The Sound of Music -- Hazzard Style features the typical running around the countryside looking for the bad guys motif. Bo and Luke find themselves face-to-face with a Federal Agent who has lost his ID. Still, the guy insists, he's a Federal Agent. Luke responds that he's Santa Claus and Bo's Bugs Bunny.
Luke's covered in mud, and probably cuts and bruises under that, but Bo's got a bone to pick with him. There'll be no saving a few miles by going back over Pokerville Pass; Bo's got the wheel, and they're taking the long way home.
"Bugs Bunny?" he snaps somewhere in the middle of nowhere. There's grit in his own shirt, maybe from the fighting he did, but more likely because he's sitting where Luke was when he drove the General out of the path of that front end loader. "You're making a mess," he announces to his slimy cousin, who is slipping around in his own little mud bath over there in the passenger seat.
"Next time I get shot at, I'll be sure to stand up and take a bullet so's I don't get dirty and ruin the General's upholstery," Luke grouses. Sounds tired too, but that's still no excuse.
"Bugs Bunny?" Bo reminds him. He never answered to that charge.
"I ain't seen him in years, Bo, not since they stopped doing them double features at the Hazzard Theater. I don't think you're gonna find him up here. Why are we taking the long way, anyways?" And that's Luke, always telling him where to go and what to do. He's had enough of that for one day.
"Bugs Bunny," he reminds Luke, not bothering to slow down for the hairpin turn that will bring them down off the ridge. "Is who you told that Federal Agent I was. You said," another turn on the old switchback road, but the General can handle it almost without Bo's help. "You was Santa Claus and I was Bugs Bunny."
"Bo," Luke complains, grabbing onto the doorframe. How nitpicky old grumpy can be, over there worrying over a few spins of the wheel. There are more important matters under discussion here.
"Was you saying I was a rabbit? Buck teeth and big ears? Was that what you was saying, Luke?" And look at his cousin over there pretending ignorance, his face all scrunched up for a what. Until it changes.
"The road, Bo. Watch the road." Luke's pointing, like Bo doesn't know where the road is, or hasn't seen that turn. (All right, so it comes up a little quicker than he expects, but he handles it just fine.)
"I'm watching the road. You just tell me what you meant by calling me Bugs Bunny. You think I got look like a rabbit?"
"Do I look like Santa Claus?" Luke asks back, just about bursting with superior intellect.
Not exactly. Santa is white and pure like snow, a jolly fellow, Bo seems to recall. Luke is dark and dirty (currently closer to filthy), not to mention crabby as hell most days.
"Bugs Bunny was just the first thing that came to mind. Bo – watch the rocks, would you?" Yeah, yeah, there was a landslide here a few weeks ago. Some day the Hazzard Road Works will get over here to clean it up. In the meantime it only takes one of Bo's hands to steer around them. Sharp cut to the right and Luke's slamming into him as if he doesn't have a whole side of the car to himself.
"Get back over there, Luke! I ain't got to be covered in mud just 'cause you are."
"Slow it down, genius, and I won't wind up over here." Luke's pushing himself away, but that 'genius' remark wasn't exactly endearing. Before his cousin can get a hand around the doorframe, Bo cuts hard to the right again.
"What," Luke growls at him. "I called you Bugs Bunny so you got to kill me? Fine."
Some day he's going to have to get Luke to define 'fine' for him. Because as far as Bo remembers 'fine' doesn't mean muddy arms wrapped around you in a bear hug.
"What are you – Luke!" His cousin's got a good, solid grip, and he's not letting go.
"I ain't letting you slam me around the car over some cartoon, Bo. If you're gonna drive like a maniac, I'm gonna hold onto what I got to in order to stay safe."
That's just stupid, maybe crazy. Maybe funny, the way the slowly drying mud from Luke's shirt is getting smeared all over the front of Bo's. Maybe ridiculous, when Bo slows the car enough to get it off the road and into the tree line. Puts it in neutral and kicks the parking brake.
"Luke? You can let go, I ain't driving that way no more." Giggles at the way his bear of a cousin's clinging to his side.
"Sure," Luke says. "You're just trying to get me to let go so's you can start bouncing me all over the place again. It ain't gonna work." Funny how Luke tries to sound all serious about that.
"No," Bo informs him. "I'm just trying to keep from getting mud all over my shirt. Just 'cause Daisy's gonna be starching your shorts for a week over the clothes you're coming home in, don't mean I want her starching mine."
Luke's too smart for that one. "You ain't got but the one pair, and you don't never let her get near those," he points out, wiping the back of his filthy arm on Bo's yellow shirt. "Sorry about the mess, though." Finally, Luke tips his head back enough for Bo to get something of a glimpse of his smirking face. "You better let go of the steering wheel." Luke's hand stops the mud transfer process, and reaches over to turn the car off.
"How come?" Bo is foolish enough to ask. It only gives his cousin enough time to get that one industrious hand back onto his shoulder and give it a shove.
"Because you're gonna need them hands of yours." And just like that, it's a wrestling match, one Bo has shown up late for. Luke's got him halfway pinned against the door before he even gets his arms wrapped around his cousin's back. Mud everywhere, and he's too slick to hold.
"No fair, Luke. You're all muddy."
"And you think you've got the bad end of the deal?" Luke asks, his eyebrow and the corner of his lips tilted up like there's a string pulling at that side of his face. "Think about how I feel."
Bo runs a hand up Luke's back to discover that he feels pretty good, really. Feels even better when Luke starts to respond to the more gentle touch that Bo's offering. A slow, sweet kiss winds up on Bo's lips, and a filthy hand is tangling through his hair. So what if he's practically bent in half and can't breathe.
"I called you Bugs Bunny," Luke tells him, then kisses his chin. "Because you're long," another kiss, under his chin. "And thin." The next kiss is closer to his neck. "And funny." That there is just to the right of his adam's apple, tender spot there. And there's nothing he can do but draw designs in the mud on Luke's back. "And," Luke adds, the vibration of his voice buzzing against Bo's neck. "You're quick."
Is that a compliment or—?
"Unh." He'll have to ask later. Right now he has no option but to enjoy the sensations on his neck while running his hands through some mud.