#also 99% sure the fic will be written in john's pov so ig this'll be a rare glimpse into gale's pov ooo

[johnslittlespoon]

hi :)) please can you do "stay where you are. i'm coming to get you" with biker!gale and leaving!john 🫣 they've gotten under my skin

background context in this brainrot | i combined these three dialogue prompts because i feel like they fit well together <33 more leaving bikeriders au yippie!!! tried not to get too deep into it since i am gonna be properly writing it at some point :-) | prompts

Gale’s ringer goes off as he walks through the front door of his house, and he fumbles for his phone in his pocket, brows furrowing in confusion when he sees John’s contact photo.

He’s only just returned from dropping him off a street down from his house– always paranoid about eagle–eyed parents– but he hadn’t rode off until he got the text confirming he made it inside, so he assumes this isn’t an “I got locked out, can you come get me?” call.

“Miss me already?” He smiles when he picks up, but he doesn’t get a laugh in return, just a shaky breath, and he tenses, finding the door handle.

“John?” He prompts, mind cycling through every possible scenario and feeling his stomach drop when John confirms his worries.

“Um, can you come get me?” He sounds small, voice unsteady. “Got into it with my dad.”

Gale knows this must’ve been a serious one, because his John has gotten good (in a way no one should have to) at shaking altercations with his parents off, so he’s out the door in a heartbeat, helmet under his arm.

“Course, baby,” he says immediately, not giving John any room to overthink. “You by your house?”

“Where you dropped me off,” John confirms.

“You want me to stay on the phone?” He asks, not wanting to leave him alone if he feels unsafe, even if he’ll be there in a few minutes.

“No, ‘s okay,” John says.

“Alright, stay where you are,” Gale starts up his bike. “I’m coming to get you.”

He manages to cut a good minute off the usual time it takes to get there; the quiet of the night helps, not much traffic to slow him down, but he’s still antsy the whole way, only feeling like he can breathe right again when he sees a familiar form slouched over at the curb, backpack at his side.

His heart shatters when he gets his helmet off and walks over and the first thing John does is apologize as he stands up, as if he has anything to be sorry for, and he can tell his eyes are red, headlights of his bike reflecting off the still–damp tears on his cheeks.

“Baby,” he softens his voice, pulling him into a tight hug. “Have you been crying? What happened?”

John melts in his embrace, burying his face into his neck.

“Guess they were waiting up for me to come back,” he mumbles, inhaling nervously. “Dad came into my room after I texted you, and he was…”

John pulls back, shaking his head.

“I’m not allowed back in,” he won’t look Gale in the eyes, and his hand shakes when he runs it through his hair. “I’m really sorry for calling you, I just didn’t know what else to do.”

One side of John’s face sports a red mark in the shape of a hand, and Gale grits his teeth, but he doesn’t comment on it, knowing John will just ask him to drop it. They can talk about it later.

"Don't be sorry. I'm really glad you called me, John."

John’s bottom lip trembles before he pulls it between his teeth in an attempt to bite back more tears, and if Gale wasn’t so focussed on making sure he was okay, he’d already be kicking down the front door to give his dad a piece of his mind.

But that’s not what John needs right now, he knows that, and it wouldn’t solve anything.

“Oh, honey, you’re safe now, I promise,” he says gently, pressing his palm to the angry red of his cheek, feeling John lean into his touch. “You have nothing to apologize for; I’m not gonna let anything happen to you now, alright?”

John nods, shivering in the chill of the night, and Gale runs the pad of his thumb beneath one eye, brushing away the tears that have gathered there.

“Let’s get you home. We’ll figure this out tomorrow, together.”