Milo needed to get off campus, and he had a great place in mind to do just that. He only had one class in the afternoon, and from there he decided to wander into town. He smelled the place before he even got close, the familiar smell of engine grease, motor oil, and the acrid tang of metal. It smelled like home. He took a deep breath as he approached the garage, filling his lungs and nose with the scents. It was comforting, and made his fingers twitch to get to work.
He stepped up to one of the bays, getting a look at the small team of mechanics inside. The boss must have been the stocky, well, Milo wasn't sure exactly what he was but it was some sort of ferret or weasel. His muzzle was a bit grey and despite being the shortest one in the shop, there was no mistaking he ran the place. The other two were big guys, and Milo had to admit he fell into that same category now. One was a bit older, probably in his mid-twenties, who's black and white fur patterns gave Milo a start for a moment. But the pattern was wrong, as was the powerful bulk the badger had. He was growling to himself as he dug around under the hood of a beat up old truck that was probably older than Milo himself.
The third mechanic he recognized. A mix of draft horse and human traits, nailed him down as being a freshman at the college and only one had shot up that much. Milo was getting used to looking at or down at most people by now, Vince was going to easily overtop him, he might overtop Stripes. And if the shower rumors were true, well, Milo didn't want to think too hard on that. He hadn't really had time to talk with this classmate, and Vince being on the first floor didn't make it so they even shared a common room most of the time. "Boss." Vince said, the first one to notice him.
The older weasel buy looked up from where he was peering into the same truck the badger was working on and looked to Vince then over to Milo. He broke into a grin and strode over, grabbing a cloth on the way to wipe of his hands. "Hah! You must be Gus Steinhaus' boy! Spitting image, well." He looked Milo up and down. "Almost. Soon. I'm Martin." He stuck out a wiped off hand and Milo took it, giving it a firm shake that made Martin nod. "Imagine my surprise when Gus starts going off about his two sons, proud as could be, and wants me to bring one on."
"You don't think it's weird?" Milo asked as he followed Martin into the garage with a prompting wave. "Him suddenly having sons?"
"Nah, weirder shit goes on around here and frankly none of us will remember it any other way soon, only reason I know is the human bits and that I've lived in this town most my life. You could do far worse than Gus for a father." Martin went on, bringing a smile to Milo's lips. "And that old grease hog just sounded so damn proud of both of you, well, I wouldn't have the heart to tell him anyway. Not that I think he'd care. Question is what you think."
"Me?" Milo's head was already spinning from Martin's mile a minute chatting, though he definitely seemed the friendly sort. Though now the older man was watching him, and this did seem like a test. "Honestly? First time he texted me, I cried. Same the first time I heard his voice, I was so happy. I may not have met him in person yet, but he's my dad." Milo patted his chest lightly. "I feel it."
"Right answer, kid. I think you and I will get along fine." Martin dug into a box and tossed a pair of coveralls at Milo. "If you need a bigger size later I'll get you some, but those should work for now." Martin nodded at the lockers, so Milo got changed, finding an empty one to shove his stuff into. He was hidden from passersby, but didn't mind getting changed in front of the other guys in the garage. "So, you ever work in a garage before." Martin held up a hand before Milo could answer. "Really work in a garage, not just memories stuffed in your head."
"Ahh, no." Milo had to admit as he zipped the coveralls to mid-chest
"Well, I've had enough hires from the school to know those memories can be surprising. So, we're going to zen mode it. Don't think about things too hard, go with what your gut tells you to do. I'll be keeping an eye on you to make sure you do everything right. I got an oil change and a tire rotation needing doing, and you're gonna do it. I'll pay you for your time today, do well, and I'll bring you on."
The badger let out a string of curses and grabbed a wrench, his face twisted like he was going to beat something with it. Even Vince looked worried for a moment before the badger dove back under the hood, growling loudly. "That's Tad." Martin said. "He's my second. If I'm not here, you do what he says. Don't worry, he's more growl than bite and more honey than badger. He just works best angry." Martin shrugged. "Vince you probably know."
"In passing." The horse confirmed with a nod. "How's the grumpy skunk?"
"God. Does everyone know about Dare?" Milo said, staring at Vince with a bit of surprise. Vince just spread his hands and shrugged those heavy shoulders of his. No, Milo thought, he might actually already be bigger than Stripes. Hell.
"Well, there's your patient." Martin said, nodding to a car in another bay, already up on the lift. "Get to work." Martin grabbed a folding chair and dropped down into it, arms folded across his chest as he looked at Milo. He gave him a little shooing motion to urge him on so he got to work.
He wasn't sure where to start until he put his hand on the car. Clear as day he heard his father's voice in his head going through the steps. Draining the oil, flushing if needed, replacing, on to moving the tires. He looked around and started getting all the tools he'd need together and on a cart. That was another piece of his father's advice. Have everything you'll need at hand so you don't have to go looking later. Every so often he'd look over at Martin, who would only give him an encouraging nod and remained silent.
Milo lost himself in the work, and he found it came more naturally if he didn't think about it too hard, just like Martin suggested. He even started humming a song he had hear Curtis singing to himself earlier and ended up worming its way into his brain.
'Cause you don't know where you should go
You're looking for that plain-sighted arrow
And I didn't say it wasn't fun leading you around
What was up with Dare? He thought as he worked, letting his hands do what they want. It was almost easier to think when half his brain was busy doing something else. He thought the skunk had feelings for him, he knew he did for Dare. He hated to admit it, but he had seen this before. Kids at the state home that were bounced around, or else thought they had found a home and later came back. They were burned and were too afraid to touch the flame again, like having feelings was something that only led to feeling worse. And he remembered that night. Dare waking up from a nightmare, crawling into his bed. The confession. The thought that someone had hurt his skunk like that. It made the hair on the back of Milo's neck stand up and heat rise in his chest. Set the bolts aside somewhere safe, check the wear on the tires, balance it.
But it's such a waste of time to think
That anybody knows me like you do
If I could listen in, write it down in ink
That question that you're thinkin' of
You know it, you know it is...
His skunk. Is that really how he thought of Dare? What about him? What if Dare called him his boar? The thought was more pleasing than Milo cared to admit. He just wanted Dare to stop hurting. He wanted to patch up that broken spot in the skunk's heart and keep him close so it never got damaged again. He could see sparks of a loving and caring person under the sour expressions and sharp comments. The way he was eager to help Ollie with his homework, the way his face softened and even smiled if his new skunk siblings were brought up, they way he held Milo when he cried after that text from his father.
Milo tightened the last bolt and stepped back, setting down the wrench and wiping his forehead on his arm, barely noticing the brown fur that covered the limb. Milo cleaned his hands on a rag as Martin got up and started inspecting his work, poking at this and that, nodding to himself approvingly. "Gus taught you well. I know it wasn't a hard job, but considering you're running off new memories, damn fine job."
Milo felt his chest swelling with pride at the words. It had felt good just to work with his hands, a lot like when he got lost in his photography. Just the simple joy of letting yourself be consumed by something you found pleasure in. "Welcome aboard." Martin said, sticking out his hand, which Milo once more took for a shake. "You know, when your hands started changing right in the middle there, I thought you were going to need a break, but you just kept going. I like that. You don't let many things bother you, do you?"
"My.. hands?" Milo asked and held them up in front of his face. His fingers had fused down to two digits and a thumb, the nails a bit on the thick side. He flexed them a few times, expecting them to feel weird, but it felt right, natural. His arms were completely covered in his bristly brown pelt as well. "When..?"
"You didn't even notice?" Martin asked, then laughed. "When I told you just run on instinct I didn't expect you to shut your brain off completely." His boss slapped him on the shoulder. "Oh well, still like ya', kid. Wanna stay a few more hours? Maybe help with this mess of a truck before Tad smashes in the windshield?"
"I'd love to. Um, do you mind if I text my dad first? Let him know the good news?" Milo asked, nodding to where he had left his phone in the lockers.
"God forbid Gus doesn't have another thing to brag about, go ahead." Martin said with a broad smile and fake severity. "Bring the impact wrench on your way back, I think we might need it."
"Sure thing, boss."