Bobby works in a garage for a living even though he's just a fifteen year old punk with not even a penny to his name. He didn't graduate from high school, not even middle school, but he's handy with a wrench and the old man running the garage figured that out pretty quickly and hired him up. Bobby lives in the house his mom left him when she took off after her only son put a bullet through his dad's skull. The guy was a dick who thought hurting defenseless women and little boys is something to be proud of. He's never regretted shooting the guy but naturally there's going to be some punishment from God eventually, his mom said as much before she left.
But he was working another hot summer's day when the heat is humid, not just hot but ready to boil the water off his skin, but he dealt with it like he always does and set to work on a yet another Ford. For the most part his boss doesn't come out much. He used to quite a bit but he's getting old and he trusts that Bobby knows what he's doing, and with the very few complaints coming in, he's pleased. Someone will always complain about something, if no one did then it would make him suspicious anyway.
But this day wouldn't be like any other day in Bobby Singer's short life, and he could tell the moment he saw a black man driving a shitty blue minivan into the lot. The man bounced out of the car and walked over to Bobby with all the confidence in the world, as though he's done this a million times and knows he's going to have to do it at least once more. The man is tall, just a couple inches taller than Bobby, but he gives off the impression that he's not quite done growing yet. No quite done doing a lot of things actually.
"I'd like to get my car looked at, something wrong with the breaks." He said and looked Bobby over as if expecting something different, but Bobby's used to that look and it immediately makes him stop staring at the guy with big wide eyes. He's not an idjit. If this guy needs his car fixed then he'll damn well get his car fixed. Wiping his hands down on his overalls, he walked over to the car and rolled his eyes as soon as he looked inside. It's stolen. The car is fucking stolen.
"Tell me how long it'll take to get it runnin and how much it's gonna cost me." The guy said with an easy smile as though he expects everything to go just fine. Yep, he's a normal black man with an incoming mustache who stole a car and brought it to a garage to get fixed up. Nothing strange or stereotypical about that. Bobby didn't report him though. Instead he took a look and saw the problem pretty quickly. It's a ten minute job and his boss usually makes him charge fifty for it, but this kid doesn't look like he'd have fifty, or at least it wouldn't be clean money.
"How much money do ya got?" Bobby asked softly as he crawled into the front seat and pulled out some of his smaller tools he always keeps in his pockets for exactly these kind of situations.
"A hundred of none of your business, so just tell me how much it costs and how long it's gonna take." The guy said with his hands on his hips and a mean look in his eyes. Bobby just shrugged his shoulders before working for a few seconds longer, after a couple minutes he got out of the car, making sure to avoid the place where the guy hotwired the damn thing.
"Fifty bucks," Bobby informed him and grabbed a baseball cap that was sitting on one of the many lemons in this place. His boss tends to collect those cars, he says there's never enough you can learn from them, along with the parts you can take off.
"What's your name, boy?" The man asked as he pulled a couple twenties and a ten out of his pocket. He's wearing a white t-shirt and ripped jeans, but Bobby can clearly see the gun in his back pocket and can tell there are least six knives strapped to various parts of his body. This guy is dangerous but honestly, Bobby couldn't care less, even though he knows he'll probably start carrying a handgun on him at all times, it's the least he should do for working at a garage in the middle of nowhere. It'd be a lot safer than trusting his sixteen year old ass to strange men in stolen cars.
"I'm not a boy and my name's Bobby. You can't be much older than me anyhow." He glared. It's true though because this guy looks like he could easily be a high school kid like Bobby should be, so he really shouldn't judge.
"I am over the age of eighteen, boy. And my name is Rufus Turner, nice to meet you Bobby." His tone went from dark and threatening to playful which was really spinning Bobby in circles at this point so he just pulled the cap down so it covered his eyes and shoved the money in his pocket. "Don't look so down, son. Sooner or later you'll find someone you can call boy. I'm eighteen though and you don't look only than sixteen, sorry kid, but you're stuck with the name."
"It's a pet name you idjit!" Bobby cried out indignantly but Rufus just placed a large hand on his head and pat down hard enough to make Bobby nearly fall over but he caught himself and fixed Rufus with his best glare then held out his hand. "It's seventy for fixing the break." He informed him angrily. Rufus laughed but pulled out the money and placed it in his hand.
"Well Bobby, I gotta admit that you're entertaining. I might have to see you again sometime." Rufus is a couple inches taller than Bobby but dark, almost as dark as the black paint they have in the back. It's interesting because it's the first time he's really seen a colored person but they've had fun and race certainly hasn't fucked them over so far which is probably a good thing considering that Bobby plans on doing this his whole life. He doesn't mind helping out criminals as long as they aren't terrible people. If the person turns out to be a dick then he'll turn them away. Rufus isn't so much a dick as a douchebag. But Bobby can handle him just fine.
Rufus rubbed a finger under his nose nice and hard while staring the teenager up and down as though ready to devour him before grinning nice and wide, taking off down the street in his stupid stolen minivan. It amused him to watch the guy go but in a matter of seconds he was heading back over to the Ford and getting ready to continue working. The guy was a dick, but that doesn't mean that Bobby didn't like him. He tends to like idjits who don't know what the hell they're doing. He can't tell his boss about how obvious it was that the guy stole the car but when he has his own business… he won't even blink.
It's probably wrong for a kid to think like this but Bobby has always been a little off. He blames daddy dearest for that. He fixed up the Ford after about thirty minutes, just in time to hear the sirens and smirk figuring they're after Rufus, but a small part of him hopes they won't catch the bastard. He spent the rest of the night working on a Mercedes and thinking about all these stupid impossible scenarios like Rufus needing a place to hide from the cops and offers to repay Bobby in whatever way possible, or he drops by once again just to see Bobby and then asks him out. It's all so stupid and naïve but he kind of likes to think about it a bit. Nothing romantic, all of his fantasies go straight into hardcore sex but with living with the old man… it'd be very unlikely that anything like that would happen. Besides, Bobby is pretty inept when it comes to sex or anything remotely close to it.
But when it was time to go inside and he was heading downstairs to the basement to collapse on his bed and sleep after all the work he'd done today. Normally he'd have a beer, it's not like the old man cares, but he's probably broken the law enough for one day. When he got down the stairs his mouth was instantly covered by a large sweaty hand as an arm held him around the waist. Bobby wasn't turned on, he was pissed. "Be quiet Bobby, it's just me." Rufus whispered into his ear as though this should make everything better when it clearly doesn't.
He's a criminal and a dick and… this was not one of Bobby's fantasies! He may be a horny teenager but kidnapping games were not on his list of fun things to do with Rufus. He led Bobby to the bed and tossed him down before placing his hands on his hips and smiling. Apparently he thinks he's accomplished something or done some good. Shit, Bobby would take that beer right about now if he had the chance. "What the hell are you doing here, Rufus?" He asked with a sigh and buried his face in his hands. Odds are this man is going to be a hassle and possibly even ruin the life he's just managed to earn after so many damn years of working too damn hard.
"The cops got the car; they almost got me, but then around remembered your sweet ass and decided to crash here for a couple days and lay low before taking off again." He said this all as if it's a perfect plan and nothing can go wrong. He said it as though Bobby will definitely agree. Yeah, no way in fucking hell.
"Does this look like a motel to you? Get the hell out of here, Rufus!" Bobby cried and glared the best he could but it's kind of hard to glare at someone when that same someone has been the star of every fantasy he's had that night, but Bobby managed. Rufus just kept staring though as if he's willing the kid to change his mind. "Fuck you." He sighed and lied down on the bed, running his fingers through his black hair. "I will kill you in your sleep if you try anything at all. No stealing, no coming out of the basement, and no sexual assault."
"Oh don't worry Bobby! You won't even know I'm here." Rufus informed him as he pulled out a pocket knife and began to scrape the dirt out from under his fingernails. Bobby withheld yet another sigh and rolled over on his bed. Usually he strips down to his boxers but it seems a bit… weird with Rufus here. After a couple minutes though, he relented. It gets pretty fucking hot down here anyway so anything he can do to help is probably for the better anyway. He took his clothes off quickly, not making a show out of it but he noticed Rufus was watching anyway, and Bobby hates an audience, so as soon as he finished he crawled under the covers.
"I have to get up early so don't keep me up." He mumbled but sleep is already taking him. Rufus seemed to notice that because he didn't say anything, just watched Bobby as he toyed with his knife, going between screwing around with his fingers and twirling the blade with said fingers. It was impressed but Bobby isn't going to say anything.
Rufus shouldn't have come.
