Attention all you Klance shippers:
I almost never do this, but seeing as I'll be posting everything once it's fully written, here's a teaser of my current 'this is just a quick thing I'll write up to help me shake off the writer's block funk' that now has a mind of its own and will definitely be a mini fic by the end of it considering its already 13k and counting
Keith slid the catch pan underneath the bike’s engine and loosened the bolt holding the drain plug, watching for a beat as the thick, gooey liquid cascaded into the container with a wet, squelching plop.
“—So then I mentioned wanting to look into maybe doing some kind of charity work this summer, and Adam suggested I sign up for the race he’s volunteering for to help raise money for the new children’s cancer ward they want to build to replace that old wing the hospital stopped using over a decade ago.”
Affixing his wrench over the place the filter was located next, he got to work removing the spent part with a quick flick or two of the wrist, careful not to get his favorite pair of gloves completely soaked in the process when the small portion of oil that had been trapped inside began to seep out along the edges—a few splatters of which made their way onto floor before he had the chance to capture them in full.
Not that the cement was anything close to pristine prior to the mishap. And nothing a good pressure wash wouldn’t rectify. If he actually remembered to get around to doing it this time on his way out the door…
“I told him I’d love to, of course; and then he asked whether I knew of anyone else who’d be willing to enter, even for one of the shorter bouts. The higher the number of participants on our team, the better the donations the hospital receives from their sponsors, and I said I’d see what I could do to persuade some of the people I know who are into that sort of thing…”
Wiping off the plug with a mostly-clean rag, Keith reattached it once the drainage had all but ceased its syrupy flow, doing much the same with the area that housed the filter as well as what little remained on the outer region of the drain hole.
“Allura already knows she can’t make it that weekend—confrence in New York or something like that—so Romelle kindly offered to give it a go in her stead. I’ve got a few others from the gym tentatively interested, but you know as well as I do how flaky meatheads can be.”
“Which brings me to the reason for my visit.” Shiro paused then, likely waiting to see whether he’d turn around and actually engage in the conversation for a change, or if it wouldn’t end up being the one-sided variety through to the end of his shift.
The trouble with that was, Keith had already become far too engrossed in making sure the replacement filter received the proper amount of lubrication necessary to obtain a tight seal to turn around and force what little remained of his attention back onto the note of hopeful encouragement laced in his friend’s tone. Or really anything that wasn’t doing his job to the best of his ability, for that matter. An achievement he’d yet to slip up in for all of the eight-or-so years he’d been running the garage all by his lonesome after taking over for the previous owner when the man decided it was finally time to move on to greener pastures.
If Shiro craved a slightly more enthralled conversational partner, he knew better than to try him during business hours. As it stood, it was all he could do to catch the gist of what was being said and respond in kind.
A beat passed, and then a pair of green scrub-clad legs walked into his peripheral and hovered dangerously close to the still-open bottle of fresh oil he’d placed at his side, effectively drawing his gaze up to where the man attached was giving him his best rendition of puppy dog eyes.
Huffing a sigh out through his nose, Keith replaced the cap and rose to his feet, rubbing the remnants of the pinkish-red liquid smearing the tips of his fingers onto his already heavily grease-stained Carhartts. “You’ve got five minutes,” he drawled, glancing at the clock above the office door and noting the hour as just after three in the afternoon.
Two more left until closing, and he still had another car to diagnose before he’d feel good about leaving for the day. Time really was of the essence if he hoped to both hit the gym on his way home and grab takeout from the Thai place down the street. Most nights, they didn't stay open long if no one frequented their establishment past six-ish.
“After that, I’m going back to my real work. You know. The thing we all do to pay the bills?”
keep an eye out for this bad boy coming soon to an Ao3 near you
