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“You still working on that heap of junk?”
There’s a muffled sound from under the car, but Carlos doesn’t emerge so the Boss walks to the side and hunkers down on his haunches to peer under.
“She’s not a heap of junk,” Carlos says, giving the Boss a pained look.
“Uh huh,” the Boss says, skeptically.
“She’s not.”
“Kid,” the Boss shakes his head. “If you left the keys in the ignition, I guarantee you, no one would take it.”
“They can’t,” Carlos says, snorting a little. He wipes sweat from his face, leaving an oil smear behind, glistening black against his skin. “She doesn’t run.”
The Boss smirks. “Like I said, junk. You want me to help you get her hitched up to the tow truck?”
“I can fix her,” Carlos says, stubbornly. It’s not endearing, really, it’s not.
“Sure,” the Boss drawls, glancing at the chassis of the car. “Hey, is that a rust patch?”
“Where?” Carlos says anxiously, nearly braining himself as he leans up.
The Boss nearly dies laughing.
“Haha,” Carlos says, rolling his eyes and pushing at the Boss’s knees, “very funny.”
“It is,” the Boss agrees, putting out his free hand for balance. He angles his head so he can take a massive slurp of the soda he has in his other hand.
Carlos’s eyes snap straight to the drink, as the Boss knew they would. “Did you come here to help, or just to taunt me?”
“Hmm,” the Boss tilts his head as if considering. Carlos’s eyes flick between the Boss’s eyes and the drink. Unconsciously, he licks his lips, and the Boss watches that pink tongue flick over those full lips. Suddenly, Carlos isn’t the only one all hot and sweaty. “You want some?” The Boss tilts the drink towards Carlos.
“Thanks, man.” Carlos wriggles out from under the car and sits up, reaching out to take it, but the Boss jerks it away, just out of reach. “Fuck you, seriously.”
The Boss grins, and tilts the drink towards him again.
“You think I’m falling for that again?” Carlos raises an eyebrow.
The Boss shakes the drink so that the Carlos can hear the icecubes rattling against each other, then tilts the drink so the straw is within easy reach of Carlos’s mouth.
Carlos looks at the straw, then at him, a slow flush that isn’t just from the heat burning on his cheeks. Without saying anything, he leans down and takes the straw into his mouth, sucking.
The Boss looks down at Carlos’s lowered head and swallows. Why did he think this’d be a good idea again?
“Thanks,” Carlos says, pulling away. He wipes a hand over his mouth, not making eye contact with the Boss.
“No problem,” the Boss says, voice a little rough. He clears his throat. “I should probably go. Shit to do, a gang to run.”
“Alright.” Carlos still hasn’t looked up, and the Boss kinda hates how unsure he sounds, like he’s not sure what’s going on but figures its probably some joke at his expense.
What am I gonna do with you, kid? The Boss shakes his head. “Here.” He puts the drink on the ground beside Carlos. “You can have the rest.”
“Thanks,” Carlos says cautiously.
The Boss sighs, frustrated, then leans forward, slow enough that Carlos can back out if he wants, and kisses him on the lips. They’re soft, still a little cold from the drink, and part easily under the Boss’s coaxing. The inside of his mouth tastes sweet, like summer.
They break apart, and the Boss cups Carlos’s cheek. The kid looks wide-eyed and a little dazed, and the Boss smirks. Still got it.
“Is that why you came by my place with a drink?” Carlos sounds vaguely accusatory. "That your way of flirting with me
The Boss shrugs, smiles easily. “Yeah. That and I don’t want you getting dehydrated.”
“Oh.” Carlos looks quietly shell-shocked.
The Boss feels a stab of affection and rubs his thumb over Carlos’s cheek, smudging the oil smear. “I should get going,” he says, pulling away reluctantly.
“Okay,” Carlos says, but he looks like he wants to ask the Boss to stay.
“I’ll come by later, maybe even bring you another drink,” the Boss promises.
Carlos looks down, a pleased smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Okay.”
“Maybe we can even take the heap of junk to Rimjobs, get her fixed up.”
“She’s not junk -” Carlos begins, then registers what the Boss just said. “Really? You’d do that for me?”
“Sure,” the Boss shrugs, not looking at Carlos. “I mean, I could just jack you a decent car but -”
“Thank you,” Carlos interrupts. He flushes, but continues, “I mean it.”
The Boss feels his own cheeks heat up. Horrified, he abruptly turns away. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is to me,” Carlos says quietly.
“Alright, I’ll see you later,” the Boss says brusquely, hurrying to leave before this gets any more out of hand. He softens when he’s behind the wheel of his own car, lifting a hand to wave goodbye to Carlos. Despite himself, he feels a dumb, soppy smile pull at the corners of his mouth. He shakes his head, ruthfully. There’s no way this isn’t going to be a complete disaster.