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multiverse--wanderer · 5 days ago

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You Are My Quarter Mile | Dom x Brian (Fast and Furious) [ENG]

[Fan-fiction based on the OTP between Dominic Toretto and Brian O'Conner (Fast and Furious) With gasoline in their veins and living life on the road on the wrong side of the law, Dominic Toretto's life will take a complete turn with the arrival of Brian O'Conner. When the heart comes into play, there's no possible handbrake for the soul.

...

REMINDER:

This story has been written in Spanish, which is my native language. This story has been translated to the best of my ability, although it is possible that it may have mistakes.

This is just a way to transport my writing to a common language for the rest of fans like me. For a better immersion, I recommend reading the story in its original version.

You can find this story on Wattpad and Archive of Our Own.

Thank you so much for reading me and see you in the stars.

...

Chapter 3 - He owns you now

The morning sun warmed the asphalt in front of Dominic Toretto's shop, where engines roared and the smell of burnt oil and gasoline filled the air. Brian arrived driving an old van, its engine purring softly, with a trailer hitched behind. It had been a week since the last time they saw each other, a tense week after the events of that night when the lines between duty and loyalty began to blur. This time, Brian brought something special, although it didn't look like it at first glance.

In the trailer, a battered car swayed slightly with the bumps in the road. It was dented all over, covered in dirt, with no windows, and stains of grease and gasoline soaked into its chassis. Beneath the layer of dust, the red color tried to shine faintly, like a reminder of better times. The vehicle seemed more like a lost cause than a promise, but Brian wore a smile painted on his face, radiating an almost irritating confidence.

As he stopped in front of the shop, the team started to approach with curiosity and barely hidden amusement. Dominic came out after arguing with Mia about some bills, wearing his usual oil-stained white tank top and worn military sweatpants, wiping his hands with a rag he tossed aside without much ceremony. His gaze, stern and intense, quickly shifted to Brian, completely ignoring the car in the trailer.

—Great... —Dominic muttered as Brian hopped out of the driver's seat. With a mix of disbelief and mockery, he asked—, What the hell is this? What do you got there?

Brian's smile widened. His blue eyes, even brighter under the tan of his skin, sparkled with a mix of pride and defiance. Dominic couldn't help but notice the fresh scars peeking out from under the short sleeves of his shirt. Brian looked battered and yet strangely happy, as if he'd returned from a fight holding the trophy in his hand.

—This is your car. —Brian extended his hands toward the battered vehicle. Dom burst into a melodic laugh.

A deep, loud laugh that echoed through the shop. Johnny, who had come out behind him, walked up to the car and gave the hood a couple of sharp taps, which made it tremble under his hands as if it were about to crumble into sand.

—My car? I told you a ten-second car, beautiful, not a ten-minute one.

—This one crosses the finish line by pushing it. —Letty muttered, causing Mia to laugh.

—It won't even cross it being towed —Dominic added, though his eyes remained fixed on Brian, a mix of reproach and curiosity in his gaze.

Brian raised his eyebrows, still smiling, as if he were enjoying the others' disbelief.

—No faith?

Brian almost seemed offended, but his mischievous grin dispelled any doubts.

—Oh, I have faith in you, —Dominic replied, crossing his arms— but this isn't a junkyard, it's a garage.

—Alright. Pop the hood. —Brian ordered, moving toward the trailer to release the fastenings.

—Pop the hood?! —Johnny frowned, but couldn't resist the curiosity.

—Pop it and then tell me.

With effort, they took the car off the trailer and brought it into the shop. Under the lights of the lamps, the vehicle looked even worse, but Brian didn't seem concerned. He pointed at the hood, insisting. When they opened it, a murmur of surprise swept through the group. Under the dust and dirt, a perfectly preserved JZ-2 engine gleamed, a treasure buried in a rusted coffin.

—Shit... —Johnny whispered, wiping some parts of the engine with a rag to reveal the technical engravings. Dominic watched in silence—. JZ-2 engine... Damn...

—And what did I tell you? —Brian asked, with a triumphant smile, looking directly at Dominic.

—I retract my previous statement. —Dominic nodded, making a face.

—You know what? It'll beat everyone else after investing about 15,000 dollars in it, or even more if we urgently need to import parts. —Johnny said, tossing a rag over his shoulder.

—We'll put it on my tab at Harry's —Dom said—. We need you back in the race to make some money, Brian. —His voice softened slightly, though his gaze remained intense—. There's a challenge in the desert racing war. This car will be ready by then.

He smiled at him in a special, confident way. Mia, who was watching the scene, smiled to herself, understanding what that silent look meant to Dom.

Brian nodded, feeling a mix of pride and gratitude that he tried to hide behind his carefree smile. Dominic stepped closer, coming within inches of him, his presence imposing.

—I'll tell you what. —Dominic stopped near Brian's body, turning to face the rebellious driver's gaze. Brian felt pride as he sensed his approval, his attention focused on him. —When you're not working for Harry's, you're working here. If you can't find the right tool in this garage, Mr. Arizona... you don't belong near a car.

Brian held his gaze, not backing down, and nodded. There was something about Dominic's intensity that made him feel alive, like he was in the most dangerous race of his life. When Dominic stepped away, leaving a charged silence in his wake, Mia approached. With a knowing smile, she whispered in his ear:

—He owns you now.

The workshop was buzzing with activity. Amid laughter and technical discussions, everyone was collaborating to move the necessary parts to the work area, where the battered car would transform into a worthy racing contender. The engine, the shock absorbers, the brakes, and even the smallest components passed from hand to hand, while the tools resonated like a chaotic orchestra, accompanied by the unmistakable scent of grease and hot metal.

Brian, after making sure everything was in place, headed to Johnny's small office, a sort of technological sanctuary amidst the roar of the engines. The space was crowded with monitors, cables, and electronic parts scattered across the desk. A worn-out poster of a classic Formula 1 race hung on the wall, next to a bulletin board filled with diagrams and scribbled notes.

Johnny, who had already turned on his computer, smiled as Brian walked in. Silently, Brian pulled a small CD from his jacket pocket and inserted it into the computer's disc tray. The screen came to life with graphics and 3D models of the car, as if they were watching the dilapidated vehicle come back to life before their eyes.

—What do you think of this? —Johnny asked, pressing a key enthusiastically. The image of the car slowly rotated on the screen, showing the modifications he had in mind. "Adjustable shock absorbers—. They'll save us a kilo. —He smiled, proud of his technical precision—. And they'll give us better traction to secure the win.

Brian leaned toward the screen after sitting at a small wooden table behind Johnny, observing the details with interest. Johnny navigated through various schematics, pointing out key components and their proposed upgrades.

—Okay, this is the basic design of the car. —Johnny explained, as a simpler image of the vehicle appeared on the screen. He pressed another key, and the image changed, showing a much more streamlined and aerodynamic version—. And this is the design it could have once it's finished. The colors can be changed.

Brian let out a low whistle, impressed by the level of detail and Johnny's creative vision.

—You should go to a specialized university. —He said, looking at him in amazement.

Johnny laughed, leaning back in his swivel chair as if the idea were a recurring joke.

—Yeah, I should... —he admitted, with a nostalgic smile that quickly turned pensive—. But I have that... what's it called? Attention deficit...

—ADHD? —Brian asked, raising an eyebrow.

—That! —Johnny exclaimed, laughing lightly—. That damn thing. It's always messed with my focus. Look, I was good at math, especially algebra. I could solve anything they put in front of me. But everything else... I failed. History, English, even science. I dropped out when I was, I don't know... fifteen or sixteen.

He paused, staring at the computer screen as if he were seeing something beyond the graphics. His fingers drummed involuntarily on the table.

—I don't know... Motors have something that calms me down. —He whispered, more to himself than to Brian—. You know? It's like everything clicks. When I look at an engine, there's no chaos, no noise. It's pure math. Every piece has a place, a purpose. I like that.

Brian watched him closely, sensing the genuine passion in Johnny's words. There was something in that confession that felt familiar, something that resonated with his own relationship with cars and racing.

—Yeah, I get it —he said finally—. It's like being in a race. Everything is clear. Nothing matters more than the next second.

Johnny nodded, smiling. Then, he turned his attention back to the computer, moving the mouse to make adjustments to the design.

—Well, genius —Brian said after a moment, getting up from his seat and giving Johnny's shoulders a couple of pats—. Tell me what you need to turn this from just a pretty drawing into a reality.

...

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