Cheering Up

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Summary: NASCAR has given Chad a two week vacation.will he ever survive it?

AUTHOR: Mick
EMAIL: mick@cryptoffic.com
RATING: NC-17
CHARACTER: Chad Knaus/Jimmie Johnson, Chad POV
CATEGORY: Angst/Smut
DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
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He’d done everything there was to do. He’d rearranged the furniture. He’d organized his CD and DVD collection. He’d cleaned out that closet at the top of the stairs that had been gathering junk for three years. He’d fixed up his garden, figured out how to make his microwave stop making that annoyingly high-pitched buzzing, and he’d finally convinced himself it was ok to throw out that old tennis racket. He’d gone through his closet and put his clothes in a neatly ordered row, by color, style, and size. He’d called his mother and caught up on the things he’d missed while he was away. He talked to his neighbors while he cleaned out the last bit of mess in his newly designed garage. He’d taken measurements on the living room, which would be his next big remodeling project.

And he still had a week left. A week to do nothing. A week’s “paid vacation” as NASCAR was calling it. He was restless, ready to get back to work. His clipboard was sitting on the kitchen table, practically begging to be scribbled on. He was having anxiety attacks from not being at the garage. In fact, on his second day of “paid vacation,” he’d attempted to sneak into the shop after everyone had left, but had been talked out of it by the one person he’d thought would help him.

He’d been shocked and angered when Jimmie told him not to try and come to the shop. Of all the people Chad knew, he always thought he could count on Jimmie to have his back in situations like this. Jimmie just didn’t seem to understand what two weeks with no cars to work on could do to a man, especially one like him.

So Chad sat at home and waited. He’d left his cell phone at the shop so he wouldn’t be tempted to call them with it. He’d tucked his radio away in his office so he wouldn’t try to use that either. He did, however, send them faxes throughout the day. He especially liked the one with little stick figures in pools of blood with the words “Die Fascist Nazis” at the top. Jimmie had faxed him back to tell him he had a mental problem.

Chad Knaus was a desperate man, and each day made him that much crazier. He felt like he was under house arrest. Every time he climbed into his truck to go to the store, he’d drive by the shop and wonder if just maybe he could get away with visiting for a little while. If worse came to worse, he could hide in one of the groups of people going on tours of the place. No one would ever notice him that way.

What killed him was that he was being punished for something that wasn’t his fault. When the fines had first been announced that Tuesday, he’d known he was going to get hit with something for Jimmie’s car being off. He wasn’t expecting to get the boot for two entire weeks. As if that wasn’t bad enough, they decided to ban him from the garage as well as the tracks. So basically, for two weeks he was back to being a normal human being, watching everything on TV, or listening on the radio. Even going on the internet didn’t help him much.

After what felt like his five hundredth game of solitaire, Chad gave up. He switched to his old Atari system, but he could only take so much of the bad graphics and cheesy sound effects. From there he moved on to cooking, but that lasted for two batches of cookies and a tray of brownies, which turned into “Fudge Flambé Alla Chad” when he forgot to take them out of the oven. After deciding it was too dangerous for him inside the house, he’d moved outside. He watered his lawn, which proved to be futile because it was only March and the grass wasn’t exactly growing under the small layer of snow that still covered the ground. He got the idea of making a homemade ice-skating rink, but thought better of it when he realized he had no ice skates. Around the front of the house, he hacked away at the frozen dirt in his flowerbed and poured random seeds over it, hoping that maybe something would grow. He had a feeling he’d be holding his breath over nothing, though.

Finally, one night he could take no more. He’d had enough of this punishment and was ready to take matters into his own hands. He stormed into the bathroom and grabbed a razor, to shave his face. He hadn’t bothered worrying about appearances while he’d been stuck at home, which had caused him to grow a decent amount of facial hair. It took a while, and quite a bit of shaving cream, but he managed to make himself look normal again. He hopped into the shower and turned the water up high, enjoying the warm spray that he hadn’t stepped under in nearly a week. With nowhere to go, there’d been no need to shower and make himself look acceptable every morning. After his shower, he realized all his clothes were sitting beside the hamper, waiting to be washed. He tossed as much as he could into the washing machine and dug through his closet for a pair of pajamas to change into, at the very least, so he wouldn’t have to wear a pair of dirty jeans and a ratty t-shirt to the office. All the way in the back of the closet, he found his old Rainbow Warriors fire suit. With no other option, he pulled it on and looked himself over in the mirror. At least he was clean-shaven.

With one final glance in the mirror, Chad stormed to the door, mentally psyching himself up for his encounter with the big guys in the office. He decided he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, even if it meant getting down on his knees and begging for them to let him back into the shop.

“JIMMIE!” Chad jumped back, stumbling over his own two feet and landing on his ass in his foyer. He’d pulled the door open and in his psyched-up haze hadn’t noticed anyone standing in his doorway until he’d slammed into them.

Jimmie stood in the door staring down at Chad with a mixture of amusement and horror on his face. After a short debate, he decided that it was too funny not to laugh. Seeing his crew chief in such a state of distress that he actually pulled on his Rainbow Warriors fire suit made him wonder if he shouldn’t have come by earlier. Jimmie dropped to the ground in giggles, holding onto his stomach as tears soon began to flow from his eyes.

“Oh yeah, laugh it up, you jerk!” Chad jumped to his feet and glared at Jimmie, who was now a laughing mess on the floor, “Would you mind getting in or getting out? You’re letting the bugs in!”

Not able to hold himself up, Jimmie rolled himself into the house and kicked the front door shut. From his position on his back on the floor, he stared up at Chad, trying to no avail to contain himself. Chad wasn’t helping matters any, standing with his hands on his hips, one foot tapping angrily near his head. Apparently, he didn’t see the humor in the situation.

“Jimmie, would you cut it out? I don’t see anything funny about this situation! I’m going insane! I need my life back!”

At that, Jimmie breathed in sharply, finally managing to control his giggles-almost. In less than a second, he was laughing again, curling himself up in a fetal position to try and make the pain in his stomach go away. Never in his life had he seen Chad look this pathetic.

“Oh fine. Be that way. I’ll be in the bathroom, dragging a razor across my wrists,” Chad huffed, storming off in the direction of the bathroom.

Not sure if he was joking or not, Jimmie managed to take a few deep breaths before hauling himself off the floor with the help of the banister. He stumbled to the bathroom, still trying to completely calm himself. He pushed the door open without thinking and shrieked in horror at the sight of Chad now naked in the room, rooting through the hamper for something to wear.

Startled by the shriek, Chad straightened up and shrieked in response when he realized that Jimmie was starring at him in his birthday suit, once again ready to burst into laughter. His hands shot to his crotch, covering himself, but not soon enough. Jimmie held up his hand, his pointer finger and thumb no more than an inch apart and in a split second was once again on the floor in a fit of giggles.

Chad pouted, “Jimmie it’s not funny! Stop laughing! It’s fucking cold in here man, c’mon stop!”

No longer willing to take the abuse, he stomped out of the bathroom, stepping over Jimmie in the process and stormed into his bedroom, slamming the door shut. Just as he was turning the latch, he heard the washing machine beep.

“Figures,” he grabbed the towel he’d dropped on his floor earlier and wrapped it around his waist before stepping out of his room, surprised to see that Jimmie had disappeared. He walked cautiously through the house, peaking around every corner on his way to the laundry room, but there was no sign of the insanely giggling driver anywhere. Deciding the coast was clear Chad stepped into the laundry room and turned the light on.

“BOO!” Jimmie jumped out from behind the door and Chad let out the mother of all shrieks, once again sending Jimmie into a laughing fit on the ground.

“What is this, torture Chad day?” Chad exclaimed once he’d regained his composure, “Take your games somewhere else, James I’m not in the mood!”

“Aw c’mon Chad, lighten up!” Jimmie managed to reply as he pulled himself up off the floor, “I came to keep you company for the night.”

“If by keeping me company, you mean scaring the shit out of me, making fun of my manhood, and torturing me endlessly, you can just as well go home and keep your wife company,” Chad shot, stepping around Jimmie to get to his clothes. He began pulling things out of the machine and shoving them into the dryer when he felt something pressed against his back. Not something…someone.

“Jimmie, what are you do--”

Chad’s breath caught in his throat as he felt two strong hands tug on the towel around his waist. He gasped as he heard a zipper coming undone and pants being kicked off. He moaned softly as he felt Jimmie press himself against his back, his erection rubbing against the small of his back. He braced himself against the dryer as he felt Jimmie’s hands grasp his hips, pulling him back against him as he pressed the head of his shaft into him.

With one quick stroke, Jimmie buried himself inside Chad, moaning his name under his breath, pressing himself against his back as the smaller man whimpered and clutched the edge of the dryer. He waited a moment before starting to move against him, teasingly slow. Chad was trembling beneath him, biting down on his lip as he moaned softly.

“Jimmie…please…,” Chad panted, trying with no success to push himself back against the larger man.

“Please what?” Jimmie whispered in his ear, nipping at his earlobe.

“You know what…Jimmie please, do it.”

“I want to hear you say it, Chad. Tell me what you want,” Jimmie pulled out of him until only his head was inside of him and Chad groaned in protest.

“Fuck me, Jimmie. I want you to fuck me,” Chad growled through gritted teeth.

Satisfied with the demand, Jimmie bucked his hips, burying himself inside the smaller man once more. The room came to life with the sounds of flesh on flesh, moans, and various obscenities as they moved against one another, both trembling with adrenaline. As Jimmie felt himself reaching his peak, he slid a hand around Chad and took his shaft into his hand, stroking him in time with his thrusts, squeezing him just enough to drive him crazy.

“Oh Fuck…Jimmie…Jimmie…,” Chad began bucking his hips against him, Jimmie’s name becoming a mantra as his orgasm began to build up.

“C’mon Chad…come for me…,” Jimmie growled into his ear, thrusting into him as hard as he could, knowing how much he liked it rough.

“Oh goooooood,” Chad’s body shook as he came, his legs barely able to hold him up.

Jimmie let out a strangled moan, his own orgasm following with one more thrust. He buried himself deep inside Chad, gasping for air as he leaned forward against him, his breathing ragged and his heart pounding.

After a moment, he pulled out of him and whispered into his ear, “Still want me to go home to my wife?”

Chad turned to face him and pulled him into a heated kiss, “Leave and I kick your ass.”

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Mick - mick@cryptoffic.com