Work Text:
Driver carefully hit the rubber mallet against the frame, moving it millimeters at a time. He didn't truly know how to fix a bike, despite his offer, but was good with his hands and brain enough to figure it out. He'd taken off the chain, wheels and the seat, champs anchoring the bike frame to the table. He had a shop towel draped over it where he was working, trying to prevent further damage. He hammered it a few more times, precise swings moving very slowly back into place.
"This ain't the weirdest thing brought to my shop." The mechanic shop owner, Lauren, let out a low hum. He was an older man who walked with a limp, but he'd taken to Driver well enough upon seeing the man's skill. Didn't ask questions usually, didn't care as long as a job was well done.
It was achingly familiar.
"Just trying to fix it up." Driver grunted. That's all this was after all, just simple atonement, a chance to fix his wrong doings. Driver pulled back the mallet and brought it back down against the frame, jolting at the sudden snap as the bike broke, creaking to the side.
Driver looked at the frame, let out a heavy sigh, and tilted his head back. His knuckles went white with how tightly he was holding the mallet, the veins on his arms twitching before he went lax. Not ideal, and it was unlikely he should just weld it back together. He was unlucky in more ways than one, every new chance easily swiped away by fate.
Lauren stepped closer to inspect, wiping his hands on the towel tucked into his tool belt. He grunted as he inspected the piece, turning it in his hand. "Aluminum. Cant really repair those. By the look of the harsh angle it was bent at it wouldn't have been worth repairing anyways."
"I see." Driver nodded his head, taking a breath as he let the mallet drop onto the table. He was furious at this, of course he was, but he forced himself to just take a breath. His hand slid through his hair, feeling the short strands through his callused fingers and then huffed.
"Rather stressed about just a bike." Lauren leaned in closer, picking up the dented wheel. It was in bad enough condition that he wouldn't bother trying to do anything to it, the tire and inner tube also punctured. "Especially when you have a nice car already."
Driver pressed his lips together, thinking. He couldn't tell the whole truth, but it seemed like Lauren at least new something about bikes, or at least more than Driver's intel. Driver rolled his shoulders and shifted to lean against the table, squeezing the edge of it.
"I owe a favor to somebody and I needed to fix that bike." He grunted, leaving it at that. Lauren let out a small little hum, pulling over a stool. The older man fiddled around with things, loosening the clamps that kept the frame suspended and holding it in his hands.
"I'll tell you what. This looks like a relatively old model of bike. Its in a general cruiser style which will be easy to replace. Down over the bay is a junk yard you'd probably could find new frames for cheap in. However I will have to say that it's better to just buy a new bike at this point." Lauren sighed heavily, crossing his arms. He knew a lot about San Francisco and the junk yards all around it, often working closely with all of them at one point or another. Driver knew this, but he'd only gone with the man to pull out the occasional grouping of parts to gut from cars.
Driver let out a low grunt as he held his head low, letting out a tense breath. Not the option he really wanted, but it was the only one he had. He didn't know shit about bikes, not even how to ride one. Working so far out of his element was infuriating, but it had to be done.
After all, he promised himself that he was turning over a new leaf.
"Thanks. I'll keep it in mind." Driver nodded his head, pulling away from the workbench. He wheeled his toolbox away from where he'd been standing, dragging it to over where a car was in its bay. He had a job to do, and he at least knew how to do that one right.
Driver bit down on his toothpick as he got into his Malibu, a heavy sigh coming over him. His shoulders were stiff and his eyes felt strained after working in the mechanic shop since early morning. It reminded him why he wasn't a morning person, his already few words twisting to practically mutism the longer he had to deal with customers who thought they knew shit.
He rubbed at his temple for awhile, not caring about the leftover grease on his hands that he'd washed several times. It was never easy to get all of it off no matter what he did, so he was left to suffer with the thin, slick layer on his hands. His phone buzzed on the center consol where he had placed it and he grunted, slamming his hands into his face. He didnt want to pick it up, he was grouchy and tired, absolutely done with everything.
And then he remembered one of the few people he'd given his new number to- and FUCK. This was the mess he had gotten himself into.
Driver rushed to pick up the phone, stopping the grating noise of it buzzing on the hard surface. Just as he flipped it around to swipe to accept the call, the brief look of an unknown number it stopped ringing. He rushed to put in his pass code, swearing in his head as the screen didn't respond to all his inputs. Eventually he got to the recent call screen and got back to it, the phone ringing once, then twice.
"Hello? Driver?" The familiar voice of Dr. Grace filled his ears suddenly, making Driver straighten up in his seat. He let out a soft hum of conformation, earning a gentle chuckle that came through the receiver that told him it had been heard. "I hope I'm not interrupting your work?"
"No, I just got done." Driver hummed back, trying to sound alive. He fiddled with his steering wheel, running his fingers over the stitching. On the other side of the phone he could hear the bustle of a crowd, and scanning down at the clock it was likely the school had just gotten out. No reason to bring down the poor man's mood with grouchiness then.
"Is your offer for a ride still available?" Dr. Grace asked through the phone. Driver made another noise of agreement, his brain feeling delightfully fuzzy at how close the man's voice sounded. That was weird, a very weird reaction considering Driver felt like he would claw out anybody else's voice box if they talked right now, or maybe just for existing.
"Mn, the school?" Driver turned the key in the engine, not even knowing how long he'd been sitting in his parking spot, staring off into space and being disgruntled. The man gave his confirmation and Driver hung up the phone, putting it back down out of the way.
Driver pulled out of the mechanic shop and out onto the road. It was nice out on the streets, traffic that he knew how to avoid filling the streets. It was sunny out with a slight chill in the air, oddly nice weather for winter here, or so he heard. The most trouble he had getting to the school was the place's long driveway itself, children walking around wherever and cars lined up creating traffic.
Driver gripped the steering wheel and rolled his shoulders. It reminded him of picking up Benicio, the one time he helped Irene did it. School had been so busy with the break starting that decided to park down the street and walk back down to get the kid. He swallowed to himself, forcing his hands to steady. Not now, not again.
Driver eventually pulled around to the front of the school as most of the students left, filed neatly into buses and cars or already far into walks home. He could see Dr. Grace now, up at the top of the stairs by the door. He had a gauze pad taped to the side of his face and a bright colored bandage that Driver couldn't see the design of.
But he looked alright, all things considered. He was very much steady now and was having an active conversation with a student, walking down the stairs. She looked a little familiar, but Driver shrugged it off as just some random student he saw earlier that day while dropping the man off.
"I understand you're worried about the exam, Claire, but I can't tell you the answer to any of the questions." Was the words Driver heard as he opened the door, circling around the car. The young girl beside the man groaned dramatically, throwing up her hands.
"I understand why you can't but nobody else is here!! Do you really think I can't keep a secret? You wound me, Dr. Grace! I just want to know if the genetics sheet ended up with Male C as the father." The girl said quite dramatically, kicking at the ground. Dr. Grace smiled at her antics, patting her shoulder gently to console her. It didn't work, of course, teenagers were often not easily appeased, but it was amusing to watch.
"Claire, stop harassing your teacher-." A deeper voice spoke up, making Driver stand up a little straighter. It was unsettling in some way he couldn't describe, not just the tone but the fact the man had no presence. Driver hadn't seen the man- in a suit nonetheless, sticking out like a sore thumb- much less heard him until he was just suddenly there. "Dr. Grace, what happened?"
Driver bit down on his lip nervously, switching to fiddling with his toothpick. What was the excuse the doctor had come up with, or would it just be the truth? He shifted back from foot to foot nervously, hunching up into his quilted jacket slightly.
"Oh, just a little scratch." Dr. Grace waved the man off causally. He patted the young girl on the back, assumably towards the man meaning that was her father, who kept his eyes on the teacher. It was uncomfortable, the man's gaze covered by a black baseball cap and sunglasses. He didn't seem convinced though, if his stiff posture was anything to say.
"He got hit by a car today." Claire shrugged her shoulders,stuffing her hand into her father's jacket pocket to pull out a lollipop. Dr. Grace made a scandalized noise while the strange man tilted his head back. "Maybe a concussion, he's a little dumb today."
"Don't gossip, Claire." Dr. Grace chastised, ignoring the last comment as he pinched his brows. "Im fine though, I assure you."
He shifted his hand around before putting it into his pocket, looking to the side. Dr. Grace's eyebrow raised slightly as he finally saw Driver, leaning against the Malibu. A soft smile crossed the man's face, a warmth in the teacher's gaze Driver didn't know what to do with. He felt like he was a kid again somehow, being praised just for showing up again after missing so many classes in a row.
It felt… A little humiliating, but a little flattering.
"Sorry, my ride is here." Dr. Grace bowed his head, stepping away. Both the student and parent watched curiously, a look between them for a second before she ended up putting her hands up in seemingly defeat. The girl grabbed the tall man's sleeve, rushing him along back to their own car.
"You could've interrupted us, it is no big deal. I'm on your time now, I don't want to waste it." Dr. Grace told Driver, stepping down from the curb in front of the man. The younger man just shrugged before letting out a low hum, turning his chin to the car. Dr. Grace just nodded along, going to the passenger door. Driver opened it for him, watching the man take off a shoulder bag he didn't recognize from earlier that day. He settled back into the driving side, closing the door shut with a heavy clank.
"Anything you need to do?" Driver had to bite out the question, twirling the toothpick around with his tongue. Dr. Grace raised his brow, like he hadn't expected to have such an open offer. The polite older man was probably just expecting a quick ride home, not a personal criminal turned chauffer.
"If its not too much the grocery store maybe? The one on Williams Ave if its not too much trouble?" Dr. Grace asked, squeezing on the strap of his bag. He was clearly nervous despite having such a simple request, like he was preparing for rejection.
Driver just nodded, a little more intensely then he had expected himself to. The older man smiled at him again and he quickly tore his eyes away to start driving already. He didnt understand how the man could so easily give away those smiles, maybe his kindhearted nature being a teacher, instilling an angel-like patience in him. Or maybe that's just how the man was, naive and kind.
Driver probably shouldn't be thinking so deeply like this with someone he just met today, much less someone he was lying to.
It wasn't hard to get to the store Dr. Grace had mentioned, barely even a ten minute drive. It was down a main road with high visibility, but instead of the usually unnerving feeling Driver usually got it was rather normal.
Other than it reminding Driver of Irene.
That was a painful thought to linger on as he tagged along inside the store, idly watching the man shop. He didn't know if it was from the easily domestic tasks he slipped back into easily, driving, listening, carrying, caring, or watching the man's gentle eyes. Or maybe it was the way Dr. Grace held himself, closed off with an open expression, a tenseness in his shoulders showing the chip off his back, but still managing to be pleasant.
Driver was so lost in his thoughts he hadn't even realized he was holding onto Dr. Grace's groceries with an iron grip until they were halfway through the produce section. He was staring at a bell pepper with a strange amount of intensity, the lightly spritzed vegetable shining in the light. Dr. Grace was talking about something, holding up some kind of squash that he ultimately put down. Driver just forced himself to nod along, ignoring the nausea in his chest as he swallowed firmly.
"-And so when I had asked her if she had any food things I should have known about, she said no. But when I went out of my way to make the stupid butternut squash risotto, which is very hard for someone who lives off of instant noodles half the time thank you- she was just like. 'Oh sorry, Ryland I have texture issues with squash.' And I'm not mad about the texture issues thing, that's very normal, I was mad that she didn't make that known when I had explicitly asked her." The teacher ranted, Driver now focused into the conversation.
"It sucks you put in so much effort that wasn't appreciated." Driver grunted out. "It was probably good at least."
Dr. Grace turned to look at Driver, a baffled look on his face. He furrowed his brows for a moment before nodding ecstatically, going back for the squash. "Do you have any food disagreements?"
Driver thought about it for a second, blinking in surprise. Its not where he expected his bare minimum conversation to get him, but he nodded. "Cilantro."
"See! Its not hard to just answer that kind of question. It's not always about allergies or something dramatic." Dr. Grace said, seemingly in approval. Driver shifted awkwardly where he was, nodding slightly. It was a little interesting how easily the man could just make conversation practically with himself, though Driver didn't hate it, it was very welcome even.
The man was rather… distractable though, Driver had noticed. Its like the earlier experience he had gotten with the man's jumping rambling had only been the beginning, and once he was properly awake (and had gotten used to his concussion) he was even more sporadic. It was fascinating to watch, a life entirely different from what Driver had ever experienced. He just trailed along after the teacher, listening to anything and everything.
The store trip took a long while, but that was strangely okay.
Driver was helping put the man's groceries into the car, carefully setting them down in the trunk. Dr. Grace was very particular with how he had bagged and set them down, like there was a science to even that. Very thoughtful, for even the smallest task, and Driver felt like the man was probably the same with his teacher.
"I broke your bike." Driver felt his mouth make the words before he could think them through, blurting them out. Dr. Grace's hands paused, still around the bags that were now resting in the trunk.
"Okay." The teacher just nodded his head, shrugging it off. He stepped back from the trunk and grabbed the cart, letting Driver close the trunk. The younger man's brows furrowed, unable to understand why he was so calm.
"I'll replace it." Driver added when the older man came back. Dr. Grace just smiled, bringing his hand up to pat Driver's cheek. He felt like a child and it made him disgruntled, like he didn't need to be comforted for the problem he caused. "I mean it. I can repair something for you or buy a new one outright, I swear."
Dr. Grace had a strange sort of smile on his face, the bandage on his cheek shifting. It was all knowing, the kind of look that Driver had seen before. It was unnerving, like the man knew something he didn't, but then the teacher laughed and Driver's hesitation went away.
"Look, Driver, its fine. You don't have to go that far for a stranger." Dr. Grace put his hands in his coat, eyes gentle as he stared at Driver. He could only grumble, a soft noise caught in his throat. Driver shifted from foot to foot, staring at the teacher quite pointedly. Dr. Grace shifted back, lips pulling into a thin grimace "If you really have to…"
"I do." Driver grunted out, glad to have won this small little spat. He had the money with ease whether he liked it or not, so a single bike to make his amends, especially to some poor teacher in the school's exam season, was basically nothing.
They both rounded the car to their seats, Dr. Grace letting out a huff. It didn't feel heavy or annoyed, filled with some meaning that was impossible to gauge. Instead it seemed almost affectionate, like a fond look given to a rascal. Driver couldn't help but let a pleased smirk cross his lips either way.
Before Driver could ask, Dr. Grace turned and stated his address to him, making him pause. No. No way. It couldn't be.
"The complex on Twenty-Second?" Driver repeated the teacher's words, a sick feeling in his stomach. Dr. Grace just smiled at him gently, a slight tilt to his head as his brows knit tighter. Driver squeezed at the steering wheel as he tried to reign himself in, biting down on the toothpick, hard enough for it to snap.
It dropped into his lap, split in two. Dr. Grace reached over with concern, a firm warm hand on Driver's shoulder now, rubbing gently. There were a few words muttered, a strangely comforting tone that was barely understandable.
It was happening again, it was haunting him. He knew the fact that his lingering gaze on the man he had just met today wasn't normal, that it was achingly familiar. He wasn't stupid, though he was scared of the own way his brain would all too quickly attach to the poor teacher. Fate was fucking with him, the poor teacher brought into its sadistic plan.
"That is… Ironic." Driver let out with a wheeze, forcing himself to relax. He forced himself to roll his shoulders, sending Dr. Grace's hand away. "Same place."
Dr. Grace had leaned back into his seat, blinking softly. His gaze was focused, like Driver was now someone to analyze after that brief panic. It made his breath hitch nervously, like he was to be dissected in an instant. What horrors were under his skin? What crimes could Dr. Grace know just from a smart glance, the blood staining his fingernails? The excessive violence?
"You know, I never really see anyone in the building. I guess other people do actually live there though. It's nice that someone as nice as yourself is nearby."Dr. Grace's words were cool and collected, and it felt like a splash of cold water on Driver's scalp. He was fine, here in the car, not seen through and read like his skin was a book. Dr. Grace was too trusting, even now, not at all questioning the chances.
It was just a cruel trick of fate, afterall, nothing more.
Driver nodded his head stiffly, turning the key into the ignition. The car ride felt heavy despite Dr. Grace's gentle and calm words filling the static. Driver could listen, if he really tried, seeing past the haze of his own brain that was firmly holding onto the past. It didn't take long to go to the familiar street of their shitty apartment building, pulling into the parking lot. The outside was a little rundown, the pavement a little cracked, but at least the inside was well maintained.
Plus the landlord didnt seem to care much about if money was clean or not.
It felt like a stab in the gut though, someone like Dr. Grace just a few moments away from anyone suspicious. Driver doubted he was the only person making deals with the landlord after all, and it made his gums itch for the poor teacher.
Dr. Grace left the car before Driver even turned off the engine, closing the door behind him. The loud slam caught his attention out of his slowly reborn spiral, making him clamber to get out too. It felt like he was suddenly a newborn fawn, out of his element and unsteady before he shook himself out.
"How about I cook you that risotto I was talking about? I'm sure you would be able to appreciate it." Dr. Grace called out as he dug in the trunk, grabbing all of the groceries. Driver quickly trailed close behind him, snatching up some of the bags. Luckily, although strangely, Dr. Grace only seemed amused at his insistence, since in the end it only mattered if all the groceries got in or not.
They walked into the building and up the dark stairwell, the dim bulb flickering in its socket. Dr. Grace let out a soft hum as he led Driver up to the second floor, veering to the right. He didn't seem to mind the focused eyes on his back, or maybe just didn't notice them, instead just walking two doors down.
So, the room directly above Driver's somehow.
Amazing.
Driver watched as Dr. Grace carefully opened the door to his apartment, kicking off his shoes in the entrance and shrugging off his coat, which Driver copied. It was the same layout as probably all the apartments in the building, two bedroom, connected living room and kitchen areas, with a balcony. It felt so very different from what Driver was used to in a home, it was lived in, which is to say messy with belongings but not litter.
It suited the man.
Driver put down the bags on the small dining table, two chairs pressed against the wall to be kept out of the way. Right next to it was a bookshelf absolutely filled to the brim with titles, to the point Driver was amazed none of the shelves had snapped. In front of the bookshelf was even piles of more books, but they seemed like flimsy pulp-fiction novels, paperbacks with shiny magazine-type covers keeping the papers together.
"Here." Dr. Grace was suddenly at Driver's side, pressing a glass into his hands. It had water in it, crystal clear as it swirled around in its container. "Feel free to pull out something if you want, don't worry that shelf isn't really organized so don't worry about it."
And like that the man had pulled back away, bustling around in the kitchen. Driver felt his eyes lingering on the teacher as he worked. Everything seemed to have a very firm place in the kitchen, unlike the rest of the place. Strangely enough he kept the produce towards the front of the fridge instead of in their individual drawers, and Driver had to pull his eyes away as the fridge got shut, showing off a few childish drawings.
His eyes went back to the bookshelf, then pulled away. There was a stack of DVDs and CDs by the TV, an old video game console that had collected dust also there. Driver looked around the living room, movie posters including one that was nicely framed and signed. It was how one expected a nerd to decorate a home space, but it felt wrong all the same.
It was personal, but lacked Grace himself.
Most people kept family photos out, strings of Polaroids on walls of friends or maybe diplomas and cards. There was nothing like that here though, just media or various scribblings of writing noted around on a corkboard or whiteboard. So… Dr. Grace was similar to Driver than the man originally thought.
He stood in front of the signed movie poster, staring past the glass at the signatures. It was some kind of action flick, Driver might have briefly heard of it in passing, with cars and explosions in the photo. Standard handsome cast with a girl having a cold gaze to the camera. He took a sip of his water as he looked down to the names in neat script, the actors. Only one of the signatures matched the actors' though, the lead he had to assume, the rest a mystery.
"Something my brother got me with production team's signatures on it." Dr. Grace had suddenly appeared behind Driver, having caught the man's still gaze. He held out a plate with pieces of apple cut on it and a toothpick, which Driver awkwardly took. "And the lead too, I guess, but he likes interjecting himself in things."
And with that the teacher pulled back to the kitchen, working once again. He seemed a little uneasy, like he wasn't quite used to working in there. Driver had to force himself to look away again, sitting himself down in a small arm chair. He nursed himself with the apple and water and let his gaze linger on various things. There was another bookshelf- how many did one man truly need in such a small space?- but this time it held more decorative things. On the top of it was a shoddy volcano project, too big to fit on the shelves properly. The rest held various sciencey things though, like a miniature unplugged plasma ball, a Newton's cradle, and a drinking bird. There were also small little thingamajigs that Driver couldn't put a name to, seemingly sentimental.
It felt… lively. Driver sighed as he fumbled with the toothpick in his mouth, looking down to the empty plate. This apartment was so unlike his own just a floor away, thoroughly lived in and enjoyed. There were papers on the coffee table and a forgotten mug, something Driver couldn't ever imagine having in his own home.
It reminded him of Irene's though. A settled person who liked to stay where they lived. That's what Dr. Grace was it seemed, settled, trusting.
What a different world from his.
Driver decided to stand back up, heading to the kitchen. He just silently leaned against the counter as Dr. Grace watched a boiling pot, a pan set to the side. It was fragrant and bright, the yellow reminding him of Dr. Grace's raincoat. Driver bit down on the toothpick, letting himself fiddle with it as a distraction.
He'd been in apartment's like this before, cooking with Irene and Standard. It was simple life, something unobtainable to someone like himself. He couldn't reform, he couldn't atone, no matter how much he wanted to. He nervously swallowed as he saw Dr. Grace turn, a smile on his face.
"Can you grab me two bowls out of the cabinet in front of you?" The man asked, like it was the simplest thing ever. Driver pushed himself forward and reached up to open the cabinet just like that, carefully putting them down on the counter. Dr. Grace hummed out his gratitude as he mixed the squash into the rice, before adding some sort of cream and cheese.
Driver felt himself go on instinct as he opened one drawer, and then another. He grabbed utensils for the both of them, holding them between his index and middle finger. As soon as Dr. Grace had served the risotto he picked up the bowls too, bringing them to the table. The teacher was rather amused at this, like watching a pet do a trick, and simply refilled Driver's glass.
"Thank you." Dr. Grace hummed when he sat across from Driver, water set down in front of both of them. "I guess this is counting as that dinner I offered?" The man leaned on his hand, an almost smirk there. He knew something, what Driver wouldn't know, but he was cheeky none the less.
"I could always take you out somewhere… After we get that bike." Driver hummed back, taking a bite of the food. It was rather average, that general feel of a home cooked meal. It felt like an indulgence to him though, not having someone else cooking for him in… months.
"Yea?" Dr. Grace leaned back, nodding his head. Just like that he started to ramble as he ate again, like he had finally gotten that comfortable confirmation of something. Driver just nodded and grunted along, barely having to go into detail to make the man talk. Even easy company between neighbors like this was a luxury, but Driver would let himself indulge…
Just until he got Dr. Grace that bike at least.
Or until the older man tired of him. It was hard to tell which would happen. Despite the guilt that clung to Driver's very being he couldn't help but feel like Dr. Grace was the start of a new chance, and despite it all Driver was willing to cling to just that.