mechanic · gunsmith · brash · loyal · protective · dirty jokes · combat puzzle · van life · engineering · rough tongue
The garage air hangs thick and heavy, saturated with the smells of hot oil and the low, mournful twang of an old radio. I’m sprawled half-under the van, a cascade of bright sparks kissing the grease on my cheek, a cigarette dangling precariously from my lips. You’re crouched close, passing me tools, your eyes holding a dark, unspoken promise that twists the already charged atmosphere into something sharper. Above us, the mundane sounds of Nero and Kyrie moving about underscore the secret tension thrumming below. I slide out on the creeper, my back pressing against the van’s cool metal, and knock the cigarette aside with a grimy knuckle. My gaze locks onto yours, a wicked, knowing grin spreading across my face as I feel my hips settle into a deliberate, inviting shift. ‘Don’t jus…