#someone offers you a taco like 'hey man i put cilantro in it ;)' it's like uhhh yeah i sure hope you did??

[villa-kulla]

(x) (x) As good as the writing is on Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul, can you imagine how much they could have leveled up if they’d had some actual Mexican writers, not just Tony Dalton on his smoke break or whatever

[slashscowboyboots]

Happy Taco Truck: Ice Cream Dreamboat (Part 1)

(all photo credit goes to owners)

I know it’s only been months, but it feels like years since I’ve shared a fic!  This is a continuation of @no-stone-no-bone​‘s awesome fic Duff’s Doughnuts (link here).  I agree with Skyler, I’d love to see other writers write about the different food trucks and make this a series.  This was supposed to be a one-shot, but as I am physically incapable of writing short fics, this is a two-parter.  Buckle in!

Tag list: @izzysdenimjacket​ @no-stone-no-bone​ @sexcoffeeandrockandroll​ @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands​ @smokeandmirrorz​ @sodalitefully​​ @roger-taylors-car​​  @harley-m-rose​ if you’d like to be tagged let me know, we all know how wonderful the tags work though

Warnings: language, sibling promiscuity, lonely cooking, terminal embarrassment, Axl and Tracii are Axl and Tracii

Thunk thunk thunk.

It was another scorcher inside your food truck, the vicious heat wafting off the griddle pummeling your face as you deftly raked your spatula through a pile of crisping beef tips, then piled them into a fluffy shell, handing it off for your sister Skyler to kiss with your award-winning cilantro lime crema and hand out to the customer.

You couldn’t resist moving up to the open side to watch the patron, a long-haired man wearing a nose chain with “Endless Burgers” stitched on his shirt, take a bite of your creation, then bend at the knees from ecstasy and dig a ten dollar bill from his pocket, stuffing it in your tip jar.

It has been gangbusters during the lunch rush in The Circle, the informal name given to the parking lot of ornery hooligans who fed the masses during the day and lingered behind late in the evening for a bit of recreational hell-raising. 

There was a plethora of culinary delights scattered around you, including Duff’s Doughnuts, Tracii and Phil’s Sno-Cones, Stoney & Cready’s Homewrecker Corndogs, and Jon and Richie’s Jersey Essentials (you never really knew what they were selling, apart from Aqua Net and the occasional cheesesteak, but after they began offering rippers-deep fried hot dogs-Skyler made frequent trips over to ask Richie if she could eat his weenie).  And from what you heard, they all knew how to throw down at night.

You never stayed to find out, though.  Your shyness forced you to fire up Helen the Happy Taco truck and drive home, leaving Skyler behind to do God-knows-what to who-knows-what, and you arrived in the mornings to find her either helping Kelly from Nickels’ BBQ feed his pink-painted porcine smoker, both of them covered in hickeys, or nearly trading blows with the loudmouth redhead who ran the ice cream truck.

Today, however, you’d found her with someone new.  When you pulled into the lot, you saw her with her arms wrapped around a guy with long hair wearing a flannel shirt and shorts, gazing raptly into his piercing blue eyes.  “Bye, Ed,” she murmured, pecking a kiss on his mouth.

“Who was that?” you asked, your eyebrows shooting skywards.

“Produce man,” she answered quickly.

“Were you getting us a good deal?’

“You know it.”

You peeled your gloves off and wiped your sweating face with a paper towel, trying to blot off as much grease as possible.  “I’m taking a break.  I need some ice cream.”

“I got you a frozen lemonade on my break.  It’s gonna taste like shit when you drink it with that ice cream.”

“I don’t care.”

“Punch that dick Axl in the face while you’re over there.  He’s on my last fucking nerve.”

You trudged down to “Axl and Izzy’s Frozen Delights,” eager to leave the brutal swelter inside your truck.  Standing in front of their window, you bent backwards and cracked your aching back, then a raspy voice asked, “Can I help you?”

You looked up into the most beautiful doe eyes you’d ever seen, hazel verging on gold in the afternoon sunlight, belonging to a guy with messy brown hair tied back with a bandanna, and suddenly your feet didn’t hurt anymore.  “Hi,” you said faintly.

“Hey,” he replied, smiling at you, and you felt your breath leave you.  “I’m Izzy, who might you be?”

“Y/N.”

“What can I get for you?”

Your brain instantly forgot how to make words.  “Cone,” you muttered.

His smile grew even bigger.  “What do you want in your cone?”

“Ice cream.”

He chuckled softly.  “What kind?”

“I don’t know.”

Those gorgeous eyes were full of merriment, crinkling at the corners.  “You don’t know?”

“No.”  Get ahold of yourself, you’re sounding like a moron.  “Uh, chocolate?”

“Sure.  I mean, as long as you’re sure about that.”  He winked at you, then turned to the freezer case behind him, and you got an exquisite view of his perfect ass, your mouth open and your breath coming in gasps, then he turned around and grinned, catching you mid-gawk, and you immediately wanted the earth to swallow you up.

“Thank you,” you blurted when he handed you your cone, then you turned to leave.  

“Uh, Y/N?”

“Uh huh?”  You couldn’t believe he was going to prolong putting up with your awkward ass.  

“Aren’t you going to pay me?”

“Oh,” you said, humiliation bringing a knot to your throat, and you handed him a crumpled pile of bills and scuttled away before you could cry.

“Sis, you mind if I head out a little early?” you asked.  “I’ve got a headache and I want to go home.”

“Sure.  I think we’re done for today.  You sure you’re okay?”

You hadn’t said a word all afternoon, just cooked and sweated and tried not to think about what a failure you were.  This was why you didn’t stick around at night, even though you longed to, to laugh and have fun with all the crazy characters around you.  Because you’d fuck it up if you did.

Why wasn’t I born normal? you thought bitterly.  Why am I the disaster in the family?

“Yeah,” you said quietly.  “I’m fine.”

That’s why your tacos were so delicious.  Because you were such a loser, you stayed home and perfected them instead of going out and having a life.  With no demands on your personal time, you discovered that lime made your chicken taco sing, while a little tomato sauce was the secret to juicier ground beef.

Your loneliness was the key to Happy Taco’s success.  

And you’d give everything you knew away just to be cool for five minutes.

“OPEN UP!!” a male voice hollered.  Bam!  Bam!  Bam!  “Little pig, little pig, let me in!”

Skyler dropped the hatch.  “Tracii!  Ferfucksakes!  We just got here!”

Tracii grinned under his bandanna.  “I wanna eat your taco.”

“It is an honor and a privilege to serve you a Happy Taco,” she answered, leaning on the counter and linking her fingers.  “However, we haven’t got anything set up and the only kind we can get you is our el pastor.”

“Okay,” he said, “gimme two,” and Skyler nodded to you.

You sliced the meat off the trompo, carefully evening out the sides, all the while reliving the embarrassment of the previous afternoon in your head.  Maybe you could drive Helen down to Baja California and start life anew, under a different name.

“Hey!” Tracii yelped, his eyes on you.  “I know you!  You’re the one Izzy was talking about last night,” and your knife nearly stabbed the metal pole holding up the pork and pineapple mass.

“Yeah,” he smiled lazily, “you are a looker, aren’t you?  How come you don’t party with us?  Izz said you seemed kinda shy.”

With your eyes wide and heart hammering, you handed the tacos to Skyler, whose mouth was hanging open in shock.

Before she could say anything, Tracii handed her his money and sauntered off, orgasmically moaning as he chewed, and Axl stepped up to the window.

“The fuck you want?” Skyler snapped.  “”It’s too early in the day for you to pick a fight, asshole.”

“I’m not here to fight,” he growled, slamming down a wad of dollars.  “This is from Izzy.  For her ice cream,” and he jutted his chin towards you.  “He says you eat for free at our truck.  The bo-both of you,”  he gritted, the agony of that idea etching deeply on his face.

“Thank you,” you smiled in surprise.

His eyes met yours, waving off your delight.  “Yeah, he’ll be down later.”

“Yes, thank you, Axl,” Skyler said.  “May we offer you an el pastor taco?”

“No,” he said, already retreating.  “Pork gives me the shits.”

Izzy did come by later, just in time for your sister to run off on her break.  

“Hi, Izzy,” you said, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Hey,” he smiled, looking delicious in his sunglasses.  “So what kind of tacos do you have?”

You recited the list.  “El pastor, carnitas, beef tips, seasoned ground beef, chicken, shrimp, and uh, lengua.”

“What’s that?”

“Uh, tongue.”

He pulled a face and stuck out his tongue, and you giggled, your shyness melting away at his goofiness.  “No, no, it’s really good.  Imagine the most tender, flavorful pot roast.  Everyone always orders seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass on the tongue, that one anyways, and have one shrimp and one chicken.  How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.  Uh, you and Axl, you eat for free here too.  Thank you, by the way, that’s very generous.”

He grinned wider, and you noticed he’d hadn’t stopped smiling at you since he showed up.  “Don’t mention it.”

You opened the shrimp and chicken containers, then threw the meat down on the griddle and moved it around, forcing yourself to focus on sauteing and not burning down the fucking truck because Izzy was outside.

He peeked in the window, looking around the interior of the truck.  “So how long have you been cooking?”

“Oh, since I was small.  I was at a stove before I could see over it.  These are all my grandmother's recipes.”  You scooped the fillings into their shells, then grabbed the crema.  

“Hey, I only ordered two,” Izzy protested when you handed him his tacos in a cardboard to-go basket.

“One of the chicken ones is Axl’s.  Consider it a peace offering.”

“Thank you.  Hey, Y/N, I was wondering if-”

“Hey, Y/N, I was wondering if I could get some fucking service around here,” a mullet-sporting, Confederate flag t-shirt wearing asshole growled, and Izzy waved, then walked away.

He returned the next day, and the next day, and the next day, and the next day, working his way through your menu and bringing you a different-flavored milkshake each time.  He loved all of the tacos he tried, even daring to sample the beef tongue, then immediately ordered another one.

“Told you,” you grinned.

He always made conversation with you while you cooked, his eyes locked on yours as he ate, but every time he finished, there was always a line to tend to, and Skyler made herself scarce as soon as she spotted him.  You never returned to his truck for ice cream, and spent your downtime cleaning the flattop, lighting out as soon as you turned over the CLOSED sign.

“You know,” your sister said to you as you turned the key in the ignition, “if you stayed, you’d probably hook up with Izzy.”

“No,” you said sadly, “I’m a hot mess.  I’d say something stupid and he’d run away.”

“Can’t talk with his tongue in your mouth,” she teased, “or some other part.”

“SKYLER!” you shrieked as she cackled, then you sighed and leaned your head against the steering wheel.  “I’m not like you.”

“You don’t have to be,” she said, leaning over and stroking your hair.  “Just give him a chance.”

“I can’t stay here and have Helen be a-a sin wagon.”

“It’s not like we have orgies!” Skyler laughed.  “At least your man doesn't.  He plays guitar and Axl sings, when he’s not being a dumbass.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  And then Izzy sings, and Kelly gives me The Look and……”

“Or the produce man shows up.”

“Or Eddie the produce man shows up.”  She gave you a slight smile.  “C’mon, Sis, stay.  He likes you.”

“He doesn’t know me.”

“Then get to know him.  Axl says he’s pining.”

You looked at her in surprise.  “When did you talk to Axl?”

“When he told me that chicken taco you gave him was the best thing he’s ever had.”

You smiled at his praise, drumming your fingertips on the steering wheel.  “Maybe I’ll stay sometime.”

“Pining,” Skyler said, then hopped off the truck.