(no subject)
Title: Drives
Fandom: L/R
Characters: Jack, Rowe
Theme: #2 - Hands off the Wheel
Leitmotif: Unification of Opposing Forces
Warnings/Ratings: PG-13, implied violence.
Jack was a careless driver, looking furiously unconcerned as the wheels of his car left the road two at a time, rubber squealing protest at the tricks of tires over concrete. Rowe, often left in the back seat to take care of the pursuit in any fashion possible, at one point in time, he'd resorted to tossing the junk he'd left back there, hamburger wrappers and half-finished sodas bombing over the back of the car to carom off of various parts of their pursuit. The way Jack drove, he found himself sliding over smooth leather seats, knees braced wide as he bounced from one door to another. He never entreated for a slow-down, and never complained about driving with the top down. Never said a word about the time that he almost toppled out over the side and saved himself only - literally - by his britches. They caught on the handle that put the window up or down.
So it was no real surprise that one time, he smashed up the white car. This was no little dent - the car had survived any number of those. It was practically a war veteran with all it's bullet scars. No, this time, it was really wrecked. And a week later, Rowe also had been really wrecked. It was mostly okay, you should have seen what happened to the other guy.
So Jack was stuck driving the Green car if he wanted to get around. And he did - needed to get back and forth from Cloud House. But it had been a sticking point, maybe in his pride. The car was almost too Rowe to drive. The seat was jammed too far forward, intended for Rowe's shorter stature. The leather seat had an uncomfortable soft spot. The wheel was tilted down too much. Mirror adjusted so that you didn't really even have to move your head to see behind you - for optimum laziness.
Jack had readjusted everything that could be readjusted. He thought that would do it, if he paid more attention to the road than the car. The problem came when the day warmed up, leather expanding, pores opening up to leave the tanned skin seats smelling of Rowe. Cigarettes, mostly, but under that there was his often over-applied cologne. The other half of his team smelled fairly complex, Jack realized, when he thought about it. He could smell after shave - only sometimes applied and then, sloppily. Dependant on weather or not he'd actually gone back to his own apartment the night prior. His ridiculous coconut shampoo. The fairer member of L/R wasn't entirely certain what was enticing about having a head that smelled like a girly drink, but he did have to admit that it stood out in his mind.
He found himself wanting to let go of the wheel and let this car get smashed up, too. Only fair. Then cars and drivers both would be a matched set of misery, all sent back to the shop to get patched up as best as possible, dents hammered out and insides rearranged into their proper orders.
The next day, he rented a car.
X-posted to: licensedbyroyal
Fandom: L/R
Characters: Jack, Rowe
Theme: #2 - Hands off the Wheel
Leitmotif: Unification of Opposing Forces
Warnings/Ratings: PG-13, implied violence.
Jack was a careless driver, looking furiously unconcerned as the wheels of his car left the road two at a time, rubber squealing protest at the tricks of tires over concrete. Rowe, often left in the back seat to take care of the pursuit in any fashion possible, at one point in time, he'd resorted to tossing the junk he'd left back there, hamburger wrappers and half-finished sodas bombing over the back of the car to carom off of various parts of their pursuit. The way Jack drove, he found himself sliding over smooth leather seats, knees braced wide as he bounced from one door to another. He never entreated for a slow-down, and never complained about driving with the top down. Never said a word about the time that he almost toppled out over the side and saved himself only - literally - by his britches. They caught on the handle that put the window up or down.
So it was no real surprise that one time, he smashed up the white car. This was no little dent - the car had survived any number of those. It was practically a war veteran with all it's bullet scars. No, this time, it was really wrecked. And a week later, Rowe also had been really wrecked. It was mostly okay, you should have seen what happened to the other guy.
So Jack was stuck driving the Green car if he wanted to get around. And he did - needed to get back and forth from Cloud House. But it had been a sticking point, maybe in his pride. The car was almost too Rowe to drive. The seat was jammed too far forward, intended for Rowe's shorter stature. The leather seat had an uncomfortable soft spot. The wheel was tilted down too much. Mirror adjusted so that you didn't really even have to move your head to see behind you - for optimum laziness.
Jack had readjusted everything that could be readjusted. He thought that would do it, if he paid more attention to the road than the car. The problem came when the day warmed up, leather expanding, pores opening up to leave the tanned skin seats smelling of Rowe. Cigarettes, mostly, but under that there was his often over-applied cologne. The other half of his team smelled fairly complex, Jack realized, when he thought about it. He could smell after shave - only sometimes applied and then, sloppily. Dependant on weather or not he'd actually gone back to his own apartment the night prior. His ridiculous coconut shampoo. The fairer member of L/R wasn't entirely certain what was enticing about having a head that smelled like a girly drink, but he did have to admit that it stood out in his mind.
He found himself wanting to let go of the wheel and let this car get smashed up, too. Only fair. Then cars and drivers both would be a matched set of misery, all sent back to the shop to get patched up as best as possible, dents hammered out and insides rearranged into their proper orders.
The next day, he rented a car.
X-posted to: licensedbyroyal