#with Sharky suggesting an idea that he knows is bad only to see if John'll take him seriously or not

[chyrstis]

I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I’d like you) 4/10

I spent way too long looking at warplanes for this one, because 1) they’re pretty, and 2) after mentioning a certain someone’s plane in the previous chapter, there was no way I wasn’t going to have it pop up again.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw x John Seed Rating: E (but only for Ch. 10, the rest are a solid T) Word Count: 3.5K  

Link to AO3!

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10

—

Sharky steals a boat. It just happens to be John’s boat, and when it’s damaged along with his boathouse, John proceeds to lay out a means of having Sharky pay him back. [No Cult AU]

———–

“So, where is it? Where’s all of the shit-talking I used to look forward to? Like, by now I was getting ready for the good stuff, but it’s running out.”

Sharky paused, dropping the tire back down into the back of Hurk’s truck. “About what?”

“Really?” Hurk asked, gaping at him. “You know, the asshat that’s been blackmailing you into doing his dirty work for the last month and a half? Thinking he’s slicker than a greased pig, and he might be because who the hell knows what he uses to keep his hair like that. And palms. You grease those too, not just for jerking, and cuz, you’re killing me here.”

“It’s…I’m not gonna lie, he’s really wigging me out at times. Acting like it’s good to have me around to help and shit. ‘Cause I don’t always work on the boathouse. I’ve helped Joe, I’ve helped move stuff around on the airstrip, I’ve run stuff down to the Peggies’ church. And yeah, being told ‘you’re going to do this today’ instead of doing what I was planning on doing sucks, but the Peggies are kinda nice.”

He wasn’t thinking much of it when Hurk grabbed the firehose running out front. Jerry-rigged outside, it was usually his last-ditch effort when any of the fires outgrew their boundaries.

So, it was easy enough to grab. Easy enough to aim, and - in Hurk’s case - easy enough to point and shoot, especially while he kept his mouth running, none the wiser.

“And John’s all right, too. I know it’s kind of-whoa, whoa, what the-“ A wave of freezing cold water hit his chest, and Sharky sputtered as he threw his hands up. “What the fuck, man? Jesus, just cool it! Cool it!”

Hurk aimed it up and away, and jabbed a finger at him.

“Straight talk. You point me to the spot in the woods where my fave cuz’s tied up and waiting to be beamed up, and I swear I’ll let you go. ‘Til then, you better talk faster, because I don’t even know where to go with ‘Oh, John and the Peggies? Yeah, they’re all right.’”

Teeth chattering, Sharky shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. It’s better. Like he’s decided it’s okay to be a person for once.”

This time he was hit in the face, and he threw both middle fingers Hurk’s way before finally wrangling the hose away from him.

“That’s up my nose now,” he grumbled, feeling it burn as he forced air through it. “Up my nose, which is one of the top ten worst feelings to deal with. Hope you’re proud of yourself.”

The spray at Hurk mid-apology was kind of a jerk move on his end, but Hurk had earned it. That and the noogie, as Sharky wrangled him under his arm. If he was going to be forced to drip-dry out here, he wasn’t dealing with that shit alone.

The roar of an engine overhead made him loosen his grip, however. Both of them glanced up, their attention won by the plane soaring by.

Usually Sharky would catch one every once in a blue moon out over here. With the steep hills, it wasn’t always best if you needed to land the plane in an emergency, but that didn’t stop anyone from taking them as high as the pilot wanted it.

This one wasn’t too high in the sky, though. Painted a darker color, it cut a fine line through the air above as it climbed. Spinning in a smooth arc, it curved - rounding back - and Hurk let out a low whistle.

“Look at that, huh? Bet Nick gets up to all kinds of fancy shit up there when he’s off the ground.”

“Yeah. Should ask him if he’d take us up sometime.”

Watching the plane loop back, the pull was almost strong enough to make him want to book it to Nick’s right now. He’d always been curious about the high that came with being in the air; how that ramped up during a dive, or even on a sharp turn.

Something about this plane bugged him, though. Like there was something he was missing that should’ve hit, but wasn’t.

“Uh, I don’t know. I’ve been up in a bunch of choppers, man, and it’s real sketchy once the cross-winds hit. Gets my lunch doing a loop-de-loop hairier than any airshow’s special, and that feeling even hits when I’m in Tulip.”

“Why? Your ma’s damn good at what she does.”

“It’s always squirrely, feeling the entire thing rock back and forth, back and...” Hurk paused, and slapped at Sharky’s waving arm. “What’re you doing? He can’t see us from down here.”

“And why not? Yeah, he’s – or she, could be one badass babe up there - not skimming the ground, but they’re low enough to see what’s down here if they angle it right.”

Almost as if listening, the plane came back over; the roar of the engine echoing in the air as it came closer. Getting a better look at it now, he could see more of the slick paint job; the dark grey really reminding him of a color he’d seen recently.

As in, within-the-last-couple-of-weeks-or-so recent. Like in a hangar, half-hidden under a tarp.

Finally slapping those last missing puzzle pieces into place, it all clicked this time, and Sharky’s eyes widened.

“Uh, I think that’s John.”

“Say what?”

Hurk’s surprise wasn’t too far off from his own. “Dude, that’s his plane. I don’t think anyone else around here’s got a ride like that.”

Or even in that style, period. It stood out in the sky, and Sharky almost laughed to himself. He would want that attention, and showing off while he was at it? Seemed like a standard thing he’d try for, if given the shot - and right now? He looked set on taking it.

Diving down, his breath caught as the plane soared in a set line towards the ground. Daring to get as close as possible - cutting it a lot closer than he would’ve if given the chance - only to shoot back up above the trees, spinning on the exit.

Yeah, that was John.

Whistling loudly, Sharky whooped before punching Hurk in the shoulder. “Oh, come on. That was pretty fucking neat.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Hurk cracked soon after, smiling. “Okay, it was pretty rad, but if that is him, and we ever run into each other and get to talking about it, we ain’t saying shit. Not a single word set on complimenting, talking nice, or doing any of that. Period.”

The plane didn’t come back this time, heading out over the fields as it faded from view.

“Nope,” Sharky said absently, as he kept his eyes skyward. “Not a single fucking word.”

---

Later that day when he messaged John to tell him he was heading in, he didn’t get his usual answer.

Busy in the hangar. Stop by there, will you?

The doors were open as he pulled up outside, and he couldn’t see John when he stepped out. His plane was front and center, one of the side panels open with a tool cart rolled up next to it, and he walked up to get a closer look.

“Tempting as it is, try not to stick your hand in there.”

Sharky held both up, and quickly stepped back. “I didn’t do it.”

“I didn’t say you did anything.” John walked up from behind, wiping his hands down with a towel, smirking all the while. “Just wouldn’t want to lose a finger now. That would be a surefire way to ruin an evening.”

Against all odds, he hadn’t lost one yet. Not to any of his homemade whizzlers, not to any of the cherry bombs, and not to that one incident with the paper cutter in school. Now, really would be a lame time to do it, and in front of John? He’d never live it down.

Flexing his fingers - all ten of them - he shoved both hands into his pockets, and turned towards him.

Dressed in his version of casual, the shirt John was wearing was still too pricey to be anywhere near oil or heavy machinery, but that didn’t faze him. His hands were dirty and he was doing the work. Actually getting in there and taking care of it, instead of shoving it onto someone else, and Sharky could respect that.

But the moves he pulled in the air earlier? Thinking back on them made a whistle want to slip out. John could fly. There was no fucking doubt about it, and he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to catch him up in the air again at some point.

“So, uh…you take her out today?”

“I might’ve had to check to see how things were running,” John said with a shrug.

“You fly out over towards the Henbane?”

John raised his head, eyeing him curiously. “Maybe. Why do you ask?”

“See, I was out with my cousin Hurk. Just unloading some tires to use for um, crafting purposes.”

“Crafting. I never took you for the type.”

“Not like the kind with paper, glue, and scissors. Like tire sculptures, or just taking the shit apart to see what we can get out of it, ‘cause there’s at least twenty things you can do with a worn-out tire. We’ve honed it down to an art, man.”

John said nothing further, only examined his hands as he wiped off more of the dirt. He looked up to catch Sharky’s eye while he worked, reminding him that he’d been telling a story before he’d trailed off.

Sharky cleared his throat. Loudly. “Uh, anyway. You, flying.”

John redirected his attention to his hands, but Sharky didn’t miss the way his lips had curved up. “I thought it was you, working?”

“Me, working, distracted by you, flying, and I know I got twisted around in the middle of that, but I saw you earlier. Your plane flying over my house. Now you’re the only guy around here with anything coming close to having one of those warplanes they’d call you in to borrow for re-enactments, movie deals - or, hell - for admiring and shit, so don’t go denying it. And don’t go fucking with me either, ‘cause I know what I saw.”

“Good eye. Sharper than I expected.” John set the towel down on the cart, and walked over to the plane. “Perhaps you can put that eye for detail to good use tonight.”

“What?”

“Affirmation does need some tuning. I was hoping to have it finished before you came by, but…” John frowned, eyeing the engine with distaste. “As you can see here, I’m not quite done yet.”

“Ah, I get that. Shit never works out how you plan it, not with cars, bikes, and I guess planes fit in there too. You wanna get that oil changed before the sun’s up? Should take twenty to thirty minutes max, giving you time to see if the tires are bald enough to turn the road into a dirt-covered slip and slide. Probably would've noticed before then, but it's good to check. And if you’re looking at that, might as well try the brakes.”

He watched John roll over the tool cart, giving him a glance over his shoulder as he did so. Taking the gesture as a signal to keep on going, Sharky took a place just behind him by the cart, and settled in to watch him work.

“…And that weird leak you forgot about two weeks ago? Kiss your afternoon goodbye, ‘cause your radiator’s busted and might’ve been roasting your car from the inside out.”

“Sounds like someone’s speaking from experience.”

“Man, you don’t even know how many times I’ve had my shitbox crater on me. And I take care of it. Maybe not using the stuff that’ll keep the mechanic off of my back if I need to bring it in, but it runs. And I can keep it going on nothing but lint, duct tape, and quarters if I have to.”

“And somehow, in spite of that, it hasn’t exploded or found a way to catch on fire?”

“It did catch on fire. Once.”

John’s eyebrows flew up. “With you in it?”

“Sort of. I might’ve hopped out right after the smoke started coming, ‘cause that crisped-up burnt smell ain’t normal even with a busted heater, but I handled it. Drove it right on down to the Spread Eagle just in time for Happy Hour, too.”

Blinking at him, John slowly turned back to the engine. “Is that the same car you’ve been bringing here?”

“Yep.”

John paused again. “The one that I’ve ridden in?”

“Same one. Drove it, too.”

A few emotions crossed John’s face then. Disbelief held on the longest, as he turned to look right at Sharky.

“What? Like I said, it runs. Long as it does that, I don’t need anything fancier than that to get around. And, hey, if that shit ever does go up and someone needs to handle it, you know I’m damn near certified by this point.”

“Knowing that the county’s resident pyromaniac should be able to put out the fire he also started is not as reassuring as it sounds.”

Sharky frowned. “Yo, you really wanna say that? Seeing as you’re someone that keeps talking shit, all while needing people to call you, confide in you, and hire you for the whole defending-them-in-court thing? Not doing great on the being-anything-but-a-dick part. Just saying.”

John narrowed his eyes, but didn’t fight the point. Just went back to work, and Sharky wasn’t sure what to do with the victory.

Shaking it off, he crossed his arms and tried not to fidget as he watched him. Doing nothing at all was the real challenge, having no choice but to be patient and keep an eye on John instead.

But he hadn’t kicked him out, or told him to go where he was needed most. He was sure he would’ve told him to head down to the boathouse by now - or hell, that he would’ve gone on his own - but he didn’t feel like leaving yet. Not even after the dig. Curiosity won this fight, and he’d let it do its thing for a little while longer.

Glancing over at him, John gave it a second and gestured towards the cart. “Can you hand me that wrench?”

Sharky followed his line of sight towards it. Taking it, he handed it over and couldn’t hold his tongue any more.

“So, you do all of this on your own?”

“It’s important to be able to identify problems as they appear. I could hire someone to do that for me. Easily leave this to them, but having that knowledge beforehand - especially if I do end up having to land - is crucial. And I refuse to let willful ignorance prevent me from fixing anything well within my power and ability. That, and laziness.”

“Laziness?”

“What’s my problem becomes someone else’s to fix. To mend. Affirmation is my responsibility. Shouldn’t I be well aware of how it’s operating before I take off? That kind of carelessness can be prevented.”

“Makes sense.”

“I hope so. Any pilot would do the same if they had any degree of pride in their skills.”

Sharky rubbed at his neck. “Yeah, guess Nick goes through the same checks too. And if I had one, guess I’d have to break out the old toolbox and get into it.”

“Treated better than your car, I would hope?”

“Uh, still fucking rude for one, and two, hell yeah I would. Shit, the closest I’ve come to flying, period, was through honoring Clutch Nixon a few years back – rest his badass, no-longer-beating heart – and I was airborne long enough to love it. If I had a plane, I’d treat her right.”

Sitting up, John gave him a long look. “That doesn’t count.”

“What don’t count?”

“Stunt driving isn’t close to the same thing.”

“So you say, but you haven’t taken a motherfucking dive off of a cliff, amigo.”

“It’s not-” John pressed his fingers to his temples and sighed. “There are measures taken.”

“Yeah, and I know you gotta do more than mess around with your joystick up there, but the fall’s real. The pounding in your heart as it just-” He clenched his fist, and let out a breath, “Fuck, man, you feel alive coming back from that. And get one hell of a massive boner while you’re at it.”

Lowering his hand, John leveled a flat stare at him.

“Yeah, had to give that last one a solid seven point five out of ten. Hell, maybe an eight.”

Still clenching his fist, Sharky held the eye contact, grinning awkwardly all the while. At least until he noticed the marks on John’s face. Three small dark spots, all of which came from his equally stained fingers.

The snicker slipped out before he could help it. “You, uh, got a little something on you.”

Gesturing towards his face, John reached up and nearly added another before glancing down at his fingers. “Shit.”

“Yeah, dude. Might be able to connect the dots at the rate you’re going.”

“Let me just…where did that get to?”

He sorted through the items on the cart before finding the discarded towel, and checked it before swiping at his face.

“Might wanna go to the left.” John shifted it, the spot turning into a streak, and Sharky grimaced. “Uh, maybe to the right?” Streaked again. “Huh. Think you might wanna go back to what you were doing the first time.”

“You aren’t helping,” John said, slapping down the towel to search through the items on the cart. “So, how about you go occupy yourself over there, and we’ll get back to this when I’m certain I’m not covered in dirt.”

John had pointed towards the refrigerator, and Sharky gave him a passing glance before skipping over towards it.

“Could be worse, man. Not like it’s a sharpied dick, or anything.”

Prying the doors open, Sharky didn’t know what he was looking for at first. He knew John had hidden the mystery beer here last time, but that wasn’t what he spotted. No, on the shelves was a pack of his old faithful, and he felt a tear come to his eye.

“Is that acceptable?”

Sharky reached in and held up the six pack, sighing dreamily as he hugged it to his face. “Amigo, I think you’re my new best friend now.”

He heard John scoff somewhere behind him, and turned to see him parked in front of a small handheld mirror. One of the streaks was a bonafide line traveling up the side of his face now, and smeared more when John swiped a finger through it. Tossing the mirror back onto the cart, he clenched his jaw, and went right back to the plane without even waiting for him to come back.

“So, John,” Sharky started, popping the cap off of the beer, “you want me to stick with you up here, dude? ‘Cause I was going to head on down to the river at some point. Just looked like you needed me more up here than there at the time, and…”

“There’s no need.” John replied, his back still to him. “You’ve been making significant progress lately down at the boathouse. Anything else would put you ahead. And after staying up here as long as you have, you’ve earned the time to yourself, if you want it.”

Free to go? Again?

That had him scratching his head as he polished off the beer fast. “Uh, okay. Like, I can do whatever the hell I want?”

“Whatever you want.”

That was music to his ears. At least it would’ve been every other week leading up to this one.

Thinking it over for a while, Sharky tried to think of anything he would’ve done with the time. Anything pressing he’d set aside to come out here after helping Hurk earlier, but couldn’t put his finger on a single thing. Just a whole lot of nothing that would’ve led to a night spent in his underwear on the couch mixing together shit he probably shouldn’t have, or up at the trailer park tuning the speakers.

So, when he looked back over towards the plane, he aimed the bottle in his hand towards it. “You still need someone up here?”

There was the sound of metal hitting metal as John froze. But when he turned to face him, there was no mistaking his surprise.

"What?" Sharky shrugged. “I’ve got the rest of the day to myself, and usually that’s spent doing jack and shit when work’s not coming in, so…if you need it, I’m here. Not that it’s really that big of a deal anyway, you know?”

That got him a smile. One that John held onto long after Sharky expected him to drop it, and he chuckled. “I suppose not.”

“This’ll be the highlight of my day, and I’d like to stick around. Unless you want me out.”

He thought it over, but not for longer than a minute. “If I did, I would’ve told you so.”

“So, back to work?” Sharky asked, starting to smile himself.

John stepped back and held out a hand towards the plane. “Back to work.”