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It’s fucking embarrassing, is what it is.
Dom always tells the younger crew that it happens to everyone, no big deal, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. He is lying through his teeth.
And now, pulled off on the side of the road in some… some neighborhood, pacing and scowling, phone in hand…
(fuck.)
His thumb hovers over the green “call” button on his phone. He scrapes his mind for anyone, anyone else he can ask. A bird lets out a harsh shriek overhead.
He hits “call”.
“Hey. Listen. We’ve got a little situation here. My car—well. It needs a jump.”
“No prob. Where are you?”
He bristles at the eagerness in that voice. Makes him feel itchy, or maybe like he has indigestion.
He rubs at the flush creeping up the back of his neck. “The corner of, ah, Gregory and Hamilton. Just off of La Cienega.”
“The hell are you doing over on La Cienega?”
“Just get your ass over here.” He slams the phone shut and crosses his arms, leaning on his double-crossing car.
He runs through the mental list of explanations for his dead battery, each as unsatisfactory as the next. Corroded cables, loose connection, bad alternator— all implying that he hasn’t been taking care of his Mazda’s engine. Maybe the weather? Not likely—it was Los Angeles, after all. Could be the battery’s getting old…
The truth was—he’d just been a bit of an idiot. He’s been feeling distracted lately, and his car had suffered for it. (he’s never turning his dome light on ever again.)
After a hazy amount of time that was both an eternity and not nearly enough of it at all, he hears a rumble coming down the road and tries not to look as the car rolls past.
Brian flips his car around so they’re nose to nose. (of course he does. why would he do anything else?) Dom cracks his neck. (he feels a little better.)
He watches as Brian slides out of a flashy red car (whose car was that? it wasn’t the supra, they weren’t anywhere close to having it up and running) and lopes over towards Dom with an easy gait, an equally easy smile spread across his face. Dom finds that his hands have involuntarily balled up into fists. He thinks that he ought to relax them. (he doesn’t.)
“You got cables?” Dom says. (the words taste accusatory in his mouth.)
Brian chuckles. “Course I got cables.” He hooks a thumb back towards his car. “In the back. Nice to see you too, by the way.”
Dom’s neck itches again.
“All right, just get ‘em.” Dom turns back to the Mazda and fumbles under the hood, searching for the release to pop it open. He’s only just managed it when he hears— senses— Brian return with the jumper cables. He doesn’t turn around, just hoists the hood up, perhaps with a bit more force than strictly necessary. He says a silent apology to his car.
“I guess let’s get these cables attached, huh?” Brian says.
It’s a stupid thing to say, and Dom can’t help it anymore. He looks over at Brian, in his plain black t-shirt and simple smile, playfully waving the jumper cables.
“Yeah. Just slap ‘em on,” Dom says, and winces. (just slap em on? you don’t slap on cables.)
Brian’s holding the cables all in a jumble, so he takes a moment to find one of the black ends. Dom’s fingers twitch.
It’s taking him too long to find the ends and before he can think about it Dom’s reaching down to pick out the clamp Brian’s looking for, but Brian’s already found it, so Dom reaches for another clamp to untangle, and he’s making it worse, but it’s better than watching Brian flounder, and then Brian has the audacity to physically push Dom’s hand away and Dom yanks it back as if he’s been burned, he looks up to see if Brian’s noticed, and he has, but Brian just says “I got it,” so Dom folds his arms again and scowls.
He’s turned away as Brian starts clamping the cables in place. It’s fine. He doesn’t care how Brian does it, as long as it gets done.
His self-control lasts for about 9 seconds, and he turns back to the engine.
“You wanna make sure it’s seated fully, all right?”
“I know, Dom, this ain’t my first time attaching jumper cables to a battery.”
“I’m just sayin’ I don’t want any loose cables under there.”
“I said I got it,” Brian says. “Lemme just take care of it, yeah?”
Dom feels his entire abdomen convulsing, briefly worrying that he’s about to empty his stomach— but the moment passes.
Brian’s once again taking too long as he’s attaching the cables, lingering over different, totally unrelated parts of the engine. Tapping fingers on the coolant tank, brushing a hand against tubes that have barely begun to cool in the Los Angeles heat.
Dom is suddenly self conscious. He wants to rip Brian’s hands away from his car. He sees the back of Brian’s neck and is seized with the urge to grab it, to press him down into the bare engine, to hold him there while he—
While he what? He rips his gaze from Brian’s neck and forces himself to look back down at the engine. He swallows several times in quick succession, trying to get the lump out of his throat.
He leans on the frame of his car as he hears Brian move away to attach the cables to the live battery. (he vaguely notices that Brian’s much quicker about this step.)
“All right, let’s start her up, yeah?” Brian says.
And now Dom can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the cables, clipped into his exposed battery, skimming over the nose and across to Brian’s just as naked battery. How long has he been hearing his blood is pumping in his ears? He looks at the engine and it’s like he got caught with his skirt up. He wants to slam the hood down, sever the cables, start running and never look back.
He’s still looking when Brian’s voice pierces the fog.
“Dom? You ok? You can stop checking my work, pretty sure I did it right.”
Dom clears his throat and cracks his knuckles. Centering himself.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure you did.” He prays he sounds casual.
He slides into the front seat of the Mazda, and looks up to find Brian’s piercing blue gaze already on him. It bites at him the way Brian seems to have already found him, while Dom wasn’t even aware he was meant to be looking. A low rumble starts in his chest and he takes a moment to angrily massage at it.
He watches Brian start his car. Jesus christ, does that man ever blink? But Dom finds that he’s also unwilling to blink, and it’s only years of muscle memory that keep him from fumbling with the key as he turns it in the ignition.
The engine stutters and Brian’s eyes stay locked on Dom’s, as if he, too, is unwilling to break, unwilling to shutter the lighthouse beam aimed directly into Dom, flooding his body with something he doesn’t even begin know how to identify. Brian licks his lips—or did Dom? Is his breath growing ragged, or is he just watching Brian’s chest work furiously in and out? Dom can feel his mind hazing around the edges again as his world is reduced to the stutter of the engine and Brian’s eyes on him— and the heat building between his legs.
His left arm twitches reflexively, moving as if to hide (or help?) his shame, but he sees Brian’s eyebrows furrow minutely and his hand stills.
He can hear the engine catching.
He holds the key in place.
He’s not sure it actually happens. But he thinks he sees Brian give a tiny nod.
Dom squeezes his eyes shut, and he lets go.
The car roars to life.
He feels it rumbling beneath him and is surprised to find relief coursing through his veins, so much that he’s almost sick with it as his heart pounds furiously in synchronicity with the thud of his revived engine. But of course his car would start up again, of course— there was nothing else wrong with it. Just needed a jump. That’s all. That’s all.
He hears Brian shut off his car. The click and slam of the other car’s door. He knows he should let it run, but he can’t bear it—Dom gropes for his own key and shuts his car off.
Only then does he open his eyes again.
Brian is looking at him, still, standing crookedly next to his beautiful beast of a car. For a fraction of a second the corner of his mouth quirks up.
Then, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, he crosses the few steps over to the Mazda, plucks the cords from the rejuvenated battery, gathers the cables from his own car, tosses them all unceremoniously into his trunk, slides back into the driver’s seat, reverses, and is gone.
Dom watches it all, motionless.
His heart thuds in his chest as the sound of Brian’s engine fades into the bustle of LA traffic. That damn bird lets out a single pathetic note.
Trembling, he turns the key in the ignition. He heads toward home.
Christ. He needs a towel.