AN: Okay, not exactly a Fast and Furious AU, but a prompt from the kinkmeme called for Malik driving a stick shift and kicking Altair's ass in a race. I am not exactly clear on the details on how to drive with one hand, but it is now a Thing I Have Written. Wuh.

The smell of burnt rubber and exhaust was still visible when Altair stepped out of his car, slamming the door and kicking up the faint wisps of white smoke clinging to the ground. The off-blue beams of hydrogen headlights shone bright behind him as he strode forward, throwing elongated shadows sharper than the ones cast by the parking garage's flickering fluorescent lights.

He scowled at the car up ahead, its engine running and music on, deep bass beats shaking through the air like miniature earthquakes set to a steady rhythm. He rapped his knuckles against the tinted window on the driver's side, fingers bumping just a little more than necessary from the vibrations. Altair knew Malik absolutely hated loud stereo abuse, and he couldn't figure out if he was angrier at the blatant hypocrisy or that Malik had the gall to roll down the window instead of getting out of the car.

"You-" Altair began, the word cheated on the tip of his tongue before he swallowed it whole at the sight of Kadar, sitting shotgun with a white-knuckled grip on both his armrests and eyes squeezed shut. There was no way Kadar could have helped with the driving, not with his knees drawn up to his body and heels digging into the black leather upholstery. Still, Malik had one arm, and he had driven through the whole spiraling, eight-level garage with near flawless stick shift handling. Altair stared, accusing tone dying away into a confused, "How did you even…?"

Malik smirked, and turned off the blaring dubstep that still managed to leave all their ears ringing seconds after the silence settled in.

"Are we dead?" Kadar finally asked. "Can I open my eyes now?"

"No, not dead," Malik replied, seatbelt hissing back as he reached over to grab the front of Altair's jacket and yank him down. "But keep your eyes closed."

Altair grunted, hands moving to brace over the top of the door and grip Malik's shoulder to pull the him closer, unwilling to let the other man take the lead for a second time. Malik seemed unsurprised by the forceful way Altair's mouth met his, lips already wet from his tongue. Working into the kiss, Altair felt Malik's hand leave his jacket to hook a thumb around his left belt loop, occasionally brushing at the sliver of skin between his boxers and shirt.

"I think I could stand to lose more often," Altair muttered, just a second too late before he realized that Malik's fingers worming their way into his pocket was not in any way meant to be a possessive turn on.

His car keys slid away with a soft jingle, leaving Altair with an empty upturned pocket and the keychain twirling around Malik's finger.

"I hope so," Malik said, slapping the keys into Kadar's waiting and outstretched palm.

Kadar, who still had his eyes closed, opened them to see Altair's incredulous expression. Unaffected, he smiled and gave a tiny shrug.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Altair demanded, almost bumping his head as he withdrew. He stumbled back when Malik opened the door and nudged him out of the way. The sound of the other door opening caught his attention; he saw Kadar get out of the car, keys in hand and thumb pressing on a button. Altair's car unlocked accordingly.

Before Altair could do anything else, Malik stepped forward, not quite pressing into him, but close enough to make him hesitate for a quick second. He made a wordless noise of protest, gaze shifting from Kadar to Malik.

"He's going to take your car back to the shop," Malik explained. His hand settled lightly over Altair's chest, warm through the fabric. There was no pressure or push, but Altair still found himself backing into the hood of Malik's car. "We need to recalibrate it."

"He is not," Altair growled, and looked over his shoulder to address Kadar. "And my car is fine as it is. Give me back my keys. Now."

And he had always thought Kadar was the least infuriating of the two brothers—or at least the less noticeable one since Malik had an aggravating habit of drawing away all his attention— but apparently Altair was going to have to reconsider the younger Al-Sayf. Kadar regarded him with something that could be an eye roll, if he hadn't been standing so far away.

"Well, I don't want to be in the same car when Malik drives you home," Kadar said, sounding completely earnest, given the way Malik had attacked Altair's face earlier. "But don't worry, Altair, I won't crash your car or anything." He threw his brother a pointed look. "I'm a much safer driver than Malik."

It wasn't saying much, since Altair had seen for himself how Malik sped through the entire parking garage, tires screeching and leaving marks with every sharp turn. Altair may have passed him once while on the fifth level, but closed in spaces had never been Altair's arena to race in—something Malik knew and took full advantage of. Still, the sentiment was there, and it seemed like Altair wasn't the only one annoyed with Malik's way of doing things.

"One scratch, and I will personally come at you with a bat and several nails," Altair promised, too busy making threats to see Malik smile in front of him.

"He can total your car and drive it into the river," Malik mused, easing over until Altair was practically half-sitting, half-lying on top of the hood. He braced his hand on the warmed metal, voice dropping low to match the rumbling purr of the engine. "Fix it up and give it back to you by tomorrow morning. You wouldn't be able to tell anything ever happened."

Altair's eyes narrowed, not enjoying the joke one bit, but the same couldn't be said about having Malik look down at him like he didn't care about cold parking garages or little brothers still within sight and pulling distressed faces at them both. More often than not, Malik wouldn't give him the time of day at the shop, so it seemed fitting that when he did, Altair was not all together there.

He huffed, throwing a leg around Malik's waist, and was determined to fix this problem immediately. Tilting his head back, he gave Kadar an upside-down glare.

"And don't even think about changing my radio presets."

Kadar's disappointed snap echoed loud off the concrete walls. Seeing that Altair was watching him closely, Kadar toed into the car with exaggerated daintiness until he disappeared behind the legally questionable tinted window, which he rolled down give either Malik or Altair a thumbs up.

With that, the engine roared to life, and Altair could practically feel Kadar stomp the gas pedal to the floor. There was a white and metallic red blur, and suddenly Altair's car was careening down the slanted slope, followed by a cheerful honk that went so high on the Doppler effect, both Altair and Malik did not stop wincing until the car disappeared out of the garage.

"Don't make me regret this," Altair murmured, head turned and staring forlornly where his car was last seen, balanced precariously on two wheels as it spun outside. Kadar wasa safer driver than Malik, in the same way gunning two hundred kilometers an hour on the highway was slightly safer than doing two-fifty.

Malik looked a little worried himself, but between him and the steady rumble of his car, Altair was hitching his hips upwards in a languid roll to show that he particularly did not mind this time. Breath visibly catching, Malik stared down at him.

"Don't make meregret this," he corrected, nudging his leg in between Altair's thighs, and covered up Altair's groan with his mouth. He grinned into the kiss, and obligingly tilted his head to let Altair trail down to his collarbone while he kneaded his palm over Altair's jeans.

Malik's skin was salty, and smelled faintly of old leather, oil, and metal – everything a good mechanic was associated with. There was also the scent of gasoline and burnt rubber, not from Malik, but it made Altair restless, like the heart pounding, excited-dead-calmfeeling of racing through lighted streets. He wrapped his arms around Malik, bring one hand up to tangle through his short hair.

"I hope there'll be a discount for the tune-up," he said, letting off for a quick moment. He was growing a little dizzy and flushed, and he distantly hoped it was not from the carbon monoxide.

Malik lifted his head, eyes dark but still holding a bit of that calculated look.

"Are you kidding? Do you know how much your repairs cost?" he said, taking Altair by the arm to pull him back up. In answer, Altair leaned in, lips brushing at his ear to make his case, but Malik pushed him aside and maneuvered him inside the car. One more gentle push and Altair was sprawled haphazardly over both the passenger and driver's seats.

"But," Malik added, settling on top of Altair and pulling the keys from the ignition. He grinned as Altair slapped the keys away to take his hand.

"Then again, the car ride home is free."