NOTE: As I am not much of a car person, names and types of American cars would be appreciated for future reference. This is my first Gone In 60 Seconds fic, and I'm hoping it satisfies. Usual disclaimer stuff goes here, blah, blah blah. :)

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The night had descended on Long Beach, California at a reasonable hour, and the sleepy area was just now waking, stretching through the streets with a vibrant and swift urgency. People worked, and people played. Sporty, impressive cars of all shapes and sizes drove about, men and woman alike in the driving seat. The moon hung lazily in the clear sky amidst the starts, watching casually as the night unfolded, the hour pressing on quickly.

In the bar close to the pier, things were just getting interesting. Alcohol flowed, money was spent and earned, and the constant haze and stench of cigarettes was hanging resiliently in the low-lit air. Music played at a considerably comfortable level, drowned out only by the frequent laughter of a rowdy group of people seated in a large booth in the corner. They had three pitchers of beer, and showed signs of turning the town upside down later if they consumed enough of it.

The usual collection of middle-aged men desperate to fit in filled the bar stools, noticed and acknowledged only by the barman. They drank beer after beer, and watched everyone discreetly.

There were a small number of women dotted around, the same old kind who only wanted to know you if you lived hard, drove fast, and had a wallet full of cash. They were on the hunt for every woman's typical ideal man... the desirable, mysterious, handsome and loaded young man who would keep them entertained until they found something newer, younger and richer.

Two young men played pool in the corner, not saying much, their silence a signal to everyone else that they weren't here to socialise, cause trouble, or be on the receiving end of any. They just wanted to drink beer, and have fun, and stumble home at the end of it al. when they did speak, the conversation revolved around anything with four wheels and a powerful engine.

The first was standing at the side of the table, his pool cue in one hand, and a half-empty beer in the other. He watched the table with curious eyes and shrugged his shoulders loosely under his hooded sweater. His slacks were black, and his worn sneakers had seen better days. His brown hair was gelled right back, styled so that it wouldn't get in his face. The denim jacket he often wore hung on a rack off to the side.

The second young man was considering the table carefully with inquisitive blue eyes. His dark blonde hair was spiked, giving him a mischievous, youthful air. His knuckles were just visible below the wide cuffs of his black jacket, collar of a red shirt showing over the top. His baggy jeans efficiently covered most of his boots, the chain hanging from the belt loop disappearing into his side pocket. He wore two solid silver rings on the last two fingers of his left hand, his large heavy silver bracelet only showing when he twisted his wrist to grip the cue. He had shaved all but most of the sideburns of his facial hair, and no longer looked as daunting as he had not long ago.

"Are you going to shoot before last orders?" Kip Raines murmured, his voice on the border of audible as the speaker churned out a steady rhythm.

Tommy 'Tumbler' Tumble turned his gaze upon his long-time friend, and smiled his most charming smile. He bent over the table, lined up his shot, and potted the eight ball with irritating ease. He laughed softly to himself, seeing the flash of defeat in his best friend's eyes, before triumphantly saying, "Your round." He shook his empty beer bottle for emphasis.

Kip rolled his eyes, leaned his cue against the wall, and grumbled, "Don't you wanna get outta here already?"

Tumbler leaned against the table, raising a single eyebrow. "You're just trying to find a way to get outta buying me another beer."

Kip dug around in his deep pocket for some change, and replied, "No. I can afford the beer."

His friend grinned knowingly. Kip didn't have a lot of cash recently. He had been saving it all up for a car. Not just any car... no, it had to the right kind of car. He just wasn't sure what that was yet. It would come to him. He just needed to think about it and be patient.

"All I'm worried about it how you're going to drive when you're drunk," Kip continued, throwing Tumbler a look.

Tumbler let his head sink for a moment, before he sighed. He stood to his full height, replaced his cue and grabbed Kip's jacket, tossing it at him.

The denim jacket hit Kip in the side of the head, clung to his shoulder for a moment, and then fell to the floor.

Kip glanced curiously to Tumbler, blinking once in question.

Tumbler motioned for the door, and said, "Let's go."

"I didn't mean we had to leave now," Kip told him, not sure who he was trying to convince. He scooped up his jacket, and slipped it on.

Tumbler smiled. "It's okay. I'm running outta cash anyway." He started for the door, Kip right behind him.

One of the young women by the door laid a hand on Tumbler's arm as he was about to pass.

"Fancy taking me for a drive?" she asked him in a voice that she probably thought passed for seductive, sweet and innocent. She wasn't even close. She was half-drunk, and looked more than a little stoned.

Tumbler took hold of her hand, and dropped it again, saying, "Maybe some other time."

The woman pouted, trying to look deeply offended, before throwing a glance to Kip.

Kip stifled a laugh, and hurried out of the door after his friend.

Tumbler took one look back at the bar, and started laughing, the affects of five or more beers starting to sink in. he closed his eyes, ran his hands over his spiky blonde hair, and then managed to stop laughing.

Kip's hand jabbed towards him, palm up, and his eyes stared to Tumbler, who simply gaze back blankly.

"What?"

Kip sighed, and pushed his hand into Tumbler's jacket pocket, fingers moving around searchingly.

"Man, what the hell are you doing? Mugging me or something?" Tumbler queried with half a chuckle.

"No, I'm lookin' for your keys," Kip informed him simply, only slightly amused at his friend's sudden succumbing to inebriation.

Tumbler's left hand casually shoved Kip back, and then disappeared into his pants' pocket. He pulled out the chain, showing Kip the set of keys hanging off the end.

"Give 'em to me," Kip said dryly, suddenly quite tired, though he wasn't sure why. He reached out to take the keys.

"Hey," Tumbler began, pulling them out of reach, "I can do it. Whadda you think I am? Stupid?"

"That's debateable," Kip grumbled as he watched the other man fiddle with task of unhooking the keys.

Impatient, Kip moved over, easily took the keys out of Tumbler's hand, and moved about removing them from the chain.

"Hey," Tumbler complained, furrowing his brow, "I could've done it."

"Yeah?" Kip said, removing the keys and leading the way to the car, letting the chain dangle around his friend's shin. "Probably would have fallen over before that." He smiled, hearing Tumbler moving behind him, even as they arrived at the red Nova.

Kip moved to the driver's seat, Tumbler coming up beside him as he unlocked the door to the classic car.

"What are you doing? This is my car," Tumbler told his friend, giving him a gentle shove. "I'm supposed to drive."

"And you'd crash it too," Kip informed him simply, locking gazes with him, and raising his eyebrows. "Get in the passenger side."

He didn't move.

"Tumbler," Kip began, pointing to the right side of the vehicle, "get in the passenger side. You're not drivin', okay? I'm driving you home."

"I can drive my own car... Kip," Tumbler stated, seeming to have momentary trouble recollecting his friend's name.

It was Kip's turn to shove, gently, for fear of throwing the marginally shorter -yet stronger- man right off balance.

"You couldn't walk twenty feet without a map," Kip retorted, giving him a warning stare, "and then you'd still get lost. Now, get in the passenger side already."

Tumbler scoffed, and moved around the car, speaking as he went, his voice loud, "If you scratch my car, I'll kick your ass."

Kip watched his friend practically fall in the car, rolled his eyes, and climbed behind the wheel with a discreet smile.