Durarara Lemons

Oil and Grease

This is super duper long but I like it so read this masterpiece.
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Ohhh man. He was sooooo dead. So very, very dead. Now, the one who was thinking that he was dead was one Orihara Izaya, and the reason why he was thinking that he was dead? The trashed car that was in front of him. Izaya took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. He needed to figure out a way that his father wouldn't notice his car missing, or rather would have to find a reason to by himself some time.

Usually Izaya wasn't one to get scared, pestered or even irritated by most things. But his father. Oh dear. When his father found out that Izaya had, accidentally mind you, scratched his car; he threw a rage fit and promptly banned Izaya from driving the car. At least until Izaya could show some responsibility.

So here Izaya was, pacing on the side of the rode with his father's car almost wrapped around the side of a telephone pole. Izaya thought himself lucky to have escaped without a scratch, or at least with just a small scratch or two. But that had been until he had noticed the state of his father's car. Then, after staring at it for a few minutes, he started to panic. A quick glance at his watch had told him that his father was going to be home in a few hours, and that if he didn't have the car, which was a collectible car nonetheless, he was going to have to be searching for his head.

Oh yes. He was very dead.

With another sigh, Izaya slid himself into the car, rummaging around until he found his phone, glad that it was still working.

But what had caused this? He had no idea. It's not like there were any dead animals on the road to signal that something had suddenly jumped out in front of him, and it's not like he was stupid enough to text/talk on his phone while driving.

With a sigh, he just figured that something in the car itself had failed and caused him to crash.

Climbing back into the car, Izaya fished through the glove box, glad that his father kept the papers from the mechanic he used. He couldn't help but raise a brow at the name of the mechanic, but shrugged anyways. He just hoped that he would be able to keep his mouth shut about it to his father.

Izaya glowered down at the fading, flickering screen of his cell phone, hoping that his luck held out and that he was able to call the mechanic, or a tow truck. With another sigh, he dialed the number. And luck seemed to be with him- at least for now- as he was able to get in touch with the mechanic and he said that he could be there in, at the most, half and hour.

With another heavy sigh, Izaya closed his phone with a black -which seemed like a bad idea since his phone immediately died after that- Izaya went back to the ruined car and sat down on the seat. After brushing away the glass of course.

Sure enough, half and hour later, a car -or rather a large truck- came barreling down in the distance on the road before it slowly slowed and pulled to a stop next to Izaya's car, the tires kick up dirt that made Izaya cover his face with his arm and cough violently.

Music pumped from the truck's radio and Izaya was slightly surprised that it wasn't some offbeat country music. Instead it was soothing, nice flowing jazz. Who the hell was this mechanic anyways? "You called?" came a voice.

Once the dust settled, though, Izaya got a good- clear- look at whom that voice belonged to. Blond hair that seemed drenched by the hot sun overhead, eyes that seemed like coffee and caramel combined and a build. Oh god, that build. Muscled arms that seemed like they could very well pick up that tuck and his car, broad, well-structured shoulders. Izaya felt a shudder run through him when he finally realized that the blond was bare chested, sweat gleaming like oil on that sun-kissed skin. Izaya felt glued to that spot, staring at that chest, and then that face. Everything was so... He couldn't find words to describe it, but he felt another shudder move through him.