I wasn't kidding when I said this was derpy.
Yusei was in the garage, as usual, working on a bike, again as usual. He fiercely loved working on his bike. It wasn't simply because he depended on his d-wheel for more than transportation. No, it was because it was hard work. This kind of work wasn't just a way to make money or to get something done; it was an opportunity for self-discovery. He felt the bikes he built and maintained defined him as a person and he wanted to be able to be proud of who he was. So, he rolled up his sleeves and reveled in the grease and engine coolant the same way a painter would in oils and acrylics.
"Ne, Yusei, you gonna work on that thing for four more hours or take a damn break?"
One of his fellow mechanics threw a dirty towel at him.
"This shouldn't take too much longer. Some peace and quiet would be appreciated."
A friendly thump on the back and he had the garage to himself again. A change of clothes and some sleep were sounding steadily more appealing, but he pushed forward. Almost done.
Four hours later, he pulled his gloves off and collapsed onto the couch. Clean clothes were not his top priority at the moment. Yusei had no idea how long he'd been asleep as the normally enjoyable sound of an engine became a rather rude one when it jolted him awake.
"Who the hell . . .?" he muttered to himself, looking around. Ah, a very familiar d-wheel had just rolled in. It was no small vehicle, but it carried an additionally commanding presence that was not physically perceptible; one that demanded attention and said 'look at me I am gorgeous and awesome and everyone wants me'. Not unlike its owner, who was currently walking over to him and running a hand through blond Adonis hair.
"Yusei! Did I wake you up?"
"No, Jack, sometimes I like to just lie on couches with my eyes closed and wish you would grace me with your presence."
Jack smiled apprehensively, not sure if Yusei was making a joke or genuinely annoyed with him. Rebuilding a congenial relationship was proving tricky and fraught with setbacks and mixed signals. Extremely confusing mixed signals of a less than hetero nature. Yusei repented of his sarcastic comment and offered Jack a rare smile.
"You're fine. When is a d-wheeler ever unwelcome here?"
The impressively broad shoulders relaxed visibly.
"I can come back later. I was just having some trouble with my bike . . ." he trailed off without actually asking Yusei to take a look at it in order to avoid making his imposition official; Jack's way of apologizing.
"Like I said, it's fine. Let me change my shirt."
Yusei tugged his stained, grungy t-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the back of the couch.
He turned his back to search for something clean to put on and missed the sideways stare of open craving Jack was giving his tone, shirtless torso.
"So what's wrong?"
"Nothing's- oh! Um, right, my bike. I think I've been overclocking too much lately. The cooling system is probably having a hard time keeping up."
"Knowing your taste for theatrics that seems entirely likely."
He found another t-shirt with the sleeves and collar inexplicably cut off and pulled it on, turning to face Jack as he did so. Jack held his arms out with his palms up and gave a roguish smile.
"Hey, you love working on bikes, I love putting on a show. I think you can appreciate that."
Yusei shrugged. Spending hours in a garage was hardly as glamorous as riding a motorcycle and playing a children's card game for thousands of screaming admirers. Then again, he would hardly enjoy being mobbed by rabid fans. The thought of people throwing themselves at Jack was more than a little irritating, but he pushed it away.
"You always smell like motor oil, Yusei."
He determinedly willed his face not flush as Jack leaned in, hands akimbo, shamelessly violating his personal space.
"You would too, if you slept in it," he replied without backing away, "And you always smell . . . like . . ." he was caught between 'arrogance' and 'attractiveness'.
"Victory," Jack supplied.
"Yes. That. Anyway. Does anything sound weird when your bike's running? Give me something I can diagnose."
"I would say it's more what I'm not hearing. The exhaust fan is taking longer and longer to kick in."
Yusei poured himself a cup of coffee while Jack knelt and started dismantling his overtaxed d-wheel. He stared longingly at the rather advantageous view, allowing the most licentious fantasies to run unchecked through his hazy mind until the lukewarm coffee from his overfilled mug spilled onto his hand. He nearly dropped his mug and hastily set the coffee pot down.
"What do you think?"
Yusei actually did drop his mug.
Jack look over his shoulder at the sound of shattering ceramic and caught the barely disguised desire radiating from Yusei's expression. Yusei quickly looked away and started picking up the broken mug.
Yusei glanced in Jack's direction, confused. He was no longer kneeling; now he was leaning back against his d-wheel, his weight on his hands, one leg slightly bent. He was looking off to the side, torso turned somewhat away. It was impossible for Yusei's eyes to not travel from one defining angle to the next, taking in the way the light created dark, inviting shadows around the hollow of Jack's throat, then moving to graceful collar bones that supported toned arms. Arms that were currently forming right angles to a v-shaped torso, musculature still discernable beneath the clothing.
"I said leave it."
Yusei's heart was hammering, his breath coming faster and shallower than it had been just a moment ago. Was this really happening? The blood pounding in his ears made it nearly impossible to hear his own voice.
And then Jack turned to Yusei and said, "Come over here and kick my engines into overdrive."
Hhhhaaa ha ha hah. So the point of all of this was to incorporate that line from BBT: The Abridged. This was a joint venture with my good friend lauradisenchanted; we couldn't find a fic that used the line Yusei reads aloud and decided to write our own. Check hers out cause it's awesome!