Chapter Text
"$150?! You must be having a laugh!"
The man behind the counter sneers-SNEERS!-at Stede. "You being too stupid to change an air filter isn't a laughing matter. Piece'd cost you $40 if you wanted to bother to get your hands dirty."
Stede bristles. "This is ludicrous. Not even the dealership would charge that much!"
"Then take it to the dealership, you ponce! You expect me to believe you have a new Aston Martin Vantage and you're worried about money?"
"Oh, no," Stede squares his shoulders and tries to call up all the confidence he knows he doesn't have. "Money is not the issue, obviously, it's that you're being a real arsehole!"
The man-Izzy his name badge says-sucks air in through his teeth and opens his mouth.
"Izzy!" another voice calls from around a corner. "What on earth is..."
Stede looks toward the interruption and suddenly his brain stops processing words. His ears are empty except for a slight ringing, like when a bomb goes off in a movie, except the bomb in question is the owner and head mechanic, Ed: the most beautiful man Stede's ever seen and the reason he comes to this particular mechanic.
Stede's brain catches up to find Ed smiling at him expectantly. "Yes?" he croaks. Hoping that will answer the question.
Ed's smile breaks wider. "Cool, yeah, come on back then."
Stede has no idea what he's just agreed to, but there's very little he WOULDN'T do for Ed.
"Careful of your fancy clothes," Ed says, as he leads them around a couple other cars in varying states of completeness.
Stede looks down at his dove grey sweater and red jeans. "Oh, these aren't-"
Ed pauses at Stede's car. "Nah, I can tell those are expensive, and soft too. Don't snag them on anything. And grease is a bitch to get out cashmere."
Stede can feel himself practically beaming at Ed, who looks up at him and then away, smiling bashfully.
"Know a thing or two about fabrics," he mumbles. "I'm not always in this terrifying state."
"You're not terrifying," Stede breathes. "You're lovely."
Ed inhales sharply, and it might just be the harsh lightning, but it looks like he's blushing. "Right, yeah, anyway, the air filter. It really is easy, and it will keep Izzy from charging you the idiot tax when I'm not around to catch it."
"Idiot tax?" Stede asks, moving from charmed to affronted with some small whiplash.
"Yeah, nah," Ed says, walking underneath where Stede's pride and joy is sitting, raised on the industrial jack. Stede's never seen the underside of his car before. It's fascinating. "That's not a reflection on you. It's all about him, short temper, prejudices. Etc."
Stede grimaces. "Why do you keep him around if he's so unpleasant to everyone."
Ed chuckles and picks up a wrench. "Loyalty, mostly. We've been working together since Hornigold owned this place. He's good with cars, bad with people. Usually not up front, but-"
"Your usual receptionist is out," Stede finishes. He thinks about the affable man with the white beard he usually speaks to.
"That's the one. Sorry you caught him on a bad day, but to be honest, he doesn't have many good days."
"Is it because you're hoarding them all?" Stede asks with a sudden burst of boldness.
Ed looks over at him around his arm, which is raised and unscrewing several bolts from a black box just in front of the wheel well. He grins. "Well, it's good now, anyway."
Stede feels his cheeks flush, and decides to push through it. He can be brave. He has a beautiful car and he can have a beautiful man if he wants. Maybe. If the man is amenable. He steps forward, nods toward the car. "Are you going to teach me?"
Ed's smile lights up his entire face. He steps back and holds out the wrench. Stede wraps his hand around it while maintaining eye contact and then takes up the space where Ed has been. They're so close Ed's chest brushes his back as he leans forward to point out the bolts.
"You just have to loosen and pull these to pull the box away," Ed says, his breath ghosting over Stede's ear.
Stede barely suppresses a shiver as he does what Ed has said. The box comes away easily and Ed reaches around him to pull it away.
"There now," Ed points to the yellow cylinder Stede can now see. "There's your air filter. The new one's already in, but you can pull it and put it back, just to get the muscle memory down. Ed slides his fingers down Stede's arm to his hand, which he grips and raises.
Stede lets Ed position his hands where they can grip the bottom of the filter gently.
"Just get your hands around it," Ed says, "and tug." Stede's sure his cheeks are flaming now, but he does as Ed says and, with a little force and a little wiggle the filter slides free.
"What now?" Stede asks, slightly in a daze due to the proximity and feeling like he's getting everything he's wanted while getting pretty much nothing he's actually wanted.
"Now," Ed says, voice low, "you find the empty hole, and push it back in."
"Fuck," Stede whispers, because if he doesn't he'll straight up moan and that feels like too much too soon. He does what Ed says and seats the filter back into the spot, nice and snug.
Ed hooks his chin over Stede's shoulder and inspects his work. "There, you've got it."
The cover goes back onto the filter as easily as it came off and all too soon Ed is stepping away. He offers Stede a rag so he can wipe the small smudge of grease from the wrench off of his hands.
Stede feels a bit breathless. "Thank you for showing me that," he says.
"S'nothing," Ed says back. He pops the fascia back onto the front of the car and then hits a button to lower it back to the floor. The sound of the lift does nothing to drown out the pounding of Stede's heart. Absolutely nothing has happened, and yet Stede knows he's going straight home to take a cold shower about it.
"I hope you don't let Izzy scare you off," Ed says, wiping his own hands now. They're strong, callused hands, and Stede has to look away to maintain composure.
"No, of course not. I've never been disappointed with your work, Edward."
"Is that so?" Ed shoves the rag into the back pocket of his overalls.
Stede nods eagerly. "In fact, I was wondering if-"
"Edward!" Izzy calls out. "What the fuck are you doing back there?"
Ed sighs and turns away. "My fucking job, Izzy! Shouldn't you be doing yours? Anne's gonna be in at three with that Mustang and I'll need you to go over the proposal for the engine enhancements with her!"
Stede can hear Izzy grumbling from where they're standing. He rolls his eyes and when Ed turns back around he finds him doing the same. They share a quiet laugh.
"What were you wondering? Ed asks.
"Oh. It's nothing. It's rude of me to bother you in your place of work anyway."
Ed tilts his head and walks to the garage door behind Stede's car and hits the button for it to roll open. He steps outside. "There, now I'm not at work." His grin is incredibly smug.
Stede wants to kiss it off of him. "In that case," he says. "I wondered if you'd like to meet me for dinner sometime? I'd love to know more about what you do."
"What I do, huh?" Ed asks, smirking.
Stede coughs. "Quite." They'll get to that, eventually maybe. In his wildest dreams.
"Yeah, here." Ed pulls a piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to Stede, who opens it to find it's slightly smudged with grease and also contains a phone number.
Stede gives him a quizzical look and Ed has the decency to look bashful again.
"Was going to give it to you anyway. That's what I was coming around front for when I caught Izzy being a jerk. This way it makes me look much less like a creep and much more like I've anticipated what you want. So thanks for that."
"You have no idea, Edward." Stede sighs, unbelieving of his luck.
"I'd like to though," Ed says, and if that sends the speed of Stede's heart juttering faster than even the car can go, that's nobody's business but his own. For now.