Save the car, Ride the mechanic(s) - Chapter 2 - Wierd... Hot stranger.
Here's Chapter 2 ^^ Like i said ill be posting the ao3 link first and then the full text day after ^^
The bike and its rider slowed to a stop beside Sam truck, the wheels grinding down into the concrete.
The rider looked at him and then tilted their head, looking past him at his truck.
They killed their own engine and leant back.
“Do you need some help sir?”
“Yeah, my fault for drivin’ durin’ a storm really…”
Sam nearly missed it but he swore he heard a short chuckle from behind the darkened helmet.
“Yeah…. not a smart choice. Mind popping the hood and I'll take a look?” The biker dismounted, waving a hand towards the hood.
Sam put his hands up in defeat.
“Be my guest, lord knows I know nothin’ about cars.”
This time he knew he heard the rider laugh under their helmet.
He lifted the hood as they flicked their visor up, he only caught a glimpse before they leant down.
Sam took note of the white hair and narrow silver eyes.
The rider slipped their right glove off before slipping it down into the centre of mechanisms, feeling around gently.
“Ah…” they said quietly, as if they found exactly what they were looking for.
“What is it?” Sam enquired leaning in.
The rider turned their gaze to him, retrieving their hand.
This time he got a much clearer look at their face. And his first guess wasn't wrong.
Their eyes were indeed silver. A light grey that he swore reflected the lights of his headlights as they turned to him. Small whips of white hair sprouted from under the helmet, hung over their face, sticking to their skin.
Once they finished turning to face him, he was so close he noticed a small scar peeking out above their eye and another crawling up their cheek.
“Well, Cowboy… your engine just got too wet is all. I'd recommend turning everything off and letting it fully dry out over 48 hours and then seeing the full extent of the damage.”
Their voice was a lot clearer this time. From their visor being up or their close proximity Sam couldn't tell.
“Yeah, that's on me for drivin’ through too many puddles…”
They straightened up to their full height, leaning an arm against the raised hood. This one movement allowed Sam to appreciate how tall they really were, he wasn't a short man by any means, but this stranger practically towered over him, water running off their helmet and dripping onto his hat.
“But uh… I don't think it's gonna dry much out here, aye cowboy?”
Sam blinked, that nickname again. Then he nodded. He looked back at their bike. It sure was an impressive piece of kit, big enough for three big guys on it, but no bike could toe a truck his size.
“Mmm.” He hummed in agreement. “I don't su’pose you have your own truck hidden in a pocket somewhere?” He asked in a joking manner.
The stranger chuckled lightly.
“No. Unfortunately I don't. Were you heading into Dahlia? I could give you a lift into town, then I'll borrow one of my boss's trucks to come get it.”
Sam looked at them, a flicker of hesitation on his face. He doubted they wanted to do anything nefarious because they already had him out there on his own. He turned to look at the lights of Dahlia in the distance.
The stranger must have sensed his hesitation though because they relaxed and stepped back a bit.
“Sorry how rude of me, Tank Moon, mechanic by night and sleeper by day.” They stuck out their hand, their smile visible in their eyes.
He tilted his head slightly. Confusion etching into his face. Tank sighed.
“No. My parents weren't insane, I changed my name when I left them as a teenager.”
Sam's eyes widened, then he took their hand.
“Samuel Collins. Real Estate manager for Solaire Property Management and… a guy who hates driving durin’ the day. And… who ran away from his parents as a teenager… I didn't change my name though…”
They shook hands, a mutual feeling of understanding and similarity now connecting them. Tank laughed lightly.
“Can't really blame you for driving at night though. It's normally quieter on the roads, allowing me to be a little more reckless…”
They winked at him as they chuckled lightly.
Sam felt something stir in his heart when they laughed. He couldn't see their mouth but he saw the joy dancing in their eyes.
They took their hand back and shut the lid of his hood, moving around the truck and snatching the sun glasses hung off his sun blind.
“These will come in handy…”
They killed his engine fully and shut his door.
“Lock your truck. Don't want anyone breaking in while we are gone.”
Sam nodded, searching for his keys in his pocket and clicking them at his truck, turning to Tank's bike.
They walked around it and sat down, reaching up and unclipped their helmet. Tank pulled it over their head, long white hair tumbled past their shoulders and Sam got a good look at their face.
Two long scars went from their hairline down to their lips, but it was patchy. Either from how it healed or from the attack. Two drops of rain ran down them, the darkened crevices within Tank’s skin carving them a clear path.
Sam stepped closer, reading their entire face. He noticed another scar peeking out from their collar. They turned to him, holding out their helmet.
He saw more marks on their wrist, curling scars revealed by their rolled up sleeve.
He took the helmet gently, absorbed in his thoughts, taking notes of every little detail.
Sam stared closer into their eyes, the light grey meeting his dark brown. They were young. Much younger than him but their face held a story. One he thought looked much too mature and aged for someone their age.
“You gonna keep getting lost in my eyes Mr Collins or we gonna get out of the rain?”
Sam blinked, heat rushing to his face.
“Sorry! Sorry just. Uh…. Distracted?” He laughed it off then looked down at the helmet in his hands.
“Uhhh?” He looked at them through his eyelashes.
Tank stood up slightly from their bike, taking his hat off and placing it on their own head, then slid his glasses over their eyes.
“I'm not gonna let you ride without… protection, cowboy.” He felt them wink at him again from behind those tinted lenses. The heat stayed in his face as he slid on their helmet.
Tank held out their hand again and Sam took it as he jumped up onto the bike behind Tank, thinking carefully.before putting his hands on their sides, trying to stay back just enough not to be pressed into them.
“Where to, Sammy?” He felt his chest ache a little at that nickname. It wasn't one he'd heard in a while.
“Uh the Vesta housin’? It's on the outskirts I believe…”
“I know it. I stayed there a couple times myself.” The engine of the bike roared to life. “Let's get out of this rain.”
The bike started moving and Sam instinctively shuffled forward a bit, pressing his front into Tanks back.
He looked back at his truck one last time as it vanished around the cliff side.
They picked up speed as Tank revved the engine. Sam's hands crawled further and further around Tank's waist, pressing himself further into their back. Rain ran off his shoulders and hit his hands as he locked them together around Tank’s mid section.
He felt their muscles under the clinging fabric.
‘Well the name Tank fits for sure…’
He felt the years of work done under their shirt, a large pack of abs and toned sides to match, the large shoulders he rested his head against were nothing to laugh at.
He nearly let his hands wander with his mind as he got lost in their warmth. How were they still so warm in this rain, he couldn’t tell.
The trees blurred past as they approached Dahlia, the lights of the city sparkling through the trees. The smell of wood and wet grass overwhelmed his senses, Sam had visited forests before but they weren’t a setting he frequented often. Some would call him a City boy, and he didn't travel much. If it wasn’t for the fact his work was mainly remote, he’d visit more places. Dahlia had always been on his list of cities to visit, especially since it was the place Solaire Estates came from. Vincent lived here as well, Sam promised he’d visit eventually, just never got around to it.
He felt Tank take a long deep breath and sign with content, their entire mass expanding and deflating gently. The tenseness in their shoulders dripped away.
Sam tried to mimic their state, breathing in nature and relaxing. But he couldn't, he hadn't ridden a bike or even been on a bike in 20 years.
‘I ain’t sittin’ on one of those… deathtraps.’ He’d told Vincent when he needed a lift from Vincent’s partner.
The most he’d ridden on one was when he was in college and that was a night of… teen’s being teens.
The rain running down the helmet’s visor scattered the lights of Dahlia even more as buildings started mixing with the trees. Darkened homes and shut businesses, but the streetlamps still cast a beautiful light upon the falling rain.
Tank slowed down as the city grew denser, less and less forestry and more concrete. They took sharp but precise turns, keeping pace and control. They knew this city inside out, a little storm wouldn't be much of a hassle to navigate through.
The turned onto a much wider street, a tall dark purple building looming over the rest, a bright sign read ‘Vesta Rest’ above a bright red double door.
Tank slipped down the slide of the building into a very well hidden carpark.
‘Guess they weren’t lyin’ when they said they’d been here before…’
Tank jumped off the bike after kicking their stand down and killing the engine. They turned and offered their hand to Sam again who took it as he slid off, his knees nearly giving out though with how tense he was.
“Thanks… I haven't ridden a bike in a very long time…” He admitted. Tank nodded at him, rain dripping off his hat.
“I wasn’t going to say anything but- I could tell.” They laughed lightly. “Come on, Vesta has a back door here so we don’t have to walk around the entire building. Stars know we are wet through enough.”
Sam slipped off the helmet and followed Tank into the building.
They wandered through to corridor’s to the front desk where a bored looking receptionist glanced over their phone.
Tank leant on the desk, water very quickly soaking the wood.
The receptionist raised an eyebrow, a flicker of disappointment on their face.
A grin found its way onto Tank’s lips as they stood back up. The receptionist chuckled lightly as they stood and shook Tank’s hand.
“How have you been tall, brooding and reckless? Finally got a good place?” The receptionist asked warmly, an air of familiarity filling the space.
“I’m doing good, Smartass. Enjoying this storm right now… and the company it brings.” Tank released their hand and turned to look at Sam.
He swept the rain from his face and stepped forward.
“Hiya there I have a reservation for the next couple months here?”
The receptionist moved to a nearby computer. “Of course, can I get a name please?”
“It should be under Samuel Collins.”
They typed on their screen, pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose.
While the computer loaded, Tank went to the front door and batted Sam’s hat with their hand, kicking some of the rain off it and returned it to him, trading him for their helmet back.
“Hmm…” a flicked of confusion crossed the receptionist's face. “I’m so sorry sir but I don’t see a ‘Samuel Collins’ in our books.” They pushed their glasses on to the top of their head.
Sam gave them a bewildered look before scratching his head and putting his hat back on, giving Tank a small thanks under his breath.
“We do still have some rooms available though. But only for a couple days I'm afraid…”
“That can’t be right… Vince confirmed the bookin’ with me last night…” A shiver shook his voice slightly.
“Wait a minute, isn’t this a job? Wouldn't your company have managed the booking cowboy?”
He turned to look at them, then back at the receptionist. He sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I hope he didn't but…could you look for a…ha… Sammy … Samuel… Duke?” He hesitated on the nickname, holding the back of his neck with his hand.
They went back to their computer. “Ah yes, Samuel Duke C, with Solaire Property management?”
“Fuck sake Vince…” Sam muttered, putting his hands on his hips and huffing slightly. “Yeah, that’s it- unfortunately…”
“Pft… Duke?” Tank giggled as they shook his glasses off.
“Darlin- how was I supposed to know my man’ger would use my middle name against me like this? He’s the only one I work with who even knows it!”
Tank laughed again to themselves as the receptionist passed Sam the necessary forms and handed him a key.
“Okay okay, im done… Dukey-” Tank cackled again.
“You're in room 008.”
“Thank you mx…” Sam bowed his head slightly as he took the key. “Sorry for draggin’ in all this rain…”
The receptionist waved him off as they headed to the door of their office.
“Okay no really i am done… alright. I can show him to his room Smartass.”
“Knock yourself out bitey, I'm staying here in my toasty office.” They said, sitting back down.
Tank beckoned Sam to follow them down another hallway and up some stairs.
They stopped outside a green door with golden numbers.
“Your temporary abode awaits, cowboy.”
“Thank you Tank, this and… everythin’. Only lord knows where’d I be right now if… if you hadn’t found me.”
Tank smiled down at him as he unlocked the door and opened it wide.
“Probably…” They leant their arm against the doorframe and lowered their neck, their eyes meeting his. “In the clutches of a wolf… there’s a lot of them around here Sammy.”
Sam nodded. “I heard the rumours.”
Tank smiled, gentler this time. Less wolfish.
“Listen… I’m still on shift. Throw me your keys and I'll go get your truck to my work and get it drying out.”
He fished his keys once again and passed them over.
“Thanks.” He returned their smile as another shiver passed through him.
“And you-” They straightened back up, a tone of care in their voice. “- should warm up. The showers here are amazing and I don't want my new friend to get hypothermia.” Tank patted the brim of his hat and sauntered off, his keys spinning around their finger.
Sam laughed a little to themselves, feeling the lightest he had all week as he watched Tank disappear around the corner.
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