rackofbadcds | something so sentimental you make so detrimental

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engineer

something so sentimental you make so detrimental

When he was on-base, Engineer spent most of his off-time tinkering. Camping, music, or hanging around the others were always options, naturally, but the mercenary almost always had a personal project going on.

This time, it was technically someone else's project. Miss Pauling asked him (re: not-so-subtly suggested) to take a look at her moped a while back, and after they both schemed an effective way to liquify about 80 bodies, he figured - why not?

Turns out, liquifying people is easier.

Engie can be found in his garage, hunched over a purple moped and muttering details nonsensical to anyone but himself. Between engine grease and the desert heat, he shucked off his team-issued shirt and tied his overall straps around his waist, showing off a farmer's tan and old tattoos poking out through an undershirt.

Seriously, though. The thing in front of him was a mess. Save for a decent exterior, it was near-falling apart on the inside, a damn miracle it even held together long enough for Pauling to drive it here. It looked nice enough, sure, but holy hell if she didn't exaggerate the sort of noises it made. Finally, the merc sighs and stands from his work stool, tossing tools onto a roving cart and stepping to his workbench nearby to clean his hands.

Yep, he needs a break.

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"Boy, I'm not tellin' you a second time to keep your hands off--"

Engineer looks up before he finishes his sentence. Oh. His jaw claps shut and his shoulders relax. His expression eases up too, looking apologetic.

"Thought you were Scout."

Scout only compounded on the problem currently falling apart behind him. Engineer picks up a clean rag and runs some water under it from a sink next to him. Once it was soaked enough, he slaps it on his face and neck, both to clean off and get something cool on his skin.

"Somethin' like that," He adds, finally answering Spy. "The 'work' part for sure."

Speaking of work, he also peels his shirt off to wipe down the grease and sweat off the rest of him. Whatever, you've seen him naked before.

Spy pushes away from the door and holds his hands up to show his innocence when Engie starts talking, unable to hide a coy smirk once he finally looks up and sees who it is.

"Because we're like twins, of course."

While Engie's off stripping and slapping himself with water, Spy takes a moment to examine what he's been working on, stepping into the garage proper and being mindful of any oil or grease on the ground.

"This is Miss Pauling's," he observes. He remembers it from the very brief encounter with the bread monster and whatnot. "She called in a favor, I assume."

"More ways than you think."

Example: You both like to make an entrance. Differently, sure, but you both have ways of obnoxiously announcing yourself.

But that's another story. Engineer dries himself off and turns aorund. He also sets a hand on his shoulder and sighs into a stretch as his arm swings in place. One of the aforementioned tattoos sits on the top of his shoulder, the faded lines sign enough that it was probably in need of an update. Stark, stocky text blocked in by a sweeping border: CONAGHER'S TOOL + MUNITIONS. Not especially dramatic, but the old-fashioned lettering hinted at an old brand.

"Yup," Engie nodded as he joined his side. "This'd be her second favor. Said it was makin' a, uh..."

What was it.

"Chuk-chuk-chuk-chuk-WRR-chuk-chuk. Anyway, problem is - inside's all duct tape and safety pins. Never changed the oil, wiring's fallin' apart, probably needs a new engine, back wheel's givin' out... probably what with all the dead people she hauls back there." He shakes his head. "Anyway. Ain't hard, per se. I just didn't didn't count on spendin' my weekend rebuildin' a whole dang scooter."

Scooters, he meants, not dead bodies. He rolls his neck this time and grunts as something cracks. This is what happens when you're hunched over a moped for hours.

"Scout caught wind'a it after a while. Mostly got oil all over the damn place, but he popped some new wheels in." Engie shrugs. "Didn't have the heart to tell 'em most girls don't swoon over changin' a tire."

Spy rolls his eyes. He didn't come here to talk about the uncanny similarities between him and Scout. He sees them enough every day.

He looks up and cranes his neck to read the tattoo. Goddamn, Dell's a walking billboard. His lip quirks.

"Proud of the family business, I take it?"

He looks back to the moped as Engie lists off all that's wrong with it. Most of it goes over his head; he knows what it all means, but how to fix it is way out of his pay grade.

"Scout will do anything if he thinks it might get Miss Pauling's attention."

He rolls his eyes, but honestly, he kind of find Scout's infatuation a little endearing. And it occasionally made him less irritating, so it's a win/win. (Well, win/win/lose assuming Miss Pauling ever tells him she's not into guys.)

He stands up, crossing his arms and turning back to Engie. "You look like you need a break."

"Huh?"

It takes a second to recognize what Spy's talking about as he tosses his gross shirt onto his tool rack. Then it clicks. Oh.

"... Heh." He glances up with a lopsided smile. "That'd be my grandfather's old handle. Business been gone more than sixty years now, though."

Back to the present, though. He shrugs as he glances back at the moped. The boy wound up being more of a distraction than a help when he was here, but his handiwork wasn't terrible.

"That's a given, sure. But I'll give him one thing. He can change a tire."

He didn't ask, but he wouldn't be surprised if one of his brothers worked cars or something. Then again, it's a good skill to have in the first place. Engineer looks over his shoulder as Spy turns to him.

"You had something in mind?"

He won't argue a break. He just didn't get around to asking Spy what he was doing here until now.

"Mm. Keeping the family name alive."

Not his first choice for tattoos, but then again, Spy's upbringing was very different.

...Part of him wonders if Engie's ever made the same mistake of getting someone's name tattooed. But that's the kind of question you don't ask. Right up there with "How old are you?" and "How much do you weigh?"

Spy hums quietly, looking back to the scooter for just a moment before folding his arms behind his back. Part of him feels a little... not great about being surprised that Scout's competent sometimes. It's easy to forget whenever he opens his stupid mouth.

Whatever. He rolls his shoulder.

"Well. What does someone do when faced with a machine full of... duct tape and safety pins, you said? The common room is a little crowded."

And American.

Feel free to see if he does, Spy. On the other arm, probably sensibly separated from his family name, there's at least one piece of self-indulgent art - a Sailor Jerry-esque woman with her legs kicked out and a hat thrown upward. He may have been too young for the war (it ended by the time he was of age), but damn if he wasn't gonna get a pretty lady with dark hair and a carlsbad stamped on him.

Granted, he was fifteen when he wanted it, and finally got it in his oil rigging years. For a twenty-something roughneck, he had enough sense by then to have her clothed.

Anyway. Engineer eyes up Spy and his posture for a moment. He opts not to say anything else about Scout, probably for the better, and shakes his head with a chuckle.

"Ain't surprised."

There's always at least one point in the weekend where everyone clusters up in the commons for one reason for another.

"Well. Step away from it, for starters. That's a given," Engie says, setting his hands on his hips. "Then I do about any number of things. Play a song, go for a drive... sometimes I just do what Texans do; wear my overalls like this and play spoons."

He holds up the front flap of his corduroys to his chest, fully accentuating the whole all-overalls-no-shirt look. If he had some straw in his mouth, he'd be a True Redneck. His expression stays straight for about a second before a grin breaks and he barks out a wheezy laugh. The flap drops and he ties it up again before going for the fridge underneath his bench.

Finally, he pulls out two beers, moves back, and holds out out to Spy. His grin twists a little and he tilts his head. Getting used to flirting a little more when they're alone.

"Seein' as I got guests, though, I guess I better be neighborly."

O-ho, the good old sailor pin-up tattoo. He's only mildly surprised that Engie has one of those. He of all people should know what kind of trouble 'good boys' get into.

Spy just nods to himself musingly. "As much as I enjoy watching the news and various types of balls being hit or thrown around, it's a little grating when people are shouting about it in your ear."

He could complain all day about his team's lack of manners, but that's the moment Engineer decides to become a certified hillbilly. Spy manages to hold it together enough to make a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, turning into an exasperated but amused grin.

"Cheri, that look does not suit you."

He takes the beer, pausing at the subtle changes in Engie's body language. He still gets a kick out of watching Engie... flirt. His smile curves a little lopsided in that sly way as he raises the bottle in gratitude.

"Well, I couldn't ask for a better host."

Look, he's got his college mascot and graduation year near it, though proximity almost makes it look like an apology.

Engineer would ask if Spy actually likes sports (or at least the ball kind), but now his hillbilly sensibilities were being judged. Like he actually cares. He's grinning like an idiot anyway, both at the disgust and the pet name Spy attached to the end of that remark. It's not the first time, but he still liked it.

"What? I thought you'd appreciate it. Sturdy material, good cut, covers up just enough to be alluring, brings the backwoods to mind... I'd call it fashion conscious."

Beer still in hand, he spreads his arms out for a full display of all of this. Triumphant, he takes a few steps back. There's a dispenser right behind them, which leans against. After he situates himself, he raises his own drink before twisting it open.

"Aw, you're flatterin' me."

It was nice to flirt every once in a while since they started this... thing.

Cute.

Engie's smile is contagious, and even with the "fashion" atrocity occurring in front of him, he can't help but smirk. He tries in vain to hide it behind a hand.

"Oh yes. Just get a straw hat and chew on some hay, mon poussin, and it will be a complete travesty."

He twists open his own beer and takes a drink, unable to hide a small bit of disgust in his face. There's a reason he always drinks wine, but he can get used to the taste. He always does.

"Yes. I hope it's working."

At least he's honest about that.

"Not like I haven't done it before. I'm guessin' you're more into this, though."

The shirtless kind of "this", he means.

Speaking of cute, Spy failing to hide a smile and the distaste on his face afterwards kind of is. Engineer's expression loses it's sardonic edge, and he shakes his head with a snort. As he brings his own drink up, he gives the other merc a playful nudge.

"Little bit."

He didn't have to act coy anymore, but damn if it wasn't fun.

"Between the two options," Spy says, sidling a little closer. "I definitely prefer this one."

That's a flirt. But that's also a fact. Because the second he saw the flaps come up, he could hear the banjos in the distance.

(he's aware that Engie plays banjo and he's willing to look past that, it's just an expression)

"Good. I do put a little effort into things, you know."

he plays that scene from deliverance real good

But oh-ho. He sees that move. It’s impossible to miss, but he looks up from his beer anyway.

"Yeah?”

You know what. They’re not doing anything scandalous yet, but Engineer reaches around the dispenser and pulls out a clicker. He points it at the garage door, which slowly closes shut. It had been halfway open until now.

"Doubt anybody’s figured us out yet, but...”

What’s better than this, guys being dudes 4 inches apart from each other. And what’s better than this, one guy turning to another guy and touching his tie, idly playing with it between his fingers. Bro.

"Y'know, I almost wanna ask... what part of it you 'prefer' most."

Normally, he’d follow up a come-on like that with a headtilt and a coquettish look. He does, but then he hesitates, expression falling, glances off for a second. Thinking. He quirks a brow and looks back at Spy.

"Too much?”

Oh. Right.

He's accounted for pretty much everyone on his path from the common room to the garage, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Not that he thinks anyone except maybe Heavy or Medic wouldn't be totally oblivious.

But he's here already. No backing out now. He does shift a little to a more subdued posture. He forgot himself for a second there. Of course, the mild sheepishness disappears once Engie starts playing with his tie. We're back to that.

He starts to answer the first question, but he sees the hesitation and waits, humming quietly.

"I don't mind you taking the lead if that's what you're asking."

But he's going to take Engie's hand, raising his eyebrow.

"But to answer your first question... I prefer the view."

To emphasize the point, he kisses Engie's knuckles.

just gUYS beiNg dUDES HERE wHaTS bETTER THAN THIs

Medic, probably. Heavy's smart enough to put two-and-two together. Soldier's an enigma. Otherwise, Engie figures they're doing pretty good with the secrecy thing.

"Nah."

They're definitely back to this. For Engineer, he's also back on the tie fixation. He's not sure why. Probably because it's something to fidget with, and he likes the feel of it.

"Lead don't matter. Just didn't wanna be too sudden."

If any lingering hesitation remained, though, it disappears the second Spy makes a mood. He blinks down at his own hand. A moment passes, and he suddenly laughs. Not mocking or incredulous just - surprised. His smile softens as he looks back up at Spy and loops an arm around his waist.

Also, he's just gonna - pull Spy gently forward, until Engineer's back is touching the dispenser again. Hand still on the tie as much as Spy's hand will let him, he pulls it forward. Not too hard or forceful, just enough to both tease and give himself something to lean on.

"You're too damn good at that."

lOOK he's admitting it.

Two dudes being guys.

Spy quickly takes another swig of his beer before setting it aside before Engie pulls him in by his tie. He goes along with it easily, stepping forward and settling a hand on Engie's hip with an innocent smile.

"You're the one that needs a 'break', after all. I won't judge how you wish to take it."

The fact that he says that completely straight-faced is a good indication that that was not a double entendre.

"Thank you."

0 feet apart

Engie almost feels bad knowing he brought out drinks only a couple minutes prior. Almost. He feels Spy's hand, as well as something poking him on his opposite side. He shifts to pull the loop of extension cord off his hip and unceremoniously dumps it behind him. It still looks like a lasso, naturally, because this is still Dell Conagher we're talking about.

And though he believes it wasn't deliberate, the thanks and unintentional double entendre earns an eyebrow raise.

"I'll be darned. Romantic AND considerate."

Engie quietly laughs anyway, shaking his head as he holds onto his waist and leans in for a small kiss. Just long enough to pretend he's being chaste about this. A hand leaves his tie to run a thumb along Spy's jaw, and the other travels a few inches up his back. That part's not so innocent.

"Well. Let's see. I need a break, and you're bored. I think we can figure something out here."

There's nothing chaste about wanting to m A K E OUT either, but to Engie's credit he doesn't immediate eat Spy's face. They played it impatient and horny a lot, but Dell doesn't mind a slow burn either.

Also, if he lost the beer gut, they'd look like a cheap romance novel here.

Edited 2018-07-15 04:57 (UTC)

The beers will still be there later. At the very least, the gesture was nice. He idly watches the extension cord get dumped off to the side.

"I do try to make an effort."

There's a reason he's good with the ladies. And occasionally the men. He doesn't push his luck with the kiss, either, leaving it light and (temporarily) innocent. He didn't come here expecting anything to really happen, but hey, he's not going to complain if it does.

"Mm," he muses. "Putting that brain to use, I see."

That's fair. Spy's probably posed for cheap romance novels at some point.

"Yup," Engineer murmurs against Spy just before nipping gently at his bottom lip and kissing him again. You bet he's putting these smarts to use. He lingers for a while this time. Lips move a little more eagerly now, but he still sticks to his own pace, and he hums as he slides his rough hand feather-light down Spy's neck.

Apparently, he's handsy today. He only moves them away long enough to push his goggles up.

"Only if this is the kinda 'something' you're looking for, 'course. I got board games too."

He's joking, but it's also a quick check to be sure he's not springing this too abruptly on the other man. He was the one who pulled him over and started macking on him. This wasn't his first thought when Spy came in either, but - it wasn't like they didn't welcome putting their hands on each other when they felt like it.

Also, he's pretty sure there's a Yahtzee board somewhere around here.

Yahtzee sounds pretty awesome, but Engie's hands are too distracting and definitely far too tempting. Between the hands and the biting, he groans, leaning into the kiss a little more wantingly.

That should be answer enough. But he stops himself, taking a deep breath and nodding with a small laugh. "Perhaps after."

Y'know. If you're down with shaking some dice after boning.

Spy looks down, musing for a moment. Well, if they're both in the mood for this, he might as well take the opportunity to ask about something he's thought over for a while.

"You like my tie, mon amoreux?"

"Good idea, sweetheart," he hummed. The answer quietly puts him at ease. And honestly, Yahtzee is a really damn good alternative to sex, but now he's getting sounds out of Spy and he likes that way too much. "I like kissin' you too much anyway."

Never let it be said that Dell Conagher doesn't know how to kiss. The cant of his head, fingers ghosting up and down skin, the occasional dip of tongue and way he leered after. How he could move with passionate, constant contact, never leaving his lover's lips until he pulled back for air, but not without a short, soft parting peck.

Long story short he'd like to say he's pretty qualified, okay. And he was about to lean forward and continue when Spy looks down. Then he looks down. He eases his hold on Spy's waist.

"Sure," He answers, like Spy's choice of clothes didn't quietly turn him on by now (see: lace, leather gloves, etc). He thumbs up the material anyway. If Engie admitted anything about Spy's finicky tastes, it's that he liked putting his hands on it. "Silk and nine thousand dollars. I memorized it by the third time you said it."

'Sweetheart' - that's a name he could get used to. He laughs quietly into the kiss, but very quickly, with all the little tricks Engie's pulling out, he puts it out of his mind for now.

He's definitely not going to be arguing that Engie's not good at kissing any time soon. He matches ever gesture and motion, placing his hands on Engie's shoulders only to slide them down, feeling out every free inch of his chest before sliding back to settle in his back pockets. His hands stay there even as Engie pulls away.

"Mm. Alright." He pauses there, but fails at maintaining a neutral expression - there's a sly gleam in his eyes now. "Well, you do know how I pride myself in my expensive tastes."

With that, he pulls up, using a surprising show of strength to lift Engie up and sit him on top of the dispenser.

Honestly, Engie needs to get on Spy's level when it came to pet names. He's got plenty, but picking one that feels right for the man in front of him is the hard. 'Sweetheart' is a good one, though. He'll stick with that.

Speaking of sticking - Spy's clearly getting handsy too. Engie sighs into his lips and fails to hide a shudder as hands go down his chest. He's grateful that he kept his shirt off now, because it's all free ~~real estate.~~ Still loose around them, his own hand dips under Spy's jacket and slips up his back.

At least, it was trying to, because before he can think of anything clever, Spy just fucking. Picks him up. Engie grunts and blinks down. It's not too hard with his stature, but that doesn't stop a flicker of annoyance.

look he knows he's short ok

His chagrin is short-lived, though, because he's definitely into this. With a laugh and an aroused hum of approval, he looks back at Spy and drapes an arm over his shoulder.

"Ain't hard know when you bitch about it at least once a day."

He leans over and nips at his ear.

"I'm likin' this, by the way."

Mostly because he literally can't remember the last time Spy took over.

Edited 2018-07-16 23:41 (UTC)

Almost like he knows Engie might be upset at being manhandled so easily, Spy kisses him gently, stepping forward to offer some more support until he's nice and comfy on top of the dispenser.

"Well. A little-known secret is that the French love their misery," he says, slowly undoing his tie. "I'm just maintaining the status quo."

He pulls his tie off and sticks it in his back pocket just before Engie moves in to nip his ear, earning a small huff. He has a smile, and it's more than a little sly.

"Good. Because I must admit, I enjoy this position."

No one is surprised. He gently pulls Engie's overalls down a little more.

wHATEVER IT'S FINE THIS IS FINE that said, the kiss does help, so Engie doesn't complain much beyond a quietly perturbed grunt. After he swats the extension cord onto the floor, he's good and ready. He pulls back, lightly Spy's ear with until it slips out of his teeth.

"Oh," the merc says, faking surprise. Once Spy tucks his tie away, he unbuttons the front of his shirt. At least, he THINKS that's what Spy's going for. Technically, the jacket comes off first, but who says they need to do this in order? "Well. No wonder they got bad tastes. Your secret's safe with me, darlin'."

Any other joking insults he could come up with go out the window when there's hands on his overalls, and the merc looks up with a smirk back. For now, he takes his hands off Spy's shirt (whatever, it's halfway done and looks good that way) to help him out of his own pants.

"Going by that look on your face, you're doin' more than admitting it."

He knows that sly smile. He doesn't know what it means, but he knows Spy's up to something.

this may sound like a forced porno setup but i mainly wrote this bc i've been sweating all day

porque no los dos

18+: sweaty construction worker gets DOMINATED

not much of a QUICK DRAW are you pard-ner

death scream.wav

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