Snap! Clang! Shit. That didn't sound good.
"What are you doing over there?"
"Uhh . . . heh . . . well, you see . . . okay, this is how it went, I was pullin' an' twistin' and yankin' on this here thingy ma jig, tryin' ta get it off you know, and it wouldn't, so I, ahh . . . kicked it cuz it pissed me off an all. And then it broke."
The brown haired mechanic was tempted to smirk then. He had a very active imagination and the words that had just poured out of the other's mouth were almost too entertaining to resist comment. Almost. Instead all he got was the "don't-be-an-idiot-and-get-back-to-work-before-I-give-you-the-cold-shoulder" look. Or at least, that was how Duo, the braided mechanic/scavenger/late night stand up comic, interpreted it.
"Aww, man, seriously, you are sick!" Duo protested. He'd known Trowa for far too long. "Get your mind out of the gutter! You need to get laid man, I'm tellin ya . . ." Even with his groaning, he got back to work, not without the occasional curse and odd muttering underneath his breath however.
This got a snort from Trowa, who otherwise seemed unfazed by the other's comments. His own personal life was not important (if it existed) and was not to be discussed while at work. It wasn't professional.
He took another look at the engine he was working on and narrowed his eyes as he tried to think what else could possibly be wrong with the damned thing. The young man had checked just about everything he could think of, yet the problem still wasn't fixed . . . but then a light bulb seemed to go on and with sudden inspiration he dove back into his work. Eureka.
If it had been anyone else, they might have smiled with satisfaction at finally fixing the car before him. Several of the other mechanics had been stumped and told the owners to just sell the P.O.S. car. But not Trowa, just as sure as he would not quit once set on a task he would not allow that smile. Instead he nodded to himself, wiped off his greasy hands on a rag, and walked over to the schedule on the wall to see what other things needed working on today.
He was disappointed to find nothing save the car Duo was working on. He wouldn't be surprised if the car was sent back with more things broken than were fixed. As if on some kind of cue a strange wheezing noise came from said car, followed quickly by a "Shit! I didn't do it!" from said mechanic. Turning, almost afraid of what he'd see, he looked over. The sight before his eyes caused him to turn promptly to the break room.
"I need a break." He mumbled to himself.
Duo had spit the piece of gum he was chewing into his hand and was attempting to plug up the hole in the hose with it.
"There you go." Cat murmured, though she knew the boy wouldn't hear her.
Her face was still creased with worry as she laid the blonde out on the battered, yet comfortable couch in the break room. She couldn't think of any place else to bring him. If Cat had brought him back to her home (hell hole) she wouldn't be able to keep an eye on him. And it seemed that he seriously needed that.
She didn't know why it had affected her so much; if it had been anybody else she probably would've seen if it was anybody important, left them (after taking the radio), felt a moment of guilt, and then not had a second thought. If anything in life had taught her it was to look out for your own. And that was it.
Yet something about this almost fragile seeming boy tugged at her heartstrings and forced her to act. He almost seemed to scream to her "I'm just a scared small boy in a big world and I need to be protected!" Maybe it was just the big sister instinct in her.
Whatever it was, it also caused her to brush back his golden bangs from his still closed eyes and marvel at how unscathed he seemed to be. From what she could see, all he had were some scrapes and bruises. He would sure be sore when he woke up, but she couldn't see why he wouldn't.
"Well . . . it seems that someone's lookin' out for you kid." She said before deciding to run home real quick (it was a five minute walk) and get something for him when he was awake. "You just sit here and I'll go get you some soup." As if he could do otherwise.
With that, she left, giving a quick wave to her brother, Trowa, on her way out the door. It didn't hit her till she stepped through the door of her house that she should've warned somebody about the extra body laying around.
With his eyes nearly closed (from lack of sleep) the young man entered the break room and headed instinctively for the coffee pot. It seemed like the only thing keeping him going now-a-days. For some reason, he'd been having a lot of trouble sleeping at night. Not that anybody knew, for he kept it well hidden. Trowa just couldn't stand to let people on to any kind of weakness. Not if he could help it.
A deep sigh was heaved as he fumbled around on the counter, eyes half lidded, looking for the cheap styrofoam cups. The steamy trickling noise of (near) fresh coffee pouring into his cup was a bit of relief. Now all he needed was a comfy place to sit . . . what the hell?
The sight before him caused his emerald eyes to open all the way, though he showed no other sign of surprise. He took a sip of coffee. There was a boy. Laying down on the couch. Asleep. That certainly wasn't typical. Trowa took another sip and hissed as he let the heat set on his tongue for too long.
Curious, he wandered closer to the stranger, even going so far as to kneel beside the couch to get a better look. The boy certainly was . . . beautiful . . . for lack of a better word. Even through the dirt, bruises, and occasional spot of dried blood he could see that. He seemed so young . . . yet for some reason he suspected that the boy was around the same age as himself.
For the moment he seemed to have forgotten to wonder how the boy ended up here, and just wanted to look at him. A strange feeling clenched at his gut (ever so softly) as his eyes wandered up and down his slim body. It seemed more than curiosity that drew him to the boy, yet this (lustful) unknown feeling gnawed away at the outer rims of his mind.
His (lustful) wandering gaze finally drew to a stop from looking at the many small cuts and abrasions he had to a decent sized gash he had on his forehead. Absently he wondered how the boy got so banged up as he leaned in to get a closer look at the gash.
Then a sudden pain erupted in his stomach and the hot coffee went flying.
In his blackness there was no sound save for the gentle rumblings of what sounded like a coffee pot. As he started to come to, his nose confirmed this. Every single spot on his body seemed to ache with a dull pain, yet the surface he was laying on was quite comfortable. In fact, it was tempting to just fall back asleep. But a new sound brought him to heightened awareness. It was the sound of someone breathing.
His eyes opened ever so slightly, and he reminded himself to keep his breath deep and even. Through his thick lashes he could see a chin, a pair of lips, and a tuft of brown hair coming way too close to comfort to his face.
Once again he was filled with dread as a million possible scenarios flitted through his head. What if he was some weird becrazed psycho that dragged him from the wreck and was now intending to have his wicked way with him? What if he was only minutes away from humiliation and a slow painful death!
Enough. This was no way for a Winner heir (internal shudder) to behave. With a slight clench of the jaw and ball of the fist, he slammed that fist into his attacker's stomach with all the force he could manage. As his assailant stumbled back with a grunt of surprise he tried to leap from the couch . . . but only managed to roll off it as a wave of nausea hit. He must've been banged on the head pretty good or something.
Steeling himself against this onslaught, he spotted what seemed to be a back door and half crawled half stumbled towards it. Until the sound of a voice froze him in his tracks.
"What the hell was that for?"
Slowly Quatre turned to look at his assailant full on for the first time. He was surprised to find someone his own age glaring back at him.
Trowa wiped away some of the coffee that had splashed up onto his cheek, unknowingly revealing angry red marks where it had burnt his skin. His shirt had been quickly torn off once he caught his breath so he could save his chest the same pain, and now he sat on his haunches, crouched back against the counter he'd almost hit his head on.
Quatre felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he saw those red marks on his face. He hoped they didn't blister. But he was also surprised at his question, and slightly angered. The boy hesitated as he leaned against the door, his fingers brushing against the knob.
"What kind of question is that? You were trying to kill me!" The blonde sputtered back.
Trowa raised a questioning eyebrow; his only sign of emotion.
"If I had wanted you dead, you would be." He stated matter-of-factly.
This statement seemed to anger Quatre even more, but he didn't have a chance to respond as the door was opened and he fell with a startled squeak through the frame. Looking down on him was an equally startled Duo. Violet eyes went from the half naked Trowa crouched on the floor to the torn up blonde at his feet, and slowly he stepped back.
"Tro, when I said you needed to get laid, I didn't mean now!" He shouted, shaking his head and covering his eyes. "I so do not want to see this! I'll be . . . somewhere else. God damn!" Duo turned and walked away to hide from this strange sight. That Trowa was a weird one all right.
Then, to add to all this chaos, Cat chose this moment to show up with cooking mitts on her hands, a frilly pink apron, and a bowl of soup.
"Soup's done!" She said cheerfully. As all eyes turned to face her in various shades of disbelief, her grin fell. "What? Oh, by the way, he followed me home. Can I keep him?"
A/N: Well, in case you haven't figured it out, I know very little about the mechanics of a car. So I'm pretty much bullshitting my way through all the mechanics stuff. If you couldn't tell, then I must be doing a pretty good job. But yeah, I don't see why others haven't picked up on this kind of setting. What was Tro before he was a pilot? (Besides a mercenary) Yeah, his in between job . . . was a mechanic. So in a modern day AU, wouldn't it be on the money to make him a mechanic? Besides the fact that the only mechanical things I can do on my car is drive it, fill it with gas, change the tire, and jump start it . . . so yeah. And I'm sticking pretty close to the Episode Zero Quatre; rebellious towards his father, little thought to his own life, doubting his self worth, blah blah blah. Cool beans.
My reviewers:
Duet- I will try to be as unlazy as possible! I can't promise anything once college starts though. (insert sad face) I dun wanna grow up! I'm a Toys 'R Us kid!
Meg-Of-The-Moon- As I said in the author note, I was quite surprised nobody thought of this setting before. I've been toying with it for a while too, so we'll just have to hope I can see this story through! (crosses fingers)
Rai Kasshu- Demand? (meep) Okay! Okay! (begins to furiously type) Don't hurt me?
Yurikitsune- Yeah, I get bored of the quiet, meek, sissy boy Quatre. It's so over done, and not a very good character interpretation if you ask me. Unless you're going for satire, then it's fine. As for the emergency brake, I was taught only to use it when you're parked on a slope, or if your car starts to roll back. I was told it could seriously screw up your car, so if I were him and there were no ditches, I would've tried to steer around till I could finally come to a full stop.
It made me- Now why would you say that? I've been driving for a year and a half now, thank you very much! I hope I don't sound that retarded. I admit I know very little about my car, but I know enough to have a liscense! (light-heartedly sticks tongue out)
MeeLee- You think so? I'm glad somebody does! I know I have a habit with making things too short, but when I write, I guess I just kind of like to get to the point. I'll try to keep the plot just as strong!
GundamPilot03- Another Tro fan? (happy!) Hurrah! Ahem, but anywho, I haven't read too many Cathy fics, so I've tried to give her a little bit of extra personality as well as trying to stay true to character. (points to soup) Did you watch the English dubbed versions? Cat cracks me up every time I hear her talk. She sounds so spacey and stoned . . . I was thinking about throwing that aspect in there. (giggle)
Kinaua- Surprise! Happy Birthday! (hands chapter over on silver platter) Please don't hurt me? (in fear for life) But I am glad that you like it enough to threaten my well being! (grin)