Fandom: Twilight
Based: Twilight.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, therefore Jacob, Paul, and the car.
A/N: Just a random piece that I hope you find amusing. :’)
Paul sits on the wobbly little stool with one hand braced against the red car Jacob is working on, trying not to show his irritation at not being able to find a better perch. The number of times he’s asked Jacob to get a new stool so he won’t bust his ass on the floor of the other boy’s tool filled haven has become countless (He stopped at twenty one), and really he just doesn’t feel like complaining about it anymore. It’s better to suck it up with some dignity than to glare at Jacob like a kid being picked last to play basketball when the other laughs at him.
“Hey, you almost—“Paul doesn’t get to finish his sentence as he loses his balance and falls to the floor with an ‘oof!” and a string of curses from the throbbing pain in his head where he’d banged it against the rim of one of the tires.
Why does this happen every time I get near his damn car? Jacob snickers at him every single freakin’ time he mentions that Jacob’s car is the devil and that Jacob is its advocate; he has to be, this many ‘coincidences’ just can’t be possible. One incident happened while he had been sitting on the hood of the car while Jacob worked under it, bare legs dangling off and swinging over the front of it. He hadn’t been a werewolf at that time, so he is quite sure he could have died when the car suddenly started up and lurched forward, causing him to fly forward, nearly swallowing the gum he was chewing and hitting a bored with a nail sticking up. Needless to say he was relieved that the nail missed his face by inches.
That would’ve been something to explain to his mother (“Errr, mom my eye is bleeding. A lot. I’m not sure we can fix this….I do know it’s Jacob’s fault though.” He can almost feel the blood that would’ve been running down his face right about now. Well, at least he’d know that Jacob could give him his eye later. Ha.). Honestly? This damn death trap is one of the things he’ll never let Jacob live down, just like Jacob will never let him live down the sloppily drawn tattoo of a coyote on his hip that Sam gave him on a drunken romp that he wishes he could forget.
Jacob has rolled out from underneath the car (who he thinks favors Jacob, stupid possessed machine) with a rag in hand, wiping the grease from one of the tools he’d used to do God-knows-what under there, and is giving him a smile that plainly says, “You’re slightly retarded, but still amusing.”
He resists the urge to take the monkey wrench a few inches away and throw it at him.
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a/n: It's so hard not to poke at them.
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a/n: It's so hard not to poke at them.
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seras_tenshi- Kimiyo
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