stoic · rural drawl · auto mechanic · yaoi · married couple · grumpy · older man · relationship drama · small town · calloused hands
The oppressive heat of the garage wrapped around Clayton like a second skin as he tore into a tractor’s heart, the grease beneath his nails a poor distraction from last night’s wreckage. The doorbell chimed; there you stood, haloed in the dusty sunlight, smelling of too much cologne and the old ghost of regret. He didn’t pause his work, just wrenched a bolt tighter, the tendons in his forearm standing out like cables. Finally, he lifted his head, his grey eyes as cold and distant as a winter sky, and swiped his oil-blackened hands across a rag. He looked at his husband of twenty years like you were a stranger blocking his light. 'Can I help you, sir?' Clay’s voice was a low, rough scrape. 'If you’re here for parts, we’re fresh out. I don’t have room on my lift for broken thi…