Fic: Used Cars
Title: Used Cars
Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries (movieverse)
Characters: Donald Strachey/Timothy Callahan (Don's POV)
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word count: 211
A/N: Written for
15_minute_fic on livejournal, word #233.
I never liked used cars. Buy a used car and you buy another guy’s problems. I never had good luck with pre-owned cars (what a load of horse shit that term is), but at that point in my poverty-stricken life I didn’t have much choice. It was either the Tercel with the sticky driver’s-side door or a very expensive bicycle.
The Tercel won.
It backfired as I pulled out of the parking lot. Five blocks away, a window started leaking. But right in front of the New York state senate building the engine faded and died completely.
I coasted to the curb, threw the gearshift in park, got out and kicked the right front fender. Great, now my foot hurt. I jerked the hood up and peered inside the engine. I had no idea what I was looking at.
“Trouble?”
I jumped about a foot, banging my head on the edge of the hood.
“Damn it.” I pressed my hand over my injured forehead and squeezed my eyes shut. “Fucking shit.”
“I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. Here, let me have a look at it.”
I opened one eye. Then I opened both of them.
He was beautiful. And I was in love.
Thank God for used cars.
*Crossposted from Dreamwidth*
Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries (movieverse)
Characters: Donald Strachey/Timothy Callahan (Don's POV)
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word count: 211
A/N: Written for
15_minute_fic on livejournal, word #233.
I never liked used cars. Buy a used car and you buy another guy’s problems. I never had good luck with pre-owned cars (what a load of horse shit that term is), but at that point in my poverty-stricken life I didn’t have much choice. It was either the Tercel with the sticky driver’s-side door or a very expensive bicycle.
The Tercel won.
It backfired as I pulled out of the parking lot. Five blocks away, a window started leaking. But right in front of the New York state senate building the engine faded and died completely.
I coasted to the curb, threw the gearshift in park, got out and kicked the right front fender. Great, now my foot hurt. I jerked the hood up and peered inside the engine. I had no idea what I was looking at.
“Trouble?”
I jumped about a foot, banging my head on the edge of the hood.
“Damn it.” I pressed my hand over my injured forehead and squeezed my eyes shut. “Fucking shit.”
“I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. Here, let me have a look at it.”
I opened one eye. Then I opened both of them.
He was beautiful. And I was in love.
Thank God for used cars.
*Crossposted from Dreamwidth*