Disclaimer: I don't own any of the recognizable characters, Valve does. But I will put them all neatly away when I'm finished with them.

Nick was in a rotten mood. Things had been going down hill since the previous evening. In hopes of getting his mind off of the crap going on in his life (and in hopes of finally breaking his sexual dry spell) he'd prowled along downtown Roanoke II. After most of the fish refused to bite, he picked up a brunette at the local nice Italian restaurant, romanced her, wined her, and charmed her all the way to the coat room. But in the middle of a pretty decent blow job, he got a little too excited and blurted out 'ELLIS' right before he could start his run for home plate. Suffice to say, after a slap to the face and serious case of blue balls he just went home.

THEN he'd awakened at five am thanks to a rather realistic dream involving a Smoker's tongue wrapping around his torso. He sat up abruptly, swearing and thrashing, to find that the tongue was, in fact, his sheets. After such a start he hadn't been able to fall back asleep. He'd tried reading, he'd tried watching TV, he'd tried listening to music, but none of it worked. Even jerking himself off hadn't stilled his mind. Of course, it probably hadn't helped that he'd started thinking about Molly Ringwald circa THE BREAKFAST CLUB and ended up imagining Ellis instead. It was admittedly weird to make such a transition, but his mind was fixated.

He thought of the mechanic's crooked grin, the way his lips would pout just a little bit when he was thinking, or frustrated. The way his lips had pouted two days before, oh God, those lips. They'd felt so good running down his neck, across his collar bone, wrapping around his cock and squeezing. Of all the people he'd been with, he couldn't think of a more perfect pair of lips.

He'd come into his sheets with a choked cry, unable to reach for the tissues in time, and that just made him even angrier. Now he had to do laundry.

How aggravating that his mind was so obsessed with Ellis. It had been two days since their confrontation, and it was like the stupid kid had wormed into his brain and his libido.

He stamped into his bathroom to continue cleaning himself up, and flipped the bright white light on. As he reached for tissues, he caught glimpse of himself in the mirror above the counter. He used to preen and primp in front of the mirror all the time, before and after the Infection hit. He'd always been concerned about his appearance, and he still was. Only now there were things that he was unable to change. He stood up straight, and frowned at the long and nasty scars that slashed down his chest. Sure, battle wounds were a good conversation starter in bed, but it was a fine line between the sexy and the grotesque. And Nick could not help but feel that his faded pink gashes were firmly in the second camp. They didn't make lovers run for the hills screaming, but they made him feel a bit more damaged than he'd like to admit. He opted to just take a shower instead, and turned on the water and away from the mirror.

Shower finished and stomach grumbling, Nick poked at his cereal, chin resting in his hand, mind flitting from place to place. What was he going to do on this lovely day off? There wasn't much to do around town. He could have tried to pick up another companion, but after the disaster the night before he wasn't really feeling it. He wasn't feeling much of anything outside of acrimony.

Francis came downstairs in nothing but his boxers, tattoos marking his body up and down. "Morning, Suit. Heard you yanking your crank this morning. You need to get laid."

Nick let his forehead fall forward, and it hit the table. "Fuck everything."

"That's what I'm saying! Go out and pick up some hot to trot small town ladies," Francis said, drinking straight from the orange juice carton. "Or dudes. Whatever you need to do to get out of this funk."

"Yeah, I tried that. Almost got some from a chick in a coat room. Then I said someone else's name and that was the end of it, mid fellatio."

"Ouch. That's the worst thing you can do!"

"No shit…. I don't suppose YOU'D be interested-."

"No can do, my man," Francis said, putting the OJ back. "Got a date with Rochelle. Jeeze, I know you're getting desperate when you're practically begging me for it."

"I'm not begging," Nick insisted. "You're just a pleasant alternative to my right hand is all."

"Sounded like your right hand was doing a fine job this morning." Nick stood up angrily and walked out of the kitchen. "Oh come on! That was funny, I don't care where you're from!"

Nick tossed himself on the couch and huffed. "What do you think the odds are that THE BREAKFAST CLUB is on right now? It would make things less frustrating if I didn't have to pull it from memory."

"Ohhh, I get it. Sheedy or Ringwald?"

"Ringwald."

"Nice choice," Francis said, pointing at him and nodding. "I'd go with Sheedy, but no one can fault ya."

"Judd Nelson too."

"That I cannot relate to."

"I might go kill zombies on my day off just to keep my mind off of this bullshit," Nick stated, voice still pissed. "I don't know where that damn hick gets off!"

"What'd he do?" Francis asked, though he wasn't all that curious. He just knew that if Nick could blow off some steam it would make their living conditions that much better.

"Little twerp says that he wants nothing to do with me outside of car problems," Nick snorted. "Jesus Hopping Christ, you'd think I killed his puppy or something! It's not MY fault that he was being an idiot! I was doing him a favor, God dammit!"

"I'm not going to ask, because I don't really give a damn," Francis said, shrugging, "but all I can tell you is that if that's what the problem is, you better pray for car problems." With that, he went upstairs to get dressed, leaving Nick on the couch to seethe and sulk. Yeah right, car problems, Nick thought, resting his chin on a balled fist.

But then a sly smirk began to grow on his face.

Francis came back downstairs a half hour later, after taking a shower and trimming his goatee a hair. He wanted to make sure that he looked presentable for Rochelle. She struck him as a classy broad who wouldn't stand for sloppy dress. He knew that impressing her would take a little bit more than a sleazy pick up line and a promise of whiskey shots. Though with her the whiskey shots might not hurt, she was intriguing that way. He peeked into the living room, expecting to see Nick, but met with an empty space. "Hey Nick? Where'd you go?" He wondered if he'd gone into town to start the snatch hunt, as you couldn't start too early. But soon he saw that Nick had actually gone outside to the shed where Betsy was housed. Francis thought that maybe he'd join him, make sure that what he'd said hadn't been taken to heart. He didn't want a thump to the head with a baseball bat under the guise of 'friendly fire' come Monday morning. So he walked out into the sunlight, and waved at Nick as he trotted his way.

"Hey Suit, you know what I said earlier?" Francis began, but saw that his partner was admiring Betsy. "Ah yeah. You've never really taken a good look at Betsy, have you?"

"Not really," Nick said, walking around the bike. "Didn't you get this when we were in Minneapolis?"

"Sure did," Francis confirmed, wheeling her out of the shed proudly. "Outside that club The Eagle, I think. You were inside doing God knows what, and I ganked this bike from one of those asshole rednecks who was protesting the place."

"Oh yeah, that's right," Nick said. "Didn't he say something like 'it's places like this and people like you that brought down the Green Flu from God in the first place!'?"

"Yeah, something like that," Francis said, shaking his head. "Idiot. He deserved getting his teeth punched in and his bike stolen."

"Aw, I hope you didn't do that just for me," Nick grinned, and Francis rolled his eyes.

"No, I just hate assholes," he said, unwilling to admit that yeah, it was mostly because the guy called everyone in the club (therefore including Nick) 'fags'. "She's my medal in the fight against them."

"Well she's a very nice bike, Francis," Nick said, bending down and inspecting the exhaust pipe on the Harley. "Hm. Exhaust pipe's a bit loose though."

"Oh, yeah, that's the one weakness she has," Francis boasted. "I've been meaning to tighten it up, but we've been hopping from place to place. Should have checked her over in Minneapolis when I got her, that was the quietest Infected population I've ever seen."

"It's ass cold up there, that's why," Nick said, poking at the exhaust a bit. "So what if this fell off while you were riding it?"

"I'd just pick it up and reattach it, it's not too hard," Francis said. "Might ask a pro to do it, because she's so special."

"Hm," Nick said, and then gave Francis an uncharacteristically apologetic smile. "Well, at least I know it can be fixed."

"Well sure, it would just be an exhaust," Francis said, shrugging. He was about to ask why Nick was suddenly so interested in Betsy…

But was cut off when the gambler deftly removed a pipe from the shed, and brought it down on the semi loose exhaust, over and over again. The 'clang!' noise echoed in Francis' ears, and his eyes widened as his jaw went slack. Nick kept hitting it until the exhaust fell to the ground, and once it had he tossed the pipe to the side, and picked up the disconnected piece of the bike.

The biker hadn't comprehended what had been happening until it was finished, and when Nick shrugged and tossed the exhaust away, the full impact of his actions finally got through.

"MY BIKE!" Francis wailed, knees buckling. "BETSY! OH MY GOD, BETSY WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU!"

"Relax, it's just an exhaust, remember?" Nick asked, making a face.

Francis stared at the wounded machine for a few more beats, and then turned his gaze to Nick. The gambler had never seen him in such a state, nor had he heard him scream in such a way. Not even when a Hunter had taken it's claws to his back. No, this was a whole other level of pain and mortification. Francis was then up on his feet, grabbing Nick by the collar. "WHAT THE FUCK?"

"Hey, calm down!" Nick exclaimed, trying to shove him off, but the grip was too tight. "Francis, buddy, seriously, don't worry about it-."

"Don't worry about it?" he exclaimed, shaking Nick violently. "YOU ASSAULTED MY BIKE!"

"AND I'm going to fix it!" Nick shouted back, thumping Francis in the ear with a cupped hand in an attempt to get away. Francis did drop him, clutching at his ear, but strode for Nick nonetheless. "I'm sorry that I had to do that, but I'm at a complete loss, okay man? I needed a reason to talk to Ellis, and he said that the only way he'd do it-!"

"I know, I know!" Francis exclaimed, no longer chasing after him and just surrendering to bewilderment and sadness. "The only way was if you had car problems, but WHY couldn't you have done something to your goddamn CAR?"

Nick scoffed, putting his hands on his hips. "Ha, yeah right. That's a Beemer."

"BETSY'S A HARLEY!" Francis roared, starting for Nick again, but the gambler held up his fists, ready to defend himself this time.

"And I'm going to get her fixed!" he replied. "I'll pay for it, she'll be good as new! Ellis is a great mechanic, he tinkered with cars and brought them to life when I didn't think he'd be able to. Re-attaching an exhaust pipe will be a cinch for him, okay?" Francis' shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand down his face. Unbelievable. True, he'd pulled stunts like this on Nick before (deliberately ruining a nice suit because a torn suit would garner more sympathy pussy if you said a Witch had almost killed you), so he couldn't go completely off the wall. But still. It was BETSY for goodness sake!

"…. So what am I supposed to use for my date with Rochelle tonight?" Francis asked, beaten.

"You can use the BMW."

"I'm going to crash it on purpose."

"Yeah right."

"Well I WANT to," Francis spat, kicking the dirt under his boots. "Man, Betsy was going to seal the deal, I just know it! Nothing gets a straight laced chick hot and bothered like a motorcycle!"

"Ro's a Beemer type, don't worry," Nick assured him. "The straight laced girls like a motorcycle, but they LOVE a BMW."

"I'm going to fuck her in the backseat."

"First of all, no you aren't," Nick protested. "Second on all, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this just an interview?"

"Shut up before I DO kill you."

"Okay, fine, fair enough," the gambler agreed. "So I owe you one."

"I think you owe me more than one," Francis muttered, turning his back on the bike, lest he start to cry. "Asshat."

Nick once again picked up the exhaust pipe, examining it closely, and having found it satisfying strolled back into the house behind his partner. Desperate times, Francis, he thought, and began to flip through the local phone book.

Ellis pulled the pick-up truck into the driveway of the house near the outskirts of town. He hadn't thought that anyone had lived there, he could have sworn that it was abandoned, but Rick sent him on a house call to this address. Boy I hope he didn't get the address wrong, Ellis thought as he parked. He stepped out of his truck, and grabbed his tool box from the bed, reading the information. Charles Wells had a busted exhaust on a Harley. That shouldn't take too much time to fix. He whistled as he strolled up the porch steps, and knocked on the door cheerfully. This was his last call of the day, then he got to go home, crack open a beer, and have the rest of the night to himself. Things could definitely be worse.

Of course, when the front door opened, his tune stopped and his smile disappeared. Nick, sonofabitch NICK, greeted him with a triumphant grin on his face.

"Hey Overalls, my exhaust could use some attention," he said, and Ellis glowered at him.

"What are you doin' here?" he asked, though he had a pretty good idea that, once again, he'd been had by the gambler.

"Oh, me and Francis live here for the time being," Nick replied, shrugging.

"Charles Wells my ass," the mechanic grumbled. "Why the fake name?"

"Because you wouldn't have come if I used my real one," Nick replied, aloofly. "This way I was sure to get the best mechanic to work on the bike."

"Do you even HAVE a busted exhaust?"

"Yeah, I do," Nick nodded, closing the door behind him as he stepped on the porch as well. "Francis' bike is kind of temperamental. The pipe fell off this morning while he was riding around the property."

"So why didn't HE call me?" Ellis asked, following him around the house towards the back shed. "It's his bike, after all."

"He's distracted," Nick said. "He has a date with Rochelle tonight."

"Oh, yeah, I heard about that," Ellis nodded, swatting at some gnats. "Isn't it just an interview?"

"Heh, probably, but not from the way he tells it," Nick chuckled, opening the shed door. "I'm sure Ro's in for a real treat tonight. So there's the damage." Ellis walked into the enclosure, and bent down, picking up the exhaust pipe.

"It's a little dented. Did he run into somethin'?" he asked.

"Who knows with Francis? Think you can fix it?"

"Of course I can fix it, this ain't nothin' but nothin'," the mechanic replied, popping open his tool box. "Probably only take me about fifteen minutes. Tops."

Nick chewed on the inside of his cheek. Fifteen minutes? That really wasn't a lot of time. Not that he thought it would take that much longer to just reattach an exhaust pipe he'd forced off. "Fifteen minutes, huh? That's pretty quick."

"Yeah, well, it's a simple repair," Ellis said, standing up. "Let me just get a better wrench from my truck an' I'll get right on it."

"Okay, sounds great," Nick said, nodding. Ellis nodded too, and left the shed. Okay, so this wasn't going to be too bad. The bolts and nuts were there, the pipe was in fine condition. He'd be in and out in less than a half an hour, and he knew that Nick didn't care enough about cars or motorcycles to stick around and watch him fix it. This wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be.

He fished the wrench out of the back of his truck, and trotted on back to the shed, whistling once again. "Awright, let's get this thing over with, shall we?" he asked as he looked over at Nick, who was a little breathless despite the fact it didn't look like he'd moved from his spot.

"You know what I noticed?" Nick asked, pointing at the fuel tank. "There are some dents on that thing too." Ellis looked to where he was pointing, and sure enough, there were two large dents on the slick black bike. Dents that, he was fairly certain, weren't there when he went to get his wrench. He looked from the dents to Nick, who just shrugged. "Crazy. Francis is a real character."

"Yeah, a real character," Ellis repeated, mouth thinning. "I guess I'll fix those too. That'll take a little longer."

"Ah, gee, well, however long it takes, I'll pay it," Nick said, rolling his shoulders and kicking a pipe away with his foot. "Shit it's hot out here. Would you like something to drink while you work on this?"

Ellis was going to decline; after all, this was insufferable and drinking something would just take up time. But it was true. It was pretty hot for September. And he hadn't had much to drink that morning. So he nodded. "Whatcha got?"

"Besides booze?"

"Yeah, 'sides booze."

"Water. Orange Juice. I think Francis has some sarsaparilla-."

"Aw man, sarsaparilla?" Ellis asked, suddenly excited. "I'll have that, especially if it's cold!"

Nick smiled, and gave him a thumbs up. "You got it, Overalls." The idea of ice cold sarsaparilla was undeniably tempting, and Ellis pulled out his various tools and supplies.

Not only did Nick bring him out an ice-cold soda, he also brought out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Ellis looked at the plate, nonplussed, and Nick just shrugged. "Thought you might be hungry too."

"Yeah, I guess I kinda am," Ellis admitted, and accepted both the sandwich and the soda. Nick nodded, and sat down on an overturned bucket. "You don't hafta watch me or nothin', I don't need company. An' you'll probably just find this borin'-."

"I've always wondered how you guys got dents out of cars," Nick replied, hopping over the veiled suggestion. "What's the big secret?"

"Oh well that's pretty easy, actually!" Ellis replied, and was off. It was fascinating for Nick to watch him work on the bike, especially since he was so chatty about what he was doing. The Z-Man wasn't sure if it was because he was so uncomfortable he needed something to talk about, or if it was because he was so passionate about the work before him. Either way, it was nice hearing him talk the way he'd talked three years prior. Nick just listened as he sat on the bucket, and didn't stop listening, even when the lecture got a bit technical. The mechanic was so enthusiastic he could have been reading the phone book and Nick would have remained interested.

"Man, this is a real nice ride, have you ever taken it out for a spin or anything?" Ellis asked.

"No, I don't ride motorcycles," Nick replied.

"No?" Ellis asked, looking up briefly from the wrench. "Huh. I'da thought you did."

"Why?"

"I don't know," the younger man admitted, straining to turn the bolt as far as it would go. "Me neither. Well, I used to ride ATVs and motocross. I guess motocross is KINDA like motorcycles."

"Don't you ride on motorcycles in motocross?"

"Yeah, I guess so. You should ask Francis to teach ya, it's real fun!" Ellis said.

"Eh, I don't even know how to ride a bicycle, I think that a motorcycle would be a bit much," Nick admitted, and Ellis looked at him, mouth dropped. "What?"

"You don't know how to ride a bike?" he exclaimed, and Nick snorted.

"Yeah, so?"

"What kid doesn't know how to ride a bike?" Ellis chuckled, and the older man scowled. "I mean, didn't your parents ever teach you how?" Nick frowned, eyes flying to the floor of the shed, and he shrugged.

"Yeah, my Dad couldn't really be bothered with that kind of thing," he replied, quietly. "He was pretty busy raiding corporations and shit…. And Mom was usually halfway through a martini shaker by the time I got home from school, so…" He scratched his nose, and shrugged again. Ellis paused, examining every facet of Nick's expression. Sadness wasn't really something he'd seen on the gambler's face, and it softened his chiseled features. God how fleeting vulnerability suited him. Ellis turned away, before he started hyper-focusing, and went back to work.

"Oh well," he settled on. "Bike ridin's overrated anyway."

"Hm. I know how to swim though."

"Yeah?" Ellis asked, smiling as he opened his tool kit again.

"Hell yeah. I can swim laps around anything."

"Even a dolphin?"

"Especially a dolphin."

"I'd bet not."

"Oh, it's on," Nick crowed. "That dolphin's going to be crying like a bitch when I'm through with him. We're talking 'Steel Magnolias' crying here."

"I never saw it, but my Mom said that movie's sad."

"Dolphin snot running down it's bottle-nose-."

"Aw gross!"

Around 4:30 Francis popped his head in the door, hoping against hope that Betsy would be ready in time for his date. "Hold on, what's wrong with the fuel tank?" was his greeting as Ellis continued to try to suction the last dent out.

"When you had your little bang up this morning apparently the tank got damaged too," Nick said, though he wasn't fooling Ellis at all. But the mechanic just nodded.

"Yeah, but they'll be good as new soon, I promise," Ellis said, smiling at him. "I'll even polish it all up for you, free of charge."

"Oh please, do charge him," Francis said, eyeing daggers towards his partner, who shrugged. "And make sure he leaves you a HUGE tip. So I guess that means I'm taking your goddamn BMW, huh?"

"Now a BMW ain't nothin' to sniff at," Ellis interjected, turning the crank on the suction cup. "I mean, I probably wouldn't own one. Give me a nice sturdy Ford truck an' I'm happy. But I remember this one time me an' my buddy Keith were goin' to car lots in Savannah an' just testin' the cars. We weren't gonna buy any, but it sure was fun to drive cars that we couldn't afford, even for ten minutes! An' the BMW was one of my favorites to drive, it was real smooth, an' you could tell that it had some power under there, even if it didn't flaunt it. Of course, then Keith had to ruin it all by callin' 'em 'Nazi cars'. Man, that was SO embarrassin', an' I know that they DID make engines for the Nazis, but-!"

"He's still talking?" Francis asked, and Nick shrugged as he smiled, amused.

"He talks a little," Nick said, meeting Ellis' gaze, his emerald eyes almost piercing. The mechanic's cheeks reddened, and he turned back to the bike. "But not too much."

"Could have fooled me. When you were singing his praises the other night you didn't say he was such a motor-."

"Hey, Francis, you're going to be late for your interview if you keep shooting your mouth off here with us," Nick said, sternly, and Francis looked at his watch.

"Oh shit, you're right," he said. "Keys?"

"On the hook in the house."

"Sweet. I'm out. Take good care of Betsy," he said, power walking towards the house. "And charge him full price and then some!"

Ellis turned back to the dent, cranking it a bit slower now. Nick didn't say much of anything as he continued to sit on the bucket, and an awkward silence hung between them. Nick chewed on his thumbnail, and stood up. "Did you want another sarsaparilla?"

"No, I'm okay," Ellis replied, shaking his head. "…. So you talked about me, huh?"

"… Yeah, a little, I guess," Nick admitted, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed and at a distinct disadvantage. "…. I'm going to go inside. It's kind of hot out here."

"Okay," Ellis said, nodding. "I'll come to the house when I'm done."

"Sounds good."

Ellis wasn't able to lose himself in the repairs this time. He had other things nagging at his thoughts, more important and yet more obnoxious things. Nick had talked about him? That was certainly interesting, and the thought of it was making his stomach tie up in knots. Oh no, don't do this, he thought, firmly. Don't start. I talk about Keith all the time and that didn't mean nothin'. Well yes, he'd definitely been attracted to Keith at one time in his life, but not these days. He just reminisced about his old friend because they had good times together. And he and Nick definitely had good times together before the Sugar Mill.

He yanked the suction cup off the dent and started grating away at the glue. Yeah, he was definitely charging Nick for this. Probably with interest. That's what he got for making him absolutely mental.

Nick was reading a book when Ellis knocked on the door as he entered the front hallway. "In here, Ellis." The mechanic popped his head around the corner, and gave him a thumbs up.

"I'm done-. Are you wearin' glasses?" he asked, and Nick snorted.

"Just when I read," he replied. "Trust me, I'm not too fond of them either."

"Naw, they're fine," Ellis said, shaking his head. "Just surprisin' is all."

"It's either that or a bitch of a headache," Nick said, standing up. "You clearly think I'm more badass than I actually am. In your mind I ride a motorcycle and don't have vision problems."

"Huh. Guess I overestimated you an' your coolness. Thought you were Han Solo, but you're jus' C-3PO."

"Har har har. So, how'd it go out there?"

"Oh fine," he said. "The bike looks good as new. Here's my bill for it." Nick took the invoice and read it. "I hope that seems fair to ya."

"It's fine by me," Nick answered. Had it been any other mechanic he would have found it to be highway robbery. But first of all, it was Ellis, and second of all, he had very obviously brought him out there under false pretenses. He had no room to be picky. "Let me just write you a check."

"Kay," the mechanic said, following him into the kitchen. "Man, you guys have a nice house."

"It's okay," Nick said, though he thought it was a plebian dump. "Could definitely be worse."

"Heh, yeah, could be the quarantine centers," Ellis said, and Nick paused briefly before writing out the check. "I assume this place don't have cockroaches. An' people who scream at night."

"True," Nick said, handing him the check. "There you go." And then he dug into his wallet to give him an additional amount of cash. "With something extra."

"You don't hafta do that-."

"Whatever, it's not a big deal," Nick said, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "So….. I was thinking that I'd take you out for a beer."

Ellis' brow scrunched up. "I don't know…."

"Just because you came all the way out here, and you thought that I was Charles Wells, and you fixed Francis' bike," Nick listed. "Nothing else, I'm not…. I just think that I owe you more than the money."

Ellis was going to say a steadfast 'no'. But instead, he said "Well…. Okay, sure, I guess."

"Yeah?" Nick asked, a half smile forming on his lips. "Cool. Francis has my car, so-."

"That's okay, I'll drive," Ellis said, waving him off. "I hope you're okay with goin' to the garage first, cuz I hafta give Rick the check."

"That's fine by me," Nick nodded. Hell, they could go to China first for all he cared, so long as he was going with Ellis. He didn't dwell on how obsessed he was with making up with Ellis, placing the blame on a lack of people to interact with. He knew he wasn't really ready to examine his feelings beyond that theory. "Tell Rick I said you did a good job."

"Of course I did a good job, I'm the best mechanic in town," Ellis boasted, and the uncharacteristic vanity from the kid only made Nick more eager to go out for that beer.