hood of old car

For Chelsea

Her Native American Cecil who sprouts desert flowers behind his ears when he is happy/pleased/excited.

I was thinking about Carlos and Cecil sitting on the hood of a rusted out old car with the Glow Cloud in the distance doing that thing the glow cloud does and Cecil just smiling so proud of himself for landing a hunk like Carlos as the flowers unfold from behind his ears.

what are they | los angeles ufo fluff | wc: 560 | warnings: none


“Mulder, nothing is out there.” She tapped the windshield.

“Come on, Scully.” His voice was so weightless that she felt the sound waves had done him an injustice. Why stay so near to the ground, why travel through the open windows to meet her when they could get a head start for the sky, reach out to the aliens? First contact. “You don’t believe that. You have alien DNA. You’re out there.”

She could leave him in the dirt. She could put the car into drive and speed through the hills, let those dry Santa Ana winds set beating the heart he’d just unintentionally stopped. But even in that fantasy she was already coming back for him. He leaned on the hood of the car and smiled at her with the old eagerness to please, the insecurity that no amount of cuffed sleeves and ruffled hair could counteract. I need you on this, Scully. She curled her hands around her coffee.

“Nothing is out there now, then.”


@kxdfrxmyxstxrdxy continued from here (x)

Jumping at the voice, Izzy stared at Poison with wide eyes. It was as if she were seeing a ghost all over again; without the adrenaline and thrill of battle numbing her to the shock. Blinking away her tears, she watched him walk over to his car and caress the hood like he’d always done. Same old Poison…almost.

“‘S your car…well was. Since ya went missin’ the boys just took it over and usually park it where I can’t see it.” Mostly because she’d always get emotional and either flip it or shoot the damned thing until the pain stopped. Eyes locked on him, Izzy finally just limped out of the ship and over to him. “Doesn’t matter does it? I did what I did and ya can’t undo it now.” Like hell she’d tell anyone why she’d done it; why she needed him back so damn bad.

tbh he doesn’t even look like Aladdin or uncle Jesse that much he just looks so so so brown
he looks like he’d be working at the garage across the alley from my grandmothers house in Pakistan and I’d see him every time I’d go out to catch a rickshaw and we’d make eye contact and he’d smirk at me over the hood of the car he’s working on while tacky old Bollywood plays from the beaten down radio in the corner of the garage