The next morning, Brain wakes up to the feeling of someone shaking him lightly. He knows the hand on his chest, fingers splayed, like he knows the voice telling him to wake up, sleeping beauty, he needed to tell him something.

Dom.

Which is probably why, instead of waking up straight up like he usually did – Brian's a light sleeper; comes with the territory, growing up like he did and being what he is – he just mutters something that might've been 'later' and tries to roll over.

'Tried' being the operative word. He guesses his first mistake was showing anyu signs of life at all, because Dom's chuckling that deep, low chuckle of his and pulling him back around onto his back.

"No you don't," he's saying. "C'mon, rise and shine, princess. We got places to be."

"Yeah. Here." Where it's warm and Brian can sleep, because see, for all Brian doesn't get enough of it, he really likes sleep. A lot. Especially here, with Dom.

"No. Garage." And he can hear the smile in Dom's voice, like he's getting a huge kick out of this. But Brian also knows he ain't gonna win, and as if reading his mind, Dom tells him, "You don't wanna wake up, that's fine. I'll drag your ass outta here in your boxer shorts and you can finish wakin' up in the garage.

Brian wouldn't believe it, except that the thing about Dom is he doesn't make empty threats. He'd probably do it. Lord knows he's done enough shit like it. Dragged Leon out of the can with his pants still around his ankles 'cause he was readin' mags instead of handling front of the house like he should've been. It was funny as shit, and they all took it in good spirit. Honestly, aside from maybe Mia, there's not a modest one in the team. Brian, included.

That doesn't mean he wants to get hauled outside in nothing but his underpants, so with one last mournful groan, he sits up. "Fuckin' hate you," he mutters as he goes, but the only response he gets is a shirt hitting him in the face. He snatches it down to see Dom looking at him with his arms folded, like 'what you gonna do about it?'

And what's he gonna do? Throw the shirt back? Knowing Dom, he wouldn't give the damn thing back, and at not even seven in the morning, it's bound to be a little cool outside for skins. So, he tugs it on over his head, and chucks a pillow instead. He's not surprised when Dom catches it, but he wouldn't be him if he hadn't thrown it.

"What's the big hurry, anyway?" he mutters as he climbs out of bed and pads over to the drawer he's started keeping clothes in. And shit, ain't that a thing? He's got a drawer, now. In Dom's room. It's been a long couple weeks since he showed up at Dom's that first night; a lot's changed. It still scares him sometimes, when he lets himself think about it. But he wouldn't change a damn thing. "It's not like the garage is gonna open without you."

"We got a lot of work to do, today."

He glances up at Dom as he tugs on a pair of jeans, eyebrow raised. "Which is different from every other day, how?"

"Don't be a smartass."

Brian just shrugs. That's just him being him. Smartass is part of the package, and Dom knew what he was getting into. This time, they're in it with eyes wide open. "For real, though. What's the big occasion?"

"The big occasion is there's a race on tonight." Dom says it like it's no big deal, but Brian knows a dangled carrot when he sees one. Dom's get something in his head. Something he thinks Brian'll like. Which, knowing him, he probably will. Dom's good like that. "Was gonna run it by you yesterday, but I never got the chance. So you better have the day off today."

And he does, as far as he knows. Say what he will about the drawbacks, there's a lot of flexibility, doing what he does.

He tries to play it cool, dropping onto the bed to tug on some socks and his Converses. "Yeah?" Like he's not already on the line. Shit, it's been so long since he raced. Hasn't really, since that first time against Dom. Never got the chance at Race Wars, and aside from some pretty stellar car chases, he hasn't really gotten to push it since that day with the trucker. And much as he likes a rush, that wasn't the kind he looks for.

If there's any fairness in the universe – which Brian used to have given up on, but things lately have started to warm him back up to the idea – Dom's telling him because he might be racing it. He was talking the other day in the garage how much he'd like to get back into it. Being around all those cars all day kind of makes the itch a lot worse. And it sure wouldn't hurt his cover. Cops don't street race.

As if he's really thinking about his cover right now.

Dom's nodding, leaning back on the wall. He's already dressed, shaved, whatever. Brian hasn't showered since the morning before, but if they're going to the garage, there's not much point. He rolls on some deodorant and figures that'll do.

"Think I remember saying a long time ago we needed to get some money off your ass. Don't see why that plan's gotta change. And I think people are getting tired of the usual faces wiping the floor with their asses. Figure we might get better odds on the pretty boy rookie." He flashes Brian a teasing smile, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

Brian bats him away, not 'cause he minds it so much, just 'cause he can. "Don't call me pretty boy."

"I call 'em like I see 'em," Dom says, shrugging unapologetically.

"Then you need to get your eyes checked." It's not that he doesn't think he's attractive. Shit, he knows his assets; his looks have gotten him out of – and, okay, into – a lot of tough scrapes. He just doesn't like the word 'pretty.'

Dom just shakes his head, though, and throws an arm around Brian's shoulders, steering him toward the door. "Whatever you say, Buster."

Brian snorts, but he doesn't shrug Dom off. He likes the contact too much, and it means he only has to keep his eyes half open on the way downstairs.

"Grab somethin' for breakfast, and I'll see you at the garage," Dom says. He must've already grabbed something, and shit, how did Brian sleep through that? He's losing his edge, at least where Dom's concerned. He knows that's how this is supposed to be; people are supposed to be comfortable with each other, when they're doing what he and Dom are. But Brian's not 'people,' and things are never that easy with him.

He grabs some leftover slices of pizza from the fridge, cold, and eats them in the car on the drive over. He's fucking hyped. A race. A real race. It's a chance to prove himself for real, and lord knows that's important. Brian needs to pull his weight. He needs to measure up, because this is Dom and Mia and Leon and Letty and everybody else. These are his people. He needs to be worthwhile.

But it's more than that, because when he's driving, really driving, there's nothing but him and his car, and nothing matters but being the first to put his nose over that line. There's no job, no Kevin Yeung, no worrying about Dom and the others and whether they're gonna get pulled into all this shit. And he needs that. Christ, but he needs that.

Plus, it's a chance to really see what his Skyline can do. He's been building her up, piece by piece, and he's proud of what he's done. Even Dom, for all the grief he gives Brian for his 'hard on for imports' has said it's a damn good build.

Even so, when Brian gets to the garage, the first thing they do is open her up and check her out. Dom's at the hood, dicking around, and Brian goes under to give the chassis a once-over. He's not as easy on it as he should be, and he just wants to be sure. He's not looking for another blowout like the last one.

"Jesus, Bri, how long's it been since you changed the oil on this thing?"

Brian grimaces under the car. He hasn't let it go too long, but he doesn't need to see the dipstick Dom's holding under the fender to know it's not as clean as it should be. He's been busy. "Wasn't exactly planning on racing her," he mutters. He's up to his wrists in the steering box – it's been a little tetchy lately, and he's just now getting around to whipping it back into shape – so there's not a whole hell of a lot he can do to defend himself when Dom whips him in the tender part of his arm with it.

"You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Yeah, yeah, asshole. Just change it out for me, would ya?"

"What's it worth to you?"

Brian pulls a face, wheeling out from under the front to see Dom looking down at him with a cheeky smirk. Seriously. Ass. Hole. He shouldn't get to make that face, smudged up with grease – and okay, maybe some of it's dirt; the Skyline might need a bath, too – and a little shiny from sweat. It's starting to heat up in the garage as the sun comes up. Brian only wishes that was the only reason he's sweating.

"You know this was your idea," he protests. He can't help feeling a little bit disadvantaged, there on his back with Dom looming over him. Even if he is crouched.

"I said," Dom shoots back, all slow and stern like he's getting onto him or something, and Brian swears he leans closer, "what's it worth to you?"

Brian swallows and holds his ground. They're just messing around, waiting for the others to show up, but he's a stubborn little shit. He likes to play hard. "Think they're runnin' 'bout twenty, thirty bucks," he says. Playing hard or playing stupid; he's pretty good at both. "Depends on the weight."

He can tell Dom wants to laugh, or at least crack a wider smile, but instead, he leans in 'til he's really in Brian's space, and it's a good thing Dom's Dom, or else Brian might start feeling a little cornered. His legs are still under the car, and he's got his hands braced on the ground to keep the cart from sliding. He's pretty fucking stuck, is what he's saying.

Dom knows it, too. "Wrong answer, Buster." And it shouldn't be so damn easy for him to haul Brian out the rest of the way by the front of his shirt and pull him up onto his feet, but it is, and Brian's not about to try and stop him. "You and your smart mouth," Dom says, backing Brian up against the hood and keeping him there. Brian could swear it's ten degrees hotter there, even in the open air out from under the car, with Dom pressed flush up against him, face so close Brian can feel his breath on his lips. "Always gettin' into trouble."

Brian's gaze flicks from Dom's eyes to his mouth, still curled in a half-smile that's damn near predatory, then back up again. Shit, it's hot in there. "Maybe it gets me right where I wanna be." And he doesn't wait for Dom to take the initiative; he surges forward, one hand braced back on the lip of the hood, the other latching onto the back of Dom's neck to pull him in for a searing kiss.

Doesn't take long for Dom to get the picture, and Brian knows he's on board the second he curls a hand in Brian's hair and kisses back. And fuck, that's hotter than the sun outside. Dom tastes like mint and the salt of sweat and Brian can't get enough. He feels a little bad for the pizza he ate, but Dom doesn't seem to mind, the way he's licking into his mouth, so Brian can't bring himself to care too much.

He's got his hand up off the hood – he doesn't need to brace himself; Dom's not about to let him fall – and he's got it on Dom's jeans, moving south, when he hears a throat clear.

They don't jump apart; the number of times they and everyone else have been walked in on mean they're not too sensitive about this sort of thing. But they do stop, and Dom leans back enough to look over his shoulder while Brian puts his hands back on the hood.

"Thought you said you were gonna get an early start on the car," Mia says from where she's standing, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, just inside the garage. She looks amused. "Not each other."

Brian's the one that shrugs. "We were multi-tasking."

"Uh huh." Brian's not sure she could sound more skeptical if she tried. "Well maybe it's time to focus. Jesse's right behind me, and the others are on their way."

Which means, unfortunately, that this is gonna have to wait. They've got work to do.

True to Mia's word, Jesse comes walking in a minute or two later, eyes all bright and happy at the prospect of finally getting to play mad scientist with Brian's baby.

"Take it easy on her, Jesse," Dom says, glancing up from the hood where he's gotten busy replacing the oil.

Brian's been in the cab working on the ECU, biting the inside of his lip to keep from saying anything as Jesse goes around ticking off everything he wants to do to her. He doesn't want to break his stride, but there's a reason he's been keeping her clear of the garage. The Skyline is his brainchild, his first he's put together all by his lonesome with his own plans and his own cash, and much as he loves Jesse, there's this feeling of 'mine' when it comes to the Skyline. Brian doesn't have much, and he has a hard time letting people lay hands on what is.

Dom catches his eyes through the window, and Brian gets the sense that he knows. "No big changes; Buster's gotta run her tonight. We tune up, we clean up, then we take her out for a test drive, understand?"

Brian feels his jaw unclench a little at the mention of the test drive, and as Jesse lets out a groan of surrender, he catches Dom's eyes again. "Thought you said you'd take me someplace better than a shrimp shack," he teases, and damned if that conversation doesn't seem like it was years ago.

Dom just looks at him, shakes his head, and goes back to work. But Brian doesn't miss the smile on his face, exasperated, affectionate, and yeah, fond.

For the record, he drives this time, too.