|Awkward First Dates
Author: NoChristmasJokesPlz PM
"He's so perfect Sasha. Like, angel perfect. He's a beautiful, blond, gay angel, sent from the Homo Heaven to make my life complete!" "Homo Heaven? Kenny, what have you been smoking?"Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Humor - Chapters: 3 - Words: 4,003 - Reviews: 16 - Favs: 18 - Follows: 15 - Updated: 06-05-12 - Published: 02-02-12 - id: 2993877
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Title: Awkward First Dates
Rating: T for swearing and minor BL (just some smooching— calm the fuck down, people) in later chapters.
Warnings: Contains BL and preslash! :D Enjoy the gayness! May contain some derogatory views towards lesbians from Kenny in later chapters. DOES NOT REFLECT MY OWN VIEWS.
Summary: "He's so perfect Sasha. Like, angel perfect. He's a beautiful, blond, gay angel, sent from the Homo Heaven to make my life complete!" Dating is not Kenny's forte by any means. He's romantically stunted, awkward, and he's only dated people too ditzy to really notice how awkward he really is. How is he supposed to survive a date with a gorgeous med student?
The characters, plot, and even the location are of my own creation, so no using without my permission! :D Happy slashing!
Chapter 3: A Disaster Waiting to Happen
"Hey! Grease monkey! Getchyer skinny ass in here!"
Kenny sighed and wiped his hands on a dirty cloth, straightening up from where he was bent over the engine block of a (drool-worthy) Cuda AAR. If he had the money (or balls enough to steal it) he'd be winning every drag race down in Redbrush. For now, he could only watch, but once he got his Baby running…
"DAMN IT, SLIM, STOP FANTASIZING AND GET YER ASS IN HERE!"
The pink-haired mechanic jumped in shock and narrowly avoided slamming his head on the upraised hood of the car, cursing under his breath at the close call. When he looked up, his boss was scowling fiercely at him through the office window.
Abigail Pratt was a formidable woman (though Kenny would call her many other things aside from "formidable" that would either get him fired, or a wrench to the head), and the owner of Abby's Restoration and Auto Repair, the most well-known auto shop in the Valley (as well as the surrounding towns). She wasn't a tall woman by any means, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in pure, unadulterated vitriol. She had short, choppy, prematurely salt-and-peppered hair and cold green eyes that could scour the chrome off a hubcap with the right look. She was plump, but fit, and freckled all over, with skin deeply tanned from years working out in the sun. She was crude, foul-mouthed, and mean as hell, but Kenny loved the woman with all his heart.
"Whaddya want, bitch?" he hollered back, striding around the various car parts scattered over the oil-stained floor of his work area. Abby kept up glowering at him, and even flipped him the bird when he made it to the window. The door to her office was open, and he stepped inside just as she sat down at her obsessively neat desk.
"Bitch, huh?" she sneered at him, lighting a cigarette.
"Did I stutter?" he sneered back.
Abby snorted and leaned back in her chair, taking a long drag of her smoke and blowing it right at Kenny's face. "You got more balls than brains, ya skinny bastard. Who do you think you are callin' your boss a bitch to her face? At least have the fuckin' decency to whisper it behind my back, like everyone else."
Kenny laughed, leaning forward with his hands braced on her desk. "I've been workin' here long enough to know you're like a Chihuahua. You yap and yap and yap like you're a hardass, but as soon as someone bucks at you, you hide under the couch. And I know you won't fire me because I'm the best you've got."
Abby chuckled, raking a hand through her greying hair. "You sure know how to tell it like it is, doncha, Ken?"
"Did you call me in here to stroke my ego or are you going to get to the point?"
Abby glowered at him. "Shut up and listen for a second, and maybe I will."
"I'm still not hearing a point, Bitch."
"Shut th'fuck up, slim!" she snapped, flicking ashes in his direction. "Anyway, word around the garage is you got a date tonight. Who's the lucky lady?"
"You know damn well I'm gay, Abs," Kenny shot back, crossing his arms. Abby snickered wickedly.
"Yeah, I know, but all you queers are girls to me."
"And all you dykes are dicks to me. What's it matter to you if I've got plans tonight? And who told you anyway?"
Abby grinned meanly at him, taking a long drag and blowing smoke in his face. "A little birdtold me."
Kenny rolled his eyes skyward and rubbed a greasy hand through his hair (heedless of the way it made his bangs stick up strangely). "Damn it, Sasha." The little meddler couldn't even leave him alone at work, could he?
Abby looked so very smug in the face of her favorite employee's annoyance. She reached underneath her desk and tossed a large paper bag at him. "Don't be mad. He was excited enough to pack the clothes you forgot. And, 'parently, your mama slipped in thesefor ya.?" She reached into the bag and drew out a line of unmistakable, square foil packets and a small tube of… Dear god. "You hopin' to get lucky? Or are ya so hard up your mama's tryin' t'help ya?"
"DAMN IT, MOM!
The employee bathroom at the garage was tiny, cramped, and usually kind of dingy, but at least it had a shower with killer water pressure that got to the perfect scalding temperature required to wash away greasy grime. Kenny hissed and cursed as he scrubbed the day's filth from his face, hair, and body, and shouted a blue streak at any co-workers who jiggled the doorknob impatiently and shouted at him to hurry up. He had shit to do, and he wasn't going to do it smelling like brake fluid and decades-old oil.
When he finished, he dried himself off and dressed in the clothes Sasha had brought him, obsessively smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles in his short-sleeved button-down. It took him almost half and hour to tame his hair to relative neatness, and he fidgeted with his outfit for another five minutes as he critically eyed his reflection in the old, cracked mirror.
It took about twelve minutes of convincing and Paul, a rather large, middle-aged senior mechanic, to drag him out of the bathroom and tell him he looked a helluva lot better than he usually did.
"You almost can't tell you got chicken legs in them pants," Marisol taunted, baring her teeth (and the spot where she was missing a molar that was only visible when she leered like that) in a wide smile.
Kenny threw a punch that the heavyset older girl dodged and returned to his shoulder. It was a bit too painful to really be considered friendly, but he'd be forced to taunt her if it was any gentler, and he really didn't need to end up in a headlock again. Especially after her spent so much time trying to get his hair to look halfway decent.
"Yeah, yeah," he growled. "I hate all you nosy bitches." He flipped up his middle finger at his gathered colleagues, dodged Paul's bear-like swipe at his head, and ducked into his car.
"Besta luck, bitchtits!" Abby called after him as he squealed out of the lot.
OKAY! So I know it's WAY too short for how damned long I took to write it, but I'm suffering from the worst sort of block with this right now. Uuuugh. Also, I'm trying to thing of new ideas for Little Moments and worrying about my new job.
I need another chai latte.
Well, anyway, here's a short look into Kenny's work life. XD Not much of one, because I don't know jack shit about cars.