Prompt: 70. Garett Maggart - his sad, sad 1983 Volkswagen bug keeps breaking down and Fiona won't pick him up anymore, and he has to call Richard for a jumpstart.
Warnings: Extremely irreverent RPS. Seriously, I actually really like these guys and respect and admire the work they do. This story really has NOTHING to do with them WHATSOEVER. This is all about my chronic inability to leave a running joke alone. This is about my need to see if I could do it....and a desire to attempt to pay back some of the pants-wetting hilarity I regularly get out of BLG's journal and the people who comment there. I'm also a big horr and adore the silly side of fandom.
"....and I know I said I wasn't going to bug you again, but my car-" BEEEP.
Garett yanked his ear away from his cell phone and winced as Fiona's machine cut him off rudely. Even the appliances were in on it now. He hit the send button again, dialing back, but this time it wouldn't even pick up. The memory was probably full. Damn record companies. He tried not to picture her smashing the hell out of it with the toaster.
Sulking a little lower in the seat, he picked idly at the fraying vinyl cover of the steering wheel. Honestly, he didn't really think calling her was going to work. She'd made it pretty clear the last time that she wasn't going to bail him out anymore. At least she'd given him money for a new alternator. That was nice. Garett sniffed and scratched at the corner of his eye. He really wished he hadn't lent it to Ken
He stuffed his phone in his pocket and got out of the car, circling around it warily. A truck whizzed by, blowing scraps of paper up into the air and spraying grit at his feet. He turned and watched it disappear.
Reaching for the trunk latch, he pulled up the cover and looked at the engine. Maybe if he just....he prodded a couple of the hoses with his finger. Feeling bold, he even jiggled a few connections and gave the round thing on top a sharp whap. Who was he kidding? He stood there a moment, chewing a fingernail, staring down at it. The breeze ruffled at his hair. Still, you never knew. He got back in the car and tried the ignition. All he got was a series of rapid-fire clicks. He knew, from the last few times, that this wasn't good. If there had been any engine sound at all, he could sometimes coax it back to life and get going again. But not when it clicked.
He flipped open his phone again. The battery bar still showed some power, maybe just enough, he hoped. Somehow the prongs of his phone charger had gotten bent and it didn't always make a good connection, so getting a solid charge was always a little dicey. He stared at the contact list for a long minute, then punched the button for Richard. This wasn't going to be pretty. His face felt hot and he snapped the phone shut after the first ring. He rolled down the window and took a deep breath. You know, but seriously, wasn't this the exact situation friends were for? And he and Richard were friends. Really good friends. They went way back. They had history. He pressed the send button again and let his arm hang out the window.
"What are you doing?" came Richard's greeting.
"Hey man, how's it going?"
"Seriously, Garett, what's with the calling and hanging up? That's what teenaged girls do," Richard told him. "Or stalkers."
Garett laughed. "No, heh. I just, I dropped the phone, that's all."
"Were you using both hands?"
"What? Yeah, sure."
"Where are they now?"
"Um...at the ends of my arms?" He giggled nervously. A flush crept over his face when he realized he was getting hard from Richard's implication. He considered it briefly, then thought better of it. Richard always knew somehow. Even when he just rubbed from the outside of his pants.
There was a long pause, then Richard seemed satisfied. "Ok. So what's up?"
Garett had to suppress a snicker. Just me, apparently, he joked silently. He supposed Richard would get mad if he said it out loud. "Nothing much. I was just hanging out, got to wondering what you were up to. My agent finally called me back. They were able to get some numbers on the pre-orders for our DVD's. It's looking really promising, I guess."
Richard snorted. "How many of those are for your family?"
"No really," Garett insisted, frowning. He flicked a bug off the edge of the side view mirror. "Did you see the box art yet? I mean...you look really good on there." He pushed his lips out and in again. "The Sentinel, front and center. Well, not really center, you know, but...the idea of it. Wrong font, though, for the title. That kind of bugged me. I mean, why not do the thing right if you're gonna do it."
"How do you remember that shit?" Richard asked. "Why do you remember that shit? Wait...don't answer that."
"It's a continuity issue. People notice that stuff."
"Continuity was never a big concern, if I remember correctly. I really don't think they give a shit what the box looks like. Seriously, don't get worked up over it."
Garett shrugged. "I'm just saying."
"Uh huh. You're not on it, are you?" The smug grin traveled clearly through the phone connection.
Garett ignored that and rushed forward. "So I was wondering if you wanted to get together for a beer or some dinner or something. Maybe we could shoot pool."
The smug got stronger. "What, you're not even on the back?"
"I haven't seen the back, Rich. That doesn't matter," Garett said impatiently. "You busy right now?" A semi roared by, drowning out every other sound and kicking sand up all over the place. The little car shook violently.
"Garett, where are you?"
"I'm just hangin' out...." Garett slouched down in the seat, shielding his face from the road with his hand.
"Where...?" Richard's voice was wary.
"Oh, I, ah...just felt like getting out of the house." Garett thought he could hear Richard licking his lips. His fingers strayed over his thigh surreptitiously.
"Ok, I'll tell you what," Richard said warmly. "Why don't you come on over to the house? Lori's out for the night. I'll cook you dinner. We can watch a movie together. How's that sound, buddy?"
"Um...Yeah..." Garett's mouth went dry. God, would he love that. It was almost enough just to hear Richard say it. His fingers curled over his erection, molding the khaki material to its length. "See, the thing is this..."
"You can't. Because that heap broke down on you again. Dammit, Garett, why don't you just come right out and say you need a ride?"
"I need a ride," said Garett meekly, and just a little breathlessly as he squeezed. "Or just a jumpstart even. It's totally dead."
"Tell me where you are," Richard snapped. "And get your hand out of your damn pants."
"It's not!! Geez, what do you take me for?"
The sun was sitting low in the sky when Richard pulled his truck up behind the dead Bug. Garett climbed out of the car, jamming on his sunglasses and trying to lean against it casually. He stretched artfully as Richard walked up.
"Give me the keys," Richard said, holding out a hand.
"Oh no, hey, man, it's completely dead. I even tinkered with the engine and everything."
"Yeah," said Richard, still holding out his hand. He licked his lips and canted his gaze off to one side. "Give me the keys."
"You don't think I can tell? It's a lost cause, seriously."
Richard wiggled his fingers.
Garett made a rude noise and pushed away from the car, dropping the keys into Richard's palm while muttering something unintelligible. "...and you don't even fit in there..."
Not surprisingly, the car gave up nothing more than the same futile clicking as before, and Richard was relieved, at least, that Garett hadn't stooped to making it up. He got out and brushed past Garett's "I told you so" scowl to stand and survey the situation, hands on hips, chewing at his lip.
"I'm calling you a tow truck," he said finally, slipping a hand into his jeans pocket for his phone.
"Oh, um..." Garett poked his toe around in the dirt. "That's great, but-"
"I'll pay for it."
Garett's head snapped up and he grinned broadly, looking immensely relieved. "That's, like, really cool, man. I'll totally make it up to you."
Richard planned on making sure of that, and he nodded at Garett as he dialed information and got the number of a towing company. He kept his eye on him while he made all the arrangements and then put his phone away, squinting against the slanting evening sun. "It's gonna be about a twenty minute wait. Come sit in the truck."
Garett bounced on his toes and sprung forward, darting around to the passenger side and climbing in. He was prattling on indiscriminately when Richard slid into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut. God. He was like the Energizer Bunny, only dorkier. And pinker. Still, he had a fucking gorgeous mouth. Richard let him talk for a while, just to watch those lips move. He angled himself on the seat, stretched his right arm up along the back of the cab and braced his left arm on the door against the window. He slouched a little and let his legs fall open. He fixed his gaze on Garett and waited.
Eventually, the monolog died down and Garett just sat there blinking owlishly, itching his knuckles with one finger. When he glanced sideways, Richard grinned at him. That's all it took. Garett was up on his knees, crawling across the cab in a heartbeat. He got one hand braced on the seat by the door and was leaning forward for a kiss when it slipped, so that he ended up with his face mashed into Richard's chest instead. It was a wonder the kid ever got laid at all. If he did.
Richard clamped a hand on the back of Garett's head and pushed him down into his lap. "Make sure you stay out of sight," he said. "I'm betting celebrities in cars are high profile after Tom Wopat got that DUI last week. I do not wanna face a cop with my dick in your mouth."
"Yeah, right. Sure thing," Garett panted, already fumbling with the buttons of Richard's fly. "We'd probably get plastered all over the tabloids or something."
We. Right. Richard smirked and spread his legs a little wider, flexing his shoulders and getting comfortable. He reached down to rake his fingers through Garett's hair, which was something of an unruly mess. He said, "Jesus, can't you even afford a haircut?"
Garett paused and looked up. "Oh, um. Actually, I'm growing it out again. I thought, you know, with the DVD's coming out. I thought it would be a good idea. For my fans."
Richard groaned and pulled his dick out himself, rapping it against Garett's cheek. "Whatever you say, Chief. Now suck. We're running out of time."
Garett certainly threw himself into the task. Richard couldn't fault him there, and it was one of the better blowjobs he'd gotten in quite a while. He fisted his hands in Garett's hair and rocked his hips appreciatively. Christ. He really should take more of Garett's phone calls. Really. As an added bonus, another semi rattled by at top speed just at the perfect moment to help shove him over the edge as the truck vibrated on its tires. "Son of a bitch," he groaned, banging his head lightly against the rear window while he came.
Garett sat up grinning like an imp, braced on his hands, hip wedged against the stick shift. Richard grabbed his face and bent down to kiss him roughly, forcing his tongue into Garett's mouth. Garett accepted it eagerly.
Out of the corner of his eye, Richard saw the tow truck coming down the highway. "Shit," he said, pushing Garett away. "Truck's here. Behave yourself."
Garett pouted and dropped back onto his side of the seat. Richard stuffed his dick back in his pants and buttoned them up while the tow truck did a Y-turn next to them and backed into position in front of the Volkswagen. Didn't take a genius to figure out which vehicle needed the tow, that was for sure.
"I better get my stuff out of the car," Garett said, pushing his door open and jumping out.
Richard followed him, grinning. "Don't worry about it...I'll buy you new Tic-Tacs."
He went on ahead and met the driver to explain the situation. They discussed garages in the area and worked out where to take Garett's car. He paused when he noticed the sheer amount of stuff Garett was hauling over to the bed of the truck. It looked to be about eight paper grocery bags full of laundry. "Hey," he called. "What the hell? You're not living out of your car now, are you?"
"No," Garett said, coming back to slam the hood of the Bug shut. "It's just..." he sighed, "Ken steals my clothes if I leave them at home, and I'm kind of starting to run short."
Richard furrowed his brow. "What's he steal your clothes for? He can't possibly fit into them..."
"Well, you know, sometimes at his parties, they...they run out of towels."
"Ah." Richard shuddered.
The tow truck driver spit on the ground. "Clock's tickin' guys, you want me to hook this pig up or what?"
"Yeah. Yeah," Richard told him, stepping out of the way.
Garett stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled around by the tow truck, examining the equipment with interest. He traced a finger around the adhesive vinyl graphic of an Elvira style playboy bunny with pretty little fangs. He perked up. "So...you like vampires?"
Richard grabbed him by the collar and horsed him back along the road to his truck. "No. He doesn't. Now stay put." Fuck if he was getting into that again.
He turned to walk away, but paused and looked back. After a split second of consideration, he pushed Garett against the front of the truck and felt his pockets, frisking him for computer disks.
"Dude," Garett leered. "I thought you were worried about the driver."
By the time they'd gotten the car towed to a shop, dealt with business there, and paid the tow truck, it was dark outside. Richard left the office and headed across the parking lot. He was in post-blow good spirits and feeling generous, so he'd offered to take Garett to dinner. The subsequent hailstorm of thanks, apologies, suggestions and innuendo had nearly made him reconsider. But then Garett licked his lips and batted those big blue eyes. Fuuuuck. Richard scrubbed his fingers through his hair and then raked it back into place. He was a sad sad man. Garett bounced past him to the truck.
Garett could eat. Seriously. He put Scooby Doo to shame. Richard knew this because he sat there and watched him. Not that he hadn't put away a decent steak of his own, but Garett had pretty much inhaled everything else on the table. Or he would have if he ever stopped talking. As it was, it took quite some time and several glasses of scotch on Richard's part before the meal was finally over.
When they headed back out to the truck, Richard was feeling pretty mellow, and Garett was still talking. It was cool though. That smooth baritone did nice things to his spine.
"So Moonridge is comin' up, man. Are you excited? I'm totally keyed up. I mean like, so jazzed. Last year was great. Don't you think last year was great?"
"Last year was great," Richard agreed amiably. He walked along with his hands tucked loosely in the tops of his front pockets.
"I want to see the porcupines again. They're so cute. With their little feet hanging down. Maybe they'll let me hold one."
Richard paused, "Porcupines?"
"Yeah," said Garett, as if it were obvious. "With their little feet? Remember?" He made some descriptive hand gestures.
They got in the truck and Richard started it up, turning in the direction of Garett's place. He cut through a deserted alley behind the laundromat and a convenience store, rolling along slowly to avoid potholes and cracked pavement that had heaved. Garett peered out the windows, gaze darting here and there.
All of the sudden he twisted around in the seat to gape at something out the side window. "Stop!" he said, reaching behind him to slap the dashboard. "Stop the truck!"
Richard slammed on the breaks, looking around frantically. "What?!" Did he hit something? Shit. He really didn't need any bad publicity right now. Garett leapt from the truck and for a few minutes Richard lost him. Then he saw him bobbing around behind a dumpster.
Angry now, he got out of the truck and followed. "You know, if you had to take a piss, I would have gone around to the gas station. This is just a little much don't you think?"
When he got around the side of the dumpster, though, he didn't see Garett peeing against the bricks like he'd expected. Oh, he saw Garett, all right...perched on tiptoe on top of an overturned milk crate, ass in the air, while he fished around in the dumpster.
Richard's mouth dropped open. Mentally, he recounted the number of drinks he'd had. Not that many. "What...the fuck...are you doing?" he asked darkly.
Garett popped up clutching four bags of Funyuns to his chest. "It's okay. They have to throw them out because of the Sell-By date, but, really, they're fine for like... months longer than that." He stepped down off the crate. "Honestly, I don't really think Funyuns go bad at all. They just get a little stale."
"What...what..." Richard searched for the appropriate words. "What the fuck?!"
"Um, well..." Garett paused. The bags rustled in his arms, echoing softly off the buildings surrounding them. "See...Ken really likes these things, so when I find 'em I bring 'em home. Usually, then, I can get him to cover part of my rent, or the water bill, or something."
"You...trade chips for rent?" Richard asked carefully.
"Funyuns. He doesn't really like chips. Sometimes, he'll take Puffcorn, though."
"Garett." Richard stopped so that he could collect his thoughts properly. "That is so...fucked up. Do you...." he was pacing now, "Do you have any idea how fucked up you are?"
Garett blinked at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Richard cut him off with a raised hand. "No. Get in the truck. Now." Garett snapped his mouth shut and paused, then started to slink past.
Richard grabbed at the Funyuns, but Garett held on, trying to twist away. There was a short scuffle that ended when Richard growled obscenities and Garett let go, chewing on his thumb. After he flung the bags back in the dumpster with a disgusted grimace, Richard wiped his hands excessively on the legs of his jeans.
He trotted after Garett and caught him as he was pulling open the passenger door. "Seriously," he said, grabbing Garett by the shoulders and turning him to look directly in his eyes. "You need a real job. You need to get out of that rat hole."
"I know. I know, man," Garett said earnestly, "But that just feels like giving up, and you know, I have a couple movie deals going man. They're gonna pop any day now, I can feel it."
"Movie deals with who?"
"You know the people that produced Dem-"
Richard heard as much of that as he needed to and slipped his hands up to hold Garett's head steady while he rammed his tongue down the kids' throat. Garett moaned and immediately began to scrabble at his shirt. Jesus he tasted good. Something about the crisp night air made everything sharper, more immediate. He pressed Garett back against the edge of the seat and ground his dick against his stomach. He tilted his head to whisper in Garett's ear, "You know what you're supposed to do when someone buys you dinner, don't you?"
Garett groaned loudly and butted his hips against Richard. "Yeah...yeah definitely. Anything."
"You're gonna put out for me?"
"Yes," he gasped.
"Right here, right now?"
Garett snickered. "Dude, you got more to lose than I do..."
Richard smirked and glanced up and down the alley. Nothing. Perfect. "I'll risk it," he said, reaching for the snap on Garett's khakis.
Garett's hands were right there with him, fumbling around, making it harder than it needed to be, but giving it a really sweet edge of desperation. Richard clung to that feeling and fostered it, savoring the urgency. He shoved Garett's pants and underwear to knees and spun him around, bending him over the seat as they stood in the open door of the truck. It took less time to get his own cock out and spit into his hand.
The sex was quick and dirty. And it was good. Fuck it was good. Quick hard thrusts that built on each other fast, and rough grasping, hands in Garett's messy hair, whispering filthy things at each other. Shoes scuffing in the dirt as they fought for purchase, bracing themselves so they could do it harder, rougher. A climax that tore out of him and then getting to put Garett over the edge and watch him writhe and scratch at the seat, all while still riding the tails of his own. That was good sex. That's what it should be like.
They traded messy kisses while they fixed their clothes and caught their breath. Garett sagged against the truck frame looking thoroughly used. He snickered and said, "I wish I knew how to qui-"
Richard smacked a hand over his face. "Shut the hell up and get in the truck."
It really wasn't until they were moving again, driving through town, that Richard thought this might have been something of a mistake. If he'd thought Garett was a handful before...
"So what now, dude?" chirped the object of his musing, wiggling happily to the radio in the passenger seat.
"Home?" Richard offered.
"Well, yeah, sure. Of course. I mean...I know that," said Garett. "But, you know....You wanna get some ice cream? We could just grab a quick a cone. Nothing really fancy, you know, just....just plain. Like, McDonald's ice cream even."
Richard looked down at his dick and swore at it.
"And um....could I, like, borrow twenty bucks since you threw my Funyuns away?"
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