The Dean Winchester (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} dean) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} valarlogs,@ 2015-09-14 14:59:00 |
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dean & Dracula the_impalerWhat: New customer at the garage
When: Monday, September 14, midday
Where: Rainbow Motor Repair
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Dean sometimes says stupid things and well, he's meeting Dracula?
Status: Closed/Completed GDoc
~*~
Boring was relative. Some people thought doing billion piece jigsaw puzzles was relaxing while others -like Dean Winchester- would rather have their eyes taken out with dull spoons. Anything could be exciting if a guy liked it well enough. Dean had been one of those guys who'd loved working on cars with his dad growing up. It had been the best way to spend any day, every day, all day. There hadn't seemed anything better than fixing something up so it'd run better than ever again.
These days?
Dean would rather be out watching grass grow.
Literally.
Landscaping was his passion in life. He couldn't wait to get his hands on a mower, push it, pull it, ride it, however the thing worked? As long as it worked? Dean was a happy man. His Saturdays were spent taking care of other people's lawns while dreaming about how he'd fix up his own; the rest of his week was hit or miss during the Summer. He had been booked pretty solid for a while, then, as usual, things petered out to where he was back at the garage doing his time in order to pay the bills.
He'd changed too many tires, read too many oil rods, and poured too much brake fluid. Every issue which came in was so routine, Dean might as well have called Nux in to leave him in charge. The kid could have handled anything they'd had all day. After talking for twenty minutes about how he was absolutely certain a guy didn't need to get new tires on his new car after six weeks of city driving, Dean was prepared to kill for a decent job to come through the doors. It was as if lightning had finally struck when a car he didn't recognize pulled up to the bay.
Grabbing his clipboard, Dean strode out to the driver's side window to state, "Please tell me you're here for something other than the 'Check Engine Light' being on."
There was zero hope for the rest of his day if this guy was a bust. Dean really, really, really needed something to wake him up because if this guy was here with his car to get the oil changed? He was sending him to Lube Dudes and going for a cheeseburger. It would be a happier experience for them both. Dean was sure of that. He was tired down to the marrow of his bones of boring grunt work. Something interesting had to happen or he had to get the Hell out of the garage for the rest of the day. That was all there was to it.
~*~
The whole getting his car hit by a crossbow still had Vlad in a bad mood. Notorious for not forgetting things, this was likely the sort of incident that he would carry through the years and to his grave - whenever he had the chance to meet it. It was made all the worse by the fact that he’d have to do something about it, which meant going out. He was too much of a perfectionist to let someone else take it in for him. The car was expensive, well taken care of. Vlad would see that it remained such. He’d even taken great care in finding just the right place to have it all seen to.
The problem with the whole thing was being out in the day. His skin hadn’t quite adjusted to the sunlight yet. It was a work in progress, every day tolerating a little more, but California summers were unforgiving. A cloudiness in the sky had developed in the time it took him to drive to the garage, blocking out enough the light to make the trip bearable. In his dark sunglasses and jacket, Vlad looked as far away from enjoying the weather as any one man could. The moodiness etched on his face didn’t help.
“My window has suffered an accident.” Clipped words, carefully contained frustration oozing from his tone. One pale hand motioned to the passenger window, still sporting the effects of its tragic demise. “I was told this would be the best place to go.” The subtext being, of course, that if he was told otherwise then someone’s day would not end well - and that someone would not be Vlad.
~*~
Ouch, Dean thought as he didn't bother to hide a wince at the damage to the window. It was completely gone, a total loss. He could etch the glass to fit himself which would be better than having a pure glass company do it. They only cared about the glass, not the way it fit into the frame of the car or how it affected the car's overall aesthetic. Dean wouldn't have taken his ride to a glass guy either which meant he was inclined to be more hospitable.
Things were at least looking up for him in terms of boredom levels.
Standing up straight, he gestured to the empty bay ahead, "Go on and pull it in. I can do a custom etch for you to get it to fit the pane. No problem. We don't do half-ass work here. You got someone coming to bring you a rental?"
Guys who drove cars like this one? Didn't stick around for hours in a garage while their ride was worked on. Dean didn't expect this customer to be any different than any other with the amount of money it took to have Rainbow Motor Repair do a custom piece of glass rather than take it to an insurance-approved appraiser. They were considered a custom shop which meant insurance thought they were not competitive enough to be an approved lot for repairs.
Dean liked the fact they weren't approved. He took a great deal of pride in his work. Insurance was all a gimmick as far as he was concerned and they could suck his dick if they thought he was going to compromise on what he deserved to be paid in order to get more clients who wanted more for less. It was bad enough he was a second-hand helper in the garage which should have been his. Dean wasn't going to be a second-rate mechanic for anyone or anything. He didn't need that in his life.
~*~
If he were honest, Vlad wouldn’t mind the wait. Anything to be out of the intrusive rays of the sun. But his nocturnal tendencies were pulling at him, screaming internally that he wasn’t meant to be here right now, to go and rest and turn off the world until the security of dusk. It was an irritating, nagging voice. It grated on Vlad’s nerves as he drove the car in, then stepped out, expensive shoes pristine and shining against the garage floor.
“My assistant should be here shortly,” was his answer. Behind the dark lenses, Vlad’s eyes surveyed what was visible. It passed his immediate standards, which was a good start. “I assure you I will not be intrusive in the interim.”
~*~
People who stated they would not be intrusive in the interim were generally not in Dean's garage. He barely pushed down the urge to bow at the guy. It wasn't even a mocking impulse either. This guy was something else. Old School. He liked it in a strange way. Reminded him of some of the things he'd seen in his dreams.
Not the things he'd killed.
Dean liked not thinking about being a killer. It was better for his complexion. He started measuring the window as his customer made himself comfortable. They had a small waiting area. It was mostly filled with mags suited for men and the evidence of too much coffee being drank, but it was okay.
"I'm sure you'll be just fine," Dean nodded to the door which led to the waiting area, "If you want a place to sit? There's a waiting area in there. I'm thinking it's a long way down the line from what you're used to, but the chairs are relatively clean, the coffee is definitely fresh, and I make sure we have the latest issues of anything featuring girls with curves. It's what we've got."
He shrugged. The glass cutter he had would do a custom etch fairly well from a blueprint. Dean could pull up the car model from the VIN which he scanned with the hand-scanner they kept for working on cars people wanted to keep above the level. They did their fair share of the other kind, too, but that wasn't either here or there.
~*~
Vlad’s face hardly changed. He listened to the man, following his nod to survey the terrible looking chairs and the coffee machine and the top notch reading material. All of it sounded incredibly unappetizing. Could he count down the minutes to his rescue?
“Thank you.” Better to be polite than not. His car was in this man’s care and Vlad didn’t want to say something considered rude. He had a talent for it. Though perhaps nearer the coffee machine, the smell of cheap coffee would vaguely mask the crude smell of oil and sweat that was assaulting his senses.
His steps took him to the aforementioned waiting area. Off came the sunglasses, slipping inside the pocket of his suit jacket to maintain their immaculate condition. Vlad crossed an ankle over his knee. If he was to be stuck there for some amount of time, at the very least he could try and answer some work e-mails on his phone, or catch up on news from home.
~*~
Work always put Dean in a better mood. He hummed along with AC/DC as he waited on the glass machine to finish etching out the new window pane. The blueprint had come right up. It was its own kind of modern magic. Not hoodoo, just science. Dean loved the sound of the cutters whurring, purring, growling their way through the seemingly impossible to shape material. There was a smell of burning glass -pure, white-hot, crystalline- which came along with it to make him close his eyes until the machine turned off.
He was smiling as he pulled the pane out of the frame it'd been cut from and took it to the door panel to place it on its glides. Those hadn't been damaged. There was debris in the way preventing it from fitting properly; Dean had to lay the glass down as he went to find the hand vac they kept around to deal with detailing. It was longer than he liked going over and over it, brushing down into the track with a screwdriver to make certain he got all the particles out, but he managed. The pane fit into place as if it were factory.
Tint.
Dean frowned.
There was a darker tint on the windows than he normally put on. Could take a half-hour to dry or more. He wasn't certain if the guy wanted him to do that for him as well or if he had a man who handled his paint. Some people were particular about who handled what with their machinery. Dean was one of those men. No one, and he meant no one so much as put air in the tires of his truck on his behalf. He'd unleash Hell on them for touching his baby. It took everything in him to keep her on the road. She didn't need idjits trying to "help" her.
Going into the waiting room, Dean opened the door to ask, "You want me to toss the tint on the window, too? I can get that done fairly fast. Air gun. Could take up to a half-hour, hour to dry depending on how it coats. If you have someone else who rolls your tint on for you, it's ready to go."
~*~
He’d heard the man approaching long before the door opened. Vlad was already watching the door, ready to meet the gaze. The question irritated him. He just wanted it all to get done so he could return to his life. However, the tint was important. Necessary, in fact.
“That is fine.” Vlad gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “You may do it.” He had no patience to seek out other alternatives.
~*~
Dean was oddly amused the man was basically giving him the royal seal of approval to work on his car. It was as if he'd asked for permission from a lord to go farm a section of land the man owned. Sammy would have known the words for it all. Dean only knew the basic idea. He was grinning as he nodded back at his customer. It wasn't his usual expression with a male customer, but he didn't get a lot of customers who talked to him with that particular attitude of casual dismissal either.
Who could blame him for smiling?
"You got it, boss. I'll be back in as soon as I can or you can just wave to me when your ride comes so I know you're leaving her here. Either way is fine by me."
All he needed was permission to do the work. It was implied he was getting permission to bill for that work at the same time. Dean would collect the money owed to the garage; this guy would get to head on to his next very important date for which he was no doubt late or whatever the rhyme was about that. They could both ignore one another in the meantime. No reason to try to get friendly with a guy who wasn't friendly. Dean wasn't that hard up for friends. He wasn't that hard up for a dude who thought he was a royal period.
Putting earplugs in, grabbing a face mask and goggles, Dean took the air gun over with their darkest tint affixed in. He started working on the window while humming AC/DC's Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap as he worked.
~*~
Vlad noted the smile. He thought it an odd thing, and couldn’t understand where it had come from. Rather than dwell on it, he let it pass.
“Thank you,” he said, eyes back on his phone already. There wasn’t much for him to look at. The perks of having an assistant were that she took care of everything for him, but it left him with nothing to curb his impatience. Every now and then, he would glance up, to see what was happening to his car. The entire thing was beyond Vlad. He knew, of course, how things were done, but he’d never seen where the enjoyment in being a mechanic came from. Still, this man seemed to like what he did, and Vlad wouldn’t complain. Enjoying a job meant it would be well done.
Thankfully, he saw a familiar car pull up outside. It reminded him once more of how tired he was. Bed was calling, and soon he could put the whole fiasco of his busted out window behind him. Perhaps he could even get Jonathan to pick the car up for him when it was all said and done. At the very least, Lucy would do it. As Vlad stood up, he waved to catch Dean’s attention, then motioned to the door. He trusted the man would understand what it meant. Sunglasses slipped on, it was a quick few steps in the nuisance called sunlight, then off to more familiar surroundings.