.

Rey’s lips were on him right away, starting in the crook of his left elbow, mouthing at the lines in his skin where the plastic had dug in, soothing them. Her fingers followed, and every sensation was amplified by the newness of touch there and the fact that it was Rey.

Clyde’s knees shook a little, and his hand came to tangle in her hair. As she kissed along his X shaped scar.

“Rey—“ he breathed, his voice laced with awe. She looked up at him and he kissed her proper, tugging on her cardigan, the hem of her dress.

“Lemme see you sweetheart,” he said, pushing her sweater off.

She shimmied out of her cardigan and pulled her little dress over her head. She had plain black panties and a plain black bra on, and it was the hottest thing Clyde had ever seen. He sighed as he pressed his mouth to her collarbone, pushing her down on the bed. He laid next to her on his left side.

“Off,” he whispered, tugging at her bra. Clasps were tricky one handed. She obliged him quickly, slipping her hands behind her to back to unhook it and then letting him pull it down to expose her breasts.

Clyde’s fingers were shaking when he reached out to trace the soft underside of her tits, dragging one up to her nipple. He watched her face as her mouth went slack and her eyes went glassy. She shifted, grinding her legs together.

Clyde desperately wanted to be able to touch her pussy and her tits at the same time and he realized he couldn’t.

He thought about how much less his own solo experience felt one handed and suddenly remembered that she deserved better than that, deserved someone who could—

He rolled over onto his back, sighing.

“Clyde?” she whispered, following him, nearly naked against his clothed body. “Baby don’t stop, I want you to touch me—“

Clyde whimpered and kissed her. “I want to, I just— I wish I had both hands I wish— I wish I could touch you all over and I—“ he shook his head.

Rey sat up next to him, a determined look on her face.

She shimmied out of her panties too, tossing them. Clyde hoped she would forget them. She took his left arm and ran her fingers along it again, to the puckered edge.

“Clyde, you make me feel so good, I don’t ever feel like something is missing, you— you’re perfect just like this. I like you like this,” she whispered, dragging his arm over her chest, so her nipple caught on the ridge of his scar.

Clyde was breathing fast, mind racing. When Rey said these things, he believed her.

She brought his arm down by his side and slid her hip over, so the scalding heat of her center was pressed right against what was left of his arm. He could feel her slick arousal dripping onto him and his hand came up to hold her in place. Oh. Oh .

“Rey,” he groaned.

“Is this okay?” she asked, nervous.

“Fuck yes,” he ground out, and he started to move against her. She gasped and grabbed onto his hair, grinding her clit against his sensitive flesh. Clyde felt tears sting his eyes, this was above and beyond anything he could have fantasized about. His hand came up to palm at her tits, pinching her perfect little nipple.

Rey leaned back on her hands and arched her chest toward him and he looked down between their bodies and almost came in his pants. He jerked up.

“Rey,” he groaned, “look— it looks like I’m— holy shit.”

From this angle, the way he was nudged right up against her opening, it looked as if he still had his full arm, and it was buried inside of her.

He knew that wasn’t happening, didn’t have a hand to slide inside of her, to twist and stretch but— his brain filled in the missing pieces and—

“Oh my god it looks like you’re so deep— oh my god—“ Rey cried out, and suddenly her little body was jerking against him. “I’m coming,” she gasped, surprised, and she surged forward, grinding her hips hard as she pressed her face into Clyde’s neck, whimpering. He held her with his good arm, stroking circles on her back as she came undone and peppered his face with sloppy kisses.

“So good, so good,” she whispered, and then she was tugging at this clothes. He let her pull his shirt off, mind in a trance. He couldn’t believe that just happened, that she had—- that they had.

Clyde Logan was not lucky.

But he was pretty sure Rey Johnson was.

Clyde helped her push his clothes off, unhooking his belt and pushing his jeans down. Her little hands were everywhere, tugging at his briefs until his cock, red and straining, was free and bouncing against the soft hairs on his belly. Rey’s eyes widened a little as she took him

In.

“Lay back,” she said, and she straddled his thighs.

Clyde leaned back and let Rey kiss him everywhere. Her hot mouth worked against the corded vein along his throat, the dip of his clavicle, his pecs, teasing his nipples in a way that made him jump.

“I need to feel you inside me,” she said, moving to rub her wet pussy against his thigh inching up over his cock. “I’m on the pill, and I’m uh— I’m clean.”

“Me too— clean I mean. They tested me at the army and uh— I haven’t— since—“ he looked down at his arm.

Rey nodded and she leaned forward to kiss him, her hair creating a curtain around their faces. She used her hand to guide him against her. “Push, baby,” she whispered.

Clyde pushed, and he inched into her with his mouth against hers.

“Shit,” he choked, his hand coming up to grip Rey’s hip.

“That’s it,” Rey said as she slid further down on him, back arching. “Fuck you feel so good,” she sobbed. He started to arch up into her as she rocked her hips on him, every down thrust earned a little huffed grunt.

Clyde threw his head back, she was so fucking tight.

“Can’t believe how full I am,” Rey said, leaning closer to him, “It’s like you’re everywhere.”

Clyde groaned and kissed her. Her hands clawed at his chest. He rocked his hips up harder and she gripped him.

“Yes,” she said.

“You like that?” Clyde asked her, fingers digging into her hip as he fucked up into her.

“More than anything,” she said.

Clyde moved his hand between their bodies and began to rub her swollen little clit.

“Shit Clyde, oh my god,” Rey gasped. She arched her back more and grabbed Clyde’s free arm for leverage. He moved to rub it against her face, to cradle her, and Rey brought both hands onto his left arm as her mouth found his scar again. She moaned against it. It was his fantasy come to life, Rey taking him, all of him, loving it.

“Are you gonna come like this for me?” Clyde asked, slow and soft.

“Yes—“ she whimpered, fucking herself on his dick.

“So tight baby girl,” he said, babbling now, lost in it. With her mouth on his scar , he wasn’t going to last. “I’m gonna come Rey— I need you to come with me.”

He worked her clit faster and she let out the most delicious little grunts and gasps.

“I’m gonna come too Clyde, shit,” she kissed his arm,his bicep, his mouth, as he caressed her face, his hand still between her legs. “I’m— I’m coming—“ she cried.

She shook like a new lamb when she did, every muscle twitching as she called his name. She looked into his eyes and Clyde followed her down, gritting his teeth and straining, grunting.

She cupped his face, traced his lips as he fell apart. She watched him like he was a miracle, and Clyde felt tears sting his eyes and didn’t rightly care.

Rey pressed her lips to his eyes, his nose, the corner of his mouth as he finished spilling inside of her.

After, they collapsed holding each other, and fell asleep within minutes.

________________

Clyde had never seen the sea, but Rey was serious about missing the ocean so he decided Johnny Carl could run the bar for a while and they packed his truck up and headed out before dawn on cold and grey November morning.

It only took them about seven hours or so to get to Virginia Beach, so before lunch they were able to walk out onto the sand and Clyde let the freezing Atlantic Ocean wash over his feet and listened to Rey talk about how the Pacific Ocean was a different color, smelled different too.

“I’ll take you to all seven seas,” Clyde said. “We’ll sail them like it’s 1650 and you’re the queen of pirates, and I’m your loyal first mate.”

Rey beamed at him.

“What would we do?” she asked.

She was barefoot but in a big sweater and jeans because it wasn’t warm out, at all, and her cheeks were red.

“We’d get marooned in the Caribbean,” Clyde said, “and we would lay on a white sand beach in the sun and drink rum and make love.”

“They have rum in Virginia, and we’re on the beach. Can’t do anything about the sun though,” she said grabbing onto him.

Clyde squinted into the gray afternoon light and turned back to her.

“You know I was thinking,” Rey said.

“Always dangerous,” Clyde joked and she pushed him playfully, kissing his jaw.

“You know all that stuff about the curse and how it took your arm?”

Clyde blanched. His worst fear was still that the curse would come and take Rey away from him.

“What about it?” Clyde asked.

“You know if you’d been a few inches to the left, you’d be dead.”

“I suppose.”

“And if you hadn’t been there at all well, you’d still be in the army at best or— who knows baby, maybe something worse would have happened.”

“Okay,” Clyde said.

“I just mean,” Rey said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ears as the wind swept down the beach. “Maybe you are lucky, maybe this is exactly what had to happen for us to end up right here.”

Clyde had never thought about that. He melted like butter. “Rey Johnson, I love you.”

Rey smiled at him, with teeth, and kissed him.

When their feet were numb and tingling, they grabbed their shoes and headed back to his truck, and as they pulled away from the shore and headed to their hotel Clyde Logan had to admit, he felt pretty damn lucky.