and that is what she said. pete/patrick.
by turnpikedarling and aubateau.
pg-13 (language).
636 words.

pete is a sketchy mechanic who makes lewd jokes and patrick needs his tire fixed. basically, aubateau and i were bored in the car so we listened to a mix of epic anthems and wrote this, thanks to paraserpiente telling us it was a good idea before we knew it was. the last half was written in a cracker barrel restaurant.







i disclaim. they are not mine, nor would i ever want them not to be their own.
warnings: really, really bad jokes.





Patrick hates Wal-Mart for a number of reasons, the least of which are these: they don't give their workers proper compensation, it's a corporate giant that is trying to monopolise on bulk shopping, and he thinks that the smiley face that they use for advertisement is fucking terrifying. Also, their name-brand soda totally and completely blows. In short: he really does not appreciate that the largest building in his direct eye line is one of the Super Wal-Marts, and turning away from the store only puts him face to face with a short tattooed dude in skinny jeans who's been feeding him lame lines for the entire 10 minutes that Patrick's been standing in the tire repair shop. His name tag says that his name is Pete, but when he shook Patrick's hand he introduced himself as Jason and Patrick is sufficiently sketched out enough not to get inquisitive.

"Dude," Pete (because Patrick trusts labels on jackets more than he trusts people) says. "You're lucky this thing didn't blow you real hard."

Patrick splutters, looking at the nearly-shredded inside of his back tire. "Excuse me?"

"Up on you, I mean," Pete clarifies, leaning down to jack up the car a little farther. "You really need something harder and wider, definitely."

Patrick can almost hear the smirk in Pete's voice. "What?"

"You know," Pete continues, grinning up at Patrick from his knees. "Something that can go for more than just one trip out of the garage."

Silence.

"You definitely don't want it to blow too early in the night or you won't be able to use it after that one time."

Patrick coughs uncomfortably as a little guy with a huge jew-fro walks out from around the corner with a new tire in his hands, presumably to put on Patrick's shoddy little car.

"Yo, Pete!" he yells, confirming Patrick's suspicions. "I've got that part you wanted."

Without missing a beat, Pete calls, "I told you yesterday, Joe: your vagina is not an appropriate topic of conversation at the office!"

"Well, neither is your dick, but you make it a point to accost me with the sight of it every fucking day," Joe shoots back, and Patrick wonders if either of them has ever been sued for sexual harassment in the workplace.

Pete barks out a laugh and bends down, going to work on the tire. "Man," he starts, and Patrick braces himself for what's coming. "I'm really gonna have to twist my wrist just right to make this work." Somewhere in the back of the room, Joe snorts; he's obviously used to this by now. "It's a really tight fit," Pete tells Patrick. "I'm really going to have to pound it hard to get these nuts in comfortably." He flashes a grin up from the side of the car and for a moment, Patrick wonders if it's just his mind that's going there; there's no way one dude can keep up the innuendos for so long -- but Pete just barrels right through that train of thought and keeps going.

"So," he asks. "Would you like any special kind of rim job?"

Patrick blanches from his hairline to his toes before managing to splutter out, "No -- just the tire, thanks," and from the back Joe yells, "THAT IS SO THE RIGHT ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION."

"Cool," Pete says, hopping up and standing in front of Patrick. "All finished, then! You'll really be able to ride this baby all night long." They stand there awkwardly for a minute, Pete grinning and Patrick eyeing him warily before Patrick finally says, "thanks," and shuffles to his car.

As he backs the car out of the bay, Pete waves the invoice in Joe's face and smiles dreamily. "Well," he sighs, "at least I got his number."