Gratia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gratiaa) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
no_true_pair2024-09-01 11:39 pm
gratiaa) wrote in no_true_pair2024-09-01 11:39 pm
If It's You (Automobile Stories - Eleanor M. Ingram, Jes Floyd & Jack Rupert)
Title: If It's You [Here on AO3]
Fandoms: Automobile Stories - Eleanor M. Ingram
Pairing/Characters: Jes Floyd & Jack Rupert
Rating: G
Word Count: 644
Content Notes: None
Prompt: September One - Jes Floyd & Jack Rupert, one in a million
It was just dawn, an electrically bright and clear one with gold and scarlet streaking the eastern sky, and the camps already bustled with the discordant music of the race-track: the animal roars of motors rumbling to life, the blare of horns, the shrieks of whistles, all met and answered jubilantly by the shouts of the mechanics and the interested chatter of onlookers who clustered round.
Under it all, hardly noticed, a slim, straight figure approached the little man in racing costume whose bare hand lay consideringly on the warm, purring hood of the Mercury. "Mr. Rupert," came a clear young voice.
"I ain't claiming to be so big as my father; just Rupert will do, I guess." The mechanician turned with his goggles swinging from one little hand, his hard black eyes landing on the one who approached, particularly examining the right arm hanging uselessly in its sling. "I never did finish my nursing course, but shouldn't you be in hospital, Floyd? The boys say you smashed up that wrist in style yesterday."
The full lips twisted unhappily. "They didn't like me leaving," the boy acknowledged, "but I had to come. I had to." He glanced across the bustling camp, gaze lingering wistfully on the tall, dark form of the driver, who leaned on a tent-pole and spoke with the manager while he drew on his gloves.
Rupert saw the look, and understood.
"It's hard, ain't it," he spoke knowingly, "—letting him go without you."
The silver eyes flashed up, meeting the sharp black gaze. "It's too hard," he admitted in a grateful rush. "I don't know if I can bear to stay; I just came to make sure… to see who was riding with him. And I told myself I wouldn't be jealous of him taking another as mechanician, and I guess I'm not—if it's you," he added wryly, self-conscious of his silliness. "I know you'll take care of him."
"Don't fear a general stampede for your place, dear," Rupert advised dryly; "I'm just the only man east of the Continental Divide who didn't run and hide quick enough when the call went out for a man to ride with Stanton, that's all. One in a million, I am—a top fool. But I'll keep your man in one piece if he lets me, all right; I have a date to-night that I ain't specially anxious to miss."
The young face brightened with irrepressible laughter at the image of sharp-tongued little Rupert playing the gallant. "Come away with me Lucille, in my merry Oldsmobile,—" sang the youth mirthfully, breaking off into a laugh as Rupert swatted him mildly away. "All right; Stanton won't smash you up, anyhow. I've got him trained, now. Oh, I'm goin'," as the warning klaxon wailed, signaling all machines to proceed to the starting-line. "But I'll go happy—since it's you, Jack Rupert."
He offered his left hand, which Rupert met with his own gloved right for a solemn, awkward shake.
Leaning thoughtfully on the car as he waited, Rupert watched Floyd hurry off the track to be met by Stanton himself, who took him by the slender shoulders and leaned down to speak into his ear; he saw Floyd's boyishly smooth cheek dimple as he smiled up at Stanton, and saw the driver's hard face soften for an instant as he gazed down at him.
As he turned back to the Mercury, strapping on his goggles, Rupert carelessly sang, "Each day they spoon to the engine's tune; their honeymoon will happen soon."
"Say something, Rupert?" Stanton demanded as he swung up behind the wheel, his blue-black eyes dark and fierce with determination.
"Not as you'd care to hear, chief," came the drawled response as the little mechanician took his place beside his driver.
Fandoms: Automobile Stories - Eleanor M. Ingram
Pairing/Characters: Jes Floyd & Jack Rupert
Rating: G
Word Count: 644
Content Notes: None
Prompt: September One - Jes Floyd & Jack Rupert, one in a million
It was just dawn, an electrically bright and clear one with gold and scarlet streaking the eastern sky, and the camps already bustled with the discordant music of the race-track: the animal roars of motors rumbling to life, the blare of horns, the shrieks of whistles, all met and answered jubilantly by the shouts of the mechanics and the interested chatter of onlookers who clustered round.
Under it all, hardly noticed, a slim, straight figure approached the little man in racing costume whose bare hand lay consideringly on the warm, purring hood of the Mercury. "Mr. Rupert," came a clear young voice.
"I ain't claiming to be so big as my father; just Rupert will do, I guess." The mechanician turned with his goggles swinging from one little hand, his hard black eyes landing on the one who approached, particularly examining the right arm hanging uselessly in its sling. "I never did finish my nursing course, but shouldn't you be in hospital, Floyd? The boys say you smashed up that wrist in style yesterday."
The full lips twisted unhappily. "They didn't like me leaving," the boy acknowledged, "but I had to come. I had to." He glanced across the bustling camp, gaze lingering wistfully on the tall, dark form of the driver, who leaned on a tent-pole and spoke with the manager while he drew on his gloves.
Rupert saw the look, and understood.
"It's hard, ain't it," he spoke knowingly, "—letting him go without you."
The silver eyes flashed up, meeting the sharp black gaze. "It's too hard," he admitted in a grateful rush. "I don't know if I can bear to stay; I just came to make sure… to see who was riding with him. And I told myself I wouldn't be jealous of him taking another as mechanician, and I guess I'm not—if it's you," he added wryly, self-conscious of his silliness. "I know you'll take care of him."
"Don't fear a general stampede for your place, dear," Rupert advised dryly; "I'm just the only man east of the Continental Divide who didn't run and hide quick enough when the call went out for a man to ride with Stanton, that's all. One in a million, I am—a top fool. But I'll keep your man in one piece if he lets me, all right; I have a date to-night that I ain't specially anxious to miss."
The young face brightened with irrepressible laughter at the image of sharp-tongued little Rupert playing the gallant. "Come away with me Lucille, in my merry Oldsmobile,—" sang the youth mirthfully, breaking off into a laugh as Rupert swatted him mildly away. "All right; Stanton won't smash you up, anyhow. I've got him trained, now. Oh, I'm goin'," as the warning klaxon wailed, signaling all machines to proceed to the starting-line. "But I'll go happy—since it's you, Jack Rupert."
He offered his left hand, which Rupert met with his own gloved right for a solemn, awkward shake.
Leaning thoughtfully on the car as he waited, Rupert watched Floyd hurry off the track to be met by Stanton himself, who took him by the slender shoulders and leaned down to speak into his ear; he saw Floyd's boyishly smooth cheek dimple as he smiled up at Stanton, and saw the driver's hard face soften for an instant as he gazed down at him.
As he turned back to the Mercury, strapping on his goggles, Rupert carelessly sang, "Each day they spoon to the engine's tune; their honeymoon will happen soon."
"Say something, Rupert?" Stanton demanded as he swung up behind the wheel, his blue-black eyes dark and fierce with determination.
"Not as you'd care to hear, chief," came the drawled response as the little mechanician took his place beside his driver.