Title: Hot Rod

Disclaimer: I am writing this story for fun and not profit. The characters belong to Kazuki Takahashi. Therefore, I own nada and make nada.

Warnings: AU. Profanity. Crack! fic. Sexual descriptive content (sort of).

Pairings: Mobile! Mobiumshipping. Mobile! Puppyshipping. Slight Mobiumshipping. Slight Puppyshipping.

Rating: M

Author's Rant: This was inspired by a fiction called Parking by slymyheart. Wings of Hikari, babes, for being such a very amazing person, this is for you. I truly hope you enjoy it. Everyone else, I hope you find this to your liking as well.

Summary: Nissan simply wanted to enjoy another casual day of waiting in the school parking lot for his driver. Why did the Camaro and Jaguar have to park next to him? Now he was feeling a little hot under the hood. Mobile! Mobiumshipping. Gift fic for Wings of Hikari.

New Editions

Nissan Sentra parked into the vacant spot near the PE building. Cars of all colors, models, years and makes were filling in the rows by the throes. Thank God, Kia Optima went by. Nothing against the 2004, but he had a terrible habit of parking too close and opening his doors too wide, thus causing dents that he conveniently couldn't explain.

He sideswiped Ford Mustang last year. What a nasty fender-bender that was. Mustang tried to T-bone Kia a few times after that, but Kia managed to evade the ford all summer. Now it was school time and Mustang made sure he displayed that piece of reminder to Kia as he drove through looking for an empty space.

Nissan like this part of the parking lot because hardly anyone ever came here, save for Suzuki and Mustang, but they were decent company. The three of them would just idle by one another, passing the time, getting some sun or rain and just relaxing.

Of course, that was only when Mustang and Suzuki weren't caught up in one of their revving contests and shaking up the entire lot with their thunderous horsepower. It raked everyone's circuits when the two forgot to keep a respectful noise ordinance. Crown Victoria often issued out tickets to the idiots for disturbing the peace. Other than being obnoxiously loud, the two weren't bad to hang around with.

Ferrari F12, on the other hand, was a total tailpipe. He made it his mission to patrol every aisle of the lot, portraying his vastly expensive self. The car would always make it his purpose to outshine anyone he parked next to and embarrass the rust off their exterior until their motors couldn't start from the degradation.

Nissan tried being friends with Ferrari, but Nissan was always snubbed off for the other more exclusive hot rods. Guess Nissan should really count his blessings today. Ferrari just rolled into the lot sporting a new paint job, just as snazzy and wax-polished as ever. He parked about several meters away from the others, you know, just to make sure no one else got a speck of dirt on his pearly white surface.

For some reason, Mustang liked to make it his mission to get as close as possible to Ferrari without actually coming off as a creeper. Try as Mustang might, he still came off as a wrecked junkie who needed a quick go-thru in the car wash. Nissan didn't think Ferrari really cared so long as Mustang kept his respectful distance.

The parking lot was nearly compact like a detail shop during lunch hour. Nissan was ready to spend a casual day basking in the sun, cracking his windows a smidge to release some of the built-in heat when the space to his right was suddenly occupied. Not that Nissan minded, but this was his area. Nissan was fine with a few cars in this entire lot.

Checking out of his peripheral, Nissan thought about honking politely for the car to move over a couple of spaces, but thought against it when he saw what he was up against. This car was someone he'd never seen around these parts. He was a 2012 candy apple red Chevy Camaro, sporting twenty-four inch chrome rims and laser red pin striping on the sides. He was expensive, bulky in the front and thick on the sides.

Look at that fresh-off-the-assembly-line surface, shiny as a coin. He had to have just been bought off the lot a few days ago. No one shined that much.

That was not to say Nissan wasn't very appreciative of the obvious hard work put into Camaro's detailing. Nissan was no stranger to sexy vehicles. Hell, Bumble Bee from Transformers was like the sexiest mechanism on four wheels (plus the burgundy Acura NSX Concept from Avengers and sporty Lamborghini in the Dark Knight. The sleek bodywork on those two could overheat anyone's circulation system.)

Camaro seems OK so far. Perhaps he's nice. Nissan should be friendly. They were going to share the same outside anyway. When the lot emptied of everyone's drivers, Nissan flickered his headlights in a quick greeting to Camaro. There wasn't a respond at first. Nissan almost didn't think there would be one until he felt a slight hum from the neighboring car's engine.

Perhaps he was looking too much into it, but Nissan was gratified to be acknowledged by such an expensive car. It wasn't every day you were recognized as an equal. Camaro isn't much of a conversationalist though. He seems aloof towards everyone. Nissan could respect that. He tended to be quiet for most of the day too. Most of the vibrations from the other motors didn't really start until the afternoon.

Camaro just flashed his headlights, a brightening glow then gradual dim of his slanted beams.

Interesting.

Nissan replied with a few quick blinks.

Silence.

Maybe Nissan gave off the wrong kind of HID. Nissan tried again, several slower flashes.

There was a reply this time.

Nissan's suave interior warmed and his windows fogged a little when Camaro flashed his lights a bit differently than before. The high beams came on and took their time dulling off. That wasn't friendly in the least. It was hauntingly suggestive.

Camaro was letting off a lot of rear end steam from his exhaust pipes that fluttered over Nissan's tires, caressing the rubber texture with its humid perspiration. How was Nissan supposed to respond to that? There was nothing explaining this in his manual.

Nevertheless, Nissan shamefully wanted to feel that again. He turned the ignition and started revving a little daringly. Camaro's motor hummed approvingly, so he answered back with a deep, almost wispy rumble.

Well. That was inviting. How could Nissan ignore such a persuasive rev like that?

Nissan put his brakes on and lowered his windows to let out a bit of air, when the spot to his right was filled in with something that almost made his coolant flush into his motor.

On his left was the damn Camaro and now to Nissan's right was a jet black 2014 Jaguar Coup with gorgeously shiny spider rims. Would you look at that body? Sleek as an oil spill, equipped with a customized platinum grill. The outer black frame glistened flawlessly under the morning sun. Nissan could see his reflection.

Now, Nissan felt twice as cheap. What the bloody hell is this? An auction? Was Jaguar even available on the market yet?

Cheap didn't fit. Nissan felt worn down between these well-built vehicles. No doubt he's racked up twice as many miles, compared to these two. Nonetheless, Nissan didn't let that whole "don't trust a car with under twenty percent window tint" thing get to him. He'd still be friendly.

So, as he did with Camaro, who was suspiciously maintaining a curious speculation from the sidelines, Nissan greeted Jaguar with a couple of flicks. The new car's indicators surged to life. Jaguar's windows rolled down right away. The air circulation poured out, flushing Nissan's left flank in icy cold film.

What a rush! Nissan nearly blew a sparkplug that felt so amazing.

Jaguar wasn't shy at all in letting Nissan know he was interested in being more than parking neighbors. The way his horn just punched in two sharp honks said more than enough.

Camaro just purred from Nissan's right. What to do, what to do? Camaro's subtle revving was causing Nissan's transmission to churn and Jaguar's faint air was coating Nissan's windows with humidity.

. . . .

OK, that noise just now wasn't Nissan's stuttering engine. No, really, it wasn't. Nissan was able to control himself. No way would his engine stall like some poorly manufactured gadget.

So what did it matter that an aggressive Camaro was sending dark messages with his turning signals or that a sly Jaguar was hinting at a parked night in a shared garage with dim lights? Nissan was capable of keeping his coolant from overheating and sustaining his usual idle self.

It was just going to be a little more challenging that's all.

Girl, please let me stick my key in your ignition,
babe
So I can get this thing started and get rollin', babe
See, I'll be doin' about 80 on your freeway
Girl, I won't stop until I drive you crazy

So buckle up 'cause this can get bumpy, babe
Now hit the lights and check out all my functions,
babe
Girl, back that thing up so I can wax it, baby
Honey, we gon' mess around and get a ticket, babe

Really, Jaguar? Playing music like that here! Nissan knew that was highly inappropriate for this kind of lot. What would Mustang say if he heard about this?

Temperatures rising,
And Your body's yearnin' for me.
Girl, lay it on me,
I place no one above thee,
Oh, take me to your ecstasy.

It seems like you're ready (seems like you're ready).
Girl are you ready,
To go all the way?
It seems like you're ready (seems like you're ready).
Girl, are you ready,
To go all the way?

Not Camaro too! This wasn't a showroom, even though both of them could turn a few heads if they were modeling for the next Motor Trend magazine.

Where was human-Nissan? Didn't he hear all of this commotion going on outside? Nissan wanted him to come and investigate these noises. Such as this particular clanking coming from Nissan's exhaust pipes because Camaro wouldn't shut off the pulsation coming from his speakers. Jaguar was flexing his tires in a way that could hypnotize a Corvette.

Fuck.

Nissan wasn't cut out for this type of action. He was a basic, simple, humble car that got human-Nissan to all his destinations and sat in the parking lot with friends.

Nissan had no one else to blame, but himself. If only he'd honked a quick hey and left it at that, but no. He had to engage these two hot rods into showing their more freshly purchased sides. They were sitting here purring contently, lights on dim and radios low. Confident bastards, was what they were. They knew exactly what they were doing to Nissan and were enjoying every minute of it. Nissan could tell from their smug grills how entertaining it was when his engine buckled a few times under the hood.

Suddenly, while Nissan wasn't paying attention, Camaro and Jaguar got this simultaneous idea to revved their monstrous engines until the vibrations quaked the ground and sunk into Nissan's frame. They wouldn't stop. The sound rose and fell, steadily peaking in unpredictable octaves, and strength. It was so strong. Nissan was burning up under the hood—why was engine overheating? The air conditioning wasn't flipping on? Oh God, the forceful growls pressing from the left and right—

It was getting hot, too hot, too hot, way too hot!

The final sound of completion came when the pair let off a roar that startled the entire parking lot. The sounds, the vibrations—fuck; the feel of those earth-shattering spurs— so hot, so damn hot. They were quaking through his tires.

It was coming.

Stimulation electrified his cylinder cords. It was too much. Nissan couldn't do anything to stop his headlights from flashing wildly or stop his horn from repetitively or keep his engine from seizing up.

Nissan was in a state of shock; just, just horrified that he'd went off like he'd just got out of a repair shop.

Oh, the humiliation.

He was spent. He was embarrassed. Judging from the way Jaguar and Camaro were lazily running their motors, perfectly chilled, they didn't care about how they'd staked their claim on Nissan in front of the whole parking lot.

Nissan could never park his rear bumper here again.

He was glad human-Nissan finally arrived to take him home. There was only so much of these new editions he could take.

Oh.

Uh-oh.

Fuck

Nissan would have to remember to get his oil checked. Seems like he might've left a little leakage.

The key wasn't working either. Oh dear. Because of his spent battery, there was no way he was going anywhere now.

Fuck.

Mustang was going to have to give him a jump.

TBC: I don't own either of R. Kelly songs. That was fun. ~Goes off to finish other Mobiumshipping chapters~ Be honest. Tell me what you think.

Car Owners

Ferrari= Seto Kaiba

Ford Mustang= Joey Wheeler

Suzuki Motorcycle= Tristan Taylor

Nissan Sentra= Yugi Muto

Chevy Camaro= Yami

Jaguar Coupe=Atem

Kia Optima= Random