Lessons

Home : Stories by MystikHeather : Lessons

Summary: Someone needs to be taught a lesson.

AUTHOR: MystikHeather
EMAIL: mystikheather@cryptoffic.com
RATING: R
CHARACTERS: Kyle Busch, Jeff Burton
CATEGORY: Drama
WORD COUNT: 1,208
DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don’t own it. 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. ;-)
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is a late birthday gift to my dear Catw00man!  I hope you like! (and for the record, I adored it. Especially the end. ;) Ty sweetie. ~Cat)
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The sound of flesh striking firesuit reverberates through the empty garage and I smirk at his grunt of pain, my fist firmly lodged in his ribs, right below that ridiculous smiling yellow M&M.  Finally able to let my frustrations out in a dark corner, no one around, no one planning to be around for hours yet.  Lucky to find him out here and I couldn’t pass up the chance to show him that no, he’s not God, he’s not invincible, and he’s most definitely not unbreakable.

Listen to his hitched breaths and growl as I hear his cocky voice in my head, interview after interview, press conference after press conference.  Unable for a long time to get away because I was right next to him in points and therefore just down from me in the garage, his voice just following me and it’s like nails on a chalkboard.  Images flash through my head quickly, bow after bow after fucking annoying bow, followed by the waves to the booing fans that just like me would rather seem him wreck than win.  Except that lately some of those boos seem to be turning to cheers and that infuriates me even more.  That swagger as he walks through the garage as if he owns it.

Fuck him, he doesn’t own shit.

Feel him squirm, trying to get free from my tight grip.  I growl in warning, needing him to understand that I’m not done with him yet.  Maybe not done with him ever.  Push him hard back against the wall and stare into eyes that finally show a hint of fear and plenty of pain, the blood dripping from his nose almost beautiful on that stubbled, pimpled face.  Result of my first shot at him, a testament to just how fragile he is.  Regardless of what he thinks. 

I’d caught him unawares this morning, having no idea why he would be up so early, watching him sneak out of his coach and of course I had to follow him.  Had to find out  what he was doing in the garage that early.  Probably trying to steal someone’s shit, or sabotage something, I certainly wouldn’t put it past him.  Had snuck up behind him as he had his head in the 48’s toy box and grabbed him by the back of the neck, spinning him, letting my fist fly, knocking him back.  Remember the sound of expensive sunglasses hitting the floor…

Come back to the here and now and finally force myself to let loose of his firesuit…why he was wearing it this time of day is anyone’s guess, hours before the garage actually opens…and take a step back.  Smirk as he flinches when my foot crunches on mirror coated lenses, feeling them shatter under my foot.  He’s always got them on, this pair in particular seemed to be one of his favorites.  I know why he wears them, these glasses that are really more like goggles.  He wears them so no one can see the insecurities in his eyes that are so blatant now. 

He has no respect for anyone, or anything, and that just isn’t acceptable.  Someone should have knocked some sense into him the day he won the first race in the new car back in Bristol last year.  Ungrateful snot, winning and still bitching.  So young and already taking it all for granted. 

Everyone said going to Gibbs was the perfect match for him, after all, look how much he’s won.  He’s the next Jeff Gordon, Tony Stewart, Jimmie Johnson.  Bullshit.  If anything he’s the next Kasey Kahne…here for one season, gone the next.  And that time can’t come soon enough for me. 

I’ve been here too long, fought too hard, built too much and sacrificed too much to just stand by and let some cocky kid try to knock it all down again.  The only thing I’m grateful for is that he wound up on a team that wasn’t anywhere near mine. 

Was so willing to just let it all go until two days ago when he made that comment to Kevin, that comment about has-beens and having nothing left.  I almost snapped right then and there but there were too many people around.  And hell, if Kevin Harvick, the quintessential short tempered man could hold his temper…than his older, wiser, calmer teammate would most certainly have to be able to. 

Realize I’ve let my thoughts drift again and snap back to hear and now when I hear his hoarse and hitched breath.  “What…the fuck is your problem Burton…I am so gonna have your ass arrested for this…”  Smirk as his voice is strangled by my hand wrapping around his throat.  Doesn’t he understand I could snap him like a twig?  Doesn’t he understand that there’s really nothing stopping me?  That no one would miss him?

Lean forward and drawl in his ear.  “You…are not going to tell a soul about this, I can promise you that.”  Grin wider at his look of disbelief.  And of course he doesn’t understand that no one would believe him.  Let him try.  “Talk cocky like a big man, no one bats an eyelash when you show up beat all to hell the next day Kyle, especially when you’ve got nothing to back it up.  They’ll just assume you opened your mouth one too many times at the wrong place.”

At the panicked look in his eyes I finally realize that maybe I should loosen my grip and give him some air, my intention really not to kill him, just to hurt him, to scare him.  “Do you understand?”  Wait for his nod and finally release him, stepping back, kicking what’s left of the offending shades away.  Point my finger at him.  “Learn some respect Kyle.  Learn it now, learn it fast.  Or next time you’ll have more than a bleeding nose and some cracked ribs.”  Poke him hard in the chest, hard enough to make sure it hurts  “And have no doubt I will have no problem teaching you yet another lesson if need be.”

Wait for his nod, not caring about the absolute hatred I read in his eyes.  He understands now, this moment, but like every cocky shit that walks through the garage he’ll have forgot by tomorrow.  Walk through the side door and head towards the coach lot, not when a hand falls on my shoulder just outside the door and a low voice drawls in my ear. 

“Didn’t know you had something like that in you Burton.”

Of course he’d be there.  Probably has been hunting the kid same as I.  Snort softly and fall into step next to Kevin as we make are way through the gate blocking the million dollar coaches from the general public.  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me Harvick.”  Voice dropping lower.  “Little shit, just needed to be reminded of his place.”

Pause outside the door to my coach as he continues to just grin at me.  “Like you wouldn’t have done the same?”  Match his smirk with one of my own as I pop the door open.  “Wonder if he’ll actually learn.”  Wave goodbye and step inside, closing the door, chuckling softly.  Part of me hopes he doesn’t. 

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MystikHeather - mystikheather@cryptoffic.com