Handlebars

Kicking the stand out with his foot, Tintin carefully balanced his electric bike outside the front steps of Marlinspike Hall and peered up at the door cheerfully.

"Good afternoon, Captain," he said as he unfastened his helmet and lifted it off. "Are you ready to go?"

Haddock came down the steps, a pensive expression clouding his smile. "Tintin, I'm afraid there's a slight problem."

"Oh?" Tintin's brow furrowed in concern. Had something terrible happened? "What is it?"

"It's the car," he answered regretfully, and somewhat sheepishly, Tintin noticed. "I had a bit of a prang."

Tintin heard a steady bleep and turned his head to see an automobile recovery truck towing Haddock's Lincoln Zephyr up the driveway.

"Good heavens!" Tintin exclaimed at the sight of the mangled yellow convertible. The bumper dangled off the back, scraping through the gravel. "You weren't hurt, were you?"

"No, no, I'm fine."

"A slight prang?" Tintin looked at the wreck once more and shook his head. "What on Earth happened?"

Haddock winced and covered his eyes, turning away in dismay. "Oh, thundering typhoons, don't ask," he muttered. "I'm sorry, Tintin, but it looks like we won't be going anywhere today."

The news was disappointing, indeed. After all, Tintin had booked a table for two at a cosy little place in town and he'd been rather excited about taking the Captain out for a meal. All those visions he'd imagined of sitting close, knees brushing and holding hands under the table where nobody could see - how daring that would be - and of spending a relaxed afternoon with Haddock, away from the stresses of work and travelling, were looking unlikely now.

Unless…

Tintin's face brightened and he pulled his helmet back on. "On the contrary, Captain. There's more than enough room for three on my bike."

Haddock blinked and stared at him, then at Snowy who was sitting in the rear basket.

"Come on," Tintin urged and patted the front. "I'll give you a ride on my handlebars. Just be careful you don't break the headlight."

After a lot of reluctance and even more convincing, the Captain finally sat on the front of Tintin's cycle, gripping the handlebars as if his life depended upon it. Tintin could smell his lovely cologne and a smile stretched his lips.

"Did I mention you're looking rather handsome for our date?"

"Smooth talker," Haddock grumbled, clearly still anxious about the journey ahead.

"It's okay," Tintin reassured him with that slick confidence. "You're in safe hands, dear Captain."

"I know," Haddock softened. "And believe me, there's no other hands I'd rather be in, lad."

"Now who's the smooth talker?"

"I try."

Tintin started the electric motor and Haddock kept his eyes shut tight all the way to the restaurant.

A/N: Thanks to Keitheaverage for the Handlebars idea ;)

Edit: Thanks Scribblebun for the review :D Hehe, yes, I'd imagine it IS exceedingly dangerous to ride on the handlebars of a motorbike! Buuut Tintin's ride appears to be more like one of those puny little electric bikes, plus Snowy would probably be occupying the back in his little basket which I neglected to mention, haha. I've amended the fic accordingly, just so things make more sense. Thank you again for your lovely review 3 3