For Reasons Wretched and Divine

Read between the lines, babe.

Notes:

Ya'll remember when I said that I ship Chibs and Juice? Wasn't kidding. This world is so big and awful, let's just have some happiness, even if it's a fabrication. It's a fluff piece, so you won't miss much if you skip it if you don't ship it.

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"I don't think it's supposed to be making this noise," Sunshine said, holding her phone up to the front of her car, the garbled squealing audible on the other end of the phone.

"Can it drive fine? Do you need it to be towed?" thirty miles away, Happy was frowning at the wall of the garage, his own phone pinned between his shoulder and ear, wiping his hands off on a rag.

"She runs fine; she just sounds like she's dying,"

"She?"

"I bought this car when I was twenty, and her name is Freddy Mercury," Sunshine said, a little bashfully, and Happy couldn't help the gruff chuckle, the noise just as abrasive as the rest of him. Chucky, who had never heard Happy laugh before, recoiled from his spot of cleaning the window to the office.

"Freddy Mercury is a man,"

"He's a queen,"

Happy suddenly wished he was anywhere else so he could properly bask in the moment; his seldomly used smile was drawing attention. He tried to ducked out of Tig's eye line, but it was too late; he was already walking over.

"Did you like my pun?" Sunshine asked; he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Yes,"

Tig's chest collided with Happy's back, leaning in way too close, his cheek brushing Happy's as he reached for the phone.

"Hi, Sunshine," he called out, narrowly avoiding the gut-punch Happy threw at him.

"Fuck off," Happy growled as Sunshine cheerfully called out a 'Hey, Tiggy!'

"I wanna talk to her next," Tig said, pointing at Happy as he was shoved back, ignoring the murderous glower.

"Bring the car down to the garage; I'll take a look at it," Happy offered, turning his back on Tig.

"I thought you said that you hate working on cars," Sunshine teased.

Happy shrugged, forgetting she couldn't see him. "I like you more,"

There was a pause, and Happy froze, wondering if he said something wrong.

"I'm on my way," she said quietly, hardly giving him enough time to say goodbye before she hung up.

Happy frowned as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. He didn't want to feel sorry for what he said; he meant it. It took a decade of a herculean effort to file back his sharpness, but he sure as shit didn't know what to do to curb his bluntness.

"Dude, what the fuck? I said I wanted to talk to her," Tig complained, throwing out his hands.

"Not on your life," Happy rebuffed, pointing a ringed finger at him.

"You're besties with my old lady," Tig defended, smug as dogshit on a shoe. "I wanna be besties with yours,"

Happy screwed up his face. "Don't ever say besties again,"

"A 2009 Ford Mercury named Freddy Mercury, that is a delightful pun," Tig praised, reaching out to high five Sunshine.

"Thanks," she grinned, reciprocating the motion.

She had been in the clubhouse attached to the garage but never in the garage itself and met her expectations perfectly, greasy, concrete, tools everywhere, the distinct smell of engines and motor oil.