Happenstance, Chapter 1: The Mechanic
Title: Happenstance
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Summary: It all started with a loose fan belt.
Rating: T
Pairing: Andrea/Daryl
Warnings: AU, pre-"Days Gone By"
Disclaimer: All rights for The Walking Dead go to Robert Kirkman and AMC.
Chapter 1: The Mechanic
"Renegade" by Styx was blaring from the radio and Andrea figured the musical choice seemed appropriate for the garage's atmosphere. There was an old Pontiac on the lift with one guy buried up to his elbows in its transmission and she could see another man on a creeper beneath the chassis of a newer Hyundai. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans and cleared her throat to be heard above the music and the three oscillating fans aimed at the mechanics while they worked.
"Excuse me?" she half-shouted.
The red-headed man beneath the Pontiac turned and smiled widely at her, quickly grabbing a rag and wiping his hands. "Hey! What can I do for ya?"
Andrea smiled tightly and waited until he was closer to the garage entrance and could hear her better. "Well," she looked down at the name stitched on his coveralls, "Dustin, my car started making a weird noise."
Dustin nodded. "What kind of car is it?" he asked.
"It's a 2009 Mercedes Benz SL63 AMG."
He whistled. "You get it checked out at the dealership?"
She rolled her eyes. "Last time I did that, they 'fixed' three separate problems I know I didn't have. My sister and I are on a road trip, and I'd rather not mess with the dealership assholes. I asked around at the diner up the street and the cashier said to take it here."
"Lisa sent you here?"
Andrea thought back. "Yeah."
"Daryl's the one you wanna talk to-he's got a better handle on the newer cars," Dustin turned and kicked the foot of the man on the creeper. "Daryl! Customer!"
Daryl slid out from under the Hyundai and grabbed a lit cigarette from the ashtray next to his toolbox. "Y'ain't gotta kick me, Dusty," he grumbled.
Dustin turned the volume down on the radio and shrugged. Daryl rolled his eyes and stood, taking a drag off the cigarette. Reflexively, Andrea looked him over and had to temper an amused grin at the smudge of grease across his forehead.
"What kinda noise's it makin'? Low or high-pitched?" he asked, subtly gesturing for Andrea to lead the way to her car.
Andrea fanned the collar of her T-shirt when they stepped into the scorching sunlight. "High-pitched. It starts when I hit the gas."
"Mm. Pop the hood for me?" Daryl requested. He had her start the engine and watched the workings as the squealing sound started. After just a few seconds, he pressed the hood back down and gestured across his neck for Andrea to cut the engine.
"What is it?"
"The serpentine belt's just loose. Take 'bout twenty, maybe thirty, minutes ta' replace it an' you can wait in the office. Or not. It's up ta' you," he shrugged and took one last drag on his cigarette before grinding it into the blacktop with the toe of his boot.
Andrea handed him her keys but held on to them for a second while he grasped the key fob. "Is it air conditioned?"
"We got fans, a broke TV, an' a Coke machine. Best I can offer ya."
"Then I'd better wait in the office," she let go of the keys, then a thought occurred to her. "How much is the soda?"
"A buck."
Andrea pursed her lips. "Can you break a twenty?" she asked.
"Nobody's paid cash in the last couple days, but…" Daryl dug out his wallet and handed her a dollar with a shrug. "Here. I'll be quick 'bout it so y'ain't swimmin' in this heat fer long."
He didn't stand around waiting for Andrea's response. Instead, he hopped in the driver's seat, drove her squealing Benz into the only free work bay, and immediately got to work. Flabbergasted, Andrea looked down at the wrinkled dollar bill in her hand before shrugging and searching for her wayward sister. Amy had seen a dog lounging on the covered porch and immediately abandoned Andrea to the garage in favor of a wagging tail. Sure enough, Amy was still slouched beside the German Shepherd with her hand scratching one of his pointed ears.
"Do you have a diagnosis on the patient?" Amy asked.
"Loose belt. He's fixing it right now."
Amy sighed. "Is it going to take long? It's really hot out here."
Andrea shrugged and headed past her sister for the office door. "It's getting done, that's all I know."
Inside, the office was slightly cooler thanks to a couple of box fans and some window cling tinting. There was a desk that was clean of all but an Atlanta Falcons coffee mug crammed full of pens, a ledger, a cash register, and desktop computer. A small leather sofa and an end table lined the wall shared with the auto bay, and the previously mentioned broken TV was mounted in the furthest corner. The promised Coke machine was against the furthest wall next to a rack of sunglasses, hats, and car air fresheners.
"Huh. I guess a couple of fans is better than nothing," Amy said from behind her.
Andrea used the collar of her shirt to fan her neck again and immediately crossed the room to buy a soda.
"I thought you only had a couple of twenties," Amy observed.
Andrea glanced at her sister and smirked, holding up the dollar between her fore and middle fingers. "Now I have this."
"Hang on, you said-"
Andrea just smirked and fed the dollar into the machine. There was a strained mechanical groan as the soda fell, and Amy flopped onto the sofa.
"Was he at least cute?" she asked.
Andrea wandered to the rack of hats and played with the brim of the one at the top. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said and opened the Coke to sip at it.
Amy snorted out loud and shook her head. "Come on, Andrea."
"Okay, fine. He was cute. He's got a cute little mole next to his mouth and a cute little tattoo on his hand."
Amy laughed.
"You're mean," Andrea grabbed one of the straw cowboy hats and dropped it on her own head.
"I'm just keeping you honest," Amy said.
Andrea shook her head. "You're still mean."
"Sit down and tell me what he looks like," Amy ordered.
Andrea joined her sister on the leather sofa and passed her the Coke bottle. "Fine," she said. "He's tall, dark blonde, and handsome."
"Tan?"
"Yes."
"Eyes?"
"Two of them."
Amy elbowed her sister in the ribs, and Andrea laughed at her. "They're blue!" she finally said.
"So he's a good-looking Southern man, then?" Amy asked.
Andrea chewed the inside of her lower lip and nodded.
Amy nudged her with her shoulder. "You said, Andrea."
"I know."
"You can't welsh on a dare. Give him your number."
Amy slyly watched Andrea out of the corner of her eye and caught the slight grin on her sister's face.
They spent the next twenty minutes sharing the Coke and debating on whether they should stay the night in the local motel or continue on their journey to Florida. The two of them were so engrossed in their conversation that they jumped when the door next to the end table opened and Daryl strolled in from the auto bay.
"Heads up," he tossed Andrea her keys and she swore she saw him hide a smile when he noticed what was on her head.
She cocked an eyebrow at him and glanced at the clock on the wall. "That fast?"
Daryl shrugged and ran his thumbnail against the side of his nose. "S'just a serpentine belt. Did say I'd be quick 'bout it."
"That you did. What do I owe you?"
"Forty for the belt, and," he did smile this time, "five for the hat."
"That's cheap," Amy said.
"Well, it's a straw cowboy hat. A'course it's cheap."
"Oh, ha ha," Amy deadpanned. "I meant the belt."
"I know that. Didn't take me long so I ain't gonna charge for time I didn't use up."
Andrea fished two twenty dollar bills from her wallet and found a wrinkled old five in the pocket of her jeans. "Here," she said as she handed over the money. Impulsively, she leaned into his personal space, snagged a pen from the mug on the office desk, and grabbed his left arm.
Daryl watched her scribble out a nine digit number on his skin and fixed her with a confused look.
"It'd be harder to accidentally wash it off," Andrea explained. "We might be staying the night in town, and… I'd like it if you gave me a call," she said with a shrug and a shy smile.
Daryl nodded absently, cleared his throat, and quietly said, "All right, then."
"Thanks for fixing my car," Andrea said before leaving the main office and dragging her giggling sister with her.
To be continued
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Summary: It all started with a loose fan belt.
Rating: T
Pairing: Andrea/Daryl
Warnings: AU, pre-"Days Gone By"
Disclaimer: All rights for The Walking Dead go to Robert Kirkman and AMC.
Chapter 1: The Mechanic
"Renegade" by Styx was blaring from the radio and Andrea figured the musical choice seemed appropriate for the garage's atmosphere. There was an old Pontiac on the lift with one guy buried up to his elbows in its transmission and she could see another man on a creeper beneath the chassis of a newer Hyundai. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans and cleared her throat to be heard above the music and the three oscillating fans aimed at the mechanics while they worked.
"Excuse me?" she half-shouted.
The red-headed man beneath the Pontiac turned and smiled widely at her, quickly grabbing a rag and wiping his hands. "Hey! What can I do for ya?"
Andrea smiled tightly and waited until he was closer to the garage entrance and could hear her better. "Well," she looked down at the name stitched on his coveralls, "Dustin, my car started making a weird noise."
Dustin nodded. "What kind of car is it?" he asked.
"It's a 2009 Mercedes Benz SL63 AMG."
He whistled. "You get it checked out at the dealership?"
She rolled her eyes. "Last time I did that, they 'fixed' three separate problems I know I didn't have. My sister and I are on a road trip, and I'd rather not mess with the dealership assholes. I asked around at the diner up the street and the cashier said to take it here."
"Lisa sent you here?"
Andrea thought back. "Yeah."
"Daryl's the one you wanna talk to-he's got a better handle on the newer cars," Dustin turned and kicked the foot of the man on the creeper. "Daryl! Customer!"
Daryl slid out from under the Hyundai and grabbed a lit cigarette from the ashtray next to his toolbox. "Y'ain't gotta kick me, Dusty," he grumbled.
Dustin turned the volume down on the radio and shrugged. Daryl rolled his eyes and stood, taking a drag off the cigarette. Reflexively, Andrea looked him over and had to temper an amused grin at the smudge of grease across his forehead.
"What kinda noise's it makin'? Low or high-pitched?" he asked, subtly gesturing for Andrea to lead the way to her car.
Andrea fanned the collar of her T-shirt when they stepped into the scorching sunlight. "High-pitched. It starts when I hit the gas."
"Mm. Pop the hood for me?" Daryl requested. He had her start the engine and watched the workings as the squealing sound started. After just a few seconds, he pressed the hood back down and gestured across his neck for Andrea to cut the engine.
"What is it?"
"The serpentine belt's just loose. Take 'bout twenty, maybe thirty, minutes ta' replace it an' you can wait in the office. Or not. It's up ta' you," he shrugged and took one last drag on his cigarette before grinding it into the blacktop with the toe of his boot.
Andrea handed him her keys but held on to them for a second while he grasped the key fob. "Is it air conditioned?"
"We got fans, a broke TV, an' a Coke machine. Best I can offer ya."
"Then I'd better wait in the office," she let go of the keys, then a thought occurred to her. "How much is the soda?"
"A buck."
Andrea pursed her lips. "Can you break a twenty?" she asked.
"Nobody's paid cash in the last couple days, but…" Daryl dug out his wallet and handed her a dollar with a shrug. "Here. I'll be quick 'bout it so y'ain't swimmin' in this heat fer long."
He didn't stand around waiting for Andrea's response. Instead, he hopped in the driver's seat, drove her squealing Benz into the only free work bay, and immediately got to work. Flabbergasted, Andrea looked down at the wrinkled dollar bill in her hand before shrugging and searching for her wayward sister. Amy had seen a dog lounging on the covered porch and immediately abandoned Andrea to the garage in favor of a wagging tail. Sure enough, Amy was still slouched beside the German Shepherd with her hand scratching one of his pointed ears.
"Do you have a diagnosis on the patient?" Amy asked.
"Loose belt. He's fixing it right now."
Amy sighed. "Is it going to take long? It's really hot out here."
Andrea shrugged and headed past her sister for the office door. "It's getting done, that's all I know."
Inside, the office was slightly cooler thanks to a couple of box fans and some window cling tinting. There was a desk that was clean of all but an Atlanta Falcons coffee mug crammed full of pens, a ledger, a cash register, and desktop computer. A small leather sofa and an end table lined the wall shared with the auto bay, and the previously mentioned broken TV was mounted in the furthest corner. The promised Coke machine was against the furthest wall next to a rack of sunglasses, hats, and car air fresheners.
"Huh. I guess a couple of fans is better than nothing," Amy said from behind her.
Andrea used the collar of her shirt to fan her neck again and immediately crossed the room to buy a soda.
"I thought you only had a couple of twenties," Amy observed.
Andrea glanced at her sister and smirked, holding up the dollar between her fore and middle fingers. "Now I have this."
"Hang on, you said-"
Andrea just smirked and fed the dollar into the machine. There was a strained mechanical groan as the soda fell, and Amy flopped onto the sofa.
"Was he at least cute?" she asked.
Andrea wandered to the rack of hats and played with the brim of the one at the top. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said and opened the Coke to sip at it.
Amy snorted out loud and shook her head. "Come on, Andrea."
"Okay, fine. He was cute. He's got a cute little mole next to his mouth and a cute little tattoo on his hand."
Amy laughed.
"You're mean," Andrea grabbed one of the straw cowboy hats and dropped it on her own head.
"I'm just keeping you honest," Amy said.
Andrea shook her head. "You're still mean."
"Sit down and tell me what he looks like," Amy ordered.
Andrea joined her sister on the leather sofa and passed her the Coke bottle. "Fine," she said. "He's tall, dark blonde, and handsome."
"Tan?"
"Yes."
"Eyes?"
"Two of them."
Amy elbowed her sister in the ribs, and Andrea laughed at her. "They're blue!" she finally said.
"So he's a good-looking Southern man, then?" Amy asked.
Andrea chewed the inside of her lower lip and nodded.
Amy nudged her with her shoulder. "You said, Andrea."
"I know."
"You can't welsh on a dare. Give him your number."
Amy slyly watched Andrea out of the corner of her eye and caught the slight grin on her sister's face.
They spent the next twenty minutes sharing the Coke and debating on whether they should stay the night in the local motel or continue on their journey to Florida. The two of them were so engrossed in their conversation that they jumped when the door next to the end table opened and Daryl strolled in from the auto bay.
"Heads up," he tossed Andrea her keys and she swore she saw him hide a smile when he noticed what was on her head.
She cocked an eyebrow at him and glanced at the clock on the wall. "That fast?"
Daryl shrugged and ran his thumbnail against the side of his nose. "S'just a serpentine belt. Did say I'd be quick 'bout it."
"That you did. What do I owe you?"
"Forty for the belt, and," he did smile this time, "five for the hat."
"That's cheap," Amy said.
"Well, it's a straw cowboy hat. A'course it's cheap."
"Oh, ha ha," Amy deadpanned. "I meant the belt."
"I know that. Didn't take me long so I ain't gonna charge for time I didn't use up."
Andrea fished two twenty dollar bills from her wallet and found a wrinkled old five in the pocket of her jeans. "Here," she said as she handed over the money. Impulsively, she leaned into his personal space, snagged a pen from the mug on the office desk, and grabbed his left arm.
Daryl watched her scribble out a nine digit number on his skin and fixed her with a confused look.
"It'd be harder to accidentally wash it off," Andrea explained. "We might be staying the night in town, and… I'd like it if you gave me a call," she said with a shrug and a shy smile.
Daryl nodded absently, cleared his throat, and quietly said, "All right, then."
"Thanks for fixing my car," Andrea said before leaving the main office and dragging her giggling sister with her.
To be continued