Chapter Text
Kevin hated two things more than anything else in the cul-de-sac.
One was Eddy’s laugh.
The other was the sound his bike was making right now.
Click—tick—click.
Kevin leaned harder over the frame, spun the back wheel again, and scowled. The sound came back immediately, sharp and smug, like the bike was doing it on purpose. He grabbed a rag from the workbench and wiped grease off his hands, jaw tight.
“Stupid thing,” he muttered.
He’d already checked the chain. Twice. Adjusted the cable. Greased everything that even looked like it could move. The bike was his pride—his escape, his reputation on two wheels—and there was no way he was letting Eddy see it busted. He could already hear it.
What’s wrong, Kev? Lose your tough guy touch?
Kevin spun the wheel again, just to make sure he still hated it.
That was when he noticed movement in the next yard over.
Double D—Edd, technically—was standing in his backyard with the door to his parents’ shed wide open. He wore an apron. A clean one. Over his usual clothes. Inside the shed, tools were laid out on a folding table in neat rows, gleaming in the afternoon sun.
Kevin stared.
“…Is he alphabetizing wrenches?” Kevin muttered.
Edd adjusted his hat and made a small note on a clipboard.
Kevin looked back at his bike.
He clenched his jaw.
Absolutely not.
He turned the wheel again.
Click—tick—click.
Kevin groaned, shoved the bike upright, and stalked toward the fence. He didn’t climb it. He didn’t lean on it. He just stood there for a long second, arms crossed, staring at Edd like the kid might notice through sheer force of will.
Edd didn’t.
Kevin sighed loudly.
Still nothing.
“…Hey. Dork.”
Edd startled so hard he nearly dropped the screwdriver in his hand.
“Oh! Kevin! Good afternoon!” Edd said, straightening instantly. “I didn’t hear you approach. I was just finishing an inventory—”
“Yeah, whatever,” Kevin cut in. “You, uh… you good with bike stuff?”
Edd blinked. “Bicycles?”
“Obviously bicycles.”
“Well,” Edd said, pushing his glasses up, “I wouldn’t claim mastery, but I have studied mechanical systems extensively. And bicycles are a fascinating convergence of physics, balance, and—”
Kevin held up a hand. “Don’t get weird about it.”
Edd snapped his mouth shut. “Of course.”
There was a pause.
Kevin shifted his weight. “Mine’s… making a noise.”
“A noise,” Edd echoed.
“Don’t repeat it.”
“I apologize.”
Another pause.
“…So?” Kevin said.
Edd hesitated, then nodded once. “If you’d like, I could take a look. Strictly from a diagnostic standpoint.”
“Yeah. Diagnostic. Sure.”
They stood in Kevin’s garage a moment later, the bike propped on its stand. Kevin leaned against the workbench, arms crossed, watching Edd like he expected him to mess something up just by breathing near it.
Edd approached carefully, like the bike might bite.
“Hm,” he murmured, spinning the wheel gently. Click—tick—click. His brow furrowed. “Ah. Yes. That frequency suggests a misalignment in the rear derailleur.”
Kevin squinted. “The what?”
“The gear-shifting mechanism,” Edd clarified. “It’s likely offset by a few millimeters. It happens when one—well—applies enthusiasm over precision.”
Kevin bristled. “I know how to ride.”
“I’m certain you do!” Edd said quickly. “Extraordinarily well, from what I’ve observed.”
Kevin relaxed a fraction.
“…So can you fix it or not?”
“Yes! Absolutely. If you have a 5-millimeter Allen key?”
Kevin turned, rummaged through a drawer, then held up a tiny wrench. “This thing?”
Edd smiled. “Precisely.”
Kevin handed it over, then paused. “Wait. No. I’ll do it.”
Edd froze. “Oh! Of course. Naturally. I’ll simply… assist.” He picked up a flashlight and angled it toward the gears. “If you’ll allow me, your current angle is creating a shadow that would make a surgeon weep.”
Kevin snorted before he could stop himself.
“…Hold it there,” he said gruffly.
Edd adjusted the light. Kevin worked in silence, loosening the bolt, nudging the derailleur just slightly. He spun the wheel.
Whirr.
No click.
Kevin frowned, spun it again.
Still quiet.
“…Huh.”
Edd tilted his head. “Is that a satisfactory ‘huh’?”
Kevin straightened. “Don’t get cocky.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Kevin smirked despite himself. “You’re such a dork, Edd.”
Edd nodded solemnly. “I’ve been told.”
Footsteps suddenly thundered past the open garage.
“EDDY, YOU PROMISED THE CHICKENS WERE FREE,” Ed yelled.
Kevin stiffened instantly, stepping back, arms crossing again. “Great. Here come the idiots.”
Edd took a small step back too, hands folding behind him, the moment gone like it had never existed.
Kevin glanced at the bike once more.
Then, quietly: “…Hey. Don’t tell Eddy.”
Edd met his eyes and nodded. “My lips are sealed.”
Kevin grabbed his helmet, wheeled the bike out, and paused.
“…Thanks.”
Edd smiled.