Work Text:
“Oh pooh,” Lars’ car croaks one final sound before rolling to a definitive stop.
These past few days the car had been making mildly concerning clanking noises when he took a right turn and had started steaming under the hood if he had his headlights on for too long.
He sighed as the reliable Toyota finally gave up.
There were a few lights on the dashboard Lars wasn’t particularly familiar with flashing in bright yellow and orange colours, so he stepped out of the vehicle to figure out what to do next.
He was going to be late for work.
A thought popped into his head, and he reopened the car’s door to sit back into the driver’s seat. He leaned over to the glovebox, falling over the gearshift to try and reach his wallet from inside. Once acquired, he shifted through the multitude of business cards he’d been given over the years to find a specific one.
His eyes landed on the sleek pastel pink paper, nibbly pulling the card out with his gloved fingers. The front was decorated with the company’s name, a simple but effective title that read “Driver’s Auto Shop” in thick bold letters. He flipped the card around, finding the phone number and address listed in the bottom right corner.
He wasn’t totally confident with the procedure of these things. If he needed to call in advance, or if he could just show up at the address. Did he need to call a tow truck? Did they have tow trucks at the auto shop? Lars felt a bit overwhelmed at all the different possibilities and options he had in front of him.
He didn’t really enjoy phone calls, but he felt it would be the easiest way to figure out what to do next.
Across the street stood a lone phone booth, so he walked over with his wallet in hand. He looked back to his car, sitting idle on the road, and hoped no one passed through the street. He’d put his hazard lights on before he had walked over to the phone booth, but with all the snow and fog, he was worried someone might not see the immobile car in front of them until it was too late.
He recognised that he was overthinking the situation a bit, but it was hard not to when he was already feeling out of his comfort zone.
His hand picked up the receiver, slotting some lose change into the coin hole and dialling the numbers displayed on the card.
When the owner of ‘Driver’s Auto Shop’ had first arrived, Lars had only heard about him in passing. A mysterious man who drove a fancy car was staying at the only tavern available in their small town. People had gossiped about his appearance – a young fellow with bright blond hair, too tight pants, a gaudy jacket that made him look like a movie star – and his quiet nature consistently since he’d shown up.
He was used to the hushed whispers of the Church ladies after each service but had started to gain some interest in their conversations when this stranger kept becoming a reoccurring character.
“Did you see that house on Rosemary Street got sold?”
“Oh, yes, to that odd gentleman that’s been hanging around. I thought he’d be long gone by now.”
This discussion had piqued Lars’ interest.
“Who?”
One of the ladies – Mrs. Frankfurt – had startled, looking behind her to the awaiting Lars.
“The blond man that’s been staying at Lucy’s tavern.”
Lars stared at her, trying to think of any unfamiliar blond men he’d seen recently. Coming up blank, he continued to look expectantly at her for a further explanation.
“He’s quite the looker, hard to miss,” she gave Lars a wink he wasn’t sure how to read.
The phone rang three times before someone on the other end answered.
“Driver’s Auto Shop,” a quiet voice spoke through the phone, a curt greeting that got straight to the point.
“Hello,” Lars stopped, trying to sort his thoughts properly before he spoke next. A few moments of silence passed, but the person beyond the phone didn’t acknowledge it. “My car broke down.”
“Okay,” the response wasn’t so much as dismissive but a blunt reply to a fact.
“Umm,” Lars had kind of expected the other person to give him a solution, so his mind blanks as he fights for something else to say.
Before he slams the phone back onto the wall and starts walking to work in disappointment at this failure of a conversation, a static crackled shot through the line.
“Where are you?”
“Uh, at…” Lars ducked his head out the phone booth to spot a street sign. “Yale Street.”
“Okay,” they repeated, then a long droning beep played through the call indicating they had hung up.
Lars stood still for a few moments, listening to the last few beeps from the phone before slowly placing it back in its place. He blinked. He blinked again.
A cold gust of air knocked him back to his senses as he let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. He wasn’t entirely sure what the current situation was and was starting to wish he’d gone with his gut and ran to work.
He stepped out of the phone booth disheartened and walked back to his previously trusty car. The few coins he had in his wallet were all used for that one phone call, so he didn’t have much of a backup plan at the moment.
He sat into the driver’s seat once again, his body feeling tired and irritated at the repetition of getting in and out of the car. Repeating the same motion over and over again frustrated Lars to no end, and this entire morning was starting to get on his nerves.
His hands came up and gripped the wheel as his head leaned forward to rest on top of them. He let in a heavy breath and contemplated walking back home.
In hope of lightening his mood, he flipped the radio on. The lulling voice of a 60s singer buzzed through his speakers, filling the quiet chamber of the car with morose instrumentals and lamenting love ballads. He let himself wallow in some misery for a bit, feeling the anxious pull in his chest from being late as well as the nagging want to turn back and pretend this had never happened.
He should’ve called Gus. He would’ve been able to pick him up and drop him off at work. Get the issue with his car sorted. Have a normal conversation with the mechanic that didn’t lead to being hung up on for no apparent reason.
He went to let out a long sigh when suddenly a muffled tap on his window jolted his head up from the wheel. A cough spluttered from his throat.
The lean figure of someone bent down to peer through the glass at him. He had blond hair and bright blue eyes, like a sunny California day. Lars looked over the other man, trying to remember if he actually knew this person.
They stepped back from his door, possibly to let him step out of the car, but Lars was stuck in place. He fought with his mind to try and piece this persons’ intent together.
Lars reached to the side of his door to slowly wind the window down. It took a few rows of his arm for it to reach a quarter of the way down, and he kept it at that level for – what he told himself – safety.
“Hello?” Lars peaked through the gap at the man.
He stood with an air of confidence, but Lars wasn’t sure if it was on purpose. Some people just had that ability to look suave no matter what they did. His hip was cocked to the side, and his hands were shoved deep into the pockets of a denim jacket.
“You called?” His voice was quiet, but not meek. He spoke as if they were the only ones in a quiet room, trying no to disturb the perpetual silence filling it.
Lars stared at him in blank confusion. The singer over the radio held a high note for an impressive amount of time, but all it did was remind Lars of how long he was sitting there quiet. His fingers twitched to turn the volume down.
“I’m from the auto shop.”
“Oh!” Lars felt his cheeks heat up in clear embarrassment of his slowness. Now he regretted being so hesitant to step out of his car and greet him. He’d convinced himself that the mechanic wasn’t going to show up, so the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.
He sat in his car for a few moments longer before reaching for the window crank again and winding it back up.
He went to open the door, but, to his surprise, it didn’t budge. His hand tried the handle again, but the door remained closed. Before trying a third time, he wandered his eyes along the interior of the door, trying to figure out it’s resistance to opening. That was when his eyes fell to the lock; clicked securely down into its slot.
He pulled the plastic up into place, then yanked the handle of the door. It, thankfully, opened this time.
Quickly before getting out of the vehicle, he turned the key in the ignition and pulled it out, cutting off the tail end of a Talking Heads’ song.
His face was practically on fire when he stepped onto the curb. He pulled at the blanket around his neck, shielding his face from the other man as he walked to stand next to him.
“Um, it started making really loud banging noises about five days ago,” Lars ran a hand through his hair, eyeing the beanie he’d left inside the car as a cool breeze drifted over his head. “And steam was coming out of the… uh… front, engine part.”
Car talk wasn’t his forte and having to explain the logistics of what was happening in his car, in front of a car expert no less, was very humbling.
Wordlessly, the lean man sauntered over to the front of the car, placing a toolbox Lars hadn’t realised he was carrying onto the floor beside his feet.
“Can you pop the hood for me?”
Yet again, Lars is left staring blankly at the other man.
“Theres a level inside the car for it.”
When Lars didn’t go to move, he added, “It’s next to your gas door’s lever.”
His eyes travel from the stranger’s (surprisingly) enthralling gaze to the interior of his car, searching for the gas lever on the left of his seat. He stepped forward for a better look but stood on an icy patch of the path and slipped half into the car before he could catch himself.
The momentum of his fall rocked the car as his hands scrambled to grab the seat and top of his wheel. However, his hand slipped from its place on the wheel – he blamed it on the wool gloves covering his clammy hands – and pressed down hard on his horn.
A loud honk cut through the quiet morning peace, disturbing a litter of birds tucked into a near by tree. The man standing at the front of his car jumped back from the noise. He quickly took his hand off the wheel and straightened up from his position, nearly bumping his head on the roof of the car in his rush.
“Sorry,” he squeaked, blood climbing up his neck, just to make the embarrassment of it all so much worse.
The mechanic nodded, averting his gaze to the still closed hood. He walked around to where Lars was standing and silently gestured for him to move out of the way.
Lars stepped back to give him space, accepting defeat.
The other man rested one gloved hand (a leather glove, in comparison to Lars’ knitted ones, which Lars added to his growing list of things that made this man cool) on the bottom of the seat, bending his torso down to peer over the left side and pull up the correct lever with practiced ease.
His back was stretched into a flat line, as that hip popped out again in a shamelessly sensual move.
Lars took another step back to try and silence his unhelpful thoughts and remove the warmth he was starting to feel radiating off the other man from standing so close. He cleared his throat a few times as he continued to look anywhere but at the perked butt in front of him.
He took another grounding breath, blinking hard at the snow-damp pavement.
“I’m Lars,” he felt kind of silly introducing himself so late, but it had been nagging at the back of his mind for some time now that he’d been rude enough to skip a formal introduction.
The mechanic stood from his bent over position, joining Lars on the pavement and giving him a curt nod before walking back to the front of the car and pulling up the thin sheet of metal covering the insides of his car.
Lars stood a bit uneasy on the path, suddenly feeling that he’d made a bad impression on the other man as he continued to silently work.
He walked over to the street sign to try and calm himself, before walking back to his parked car, then to a closed shop sitting on the path. He looked through the dark windows to try and see what exactly “Sue’s Shop” entailed. After ruminating on how vague that kind of name is for a store, he turned back to the person working on his car.
His mind wasn’t running as fast now, so he walked over to see his progress.
“How’s it going?” He tried to ask casually but fell short when a tinge of worry broke through his voice.
“It’ll need to be taken to the shop,” Lars felt his shoulders fall. “But it should be an easy fix from there.”
A glimmer of hope was ignited back into him at the prospect of having a working car again.
“Could we do that today?” He asked expectantly.
“Yeah, it’ll be fixed by this afternoon if I start now.”
Lars couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face, eyes staring gratefully at the mechanic. He gazed back and gave his own, small smile that made Lars’ heart flutter.