Collision Course

Collision Course 10: ... there's bound to be damage.

Like a living thing the car called to Brian, pleaded with him, begged for his attention. Stubbornly, he refused to give in.

"No, baby," he shook his head at her as he flipped the garage lights on and passed her. He headed for his red Craftsman toolbox. "I'm going to clean the bench up, put my tools away, and go to bed."

The ting of metal hitting cement behind him made him turn around in startled surprise. A wrench was lying on the floor beside the Charger's front tire. He must have left it on the car and brushed against it when he had passed. Yep. That's what must have happened.

He walked back and picked the tool up.

"And tomorrow," he waved the crescent-wrench at the car. "I'm going to pack up all your parts and find a nice snug storage facility to keep you in." He raised his brows as if waiting for the car to reply and was rewarded by a very distinctive 'hissssss'.

Sighing, he watched the left rear tire as it went down -- again. He'd had a hell of a time keeping air in it. The patch he kept putting on it was forever letting go, not that it had mattered. The car had a long way to go before it could be driven again.

"You're just not gonna give up, are you, baby?" He couldn’t help the sad smile that spread across his face. "Okay, okay. You win. I'll start you up one last time ... just to make you happy."

He reverently opened the heavy door. The hinge moaned in pleasure as the door swung open easily. The seat sighed in welcome as he settled into it. He let his hands rest on the steering wheel and looked out over the big hood for a long moment before he gave in and twisted the key.

The engine sprang immediately to life with a happy cry. Brian pumped the gas pedal a few times. He loved to hear the deep roar of the re-built engine echo through the garage.

"There, now are you happy?" he asked her. She purred in answer. "Good, then leave me alone while I clean up, 'kay?"

He pulled the release lever on the door and, to his surprise, the door refused to open, even after he banged on it with his shoulder. He chuckled. God, he loved this car. She never ceased to amaze him. "Stop being a bitch, baby, and let me go." When the door still refused to open, he shook his head in amusement and wound down the window in order to crawl through it.

Free from her embrace, Brian took several steps back. "Behave," he ordered, as he walked away from her. He returned to his workbench and the job of packing his tools away.

A sudden hitch in her engine's rhythm made him frown. The cough and wheeze as she stalled caused him to turn abruptly around in real concern.

Though he often joked about it, there were times when he suspected that his baby really was alive, and that she had some sort of mystical power. As he turned around, he suddenly became certain of it.

Somehow, the car had managed to conjure up a vision of Dom.

He was so beautiful that Brian wanted to cry out at the heartrending cruelty of it. Phantom Dom was leaning his hips casually against the car's front fender, his massive arms braced against the shiny metal, and his black eyes fixed on Brian's.

Brian scowled at the vision. Why now? Why, when he had finally decided to put the past behind and move on, did he have to start having such detailed and realistic hallucinations?

"Get out of here!" Brian angrily ordered the handsome vision out of his garage.

The specter of Dom scowled right back at him. A miniature of the Arch de' Triumph sketched itself into the folds of skin between the vision's dark brows and Brian stopped breathing.

"Dom?" he mouthed the name, but no sound came out.

Brian felt the jet eyes roam over him. They moved across his face, then down his bare chest. They rested for a time on his bare feet before they moved back up and fixed on Brian's abdomen.

He glanced down, following the direction of Dom's gaze. Brian felt hot fire burn his face and exposed upper body as he realized that Dom was staring at the brilliant red hickey that Tomas had left on him. Instinctively -- and guiltily -- Brian lifted a hand to cover the mark.

Dom's dark eyes narrowed at the motion and Brian knew he'd made a mistake.

With a sense of fatality, Brian watched Dom's luscious, full lips compress into a tight line of disapproval. Then the big body straightened up and moved away from the car, moved toward him.

"Get that from your little butt-buddy?" Dom growled as he moved in closer.

"Dominic, I ..." Brian sought for words, sought for something to say to this man who had haunted him for so very long.

"You like your men like that, Bri? Small boned and *de-li-cate*?"

Tomas! Dom had seen him with Tomas. Of all the evenings for Tomas to have come over, why had he chosen this one?

Brian gulped as Dom thrust his shaved head forward aggressively. The muscles beneath the caramel skin bunched and formed mountains along the thick neck and shoulders.

"No ... I ... ah," Brian's stomach clenched and he feared he'd vomit. If he told Dom that, yes, he liked men, would the big form in front of him smear his broken body across the garage in a fit of homophobic rage? If he denied it, claimed he wasn't attracted to men, would he ever have another chance with Dom? *Did* he have a chance with Dom?

"What's the matter, Brian. Can't think of a lie to tell? And you used to be so good at it, didn't you?"

Brian could feel the heat from Dom's body burning him. He could smell Dom's unmistakable scent -- the ambrosia of beer, motor oil, and musk that had driven him nearly out of his mind over a year ago.

"Dominic," he panted out.

"You're a fag, Brian -- nothing but a lying, cheating, whoring queer. You'd fuck anyone if you thought you'd get enough money outta' the deal, wouldn't you?" Dom's voice lowered ominously as he repeated the question, "*Wouldn't you?*"

Brian could only shake his head back and forth in denial.

"Mia said you were renting yourself out. I suppose that was one of your *clients* that I saw leaving here a few minutes ago? Must be richer than he looked, in order for you to go running out into the street after him, half naked and fresh out a' the sack."

Brian winced with pain, both from the words and from the big hand that twisted in his uncombed curls.

"Didn't even have time to brush your hair, did you?" Dom sneered as he yanked at Brian's locks.

"Don't, Dom."

"Don't what?" Dom pulled Brian's head back and glared at him. "What you think I'm gonna do to you? ... Kill ya? ... or ... Fuck ya?"

Brian squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block the nightmare out. He didn't resist as he felt Dom pull him away from the bench by his hair. He stumbled as his head was suddenly released and a big hand shoved him brutally forward. He was pushed against the side of the car and pressed down over the hood by a hand between his shoulder blades. He could feel Dom's hard thighs pressing against his ass, holding him prisoner.

Brian laid his cheek onto the warm metal surface as he felt Dom fumbling around behind him. He didn't resist when he felt rough hands jerking at his stubborn zipper. He remained still when he felt his jeans being shoved down. But when he felt impersonal hands on his cheeks he couldn't help stiffening and crying out.

Not like this, he wanted to scream. Not like this. Never like this.

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