Drabble # 4

Sarge and Sally

Untitled

It was a balmy night in Radiator Springs. One of those nights where everyone is feeling joyful and festive for no particular reason. Almost everyone was assembled at Flo's, most of them drinking. Mater and Ramone were chatting and laughing about something or other, as were Doc and Sheriff. Lightning and Sally were getting quite snuggly, but of course no one minded.

Well, no one except Sarge, who glared at them over his drink with a look that was considerably more icy than his usual frown, which most people brushed off as him being, well, just the way he was.

Fillmore was next to him, and, oddly enough, he looked worried. His worry wasn't exactly as obvious as that of the average vehicle, but beneath his heavy lids his brown eyes were moving from Sarge, to McQueen and Sally, and back, and his tires were shuffling beneath him, barely perceptible. When he could take no more of Sarge's grumbling and glaring, he spoke in a voice just above a whisper.

"Easy, man, it's just love..."

The bus immediately regretted having spoken when Sarge gave a particularly loud and disgusted snort and rolled his eyes in a very dramatic way at Fillmore's words, then fixed his glare once again on the snuggling couple.

It seemed that Sally had had enough. She was now driving over to Sarge, while Lightning remained where he was, blinking in confusion. The Porsche parked in front of the Jeep, and Fillmore slowly started to back up.

"You know what, Sarge?"

Sarge only glared and jutted out his bottom bumper.

"I didn't want to have to do this to you, but: You're an asshle, you know that? I mean, I'm sure you know that, it seems to be a conscious effort on your part from what I can tell."

Everyone had gone dead silent. Sarge's eyes were open as wide as they could possibly be open.

"Now look here, woman, I -- "

Sally held up a tire and cut him off.

"I know it bothers you when McQueen and I get close. I know it bothers you when Flo and Ramone get close. Don't even get me started on how much it bothers you when Mack and Vee get close, but we all know why. You know that, right? and you know, sometimes I just wish you would get over yourself, stop making every couple here miserable just because you want them to be as uncomfortable in public with their boyfriends as you are with yours."

Fillmore buried his face in his drink with a groan, awaiting the fiery explosion that would in the end be directed straight at him.

It never came, however. Sarge seemed to be teetering on the brink of it, but Sally had struck a nerve. He merely gaped at her with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open slightly. His eyes looked to the crowd. Everyone was staring directly at him, and for a moment he felt like he might faint. A very Ramone-ish voice snickered somewhere in the crowd.

Sarge managed to shut his mouth. He cleared his throat a few times, then jabbed an accusing tire at Sally.

"Well, you..!" Sally waited for him to say something. "You..."

It seemed he could think of nothing to say. To the shock of everyone there, he simply turned and left, eyes still impossibly wide and grille still flushed. When Sarge was out of sight, someone clapped their tires together in applause, and that someone was very near to where the Ramone snicker had come from.

Sally turned to Fillmore, who seemed to be trying to figure out how to put his very large body into his very small fuel can.

"Was I too hard on him?"

Fillmore looked timidly to her.

"Nah. I love him, but I think he needed that."

Sally smiled a bit.

"I'm going to go talk to him."

Fillmore blinked at her as if she had just said she was going to go jump into Frank's blades. She rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Oh, come on, I'm not afraid of Sarge."

Fillmore tried to smile for her, and once she was gone he ordered the strongest drink on the menu.

Sally parked outside Sarge's hut and rang the doorbell. Sarge was quick enough to answer the door.

"Look, bus, I just want to b -- Oh!" The Jeep bristled when he saw who it was. "Can I help you?" he said in an almost hiss.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"I've already heard what you wanted to say," Sarge said brusquely, then turned, his tire hovering over the button that would close the door before Sally protested.

"No, I mean, really talk to you. You look like you could use someone to talk to."

Sarge's tire hit the ground with an angry thud.

"If you're suggesting I need some kind of therapy session, I -- "

"Would you please just relax? Just for two seconds, Sarge? I came over to apologise. I want to talk to you, not lecture you. Can I come in?"

Sarge stared at her for a moment, then turned hesitantly and gestured for her to enter. She drove inside the hut, and he shut the door. His home only consisted of three rooms: the shop, a living room type area, and his private quarters. They both settled down in the living room, facing each other, and Sarge stared at her impatiently, tapping a tire.

"Right. So I wanted to say I'm sorry. Not for telling you to knock it off and stop glaring, because you really need to stop doing that, Sarge. I'm sorry for outing you and Fillmore in front of everyone, though. I mean, most of us have picked up on it anyway, but it still wasn't my place."

Sarge's frown had changed to a thoughtful one, and since he wasn't saying anything, Sally continued.

"I know it's not easy for you to be in a relationship with Fillmore, because for whatever reason you think we're all going to hate you for it, but look: we've all known you for years. Some of us for decades. Maybe I haven't known you as long as say, Sheriff has, but really...we don't think any differently of you, Sarge. Don't be so ashamed of yourself. You and Fillmore are just as legitimate to us Mack and Vee are. I just want you to stop taking out your insecurity on everyone."

Sally was surprised that Sarge had let her go on this long. The old Jeep was staring at her, still thoughtful and perhaps a bit sad. The only thing that gave away his frustration was the slight kneading of his tires against the carpet.

"The whole town isn't out to get you, okay? Go easy on us, and Fillmore." She chucked. "I know a lot has changed lately, but you're still my friend."

The Porsche considered for a moment. Maybe what she was about to do was suicidal, but Sarge seemed like he needed it, whether he knew it or not, and from someone that wasn't Fillmore. Someone that could affirm his worth to the rest of them.

She wrapped a tire around his and kissed him on the grille. She had half expected for him to rear back or even strike her, but he merely remained motionless and looked down at her with a blush, lowering his hood a bit. She pulled away and smiled.

"I'm going to go back to Lightning now or I'll never hear the end of it."

Sarge nodded, chewing his bottom bumper.

"Alright. Err, umm, thank you, Sally."

She smiled. "No problem. Bye!"

As she headed out the door, a slightly intoxicated looking Fillmore was there in Sarge's lawn, waiting. He stared at her in shock.

"Piece of cake," Sally said, laughing, and Fillmore's mouth made a circle in a silent impressed whistle.