Work Text:
Pac’s morning routine was normal, go to Empanada’s pancake stack, the cafe, for some normal breakfast and talk to the lesbians, Bagi and Tina. While Niki served Pac pancakes.
Then stop by Cellbit’s castle for Richas, greet Roier, and make his way to ‘Mike’s Garage’, Pac’s workplace. He really appreciated Mike’s lenience, especially from him being 20 minutes late.
Look… Tina an Bagi’s fofoca was enticing, the new knowledge of Mariana’s supposed affair?! Who wouldn’t stay another minute to hear something so valuable!
But Pac had finally made it to work, finally made his way to his demise. Well… not quite demise, so much as annoying customers and dumb questions. From said annoying customers.
Although Pac loved his job, he hated the guests. One person asked him if he knew what engine was?! He’s a mechanic dumbass!
After all those interactions, of course Pac needed a break. Lucky Richarlyson was with his other father right now, Mike. Pac took a seat on a wheely chair, fiddling with his leg. No customers were coming in anyways, Felp’s would deal with them if any came in.
Sometimes he can feel that pulsating, crushing pain of getting his leg sliced off. The sound, the sensation of not being able to breathe so much as move. It makes him internally shiver with that traumatic feeling.
He brushes it off for now, though it’ll come back eventually, at night, when phantom pains get real bad. When no one is there to comfort him, where no one is there to care-
“Excuse me?”
A single question snaps Pac out of his sudden depressive state, pushing his leg away from his chest. A tall man stood in front of Pac, making him have to look up.
“Y-yes?” Pac said nervously, but who wouldn’t be nervous when an attractive man stood in front of you? Even if he was bald, his face was beyond beauty, nor comprehension of a human’s face.
“My car is running a bit funky- I think my kid put something in the exhaust pipe. Probably trying to stop me from going to work.” He sighed, looking back at his car.
It was maybe a Kia? The size and iconic ‘KN’ logo kind of gave it away. It was definitely detailed, and the details mainly being stickers and things that shows he does have a kid. The key detail being the lack of neatness.
The smudges on the car, presumingly from dirt and child-like attached substances. The bird poops on one or two windows, the dirt…
Somehow it made Pac calmer, he really dreaded dealing with customers, but having one like him? One that also takes care of a kid, one that isn’t ashamed of hiding it either? It made Pac’s heart ache to help this man now.
“I’ll take a look! After l check it out, we can figure out the prices and stuff, alright?” He tried to say nonchalantly but it became a little hard with the obvious height difference. Even standing up to go to the car, he was at least 7 inches taller than Pac.
Maybe that was an exaggeration, or maybe it wasn’t. The point is, this stranger is tall.
Making his way to the exhaust pipe, he gestured for the stranger to turn off the car. Hearing the last hum before the car completely stopped, Pac put on gloves.
Sticking his hand in the exhaust pipe. Was that safe? No. But he already lost a limb, what’s the harm in losing another?
He felt something. It was squeaky, maybe a ball… Taking his hand out of the pipe, he saw a scorched rubber wrench. Ah. A rubber wrench, well at least it was something easy to take out.
“Uh… sir-“
“Fit. Call me Fit, I don’t fuck with sir.” The stranger said, leaning on the car looking at Pac.
“Cool. Fit, your son’s a little menace. Similar to mine though I must say.” Fit sniggered at that statement, that sound felt like music to Pac’s ears.
“Ah Ramón… well I’ll pay you, especially for having the balls to just stick your hand in the exhaust pipe. You didn’t even hesitate, y'know?”
“Well I already lost another. What's the harm in losing one again?” He didn’t mean to say that out loud. He thought he finally found his ‘amazing’ customer, the one that doesn’t complain, the one that you can just talk to.
But when you tell them you’re missing a limb? They get nosy, or become distant. Annoyed even sometimes. Sorry the loss of a limb ‘annoys’ you…
However, Fit laughed. Touching his chest and bending over in laughter.
That glorious sound again.
Standing up, taking off his gloves and glancing at the stranger still laughing. Trying to cover his mouth to stop his laughter, though it failed miserably.
“Fit. It’s not that funny…” Pac, as much as he really wanted to hear more of that sound, knew he couldn’t live in this calming moment for long.
“Y-yes it is! I lost an arm, and you’re so nonchalant with losing one! It’s funny!” That made Pac widen his eyes, he lost an arm? Like really?!
Fit coughed, trying to control his laughter. Taking his leather coat off, showing his prosthetic arm. It looked beautiful!
“Droga! Isso parece tão legal!” Pac blurted out, covering his mouth immediately.
“Portuguese right? I don’t know much, but l can identify the language, plus your accent gave you away.” Fit said, smiling at Pac.
Quickly making his way up, because of his hatred of being looked down upon. Pac put one of hands on the back of his neck. Rubbing it in embarrassment of the knowledge of his culture. Especially his accent peeking up.
“Sim.” Pac walked past Fit, going to the counter inside. Seeing Mike in the backroom, Richas drawing on the floor as well.
“Welp. Time for me to pay right?” Fit stood in front of the counter, Pac focusing on putting the correct numbers and putting a slight discount. It was just 20 bucks off, it wouldn’t do any harm.
Just a small price difference to repay the stranger for his kindness, and his beauty perhaps.
“Yep, pay on the screen, pick the tip, and exit.” Pac turned around, just to grab something under him. When he glanced back he didn’t see a customer, ‘guess he left’ Pac thought.
But seeing on the counter a 50 dollar bill. Then on the screen, a 20 dollar tip.
The price was only 50 dollars… he definitely gave even more than that. Dammit, Pac really wanted to see this customer now. Cursing under his breath, he pocketed the money and walked back to his station.
Maybe work could distract him from that amazing stranger, the beautiful man who understood Pac. Even if their interaction was so short, he wanted to be closer with him, and from the looks of things.
Pac probably wasn’t going to see that stranger even again, never going to see Fit. Until he flipped over the money in his hands.
Taking the money out of his pocket, he realized a number was on the back of the dollar.
‘123-4446-985’
I’d love to talk to you more.
Maybe Pac’s day was really lucky.