Seepage [T, Dom/Letty, Fast & Furious]
May. 1st, 2009 09:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cudaTitle: Seepage
Author:cuda
Fandom: Fast & Furious, Dom/Letty
Rating: T
Warnings: CONTAINS MASSIVE MOVIE SPOILER!!1!
Disclaimer: This was written for pure enjoyment. I don't own the Fast & Furious franchise or any of the characters depicted in this story. Roses red, violets blue. I no own; you no sue.
Notes: This is not supposed to be anything grand, just part of my growing collection of notes on Dom Toretto. It'll be amusing if in a month this doesn't look anything like Dom.
*
Lots of people. Lots going on. Boring as hell. Nice change.
Rubber wheels crunched over grit as Dominic Toretto pushed his heels against the pavement and scooted the creeper another three inches forward. He'd parked the Chevelle here thirty minutes ago, out of the way of foot traffic and Abuelita's grandchildren, but the concrete beneath the small plastic board under his shoulders still cooked with Panama City heat.
Dom scrutinized the maze of steel and aluminum a few inches away from his nose; tipped his head back against the creeper and followed the oil line into the shadows beneath the engine block. He touched two fingers to the soft rubber tubing. The line was slick and honey-colored oil seeped into the grooves of his fingerpads. Slowly, he turned his head towards the fuel line and reached up into the darkness once more, wrench in hand.
The car never surprised him. He had driven, worked on, cannibalized and destroyed enough of its cousins to know its stengths and limits. The car never fucked up. The car never let him down. The car never had an opinion; never made his heart race; never had him burning with lust underneath it.
He missed Letty. He missed being surprised. She was all around him here, her dark eyes laughing at him from the face of every little girl, the smell of her so mixed up with the smell of gasoline and grease that his heart lurched with every other breath. He couldn't be with her but she was safe. He knew she was pissed at him. He knew she hugged herself sometimes out of loneliness, the way he did from time to time, running her hands down her own arms, just a few strokes, just enough to spark up all the nerve endings with warmth. He could see it in his mind. Even against the heat of Letty's potential rage, he smiled.
Oil collected on the bend in the oil line and dripped down his forearm, one slow drop at a time. Off in the distance, foreign to the clamor of people, a phone rang. He reached for the rag wadded up on his stomach and swabbed the streaks of brown from his skin.
The phone cut off, mid-jangle. Dom reached up again, wiping down the line. Letty glowed in his mind, almost touchable and rimmed with warm light. Over the silent film of memory he heard Abuelita's grandson Javier calling his name. Telefono. Telefono para Señor Dom. He cut the list of possible suspects down to one, and she wasn't supposed to call unless it was an emergency, and she still wasn't supposed to call even then.
Dom glanced down to be sure the kid wasn't standing right in front of his feet, then boosted the creeper out from underneath his car. He stared at the kid. The kid stared back, then reiterated his news excitedly. Not too many people got a phone call around here. Dom got up heavily and let Javier lead him through the dim garage to the pay phone out on the sidewalk. His chest was tight. For one more gentle, blessed second, Letty glowed warm and safe in his thoughts.
He picked up the receiver. His sister's thick hesitance blacked out the light like a blown bulb. Letty was dead. Dominic would be an hour collecting the pieces.
He could do it on the road back to L.A.
Author:
cudaFandom: Fast & Furious, Dom/Letty
Rating: T
Warnings: CONTAINS MASSIVE MOVIE SPOILER!!1!
Disclaimer: This was written for pure enjoyment. I don't own the Fast & Furious franchise or any of the characters depicted in this story. Roses red, violets blue. I no own; you no sue.
Notes: This is not supposed to be anything grand, just part of my growing collection of notes on Dom Toretto. It'll be amusing if in a month this doesn't look anything like Dom.
*
Lots of people. Lots going on. Boring as hell. Nice change.
Rubber wheels crunched over grit as Dominic Toretto pushed his heels against the pavement and scooted the creeper another three inches forward. He'd parked the Chevelle here thirty minutes ago, out of the way of foot traffic and Abuelita's grandchildren, but the concrete beneath the small plastic board under his shoulders still cooked with Panama City heat.
Dom scrutinized the maze of steel and aluminum a few inches away from his nose; tipped his head back against the creeper and followed the oil line into the shadows beneath the engine block. He touched two fingers to the soft rubber tubing. The line was slick and honey-colored oil seeped into the grooves of his fingerpads. Slowly, he turned his head towards the fuel line and reached up into the darkness once more, wrench in hand.
The car never surprised him. He had driven, worked on, cannibalized and destroyed enough of its cousins to know its stengths and limits. The car never fucked up. The car never let him down. The car never had an opinion; never made his heart race; never had him burning with lust underneath it.
He missed Letty. He missed being surprised. She was all around him here, her dark eyes laughing at him from the face of every little girl, the smell of her so mixed up with the smell of gasoline and grease that his heart lurched with every other breath. He couldn't be with her but she was safe. He knew she was pissed at him. He knew she hugged herself sometimes out of loneliness, the way he did from time to time, running her hands down her own arms, just a few strokes, just enough to spark up all the nerve endings with warmth. He could see it in his mind. Even against the heat of Letty's potential rage, he smiled.
Oil collected on the bend in the oil line and dripped down his forearm, one slow drop at a time. Off in the distance, foreign to the clamor of people, a phone rang. He reached for the rag wadded up on his stomach and swabbed the streaks of brown from his skin.
The phone cut off, mid-jangle. Dom reached up again, wiping down the line. Letty glowed in his mind, almost touchable and rimmed with warm light. Over the silent film of memory he heard Abuelita's grandson Javier calling his name. Telefono. Telefono para Señor Dom. He cut the list of possible suspects down to one, and she wasn't supposed to call unless it was an emergency, and she still wasn't supposed to call even then.
Dom glanced down to be sure the kid wasn't standing right in front of his feet, then boosted the creeper out from underneath his car. He stared at the kid. The kid stared back, then reiterated his news excitedly. Not too many people got a phone call around here. Dom got up heavily and let Javier lead him through the dim garage to the pay phone out on the sidewalk. His chest was tight. For one more gentle, blessed second, Letty glowed warm and safe in his thoughts.
He picked up the receiver. His sister's thick hesitance blacked out the light like a blown bulb. Letty was dead. Dominic would be an hour collecting the pieces.
He could do it on the road back to L.A.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-11 12:24 am (UTC)And that song is particularly apt for them...
Goddess but that was so good!
no subject
Date: 2009-05-11 01:31 am (UTC)Song
Date: 2009-05-11 02:29 am (UTC)