HELLION

By Intrepidwarriors

Biker Mice From Mars & Copyright belongs to them who shall be nameless

Please spare me and don't get technical on the very evident plot holes.

I have to rely on Mr Google and Mrs Imagination.

Sometimes they are talking, sometimes he's sleeping on the sofa and she's pissed off and cutting up his shirts.

Vinnie slumped into his armchair, his legs crossed in front of him and his boots resting one on top of the other. The cold root beer in his right hand glistened with moisture as the cool drops made snail trails down the side of the can.

The sun was just starting to retire for the day, the sky and clouds shot with a neon explosion of golden yellow, purple and pink colours by the dying light.

To his left sat his bros, chatting about Charlie's latest designs for their bikes. Her ideas were so exciting that Modo and Throttle were still discussing them, twenty-four hours after she had mentioned it. Normally, he would join in the conversation with his usual level of hyperactive excitement, but he was past that. Well, at least today he was.

It had been a gruelling day for all of them. First they had to battle Limburger's goons in the morning and not two, but four villains he had somehow funded for his dirty work. And then they had to help move in some heavy new equipment Charlie purchased for the Last Chance Garage. They had to martian-handle it (yeah, I said it!) around a few times till the pretty mechanic knew exactly where she wanted it.

It had taken the entire afternoon and early part of the evening as well. Vinnie seemed to be suffering from a growth spurt of 'maturity' recently (nasty stuff that!), and had worked the hardiest out of the three bros. Which explained why he was also the quietest.

Eventually satisfied with the equipment placement, the human handed them a root-beer each and told them to go relax, she could do the finishing touches herself.

Which is why they were stretched out in front of the garage, watching the wrench-jockey climb nimbly over and under the workshop equipment as she finished tightening a screw here, a bolt there.

"I wonder who taught her to do all that?" Vinnie mused, watching his wife tackle a particularly tricky bit of the setup.

She jumped down from where she was poised halfway up the new scissor lift, and landed with a slight thud as her boots hit the ground at the same time.

Wiping the hair out of her eyes, she put the huge open wrench over her shoulder and inspected her work. Nodding with approval, she walked over and placed the wrench back in its spot (OCD-like genetics wouldn't allow her to just dump it any old place like her furry friends would).

Seeing the boys relaxing in front of the garage, she quickly grabbed a root beer from the fridge and walked over to join them.

"Want my seat babe?" Vinnie offered, making to leave the chair he occupied but she waved him off.

Noticing her presence, Modo and Throttle also offered their seats but she declined, knowing how exhausted they all were.

Seeing she wouldn't budge on her decision, Modo and Throttle excused themselves and returned to their previous conversation.

Opening the can, she took a big gulp, letting the refreshing liquid roll around her mouth in one delicious fizz, before it slid down her throat, lubricating the parched cavity.

"How are your legs Vinnie?" she asked him after she swallowed her mouthful.

"Sore, like the rest of me Charlie-girl" he replied, smiling to indicate he didn't regret the feeling. It was his badge of honour, proof to his bros, and especially his wife, that he was starting to stretch his wings into the field of masculinity known as 'responsibility'.

"Too sore to hold my weight?" she asked, eyeing his lap.

Vinnie shot straight up like a rocket and pulled his legs in. Slapping his thighs, he beckoned her over.

"Never for you doll-face!" he replied, holding her drink as she settled her lower half over his lower half and put an arm round his neck.

"Ooohh, I'm liking this!" Charlie whispered in his ear as she wriggled her rear end into its preferred position.

Vinnie chuckled as a slight blush crept into his face.

"Any excuse to make me blush huh Charlie-girl!" he whispered back.

Winking saucily at him, she took a more delicate sip of her drink than last time. Swallowing, she let out a sigh of satisfaction as she stroked the back of her husband's neck.

"It's funny, but I've never been one for hairy guys" she commented. "Lucky I got myself a furry one!"

Vinnie's initial burst of energy when he sat up had dissipated as quickly as it had arrived, so he contented himself with a quirk of the lips and stroking her back in mesmerising circles.

"Oh my goodness, that's so good!" Charlie groaned in appreciation, her eyelids drooping as the stress of the day drained from her body.

Vinnie shot a glance in his bros' direction, hoping they hadn't heard the noise of appreciation and got the idea something was afoot. Not that he would mind if they were alone, but having his bros around at that particular moment saved him from having to go any further with his activities, like the dreaded foot rub. The last time he had acquiesced to her wishes had resulted in a kick to his face when he hit a ticklish spot. The resulting black eye hadn't been forgotten by either of them.

Vinnie continued his absentminded strokes up and down her back and she purred in satisfaction. Her body felt like it was melting, and she exhaled happily when her husband's strong fingers found a knot and started to knead the muscles in that area. Time slipped away and soon it was just her and the wonderful sensation of his touch.

"Charlie-girl..." Vinnie said, drawing her attention reluctantly back to reality.

"Mmmmm" she murmured in response, rubbing herself against his hand as he paused momentarily to gather his thoughts.

Noticing the pleading look on her face, he returned to caressing her back and her eyes closed in pleasure.

"Where did you learn all this stuff?" he asked.

"What stuff babe?" Charlie asked in reply, running her fingers through the fur on his upper back.

"All this wrench-jockey biz. It's pretty darn amazing sweetheart" he asked her, shivering slightly at the ticklish sensations.

Charlie grinned at the pride she heard in her husband's tone.

"My maternal grandmother" she replied.

Vinnie's reply made her chuckle.

"Charlie-girl...that's...that's...positively BAD-ASS!" he said, admiration for a woman he'd never met glowing in his eyes.

"What's bad-ass?" Throttle's voice interjected.

"Charlie was her grandmother's padawan in alternate wrench-jockey 101" Vinnie told his brothers, appreciation warming his voice.

"Definitely bad-ass!" Throttle agreed while Modo nodded in silent agreement.

Charlie beamed proudly from her position on Vinnie's lap.

"It's a legacy passed down from mother to daughter for the past five hundred years. Well, except my mum. She wanted to study medicine and become a nurse so she asked Tinky to teach me instead."

The mice worked extra hard not to let their humour at Charlie's pet name for her grandmother show, but she picked up on it anyway.

"My grandmother is a legend on the Brazilian biker circuit. They called her the Tinkerer. She could fix any bike sent her way, cos she would keep tinkering with it till it worked. All the neighbourhood knew her as Tinky Kasinski, or Tinky for short" Charlie explained, ignoring their bemused expressions.

"So Kasinski is a surname?" Modo prompted, intrigued to hear so much history about his favourite mechanic.

"Actually no, her surname was Rodriguez. Catalina Maria Alessandra Rodriguez. She worked for a period at Kasinski Motors, building and fixing motorcycles in Brazil, before she came to America to be with my grandfather."

Charlie took a sip of her rootbeer and returned to enjoying the sensations created by Vinnie's languorous spirals on her back.

Modo politely clearing his throat indicated that the males in the group were very keen for her to elaborate more, thank you very much Charlie-ma'am.

Charlie was more than happy to oblige.

"My grandfather owned a small motorbike shop around Aurora, Illinois. A lot of his customers were modest living Hispanics, and he decided the best way to meet their needs was by importing a range of lesser known, but less expensive brands. So he headed to South American to suss out a couple of the regional designs. When he was touring the Kasinski factory, he saw my grandmother and immediately fell in love with her. At first, she wasn't sold on this crazy, one quarter-Latino, three quarters‑Caucasian man with green eyes, but his natural determination and stubbornness finally won her over, and she agreed to let him court her when he returned to purchase some Kasinski bikes. After a whirlwind courtship, she knew he was the one for her. He proposed, she said yes and she immigrated over to the States to be with him when her papers came through. Eventually they sold the shop and moved to Chicago, where my grandfather bought a second hand dealership and Tinky took night classes and became its main mechanic."

Pausing for a breath, she surveyed her audience to see if they were still awake after their exhausting day. Seeing three wide awake and attentive males fixated on her every word convinced her to keep going.

"My mum was born somewhere in the mix and she showed more interest and aptitude for medicine than mechanics, so when she met and fell in love with my father, a local biker, my grandparents were both surprised and pleased. They got hitched and had me and I spent many a glorious summer running around the caryard and Tinky's workshop, learning everything she had to teach me. It's always been my dream to own a mechanics shop in her honour, hence the Last Chance."

Charlie smiled proudly at her life's work, memories of Tinky's lessons surfacing in her mind as she gazed fondly at her baby.

"What about this famous female legacy, babe?" Throttle prompted.

It was the perfect summer's evening, kicking back with his bros, Charlie-girl and a cold brew. He wasn't about to let it end so soon, especially when there was more to Charlie's intriguing story to be heard.

"Ah well, that's even more ancient history. My great-grandmother was the descendant of a Portuguese lieutenant who immigrated to Brazil with the family of Duarte Coelho Pereira. My ancestor married a distant relation of Pereira and settled on the land to raise a family. He tried his hand at blacksmithing and found he had a natural talent for it. I'm not exactly sure how or why, but he was ahead of his time in equal rights, so he not only taught his son what he knew, he also taught his daughter. She secretly passed on her education to her daughter and so on and so forth, and as technology advanced, so did my family's skills."

"That's some incredible heritage you've got there, Charlie-ma'am." Modo commented, amazed at how much Charlie knew about her family's heritage. "How do you know so much about them?"

Charlie rolled her eyes in exasperation. "It comes from an overly-proud Brazilian grandmother who researched her lineage to death, and insisted I know everything she discovered back to front, and inside out."

Vinnie laughed at his wife's expression of pained resignation and cuddled her closer.

"Explains where all that fire comes from! Ok, my turn...where do I get my startling good looks and mad motor skills from I hear you ask? Well listen up young lady, and let me tell you a wondrous tale. Adventure, action, romance...it's got it all. Let me tell you about the illustrious Van Wham lineage!"

As his bros groaned in mock terror and went to prepare some hotdogs for the four of them, Charlie listened in rapt attention to her husband's electrifying and slightly exaggerated family history.

The End.

Author's Note: I started writing this with the intention of explaining how Charlie got her wrench-jockey skillset, but it started ending up like my usual crappy romance fanfics. In the end, I had to let it sit for a few months until I could get an idea of how to spin it out of my head and into reality. It's been such a struggle to make that happen. I hope I didn't fail you. I hope you enjoyed it despite the lack of anything meaty to read. Hugs and Belly Rubs - Intrepidwarriors