A Healthy Hunk of Junk

Who: Ash and Brian
When: Around 3PM
Where: Ash's shop

Ash had both bay doors open, even though only one was occupied, and the music up loud. It was a good day. He'd woken up surprisingly not hungover, and had an awesome breakfast of microwaveable sausage biscuits. Almost the whole damn box. But it was good and heavy and hot in his stomach, and just what he had the hankering for. Since then, he'd been downstairs in the shop, working diligently on the only car that was left in his care. Which unfortunately was starting to look like it needed more work than he'd originally anticipated. Which he hated telling people. They always thought he was looking for shit wrong and just making it up. And then their shit got all fucked up because they didn't take his advice, and they accused him of sabotaging their cars. Which, okay, that had only happened a couple of times, and maybe he was just being cynical, but at least it was in a cheerful sort of way.

He sang along in sort of a mutter, cigarette clasped between his lips. He was balanced on the front fender of the big blue truck, one knee up on part of the engine while he leaned and reached to get deeper into it. They sure as hell didn't make cars for mechanics anymore, motherfuckers.

After work, Brian had hours of extra time and no desire to be left alone with his thoughts. So, after swinging home for a large, slightly-late lunch and to pick up an annoyed demon-cat who refused to be left behind again and swore to hound him and Domino all night if he didn't get to go somewhere today, he headed for Ash's shop. It was easy enough to find, as there weren't a whole lot of small mechanic shops in Marquette, and he pulled his truck up into the lot in front. It made a lot of noise, big and clunky and old as it was, but it still might not've been audible over the music.

Brian killed the engine and swung out, Torziel bounding curiously after him, to his annoyance.

Ash was unaware of his company right at first, the loud music drowning out the noise of Brian's truck. Which really, had he given it much thought, was probably good reason to turn it down; he might not hear anything else coming up on him that he needed to. But when had he ever been overly cautious? Oh right, never. And he was still kicking, unfortunately. He cursed around his smoke as he found that the searching wrench in his hand was too big to turn the fucking bolt, and twisted in an oddly graceful way to hop down from the vehicle. He looked up on his way to his toolbox and spotted Brian. Ash grinned and detoured to turn the knob on the stereo down from Ear-Splitting to Background Noise. "Hey man, what's up?" he greeted, going fishing for a smaller wrench with one oily hand.

"Not much," Brian chuckled, appreciating the lowered music by... a lot. He was out of practice with shouting over the sound of loud ambient noise, and he'd probably have had to cheat in order to be heard. That, and the fact that hearing music that loud made him want to cringe, which just made him feel old. "Possibly your weekly income. How 'bout with you?"

Torziel, oddly, refused to actually step foot inside the garage, standing just outside and lashing his tail in a peeved sort of fashion. Brian wasn't going to complain; the demon-cat was back to being wholeheartedly annoying now that the whole hunter thing had sort of blown over, and any time away from him for a while was time well spent.

"Just workin'," he said, gesturing to the truck he'd been shoulder-deep in a moment ago. The movement of Torziel's tail caught his eye, and he looked at the pissy cat. He had to find it a little odd that twice now he'd met Brian out of Mya's, and twice the white cat had been with him. Even in a bar. But he didn't comment, looking outside at the truck instead, then back to Brian. "Come to get the verdict on whether or not she's a hunk of junk, huh?" he concluded with an easy grin. He was in a good mood today, what with the success of the night before and everything. And the biscuits, those had helped.

The lack of comment on the cat was also appreciated. Goddamn demon-cat. He'd have to keep an eye on him if Ash stepped out past whatever invisible line Torziel was now pacing along, like a small white caged panther. Brian fully expected another attack. "If you're not too busy with that one." He jerked a thumb at the truck Ash was currently gutting with a wry grin. "What's the problem there, if it's not unprofessional to say?"

He had to laugh. "There definitely ain't a client-customer confidentiality agreement here," he said, looking amused. He liked this guy, Brian seemed really down to earth. Ash bounced the wrench in the direction of the newer truck. "I'm thinkin' I might have to yank the tranny out, it's not staying in gear, something keeps slipping. Replaced the drive chain already, but ..." He made a tsk-y sort of sound with his mouth and shook his head. "But hey, it'll be my rent this month, probably." If they paid, that was. It wasn't always a sure thing. "So that one's gonna be a pain in the ass, long-timer. Got plenty of time, if you want to pull your's in." Because he wasn't going to do it with that animal looking like it was.

Ash, Brian decided, was a wise man. "Will do, man. Hopefully mine won't be such a beast to work with." He eyed the other car speculatively. "Though she's certainly a bigger beast." He'd had his monster truck for too long, for that, so even a smaller truck looked too small for him. "I'll bring 'er right in," he added, and headed back out of the truck.

"What's your problem?" he asked Torziel once he was outside, muffling the sound of their voices-- or his; he still wasn't clear on how Torziel spoke, whether it was actually audible or not-- so they wouldn't go any farther than each other.

"I don't want to talk about it," the demon-cat hissed, following him as he limped out to the truck. "It's just all wrong in there."

"Wrong," Brian repeated skeptically. "Wrong for a demon isn't something I'd mind. Well, if it's so bad, you can wait outside. Or go hunting, or something, if you get bored."

"Or stare malevolently and make you both uncomfortable," Torziel said, looking over his shoulder at Ash as Brian swung himself back into the cab.

"Ha. Good luck." He could hardly imagine a cat, demonic or not, making Ash uncomfortable. "Move it, Tor, truck's moving and I doubt you want to be flattened."

The demon-cat skittered away as the engine roared back to life and he rolled the truck into the empty bay. "Want it on or off, for now?" Brian asked, poking his head out a rolled-down window.

Blissfully unaware that he was in the furry presence of a demon -- because there would've been trouble if he was aware -- Ash had grabbed a shop towel to wipe his hands with. "Off," he told Brian over the noise of the big old truck's engine. It was an '88 or '89, he guessed. "Pop the hood for me!" he added, moving to stand in front of the beast. It was a dualie, and he had a fondness for those. There was just something inherently masculine about big fuck-off trucks. He was grinning as he pulled the hood up and moved the sticks to hold it. Yeah, he'd have to climb on this one to see much of anything properly. He was short, it was inevitable.

Brian killed the engine again, patting the steering wheel for good measure, then popped it and leaned out the window to peer around it. "So how long you been in mechanics, anyway?" he asked curiously. The guy didn't look any older than he did; for all he knew, they were about the same age.

"Years, I was kind of raised around it," the angel said, starting to climb up with ease. It was a vague answer, but a truthful one. What was twenty years against sixty, anyway? The difference didn't matter, and he had monkeyed around in a lot of vehicles with his dad. In the early days. Balanced perfectly, Ash started to examine the man's belts.

"Had family in the business, huh?" Brian folded his arms over the open window and settled in to wait while Ash worked, and chat if he could multitask. He knew how following the family's footsteps could be-- and how not following them could also be. At least messing around with cars was an easier one to share with people than willworking.

"My dad was a long-haul trucker," he said from the engine compartment. Which wasn't exactly true, but it was close enough. "And he had to know the basics at least for fixing his own shit. After a certain point, I could climb much better than he could, so I had to learn pretty fast." He chuckled, rearranging himself to feel in another spot. He could tell already, with a truck this old, that it had been loved.

"You went with him on his trips?" Brian asked, a little surprised. It didn't seem like a very normal childhood-- maybe a really fucking fun one, because he would have loved to be driving cross-country with his dad at ten, but definitely not normal. But then, he'd always liked traveling and driving and all that. "What was that like? Probably not as cool as my imagination is telling me it would've been, but, hell."

"Had to, I lost my mom really young. There wasn't any family to put me with, and he wasn't about to give me up to the government or anything, so I more or less homeschooled in the sleeping compartment of his rig," Ash said, not batting an eyelash over the part about his mother. "It was fun in some parts, mind-numbingly boring in others." And also traumatic and full of the deaths of countless strangers. Which was why he and his dad didn't speak anymore.

Though the mother-losing comment made him swallow a little, hit by another pang of his own grief-- for the second time that day, at another inopportune time, dammit-- Brian didn't bother apologizing over Ash's loss. It was pointless, when it was so long ago he probably didn't even think about it anymore, and quite possibly so long ago he didn't even remember her. "I bet you know more travel-games than anybody in the world, and made up more of your own when you ran out. Hell, we did that on the road as adults, in my job."

He laughed, and leaned around the hood of the car to grin a bit. "I can't even start to tell you the weird shit we started doing I Spy with," he said, dimpling before he disappeared again. He knelt in strategic spots and pulled out the steering fluid dipstick to check it. "Looks like you take good care of her," he called, honestly. Besides some completely normal wear and tear, he wasn't finding any major problems. "You the original owner?"

The comment combined with that grin had Brian laughing, too. The guy just had such a cheerful look, despite the liberal tattooing and piercing-- or maybe even because of it. "Bought her when she was brand-spankin' new," he agreed, dropping a hand from under his chin to pat the door affectionately. "Mostly for my work at the time, but I don't think there's a true Texan out there who doesn't like big trucks. So she's not a pile of junk, then?"

"Well ..." Ash said in a ponderous way as he poked and peeked at a few more things. "Looks like your oil pan gasket's leakin' a bit, which is something I'm sure you've had changed before, but hell ... for a truck this old ... without tearing the tranny down to check, it looks like everything's in good order." He hopped down and walked around the fender to squat and examine Brian's wheels. The roters looked good. "They sure as fuck don't build 'em like they used to," he said with a touch of amused wistfulness.

"I swear the new ones are built to break down soon as warranty's up," Brian agreed, leaning out a little more to peer down at Ash. "Yet another reason to not let anyone talk me into getting a new one, yeah?" He grinned. "So should I get you to replace the oil pan g-- shit, I'm not even trying that, I don't think I've said that word since the last time it got changed. Does it need replacing again now?"

He made a face and sort of tilted one hand back and forth in a so-so gesture. "It's not a must right now. Some people say that if a truck don't leak, it don't run, and it's not bad, so you're good for a while. Just be aware of where you park it, just in case it gets worse. Another five thousand miles, maybe, get it changed." He went around the truck, reaching in through the rims to touch his brakes. On the rear passenger side, he made an 'ah ha!' noise. "Your master cylinder's leaking back here," he said, almost sounding proud that he'd found it. "Now that'll need fixing."

Leaning half-out his truck's driver-side window to look around the back of the cab to watch, Brian smirked, "Should I be amused that you sound proud you found something wrong with my truck?"

Ash popped up to flash him another one of those disarming grins. "Amused is better than pissed, my friend." He ambled around the bed again, wiping his hands on his already-filthy jeans. "It won't hurt anything for right now, but you'll need to have it done before it fucks up your braking. A chunk of metal this big don't need faulty brakes." He leaned a shoulder against the truck near the driver's side door.

"You're too friendly to be pissed at," Brian scoffed. "But since I'm here, how 'bout you quote me time and price for if you fixed it? I didn't keep her running this long by letting problems go after they're pointed out to me." And besides, he liked the idea of giving the guy some patronage. Town this small, with a look like his and the infamy of people hating their mechanics probably didn't exactly make business booming. Since he could afford it, and he loved his truck, he figured he might as well. Spread the wealth when you had it, right?

"Shouldn't take more than an hour or two," Ash said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking thoughtful. He tended to gyp himself when it came to pricing jobs for people he liked; it was just one of those favors he paid forward. "I'll do it for sixty bucks. If I don't run into anything that's too much of a pain in the ass," he said, arching an eyebrow at Brian to see how he liked that. "That includes parts."

That was probably half of what Brian had expected-- mechanics' work was expensive, he certainly knew that-- and he gave Ash a mildly surprised look. "You make any money in this business?" he asked with a smile. "Hell, for prices like that, you oughta have the whole town flocking here." And two hours would kill some time nicely, really.

"I charge the assholes more, and there's usually plenty of 'em," he said with a crooked half-grin. He nodded over at the other vehicle in the shop. "That bitch is gonna bring in some good cash anyway, I ain't gonna go hungry or anything." He pushed off of Brian's truck and tossed a glance back toward the bay door, taking in that the fucked up creepy cat was still there. "You wantin' to do it today, or later on?" he asked, looking at Brian again.

Well, Brian wouldn't feel too badly, then, and just take the deal. "Now's good for me, if you don't mind me hangin' around while you do it." He also followed Ash's glance back out; damn Torziel, doing exactly as he'd said he'd do and staring fixedly in at them from just outside the garage. Goddamn demon-cat. "And I can chase him off, if he's bothering you."

"Hell, man, no problem there," he said with a chuckle. He didn't get company that he didn't mind having, after all. Like ... ever. Unless you counted Eury, and she hadn't been there yet. As for the cat ... "Nah, let him be." Truth be told, even if the animal was kind of creepy? Ash was interested. That wasn't an ordinary cat, he had a feeling. He moved off to go to the toolbox again and start digging through and pulling things out. He was pretty sure he had a master cylinder that would fit that size truck, it was just a matter of finding it in the storeroom.

"If you're sure," Brian answered, to both. He opened the truck door and slid out again, telling himself quite firmly that it was just for a change of scenery. He was not going to be one of those nosy customers who peered over Ash's shoulder while he worked. Honestly. "I don't even know what his problem is. He liked you well enough, at the bar." He grinned wryly, and meant it as a joke when he added: "Maybe he's taking the 'hat' comment personally." Even though he might well be taking the hat comment personally.

Ash chortled some laughter from where he was, and turned to head into the back room, stepping over some engine parts. "Then he's gotta learn to lighten up a little," he called over his shoulder before disappearing through a doorway. There was some noise as he knocked a stack of something over, and some colorful high-spirited cursing. After a few minutes of rummaging, he emerged again with a box and headed back toward the truck. He was gonna have to jack that motherfucker up. Soon as he could afford them? He was getting some goddamn lifts.

"Hear that, Tor'?" Brian told his familiar with a smirk. "You gotta lighten up."

Torziel's answer was to hiss and return to pacing. Brian just chuckled, shook his head, and gave that back door a sharp look at the sound of things falling over. "Everything okay in there, or should I be concerned that my truck is giving you bad luck?" he called over as Ash was coming out, leaning back on the truck to take weight off his damn knee again.

"Nah, it's just blatant disregard for organization or Things Being On Shelves," Ash said, tucking another cigarette between his lips and lighting it up. He moved around with the deftness of a man who knew his own place and placed two jacks on either side of Brian's truck. Switching between them, bit by bit, he jacked the huge machine up, so he could get the tires off. He conjured up an air-powered tool and started undoing lugnuts. Every so often giving the white cat a glance. Definitely not cat-like behavior.

"Sounds about like my place," Brian agreed, pushing off the truck so Ash could lever it up without knocking him off-balance. "Things Not On Shelves, and all. I get all my organiz-- organ-- putting-things-in-order abilities worn out at the diner, so my house is a disaster, most of the time."

Also, as he figured, he wound up coming around to do just as he'd said he wouldn't: peer curiously over Ash's shoulder to watch what he was doing. He tried not to hover or get too close, but hell, it was interesting, and for all he was good with some machinery, it seemed like he'd never had the time to actually learn a lot about cars, and now it was too late. There was no way he could do that kind of crouching, climbing, or wriggling under that learning his truck would take. For the moment, he was trying to ignore the sideways looks Torziel was garnering from the guy, because as long as he could ignore it, he could avoid trying to come up with an explanation.

With the way his duty ran, Ash had a knack for not asking questions. You couldn't very well chit-chat with people about why just being around them made your stomach turn, after all. Inquire into what they might've done to pick up bad karma like pebbles on a beach and stuff their pockets with it. Ash got the huge tires on the back off and set them aside, then went about the business of taking Brian's rear drum brakes apart. "You should see it upstairs," he said with a chuckle, pausing to flick his cigarette ashes to the side. "But hey, long as I can find shit when I need it, whatever, right?" And he always could.

"And you're not knocking said shit over, making it harder to find it later," Brian agreed with a grin, hands in his pockets and shifting a little from foot to foot. He couldn't crouch, so he just leaned a little to try and watch. "There anything I can do to help out there, or should I just keep my gimpy self out of the way?" he added a moment later. Just standing there while someone was working-- paid for it or not-- wasn't particularly easy to do.

"Watch and learn, amigo," Ash said. And since it felt like Brian wanted something to do, he started pointing things out and explain how the man's rear brakes worked and went together. "See, the front pads clench together onto a disc. The rear pushes pads out into the drum," he said, glancing over his shoulder at Brian. He noted that his cigarette was down to the filter, and twisted around in his crouch by the rear to flick the thing out of the bay door. It sailed right over Torziel's head, with a good bit of clearance, and the angel couldn't help but smirk slightly before turning back to his work. "This here controls the pressure of the brake fluid," he continued, pointing. Even if Brian didn't remember a single thing afterwards, it was something to do.

Hey, mechanics lesson! Brian started to crouch, thought better of it when his bad knee stopped him halfway, then just kind of braced himself on his thighs and leaned over to look. He wasn't even paying attention to where Ash threw his cigarette until Torziel ducked with a yowl of protest. Then he winced, muttered, "Oh that'll go over well," under his breath, and, trying to ignore the dark look he felt boring into his back, asked in a more normal volume, "So which one's the cylinder you're replacing?"

"This one," Ash said, tapping the correct piece. Which he took up a tool to start to take out. He heard the cat yowl, but knew that there was no chance in hell of him actually hitting the thing with the smoke, so he wasn't concerned. That's for fucking around with my leg, you little furball bastard, he thought with an internal chuckle. He went quiet again as he worked, taking out the cylinder. He held it in one hand and took up the new one, eying them both critically. They matched up, good. "Now we gotta bleed your brakes, this is what takes a while," he explained.

Brian kept dutifully quiet while Ash was, watching with interest. Not that he'd ever try this on his own without a manual and diagrams and shit, but it was interesting. "And just how boring is the bleeding?" Brian asked. Then made a face. "Okay, that sounded way wrong. I keep doing that, lately." At least it wasn't sexual-wrong, this time. He could only imagine how Ash would take that.

The angel snickered a bit. "Pretty boring," he said. He puttered around a bit and set them up to drain, then straightened up again. He looked up at the grimey clock on the wall. "Be a little while. Want a beer or anything?" he offered, arching an eyebrow at the guy. That was one thing he kept stock of in the kitchen. It was about the only thing.

"If you're offering, I'm not turning down," Brian chuckled. At the very least, it'd give him something to do with his hands while Ash worked, playing with a bottle. And get them out of Torziel's line of vision-- which could be good, but could also be very bad.

"Good policy, my friend," Ash told him with a bright grin. "Walk this way to the boudoir. It'll drain off just fine on it's own." He turned and headed for the back door to the place, which would put him closest to the metal stairs that led up to his humble -- read: shitty -- apartment above the shop. And the beer! Because he was a big supporter of beer. And guys who didn't mind joining him while he did a job he could do in his sleep. All in all, he felt good about things.