Danny's Autos: Part One
#1 of Danny's Autos
Sometimes, all you want is to get on with your work and maybe, sometimes, enjoy simple one night stands and then never see those irritating partners again.
Felicia does not always get what she wants. Part one, introducing Chip.
This is a humour fic with a little sex mixed in as I get my bearings for new characters.
It's four PM and it's Saturday, and four PM on a Saturday means a day off tomorrow, and tomorrow effectively starts in one hour. And that is such terrific, tremendous news, because she most definitely needs a break.
Felicia leans back from the car, rubbing at her eye with the back of her paw, careful not to get any oil in her eyes as she does so. Belt replaced - quite done with. She'd saved the easiest for last, and now she can close it up ready to be picked up at five.
No more work.
She washes her paws, then, settling to get on with the associated paperwork - mercilessly, there are no drop-ins. The shop closes on time at six on the dot, and everything is right with the world.
"Felicia?"
"Fabien?" Her brother isn't fully in the room, and is instead hanging from the frame of the door, leaning forwards and regarding her with slightly wide eyes. There's really not much family resemblance, in all honestly - he shares the same straight, brown hair, but his is short and thinner than hers, and cut terribly. She'd recommend a different barber, but God knows meeting new people isn't exactly Fabien Collins' forté.
Otherwise, same brown eyes, same ears, but his fur is a different colour, and he's short. She's a neat six feet and he's what, five six? Five seven? Aren't the boys meant to be the tall ones? He's short as fuck.
"That guy who's coming to work by you in the shop is scheduled to come get interviewed on Monday. Oh, and the new website's done. Have a look!" Earnest. He's so earnest. She kind of hates that. Not that she hates enthusiasm in general; it's more her little brother's enthusiasm that's somewhat grating, even if at her age you're meant to have grown out of the "hating little bro" thing. All the same, she turns to the computer and taps in the URL: alright, so the site's nice. Nothing to be so excited about though.
"Very modern. I like it."
"It's far better laid out than before, very customer friendly, versatile! I've set up a review system linked to our Yelp, and a slideshow of photos on the front is going to link in photos of other stuff - like repairs done, paint jobs fixed - and I've linked our Facebook and our Twitter and..." He keeps talking, but she tries to ignore it. Half of what he's saying she doesn't really get (something about CSS...?) and the rest she honestly doesn't mind about.
Helping business is one thing, sure, but why does a mechanic's need a Facebook page?
He closes his mouth - done speaking. Thank God.
"Thanks, Fabien, really. I love that you're so imaginative with our online presence!" He's grinning. Those were exactly the right words: score one for Felicia. "I'm going to head out tonight, if that's okay? Probably won't be back until late. Or at all." He makes a face, but at least if he looks disgusted he understands what she's saying.
She grins at him.
"I didn't need to know that." He complains weakly, and with that he scurries off, elsewhere. She likes that he's not the sort of brother to make comments about her going out and getting laid. And get laid she shall.
Felicia locks up swiftly enough, and then she heads upstairs - the building is a nice one. Apartment over the top, the shop itself below, and a basement. In hard times, a very choice place to have, really. She and her brother share the place, and have for ooh, five years now?
Ever since Dad died, anyway.
"How long are you going to be in the shower?" It comes shouted up the stairs as she picks out a pair of jeans. What an idiot.
"Four hours, give or take!" She calls back without missing a beat and selects a t-shirt. Nice bra, nice panties. A matching set in black lace - 'cause she's getting laid tonight. Fabien calls something else, but she doesn't listen - she has priorities, after all.
Felicia is quick enough in the shower, even more rapid in getting herself dry, and then she's ready to go. She doesn't bother calling a goodbye to her brother, picking her keys up from the side, and heads out. She walks to the nearest bar, and it's a quieter one - no music tonight, thank God, except for some jazz on a CD player.
Loud music is too much on sensitive fox's ears, in all honesty.
A beer. That's the sort of lady she needs in her life right now; the sweet, enchanting curves of a nice, cold beer. She's even going to kiss that bottle on the lip.
She leans back on the bar stool, glancing around the bar - each sip from the bottle is slow, deliberate. Intended to tease, because at heart she really is a seductress, and tonight she just desperately wants someone in bed with her.
Ah.
A wolfish fellow. A little taller than her, not by much, though, and he's a big boy. Muscled. Dresses terribly, God - a tracksuit? In a bar? But muscled, and broad, and his arms are really thick, with the nicest of grey fur...
Yes, she thinks. Yes, she'll have him.
Felicia offers him a bright smile, all white teeth as he takes a cursory glance around, and he grins back. Oh, yes.
"Hi there." His voice is low, husky and a little hoarse. She wants to sit on his face.
"Hi. Felicia."
"Chip." Up close, he looks even nicer - big blue eyes, and damn, those muscles are the real deal. He's huge. "Chip McCoy."
"And what are you doing in a place like this, Chip McCoy?" The smile he gives is shy as he slides a bill over the counter for his beer. Oh, that's adorable.
"Oh, just having a drink. No, ah, plans."
"No plans?" She puts her paw slightly on his wrist, teasingly as he reaches for his beer. "Oh, you rogue! You mean you came in here just to pick up a girl, right?"
"Oh, no! No, no, lady, I swear-" Wide-eyed, mouth open. Pretty, and just a little dull, too. Exactly the kind of man she needs in her right now. Ahem. In her life. Totally.
"'Cause I'm a girl." He stares at her, mouth still open. Disbelief, wonder, and then... He smiles slightly.
Hook, line, sinker.
"Take your shirt off." The demand is breathlessly mumbled against his neck as she pushes Chip, Chip McCoy through the door into his flat, rapidly moving to unzip and unbutton those damn jeans he's wearing. He obeys, too, an obedient wolf, and yes, that's nice. Her shoes are off in a second, and she delights in having free paws again.
"Take yours off!" He says once his glorious chest is bared to the air, and she kicks the door closed then puts her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow at him. It's two seconds of staring before he falters, opening his mouth to apologize. So cute. Maybe it's not fair to play with him like this.
"Sure." She says, and then she does, throwing the t-shirt aside and sliding out of her jeans too - he's staring at her bra and briefs, tongue lolling (not salivating though, thank God, she hates it when guys do that). The matching set was definitely a good idea. She reaches up slowly, hooking two claws under the sides of her bra. "You want this to come off?" Felicia speaks softly, looking up at him with the best doe eyes she can manage, and he nods, mutely. "Then come do it yourself, Chip."
He reaches out more than a little eagerly - oh yes, this is going to be a good night indeed.