Old Manners, Old Books, Old Wines

Part 1/3

Notes: The bookstore AU that absolutely nobody was clamoring for. Nyah. In addition, I should warn you that there will be a homophobic character in this story. I'll be avoiding the absolute worst slurs but this character will say some nasty things.

Also...some bits at the end of this story are partially inspired by Grave's Fighter/Tutor fic "When Love Was Found." Totally different plot, similar ideas about Fighter :)

Tutor glared at the front wall of his bookstore, feeling personally affronted by the damage. Okay, it was due to the hurricane that passed through town the previous night but there was no way he was going to be able to open the store like this.

Worst of all, by the time he figured out what needed to be done, all the big contractors in the surrounding area were booked for the next two weeks. Which left him with very few options. There were a few "handy" guys who Tutor didn't trust, the creepy San(who always stared at Tutor's crotch), and...Fighter.

Fighter could do the work. He was good at what he did and he was currently working at his grandmother's house, but she had promised to send him to look at the store next.

It should be an obvious choice. Fighter could do the work and he wouldn't cheat Tutor or do a bad job, even if he was irritated. (If nothing else, Fighter's Grandma May was Tutor's best customer and wouldn't stand for it.)

There was just something about Fighter that grated on Tutor's nerves. Every time they ran into each other, they ended up hissing like stray cats defending their territory.

But his beloved store...Tutor tried not to cry as he looked at the smashed window and frame. Several of the built-in shelves were broken and there were damaged books and knickknacks that the insurance adjuster had photographed and now Tutor had to clean up. And inside, there was damage to the drywall and wood floors and who knew what else they'd find when they started taking things down.

"It's not as bad as it looks," a voice said behind him.

Tutor's jaw clenched and he slowly turned. "Fighter," he said.

The other man wasn't looking at Tutor but appraising the store with a professional eye, which gave Tutor the opportunity to look at his fit body, soft hair, and fashionable earring.

The biggest problem with Fighter was that he was too damn good-looking and he fucking well knew it.

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Fighter knew he had to be a bad person because all he could think looking at the damage to the store was 'Yes! A chance to spend time with Tutor!' Which was both mean and ridiculous because they didn't even get along.

It was fine that they didn't get along. Just fine. He didn't need to get along with a prissy pain in the ass gorgeous—

Damn it, he never could stay angry for more than about five minutes. Fighter looked sidelong at Tutor. "It's not as bad as it could have been. Probably four or five days for me to fix it."

Tutor swallowed hard, looking back at his store. "Four or five days?"

"It's still faster than waiting for anyone else."

"Yeah." Tutor let out a long sigh.

As they both stared at the damage, Fighter remembered when Tutor moved into town a year ago to open the store.

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It wasn't Fighter's proudest day, if he was honest with himself (which he rarely was). Coming from a knockdown, drag out fight with his dad, Fighter did as he often did on days like this: He started walking through town, trying to walk off his anger.