"Fuck this shit, man." I drop my wrench, laying completely prone under the car I'm trying to fix; I honestly have no fucking idea what I'm doing. One of the mechanics should be taking care of this, not me. I'm the fucking thief, the guy who should be running around collecting shit for us to use to get our base up and running properly. Instead, I'm covered in grease, my already black skin even darker from the stuff and a steady stream of oil dripping into my hot pink hair.
Pressing my hands to my face for a few seconds, I run my fingers back through my jerry curls and drag myself out from under the car, getting up and spitting some grease-laced saliva onto the floor of the heavily-barricaded garage, looking at the goddamn car frame that I managed to drag back here. It's hardly rusted and really sturdy, with most of the parts in it; a bit of operation on the bitch and it'll be good to go.
Unfortunately, I know absolutely nothing about cars or engines or anything going on with this mess of a vehicle, if it can even be called that in this state. I sigh, tilting my head back and mentally cursing our group leader, Elliot, for leaving me in such a predicament, all because I grabbed that sweet ass of his last week. It totally wasn't my fault that he was bending over in front of me. He should at least come help me fix this sh-
"Are you nearly done in here? Fuck, Cam, I know you've got less than normal brain capacity but you should at least have gotten more than just this fucking frame fixed up."
I exhale patiently and turn around, looking at Elliot, who happens to be the single sexiest guy I think I've ever seen but also the biggest asshole I've ever met. He gives me an exasperated look, arching an eyebrow and eyeing me like I'm retarded. "I'm not a mechanic. I told you I wasn't a mechanic, dude. Like, honest to god, you telling me to fix this car is like telling a child to fix the radioactivity problem around here."
"So you're admitting you're an idiot who has the mental capacity of a three year old." El cocks his head to the side, giving me a really fucking dickish look, and I chew on my lower lip, shaking my head in disagreement.
"No, I'm saying I can't fix the damn car."
"Too bad we'll have to throw it out then." He pats my shoulder, walking past me to the caving shelf that we keep most of our tools on and running a calloused hand through his dirty blonde hair.
I lean against the frame, watching him move around without bothering to keep the lust out of my expression; Elliot is fine as hell, I'm fine as hell, so I don't see why we can't just be fine as hell together. He whips around finally, staring at me as I ogle him, a little disappointed that I don't get a full-view of his jean-clad ass now, and Elliot sighs angrily before glaring at me. "Cam, I don't know what the fuck your problem is but I don't love you now and I'm never, ever going to be attracted to you. I'm fucking straight, so give the fuck up, you stupid son of a bitch."
I'm usually a really, really easy-going guy. I don't get angry over most things. I do, however, get fucking pissed off when my intelligence is insulted and the guy I've repeatedly confessed my love for is treating me like a slave. Elliot looks at me, an eyebrow still cocked like he's goddamn god, and I grab him by the hair before slamming him down on the barely attached hood of the car, keeping him pinned there; we're about the same size but I've been fighting for my life a lot longer than he has.
Elliot tenses up, turning his head to the side and staring up at me, eyes wide. "Holy fuck, Cam, what's your problem?"
"I'm sick of you acting like I'm a piece of shit on the bottom of your shoe." I grab his neck, flipping him over and slamming him against the hood, spreading his legs. "I'm sick of you ignoring me, I'm sick of you pretending like I'm a retard. I know you want me as bad as I fucking want you, you're just being a goddamn cocktease."
Elliot stares up at me, a glimmer of fear flickering in his eyes but most of it confusion and anxiety, like he doesn't know what he wants to think about this entire scenario. I keep him pinned down, sliding a hand up his wifebeater and feeling up his chest as I lean down, forcing my lips onto his. El fights me for a few seconds before, surprisingly, he kisses back, eyes slipping closed as he goes rather limp against the hood of the car.
I pull back after a moment, eyeing him to make sure he doesn't try to get away from me, and all Elliot does is turn his head to the side, squeezing his eyes shut as his face heats up a little. I smirk, leaning down and biting at his neck lightly, sucking on it as I move his arms so they're pinned above his head. He makes a noise that's almost a whimper, struggling a little bit as I leave a hickey on his tan skin.