You've Got Something

Notes: An artist friend of mine on Tumblr posited an AU featuring a baker and a mechanic, where the mechanic would show up with grease on his face, and the baker would pop up from behind the counter with batter and flour all over him, and it'd be cute and fluffy and happy. I told her, "If you draw the thing, I'll write the thing," she provided some sketches, I started writing, and what started as a short set of fluffy pieces evolved into a serial, and here we are.

This is the Messy!AU, centered around a baker and an auto repair mechanic, with plans for things to get messy. Chapters are initially posted on my Tumblr, then edited and posted both here and on AO3. Enjoy, and don't forget to comment!

1: You've Got Something

"Excuse me?" A voice as clear as the tone of a tuning fork echoed through the shop, bouncing off the tagboard posts covered in pegs holding tools and through to the dirt-washed skylights. Gojyo, flat on his back under Mr. Katsuya's Accord, heard him, but groaned under his breath and glowered up at the stubborn bit of grime on the brake line. He knew he had to get this done by two or risk another chew-out session from Mrs. Katsuya, so he crossed his fingers that Goku might be able to handle whatever the walk-in needed, shoved a strand of hair from his face, and scooted a little deeper under the car to try to find the gripe.

Ever since Gojyo's business partner had "backed out" three months into cutting the ribbon and took a cool three-thou of their first profits with him (Gojyo had a feeling the dumb ass had gotten himself into trouble and skipped town), he'd done everything he could to make the business work with just him and his apprentice. The past eight months had been a little rocky, but he'd been holding on by the skin of his ass, pouring himself into it six days out of the week. It hadn't left him much time for much more than work, or enough energy for much more than a drink at the pub down the road after he closed the shop, but it was better than his teenage delinquency. Sure, he got laid back in the days of his fake I.D. and bad pawn shop reputation, but a day of good hard work felt way better. He felt like if he could get one good break, one little miracle to prove his worth, he might really have something here.

"Excuse me, is anyone there?"

Didn't stop him from grunting his frustration at the customer calling in again. Damn it, where was Goku? Gojyo slid out from under the car to answer: "Yeah, I hear you, hang on a sec!" He scooted out and carefully worked up to his feet, smeared his hands off on his royal blue jumpsuit, and fix his hair again back into the ponytail he kept it in while working. He kept trying to shove the loose strands of his hair back behind his ears as he tromped up through the garage to the front of the shop. Goku wasn't there, his half-eaten Honey Bun sitting on top of the plastic wrapping and a note left in front of the register reading "Bathroom break, back in 5!" Instead, resplendent in the bottles of oil and wiper fluids in the little shop, a tall, thin man in a dusty green apron fretted nervously where he stood.

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt–" Gojyo could hardly hear what he was saying, too stuck on taking him in. He had a pale face framed with dark, straight hair, his cheeks smudged with flour that disguised the dusty-rose blush in his cheekbones, decorated with dark-rimmed glasses that framed the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. Shit, he'd been single too long if he was getting hung up on just how pretty the guy was, how smoothly and elegantly his mouth moved, and just how cute it was that his eyes darted to and fro in his panic. Gojyo realized that he hadn't been listening to what he'd been saying when the man stopped and stared expectantly.

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry. I've been running on nothing but coffee since six." Gojyo chuckled and leaned onto the desk. "Can you give me the short version?"

"Ah." The other man nervously wrung his hands. "I have a delivery to make and my car won't start. It's urgent, it's a wedding cake and the bride is, er, a nightmare, and if the cake is late, then I'm afraid of what she'll do to my business."

Gojyo frowned, then glanced at the man's apron again. The embroidered logo read Mille-Feuille and Flowers, with a slice of cake adorned with pink and purple flowers. He remembered seeing an advertisement for the grand opening three months ago. "Aw, man, and you don't have a spare car?"

"My juniors have to stay at the shop while I handle this personally, and though my business partner could drive, he's an hour away at best." The man wrung his hands. "If you can do something, anything to get me mobile again, I, oh, my, I'll repay you somehow."

Gojyo took the man in again, then nodded. "You know, I get ya. I'm the owner of a small business myself. Let me get my tools and a few supplies. Where's the car?"

The bakery was less than a block away, close enough that Gojyo could swing his loaded toolbox at his side all his way down. Once they passed the bakery, Gojyo could have kicked himself for missing it, with its windows stacked high with elegant cupcakes and a tiered cake, dressed with a cascade of sculpted hydrangeas, the kind of confection that was the envy of wedding celebrations anywhere. If Gojyo had paid attention, he probably would have made a point of stopping in for one of those Mega-Muffins sitting in the back pantry cabinet long ago. The cake the baker had been talking about was visible on the counter, a gaudy sculpture of hexagonal cakes decorated with ribbons and crystals and an ornate topper of someone's initials. "It tastes much better than it looks," the baker said when he caught Gojyo staring, putting on a weak, wan smile, then gestured to a Smart Car parked around the corner. "Here. The engine turns over, but I can't get it to start. I've tried everything I know, but–"

"Say no more. Could you pop the hood for me?"

The baker got in the car and pulled a lever, opening the hood. Gojyo squinted down into the engine, then grinned and leaned around towards the window. "Hey, mister, when I give you the sign, crank the gas for me." He opened up the throttle and sprayed a little starter fluid in, then gave the baker a thumbs-up around the hood. The gas cranked, the engine wheezed, and Gojyo looked but saw no spark. "Hah, yeah, easy." He reached in and pulled out the spark plug. The ends were all burnt out. "This little baby chose one hell of a day to give out." He dug down into his tool box and found a spare spark plug, then compared sizes. Then, he held it out around the hood so the baker could see it. "It's not an exact match, but it's close enough. Bring her in once you get back from your delivery, yeah? Turn the car off, let me plug her in."

Gojyo waited for the engine to settle into silence before replacing the plug, then closed the hood and gave the baker another thumbs-up. "Try it now!" The baker turned the key, and Gojyo heard the little car hum to life. He saw the baker slump with relief in the driver's seat, face lifted heavenwards with a delighted smile. Shit, happiness looked too good on him. The baker turned the car off and climbed out.

"It's running. Goodness, I can't thank you enough–" Gojyo saw those eyes turn, as his focus darted to the patch on his breast. "Gojyo. It's Gojyo, yes?"

"It sure is." Gojyo smeared his greasy hand off and held it out. "And if you have time to share the pleasure?"

The baker enthusiastically shook his hand, clasping both lithe palms around Gojyo's thick hand. "Hakkai, Cho Hakkai." He glowed when he smiled for real, those green eyes lit up and warm, his pink mouth curved into a kind, deep crescent. The smile faltered, and Hakkai reached for his face. "Ah, I'm sorry, but you have something…"

Gojyo realized what Hakkai meant, and fished a rag from his breast pocket. He was so used to the feeling of soot and grease on himself that he forgot it was there. Hakkai, however, took a tissue from his pocket and dabbed Gojyo's cheek clean. "There." He smiled again, brighter than ever. "Is that what my savior looks like?"

"Uh, probably." Gojyo chuckled nervously and rubbed the other side of his face, feeling the heat roiling in his cheeks and making his belly do flip-flops. "Uh, you, uh, you too." He scratched his own face over the smudge of flour dusting Hakkai's cheek.

"Oh?" Hakkai flipped his apron up and dusted his face, but the flour on his apron only smeared it around and made it worse. "Ah, dear." He coughed and swept some of the flour away from his face with his hand. "I suppose, considering all the flour I wallow in day after day, it's not unusual that I'm in bloom."

Gojyo couldn't help himself from snickering. "Hey, hey, it's alright. We both got jobs that get us a little messy. It's good work, isn't it?"

"It is. And thank you." Hakkai clapped his hands together, then dug a chef's hat from his apron pocket and tugged it down over his hair. "I must run, but I owe you, sincerely. I work every day but Sunday and Tuesday from four in the morning until four in the afternoon, so come by any time I'm in and I'll return the favor."

"Yeah, I gotta run too, I got a car waiting on the lift." Gojyo sighed, deflating a little. Hakkai, however, still smiled.

"Thank you." He tucked a bit of stray hair under his hat, then patted Gojyo's hand where it hung at his side. "I'll see you, alright?" Gojyo barely had time to edge in a languid "take it easy, man," before Hakkai hustled back inside to get his cake loaded, calling for his assistants. Gojyo walked away, back towards his shop. Hakkai's flour-dusted face and his sugar sweet smile hung in Gojyo's immediate memory like so much spun sugar drifting in the breeze.

Maybe he had something here.