Disclaimer: I do not own the Biker Mice from Mars in any way, shape or form. I do own this story…and my muse own me.
A/N: I would like to thank iloveLuLu and Kashito91 for letting me pick their brains and putting up with my emails. You two are great.
Also, I'm also a Throttle/Carbine fan and this fic is proof of that. Carbine hater, you have been warned.
She used to be a rock 'n roll baby
But now she's country crazy
~Country Crazy by Little Texas
This fic is inspired by this song. Since I can't share the lyrics with you, I encourage you to look up this song to either listen to it or read the lyrics.
"Thanks for letting me stay here. I don't think I would've survived a night at the scoreboard." Carbine said to Charley as she started brushing out the tangles in her hair. "I swear, something moved in their bathroom. I would rather face a Plutarkian squadron armed only with a rock, than take a shower in there," she stated, shivering with the thought.
"I wouldn't be surprised. I don't think they ever clean in there and there is no way on Earth or Mars I would ever do it." Charley smiled as she set out the refreshments for their girls' night in. "How was the shower?" She asked.
"Divine." Carbine sighed happily as she slumped onto the couch. "I don't get to pamper myself often. Especially with the war going on, but this is a guilty pleasure I'm going to enjoy every second while I'm here."
Chuckling, Charley went to her stereo and picked up a couple boxes of CDs. "Want to pick out our music?" She asked as she set them down beside her friend. "This one is everything the guys like and this one has all of my music that they either don't like or are forbidden to touch."
Giving the first box a quick glance, the female Martian started rifling through the second box. Within the first few cases, she began to realize why the Bros refused to touch the contents. It was mostly country western with a handful of soundtracks from movies and a place called Broadway. "What's Cats?"
"One of my favorite musicals of all time. I also have the DVD, but I am forbidden to ever let it touch the TV." Charley grumbled playfully. "Apparently the guys don't care for grown men in skin tight leotards designed to make them look like cats," she giggled, her eyes twinkling.
"We can watch it later, who cares what they think?" Carbine offered. "I'm kinda curious about the outfits. What? I can't appreciate a good male form?" Carbine murmured with a sly smile to answer the human woman's raised eyebrows. "Remember, I haven't seen Throttle in ages and when I finally come to Earth he has to pull an idiotic, macho stunt."
"Guys will be guys no matter what age…or planet for that matter," Charley said sagely, but the deep philosophical wisdom of her words was severely undermined as she rolled her eyes.
"Exactly." With that she slid the first disk into the player. Shania Twain started crooning over the speakers.
"I'm sure he will come to his senses and apologize for saying that the guys could handle this new Limburger fiasco and you couldn't." Charley said, patting Carbine on the shoulder as she fast forwarded the disc to the next song, 'Man! I Feel Like a Woman.'
After an hour of listening to several different country artists, Carbine was really getting into the country western style and Charley was enjoying the fact that one of her Martian friends was enjoying something besides rock and heavy metal music. While Charley did love listening to the head-banging, slam-dancing songs, she was getting tired of listening to it day in and day out. With a wicked little grin, she pulled out her western clothing catalogs, dumping them on the female Martian's lap and turned her television onto the country music station immediately capturing Carbine's attention and ending any conversation for the next few minutes.
"Charley." Carbine said seriously as she continued to flip through the magazine.
"Mmm, yes, Carbine?" Charley responded casually, noting the glowing excitement in Carbine's eyes.
"I need a new wardrobe. Look at these shirts! And I need some new boots and jeans." Carbine muttered still not taking her gaze away from the pages as she flicked through each catalogue. "I really need some denim pants and these boots and a pair or two of those. ..It's too bad I can't order them. It will take too long to get them here," she acknowledged sadly, setting the magazine down on the coffee table.
"Yeah, it will take six to eight weeks before they would get here," Charley sadly agreed. "And it's too bad you can't ride with me to the outlet stores to try on the clothing," she deadpanned, only to be tackled by a gray furred blur a moment later.
"Charlene, you are the best." Carbine squealed planting a kiss on her cheek.
"I'm back!" Charley called into the garage, both arms loaded with bags. "Hopefully I got the sizes right."
Squealing like a young school girl, Carbine raced into the garage with a huge grin on her face. Taking half of the bags, she raced upstairs and dumped the items on Charley's bed. "Just wait until Throttle gets a look at his new biker babe."
"Careful," Charley warned as she gently set the rest of the bags on the bed and started laying out their contents. "Don't you dare wrinkle them. I loathe ironing. You're no longer going to be a biker babe; you are joining the ranks of country chick."
"Throttle, eat your heart out," was the only reply the beautiful mechanic received as the Mouse general held up a gorgeous indigo blue satin western dress shirt.
"Hey, sweetheart!" Vinnie howled as the three Mice rolled into The Last Chance garage. "Throttle wants to know if his lady has forgiven him yet. Elp!" Yelping as Throttle hit him upside the head, hard. "Touchy aren't ya?"
"We swung by Chef Andy's and got dinner," Modo said, shaking his head.
"How thoughtful of you," Charley purred as she took the bags. "But we can't eat just yet."
"Why not?"
"Where's Carbine," Throttle asked as he tried to look past Charley for his girlfriend.
"Nope. No peeking," Charley grinned wolfishly as she blocked his view. "Close your eyes and count to three. All of you."
"Why?"
"Because you are not going to ruin the surprise, Vincent." Charley said sternly, with her hands on her hips. "Get ready, Carbine," she called to her co-conspirator.
Throttle sighed and counted slowly. Reaching three he opened his eyes and stood dumbfounded at the vision of beauty before him. Carbine walked into the garage, with a sway to her hips. She had the indigo shirt on and very tight dark blue jeans on that looked like she was poured into them. On her feet were leather cowboy boots with designs stitched on the side. To complete her outfit, she had a worn leather cowboy hat on with a black strap lining the crown. From the shirt and pants clinging to her every curve, Throttle immediately fell in love with her all over again. Unfortunately, he became tongue tied just trying to get a word out.
Twirling in a slow circle, Carbine asked, drawling her words, "I've got some bad news for you, handsome. Your biker babe is long gone, but in her place you got a country chick. What do ya think of that?" she smirked as she leaned on her hip, stretching the shirt's fabric, further accenting her curves.
"I-I thin-I think," Throttle stuttered, "it's a change I can live with." He managed to choke out at last, drawing his new country crazy cowgirl-mouse closer to him.
"That's good." Carbine whispered as she leaned into to kiss him.
"Well, Sheriff, can we go somewhere to be alone?" The tan furred biker asked, putting her hat on his head.
"I thought you would never ask." The grey furred cowgirl said as she slipped behind him on his bike. With that, Throttle revved the engine and rode toward the scoreboard. A huge grin on his face as his lady love tightened her arms around him.
"What in the name of the goddess just happened?" The bewildered white furred Martian asked after a few minutes of getting over the shock of this new development. "What's gotten into the uptight Carbine?"
"George Strait, Shania Twain, LeAnn Rimes, Tanya Tucker, Alan Jackson and Terri Clark to name a few. Oh, and Little Texas, can't forget Little Texas," Charley said offhandedly.
"Who in the heck are they?" Vinnie asked, puzzled.
"People you will never understand because you refuse to listen to me." Charley laughed as she walked through the door that separated the garage from her apartment.
Vinnie turned to Modo, looking for an explanation. "I think it's beyond us, Vinnie."
Vinnie looked in the direction his fearless leader rode off in, shaking his head in defeat and confusion before he followed his grey furred friend to the kitchen, still shaking his head. Women. Just when you thought you had them pegged...
A/N: This story has been bouncing around my head for a very long time so it's a relief that my muse finally got her tail into gear to let me share it with you. I hope you enjoyed it! And if a character or two seem OOC, please forgive me. I also did some remodeling of The Last Chance Garage (to those who noticed) I just dont like Charley living in a hole in the ceiling.
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