Spencer Waters-Baker (
doublethepain) wrote2015-05-12 04:42 pm
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[closed: davin, dated for 5/16]
It's with a promise that he won't let anyone do any 'souping up' of the Jetta that Spencer manages to sneak a kiss to Joel's cheek before laughing his way out of Crossroads. His husband had balked at the idea that his car might need any sort of tuning he hasn't been able to do on his own in the years he's owned it, but Spencer had gently reminded him that Davin is the actual expert when it comes to cars so it's not as if their friend's offer to look it over could possibly hurt. Besides, it wouldn't do to find the car in need of some dire fix the day they're due to take the baby home, so to Oceanside he will go.
The car does, as Joel always says, run impressively smoothly for as old as it is, and Spencer arrives at the auto repair shop without so much as a squeaky window just before noon. He smiles through the windshield when Davin waves him into one of the carports, and he notes that there doesn't seem to be much activity going on for a Saturday afternoon as he steps out of the car with an awkward wave.
"Thank you again," he says, which possibly isn't best greeting he could have mustered up, but the words had been at the tip of his tongue all the same. He still hasn't been able to get past just how many people had shown up for the baby shower and left so many gifts. He knows that neither he nor Joel had expected such an extravagant outpouring of support at a party they'd been resistant to from the beginning but as it turns out, he'll be worrying about carpal tunnel very soon with all the thank you notes he'll be working on in the next few weeks preceding the baby's birth.
"Oh," he adds, rolling his eyes fondly, "my husband says the same and also that he doesn't want me to bring the car home with any fancy modification so if you could refrain from painting flames on the sides, it would be greatly appreciated."
The car does, as Joel always says, run impressively smoothly for as old as it is, and Spencer arrives at the auto repair shop without so much as a squeaky window just before noon. He smiles through the windshield when Davin waves him into one of the carports, and he notes that there doesn't seem to be much activity going on for a Saturday afternoon as he steps out of the car with an awkward wave.
"Thank you again," he says, which possibly isn't best greeting he could have mustered up, but the words had been at the tip of his tongue all the same. He still hasn't been able to get past just how many people had shown up for the baby shower and left so many gifts. He knows that neither he nor Joel had expected such an extravagant outpouring of support at a party they'd been resistant to from the beginning but as it turns out, he'll be worrying about carpal tunnel very soon with all the thank you notes he'll be working on in the next few weeks preceding the baby's birth.
"Oh," he adds, rolling his eyes fondly, "my husband says the same and also that he doesn't want me to bring the car home with any fancy modification so if you could refrain from painting flames on the sides, it would be greatly appreciated."
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Neither of them are there. Not that he's surprised.
He feels numb and he blinks at the other guy. "I'm sorry I broke the window," he says. It's the only thing he can think to say. James should be here soon, he'll help, he'll figure it out. "I'll replace it."
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"Hey, no apologies necessary. I don't think Davin will be too upset either, given that I can see him doing the same if someone he cared about was missing. And don't worry about replacing the window. I'll get that taken care of and keep an eye on the garage. I just wish I could do more to help, like give you an idea of where to look."
It was disconcerting that someone he knew was missing - he'd never gone through that before. When his parents plane had gone down, he hadn't known any of it until after the bodies had been recovered.
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Joel all but collapses into the chair, then runs a hand through his hair. "There's blood in the garage," he says, his voice flat. He isn't sure why he'd waited until now to say it.
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Cam was halfway to the small garage fridge to get the guy a bottle of water when he dropped the bomb about finding blood in the garage. His steps only faltered for a second before he continued, grabbed the water and returned to him, offering the bottle.
"Normally I'd say that's not uncommon. I can't count the times I've cut myself working on an engine, but it's rarely enough to leave blood behind. How much was there?"
He was almost afraid of the answer, even as he looked towards the garage itself.
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"Enough," he says, his voice still low. "More than might have spilled if someone had just cut themselves."
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Cam rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. He'd been afraid of that. "You said you called the cops, right? Someone named James?"
He didn't like the sound of 'enough' as far as blood spilled on the garage floor and either the other guy was getting to him or real worry for his boss was starting to set up residence along his spine.