Fanfic100 again, finally!
I haven't done anything for my fanfic100table in forever! My table be here, yo. Also, why is lj being such a bitch for me lately?

Title: The Flying Machine
Fandom: The Chronicles of Chrestomanci
Characters: Cat Chant, Joe Pinhoe (Cat/Joe)
Prompt: 038, Touch
Word Count: 689
Rating: PG for slash
Summary: Cat helps Joe with his newest flying machine.
Author's Notes: Man, what a lame title. I apologize. I wrote this a while ago, but never posted it . . . originally it was going to be longer, but idk. I like the length it is now.

The flying machine took up most of the garage. It was made, as far as Cat could tell, of wires and gears fitted onto a steel frame and covered in large brass sheets, stamped together with bolts and hinged together for easy access to the inner workings. In the waning afternoon light it shone like gold. 
 

Cat shifted his weight and brushed his shoulder accidentally against Joe’s. Joe shivered. They were standing wedged between the front of the flying machine and the wall of the shed, near the place where a brass panel had been carefully removed. The inside of the machine was dark, with only the outlines of copper wires and large, indistinguishable masses visible. Gingerly, Joe leaned around Cat and pointed into the shadowed innards. 
 

“That’s the power source, see,” he said, stabbing at a particularly large mass near the nose of the machine. “These are the wires that connect it to the engine, here.” He stabbed again, this time at what looked like a pointy metal box. “The problem is,” he said, swallowing with some difficulty as Cat’s hand brushed his side, “that the power isn’t flowing between them, no matter what we try.” He straightened up and glanced at Cat, peering into the gloom of the machine. “Do you think you could help?” 
 

Cat reached out to touch one of the wires. After nearly a minute of silence, he said, “But what is it?” 
 

“The power source?” Joe touched one of the smooth, warm brass panels of the ship and ran his fingers over a line of bolts. “One of those moose heads in storage. The Big Man said he didn’t care if we took it or not.” 
 

“Oh.” After a moment, Cat flattened himself against the wall. “Come over here,” he said, pointing to the space between where he stood and the flying machine touched the side of the shed. “Make sure I don’t mess anything up.” 
 

Joe crouched in the tight corner and watched as Cat’s hands moved in and out of the shadowed hole. Neither of them said anything as Cat pressed his body against Joe’s to access the front of the machine, but Joe could hear his heart thump in his chest. 

 

After a few minutes, Cat sat back on his heels and wiped his greasy hands on his trousers. Joe could feel Cat’s gaze travel over his face and stood up abruptly. 
 

“Done?” he asked, looking down at Cat. Cat nodded. 
 

“Try it out,” he said, standing up. “It should work now.” 
 

Joe edged past Cat and swung himself into the cockpit of the flying machine. Gently, he eased a lever on the floor of the cockpit forward. For a moment nothing happened. Then, slowly, the great machine began to hum, vibrating loudly in the small shed. 
 

Joe gave a loud whoop of excitement and leaped down from the cockpit. From there, the machine seemed to shimmer, buzzing like a great insect ready to take flight. Joe grinned at Cat. 
 

“You’re absolutely brilliant,” he said. Cat shrugged. 
 

“It wasn’t a problem, really,” he said. “Just a bit of rewiring.” 
 

Joe gazed at Cat for a second more before climbing back into the cockpit and pulling the lever back. The machine stilled. Cat craned his neck back, looking almost straight up to where Joe was perched. 
 

“Aren’t you going to test it out?” he asked. Joe shook his head. 
 

“I’m going to wait until Roger gets back from the city,” he said, climbing back down. “He’d never forgive me if it actually worked and I’d flown it without him.” 
 

For a moment they just stood in front of one another. Joe shifted his weight. “Thank you, again,” he said. 
 

“You’re welcome,” said Cat, stiffly. He felt like it was the right time to do . . . something, although he wasn’t sure what. Joe’s face was a conflicting mass of emotions that Cat could not decipher. There was another moment of silence, and then Cat said, “I see you at dinner, shall I?” 
 

Joe dropped his gaze, and Cat knew he had said the wrong thing. “Yeah, all right,” Joe said.