My apologies for the delay—I was at a conference and then I've been sick.
When Gajeel trudged back into the shop, water dripping steadily onto the floor, the shrimpy woman wasn't there.
"Took you long enough," Metalicana said.
Gajeel scowled at him. He knew damn well it hadn't taken that long. And after a short jaunt through town and over to the highway, he'd pegged what was wrong with Shorty's car. The sooner she got here, the sooner he could have the job done. Working damp was going to be a pain in the ass as it was.
He stomped over to the desk and shook out his sopping hair with a hand, purposefully leaning toward the counter. The water droplets flew, and if they happened to land on the stack of papers his pops was looking at... Gajeel smirked at his old man's look.
"What'd ya do, eat her?" Gajeel called, looking around for the short woman. For a second, he was amused by the mental image of a large, shiny dragon lazily picking bones out of its teeth.
Then, he caught the way his old man's face changed. Gajeel did not like that shit-eating grin at all. The bastard was up to something.
Before he figured out what it was, one of his coveralls walked out of the hallway.
It took a second for his lagging brain to catch up to what he was looking at. Her hair was nearly the shame shade as that old denim. Because she was so damn small, she'd had to roll the limbs up just to walk, giving her donut-shaped bulges around her elbows and ankles. It was still pretty baggy too, in more than just the good places. She should've looked ridiculous.
And then he noticed that the zipper slid down a little as she messed with her hair. Her collarbone was showing. Suddenly, he was aware that she didn't have much on underneath the coverall. Maybe he'd never wash it again.
"Looks good, huh?" Metalicana said, nodding his head toward the woman. "She'd fit right in."
Shorty laughed and shuffled her feet awkwardly. "My dad always said I should've been a mechanic," she joked.
Except that brought up a whole new mental image for Gajeel—one with a jean shirt tied under the chest and grease smudges and wrenches. A burning started in his nose and he had to stop thinking right fucking now.
Gajeel coughed and turned away for a second, catching his pops. The smirk hadn't left his face. Gajeel shot him a dirty look.
Shorty didn't see the exchange since she was messing with the mop of hair that was falling into her face. She brushed it back from her forehead and held it there with one hand while she put the other one on her hip and cocked it to the side. Tilting her head, she stared at him. Gajeel arched a metal-studded eyebrow.
"Can I use that?"
At his confused look, she pointed to his left pocket. His eyes landed on the gray handkerchief sticking out. The hell did she want that for?
"Uh... 'kay," he answered, automatically handing it over. It was still slightly damp from the rain, but it was mostly clean. Probably. Not his fault if it wasn't.
A smile lit her face as soon as she grabbed it, and then, in only a few seconds, she had the thing rolled up in a band, flipped her hair forward, tied the cloth behind her head, and tossed her head back. And the damn scrap of fabric stayed, holding her blue mop back like that's what it was for.
Gajeel looked on in slight awe—but it wasn't on his face. Witchcraft is what it was.
"Now that you brats are done making eyes at each other," his old man began, and Gajeel scowled at him. Like hell he made eyes. He knew that bastard was setting him up.
Shorty squeaked a little and crossed her arms over her stomach, and inwardly, he smirked as her cheeks got a little red. He had no problem if she made eyes at him.
But Pops had better wipe that look off his face or Gajeel would do it for him, he thought. "So, what was it?"
Gajeel ignored his old man and talked to the woman instead.
"Like a howl when goin' over thirty-five?" he started. Her eyes got focused and she took a half step closer to him without noticing. She started nodding her head along with his explanation. "Really whines when you turn the wheel?"
"Yes!" she shouted, her heels coming off the floor. Then she rubbed the back of her head in embarrassment. Got excited pretty easily. In any other setting, that'd be fun, but he had to remind himself that this was work.
Still, Gajeel couldn't help but smirk—no car was a challenge for him. "Wheel bearing," he announced. "But, I'll put it up on the rig to be sure."
Shorty nodded, but she had a thoughtful look smeared across her forehead. "What does that do, exactly?"
His old man started messing with the computer, probably checking for parts, so that left him to explain. Gajeel tried not to notice how the bastard's grin kept getting bigger.
He tried to keep his lecture down to the basics—if he used a lot of technical babble, he had a feeling that scholarly head on her would just demand more talking, and he wanted to actually finish this job some time today. Gajeel gestured as he told her bearings were what kept her wheels spinning and attached to the car. They tended to shake a lot when bad.
She seemed to get it, doing more of that head bobbing, and dammit if it didn't look like she was actually listening and maybe understanding what he was saying. That didn't happen often, as Lil' or his old man would all-too-happily remind him.
When he finished, she put a slender finger up to her chin. "So," she started, "if I don't get it fixed, the wheel could fall off."
Gajeel shrugged. "Could," he said, though she hadn't really been asking. He was mildly impressed she had reached that conclusion without anyone spelling it out—he kept forgetting bookworms liked to know everything. "Or it could just fuck up the steering and cause a crash."
His pops pulled a face at his language but Gajeel waved him off. This was a shop; she could deal.
Shorty frowned, but it wasn't directed at him. Which was good, because it wasn't his damn fault she had issues—despite what other customers had whined.
Still, was better to be safe than sorry. He saw that wrinkle in her brow and played it safe. Sometimes reassurances worked.
"Could be worse," he told her, but that didn't seem to change her mood at all. Oh well. Best he could do. Or at least he thought so until his old man gave him a look that clearly said do better. This customer service shit was a pain in the ass.
"Maybe that's not it anyway," he added, but it didn't even sound convincing to himself. Answer to that one was simple—naturally, he wasn't wrong.
"Ears gettin' rusty with age, boy?"
Gajeel shot back, "Speak fer yourself, old man. It's a wheel bearing or I'll do it for free."
He could've spit at the self-satisfied look on Pops' face. He knew better, knew his pops looked for ways to provoke him, but it was just too hard to ignore the bait.
"That's not necessary," the shrimp said. The pout on her face made her cheeks puff out like some angry fish. Geez, was she really glaring at him again? The hell was she getting so offended about.
That's what he got for trying to be a nice guy. Never mind that he only said it 'cause his old man egged him on.
"Don't count on it, short stuff," he recovered, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't miss the way she eyed the piercings on them. "I ain't wrong."
There was a beat of quiet, and then she yanked both arms akimbo. "It's Levy," she hissed.
Gajeel just grinned.
Thank you for reading! And thanks to all the anonymous/guest reviewers.