Page 4 of A Little Christmas! Johnny
With a shake of my head, I put on my flashers and the light bar on top of my truck when the broken down vehicle comes into view. As much as I need to come up with a better solution to my living arrangement quickly, right now I need to focus on the adorable little blue car and figure out what’s wrong with it. The driver is still in the car, which tells me he’s either smart or cold – I’m leaning towards the latter because the temperature hasdropped significantly since I had my microwaved turkey dinner a few hours ago.
Hopping out of my truck, I grab the bag of flares and the cones from behind my seat to set out just in case the huge ass truck with the flashing lights isn’t enough. I made the right call and didn’t need to bring the flatbed for this one. Hell, I think I could probably lift this without the winch. I’m pretty sure I saw a few guys from the drum line in high school carry one of these across the field back in high school.
While I’m setting out the cones, another – much more sensible car – pulls up on the shoulder next to the island where the cute car has apparently claimed its territory in death. I’m happy that the driver of the teeny mobile was smart enough to call for a ride. Technically, I can take a person in the truck back to the shop, but I hate having strangers in my space. They almost always make some sort of comment on my choice of music or the fact that I have my Lego creations hanging from the dash. I mean, everyone needs a hobby. It’s better than smoking.
“Uncah Dex,” the driver whines like a child and I smirk to myself while grabbing my toolbox out of the lockbox on the back of the truck. “You here now. I no need be big.”
My head snaps up to look at the two men standing beside the other vehicle. Did I really just hear that? I must have drifted off at the shop and this is some weird bad TV dinner food poisoning induced dream. The one acting like a spoiled toddler is easily old enough to be at least the same age as my brother-in-law. The other one…Oh, Daddy.
Wait… what the fuck? Where did that come from?
“Fine, Buddy. Get in the backseat and color. I’ll talk to the nice tow truck driver and get the easter egg sorted.”
The soft command in his voice has something inside of me taking notice and I have to resist climbing in the car with the older man to do whatever this Dex guy tells me to.
But I’m the nice tow truck driver. I need to do my job, as much as I don’t wanna do it anymore. Why do the other guys get all the good stuff while I have to work in the snow and cold?
A chuckle from the direction of the other car makes me realize I stuck my lip out. Did I seriously just pout? I hurriedly pull myself upright to be the adult I know I am – despite what my sister thinks. The woman might be a piece of shit mother and sister, but at least she’s great at being the reminder I need to grow the fuck up and act like an adult.
“If you pop the hood, I can take a look to see if I’ll need to get this up on the truck or not,” I tell him after awkwardly clearing my throat when he closes the distance between us. Slinking my way over to the front of the car, I’m glad it’s dark. I don’t need the hottest guy I’ve seen in years to notice that I turn the color of cherry tomatoes on a regular basis. Damn my Irish ancestors.
4
DEXTER
After settling Russ in the backseat with some coloring books and water based markers, I make my way over to the busted easter egg and the man I am struggling to hold back from jumping... in a good way. Oh, a very very good way. With his hair tucked mostly under a ski cap, I can only tell that it’s longer than mine and not light colored. The yellow glow of the streetlight and the flashing lights from his truck prevent me from discerning any colors beyond light and dark.
I noticed the look of longing and his pout while I settled my neighbor into my backseat. I also witnessed his immediate embarrassment at being caught, so I need to hold back. Russel brought my inner Daddy to the surface tonight, but so far the driver has shown no recognition. Usually, the age players I’ve seen will recognize when another is around. I dropped enough hints with helping Russ that it should have been a flashing neon sign to the guy that we’re safe, but nothing. All he did was stammer a bit before burying himself under the hood for the last ten minutes.
“Okay,” he calls out while stepping back from the car. “I’m gonna need to take this to the shop. I can’t say for sure withoutgetting underneath, but I’m pretty sure she’s a goner. Bare minimum, she’s gonna need a new engine.”
I watch as he wipes the back of his hand across his cheek. Every instinct in me is screaming to wipe away the dark smear he just put on that beautiful face of his, but I somehow manage to hold back. My mind is playing the same mantra on repeat:He’s not a Little. He’s not mine. Just because he showed a bit of interest doesn’t mean he actually is interested.
I’ve been burned many times over when it comes to relationships, especially when dealing with someone outside of the age play community. Vanilla guys balk at my need to control certain things, while regular subs tend to be unfulfilled when it comes to my softer discipline and rewards system. When it comes to the Littles, all of the ones in our local community that I’ve met are either taken or need more than I can give them. I can’t financially support another adult right now, so a full time Daddy arrangement isn’t in my cards.
I’m stuck in my inner struggle to the point that I don’t even notice that he has already maneuvered his truck around and already has Russel’s car hoisted up.
“Here’s the card for the shop. I should have an answer for you on Monday for the final result of your boyfriend’s car here.”
He hops back up into the cab of the truck and waves his arm out of the open window before pulling away into the night. The interaction is lightning quick and I’m struck dumb while trying to make sense of what just happened.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I mumble to the darkness, feeling like the cold air is choking me. For the first time since my parents, I feel like I’ve lost something important.
“Uncah Dex?”
Russ calls out to me, snapping me out of my funk. I climb into the driver’s seat of my car and pull back onto the road to head back to our duplex. It’s a short enough drive, but whileRussel is happily chattering away about the fun he had with his Little friends tonight, I can’t stop thinking about the tow truck driver. Glancing down at the card in the center console, I feel my lips turn up.
John Gander... Well, it looks like I might still have a chance. All I have to do is make sure that John, the tow truck man, knows his Daddy is looking forward to meeting him again.
Wait... I can’t be his Daddy. Unless...
With the way he was watching me with Russel...
It could have been regular envy of seeing a guy you’re attracted to being close with another guy. But it could have been something else.
Was he jealous of the fact that Russel was able to be Little?
Or maybe he likes older men like Russ?
