Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all character names. This plot belongs to the author, IReen H.

No copyright infringement is intended or expected. Respect.

As usual, this is unbeta'd and roughly written.

Word Prompt: Display

Audio-Visual Challenge—Imagined Image: See the fictionista witfit page for imagery.

Jake can't put his finger on exactly what it is about Dimitri that rubs him the wrong way. It's something though. Maybe it's his smile. It's warm enough, but the eyes ... The frosted blue eyes are vacant somehow. Cold.

It makes Jake feel awkward, the way he gets up from his seat while Jake is mid-sentence, to look at the photos hanging on the wall. Turning his back like what Jake's saying is irrelevant, ignorable.

He hasn't ever had to sell himself, or his skills, before. People came into Forrester Garage with a need. Blown head-gasket, starter on the blink, flat tire, standard oil change. They came because they already knew Old Man Forrester. When Dick decided to retire, he worked a deal with Jake. Dick's office became Jake's and business kept on. People already knew Jacob Black. Hardworking young dad. Straight shooter.

To be a trusted mechanic predisposes the need to upsell your clients. You tell them their spark plugs need to be changed and they do it. You recommend a radiator flush and they sign on the line.

That isn't the case with Dimitri Nikolaev.

Jake's sentence dies away as Dimitri tilts his head to one side, looking for a long minute at the picture of Bella and Victoria, Sam between them, standing outside the aquarium on Sam's seventh birthday. He shifts his stance to study the snapshots of the Fiat Roadster Jake rebuilt last year.

Dimitri seems not to notice the silence. Instead he fills it, his accent faintly elongating his vowels. "This is nice work, here. The Fiat. That was what… a '76?"

"Yeah."

"Beautiful piece of machinery. See, Jake. This is what I need."

"Understood. I feel confident with any rebuild from that era. From about the fifties on. Earlier than that-"

Dimitri waves his hand, dismissing Jake's words. "Perfect."

He comes back to the desk and sits down. "So let's talk transportation. We display cars in several locations. Usually they go to Vegas, sometimes Miami. Sometimes L.A. I can't always get them there. I need a man who can. Someone reliable. Someone I trust. I like to have the man who did the work move the car. He knows how much time and money went into it. He won't hook the car up to a tow kit and let the road batter the fuck out of her. If that person is you Jake, I know you'll take care of the thing. Put it on a flatbed, keep your eye on her."

"Absolutely."

He wants this gig. Aside from it being fun, different from the daily drudgery of oil changes and tire rotations, the compensation Dimitri has alluded to is nice. Very nice. Bella could work a little less, they could even go on vacation. Take Sam to Disneyland. They've been saving for a few months, shooting for his eighth birthday. Bella says she wants to take him before he gets too old to appreciate the magic.

He had argued that you're never too old, but she didn't agree. Her position was that you have to go when you're young, that THAT is what creates the magic that doesn't fade.

"How many rebuilds do you normally do, in a year?"

"Probably about one per quarter. I find the cars here and there, so it just depends on when I come across them. I warn you, sometimes they're really run down. I'm talking scrap-shit, Jake."

"I like a challenge."

"I'm sure you do. Another thing. Sometimes the cars are not what you would consider classics. They won't always be-"

A knock at the closed door interrupts him. Dimitri raises a furry brow at Jake as the door parts from its frame and Bella sticks her face in.

"Oh, sorry. Sorry to interrupt."

Jake watches Bella enter the room, almost through the other man's eyes. He sees her grace and her beauty, feels pride at the sight of her. At Sam, fiddling with a red yo-yo at her side.

Dimitri is on his feet in one easy motion, opening the door all the way and holding his hand out to her. Her hair is pulled mindlessly into a ponytail, fresh face free of foundation or the need for it, lush lashes framing her sweet eyes. Her black t-shirt reads Port Vic, the words bold against a bright white moon.

She seems very young to him in this moment.

She places her hand in Dimitri's, her eyes sliding to Jake as Dimitri rolls it so her knuckles are up. His eyes don't leave her face as he asks, "Your wife?"

Jake watches him press a kiss to Bella's fingers, wondering if Bella thinks the gesture is smooth, as Dimitri seems to intend it, or corny. Probably corny.

"Yes. And my son. Guys, this is Mr. Nikolaev."

"Mr. Nikolaev is my father. Please - call me Dimitri." He gives them a smile. Sweet. Non-threatening. Comforting. Off.

He goes down to a knee so he can look Sam in the eyes. He's small for his age. Someone who doesn't know him might mistake him for a six year old, or even a kindergartner. Jake knows he tries not to be insulted when people underestimate him. Though he can't help noticing that Sam does, occasionally, worry about his size. Like the conversation they had over dinner the other day.

"Were you very small, when you were little, dad?"

"Yep, didn't start getting big until 7th grade."

"And I'm only in 2nd now."

"That's right."

"Mom's small, though. I could be small like her."

"You could be. This is why she makes you eat broccoli. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. And actually, Dad. I kind of like broccoli now. You know? I hated it when I was a kid."

"Me too. I like it with ranch."

"I know. Dad, that is so gross." He says "gross" the way Bella says it: gee-ross.

"Are you sure you're my son? Maybe we should get tested."

Sam giggled. "Daaa-ad. Mom doesn't like Ranch either. I get that from her."

"Oh. I guess that's okay, then."

They had looked at each other, their TV trays balanced on their thighs, their smiles matching. Now Sam shakes Dimitri's hand, saying, "Nice to meet you." Then he walks over to hug his dad, reaching for the jar of paperclips, grabbing it and scooting backwards into a chair to wait, linking the clips together to make a chain.

Bella puts a paper bag on Jake's desk, burritos from Tanya's Taqueria, and a Mexican coke. "This is dinner. Sorry, I'm running late. Sam, come on, why don't you wait in Leah's office so Dad can finish his meeting. "

Jake smiles. "Thanks, Bells."

"No prob. See you later. Love you."

"Love you."

"Nice to meet you, Dimitri."

"Likewise, Mrs. Black."

The door closes behind them and Dimitri retakes his seat. "Good looking family."

Jake thanks him, but he doesn't like the man's compliment.