The First Night in Florida

Vic has a habit of not checking over things.

He just kind of assumes that everything is fine and that there are no mistakes, which often leads to little mistakes somehow growing into bigger mistakes. He’s tried to break himself of this habit, but he’s going to fuck up sometimes, right? You can’t blame him. This is what leads to his most recent mishap.

It happens right after he gets off the plane in Florida, where he’s spending the next week or so on a vacation with his family at a beach house on the coast. Specifically, it happens in the luggage area. More specifically, the thing that happens is this: Vic sort of accidentally grabs the wrong suitcase.

It’s really not his fault that his suitcase is so generic-looking. It’s not his fault that someone else happened to own the exact same suitcase as him. It’s not his fault that he didn’t check the tags before leaving the airport—okay, actually, that part might be kind of his fault. Kind of.

He’d like to say that he notices it in the parking lot, that he backtracks into the airport and somehow miraculously meets up with the person whom he switched suitcases with. This is not the case. The fact of the matter is that he doesn’t notice it until he and his mom, who picked him up from the airport, have driven from the Orlando airport all the way to the beach house. Really, he doesn’t even notice it until he’s sitting in his designated bedroom, until he decides to unpack “his” suitcase and finds that none of the things inside of it belong to him. That’s when he finally notices it.

“Shit,” he mutters as he sifts through the unfamiliar clothing.

At that point, Vic’s brother, Mike, pops his head into the room. “‘Shit’ what? Did you forget your phone again?”

Normally, Vic would laugh, but this is not a laughing matter. “No, I think I grabbed the wrong suitcase.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

“It’s not funny,” Vic replies. “I’m being serious. None of this shit is mine.”

Mike stares at him for a long moment before sighing and heading over to where Vic has the suitcase open on his bed. “What?” he says, picking up a ripped black Aerosmith tank top. “You mean you don’t have this exact piece of Aerosmith merch buried somewhere in your closet?”

“No, actually,” Vic says seriously, digging around in the suitcase and finding some more unexpected items. “And I also don’t have a bunch of pink children’s clothing.”

At that, Mike frowns, setting the tank top back down. “What do the tags say?” he asks, grabbing the tags and looking them over quickly before sighing again. “Okay. Yeah. Unless your name is Kellin Quinn, I’m thinking that this isn’t your suitcase.”

Vic groans, frustratedly running his fingers through his hair. “Great. Fucking great.”

“It’s got the person’s phone number on here, though,” Mike adds reassuringly. “You can call them and ask them to meet up somewhere. They probably grabbed your suitcase, so you can just switch.”

Vic nods, resisting the urge to beat himself up over this latest mistake. “Yeah. Okay.”

He wastes no time in calling this Kellin person, feeling strangely nervous at the thought of admitting his immense fuck-up. Kellin probably feels the same way he does, though, so without giving himself time to regret it, he punches the number in and puts the phone up to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Um, hi,” Vic says quickly. “Is this Kellin Quinn?”

There’s a short pause before Kellin says, “Uh, yeah. Why?”

“Uh, my name’s Vic,” Vic says. “I’m calling about your, uh, suitcase.”

—

After a heated discussion over how they’re both idiots who really should’ve checked the tags of their suitcases before blindly walking off with them (and Kellin explaining that he’s a single dad and that the children’s clothes are for his three-year-old daughter), Kellin and Vic agree to meet at a random gas station about halfway between Orlando and the coast, since Kellin is staying with a friend fairly close to the airport. Vic really doesn’t want to do any more traveling today, but he kind of needs some of the things in his suitcase, so off he goes. (Mike hasn’t shut up about Vic’s Grand Fuck-Up of the Week since they first figured it out, and Vic’s pretty sure that it’s going to be like this the entire vacation, and he’s actually kind of glad to escape the constant teasing from his brother for a few hours.)

Vic arrives at the gas station about ten minutes before Kellin does and stands outside his car with his arms folded over his chest as he watches. They described each other over their phone call so that they’d know who to look for, but when Vic sees a young, attractive, tattoo-clad dude walking toward his car with a suitcase, he almost can’t believe his eyes. Or his luck.

“Hi,” Kellin says. “Are you Vic Fuentes, by any chance?”

“Why, yes, I am,” Vic replies, smiling a little and straightening up. “And you must be Kellin Quinn.”

“In the flesh,” Kellin says, his expression similar to Vic’s. They’re both looking each other up and down, one of the most blatantly obvious acts of checking someone out Vic has ever experienced, but he kind of likes it.

“So, um,” Kellin says, clearing his throat, “do you have my suitcase?”

“Oh, right,” Vic says, turning around and opening up the trunk, pulling the suitcase out and setting it down on the ground. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Kellin takes his suitcase and watches as Vic grabs his own and throws it into the trunk. When he closes it and turns back around, Kellin’s still staring at him. It’s the look that Vic likes to give people before he engages in a one-night stand.

Vic glances over his shoulder at the backseat of his car. The sky is already getting darker, which just makes the thought even more appealing. “Would you like to take a tour of the backseat of my car?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He can’t help himself. Kellin’s got bedroom eyes—or, in this case, backseat eyes—and Vic hasn’t had something like this in far too long.

Kellin seems to think for a long moment before nodding slowly, his expression a mix of seduction and disbelief. “Well,” he says slowly, “I think it’s safe to say this is the quickest I’ve ever gotten laid.”

With that, they hop into the car, Kellin putting his suitcase in the passenger seat temporarily just so that nobody steals it. “This is a pretty eventful way to start off the vacation,” Vic comments as they climb into the backseat.

“Shut up,” Kellin breathes. “It’s been so long since I could do this.” Then he pushes Vic lightly against the seats and proceeds to kiss the fuck out of him.