This one, from Danger on the Hazzard Express, was inspired by that moment when the boys are lying in the dirt, (cuddling or) spying on the bad guys. They're so engrossed in what they're doing (cuddling or spying) that they don't notice when one ofth ebad guys come up behind them. Brandishing a gun, he asks what they are doing. Bird watching, they say. On the trail of a White-Crested Nuthatch.
It's been the kind of day to make a man think twice. One of those really weird days, when their own car, more like their only child, could turn against them. A day when 'horseless carriages' as the old-timers still sometimes call them, don't need drivers, and fully grown adults play with toy train sets. And, just for good measure, on this day Luke managed to save Bo's neck by jumping the General over a full-sized train – using a remote control.
Then again, Luke over there doesn't seem to realize what a bizarre day it has been, or at least the notion is doing nothing to keep him awake. He's too busy being that same old Luke: snoozing away the first hour of the night on his belly, arms up and under his pillow. Ought to wrench his neck, and maybe it does. He certainly never lasts very long in that position.
Looks familiar, this posture of Luke's, even more recent a visual memory than last night. It's aesthetically pleasing (or just plain pretty; that other thing must have come straight from Luke's mouth and burrowed itself into Bo's brain; it's certainly nothing he would think all on his own), the way that body, just a giant step away from him, dips and curves. Always makes Bo want to be near it, to observe in an up close and personal way exactly how legs swell into hind end then slide back down to waist, only to hunch back up into shoulders. Yeah, Luke looked just like this, earlier in the day, before they were so rudely interrupted.
Right about now, the only ones who might disturb them would be Jesse and Daisy, but there's no real reason to expect them to. After all, today's band of train robbers have already been fetched to the Atlanta jail, so they can't go sauntering past Rosco and back out onto the streets. And odds are that no new plots will be hatched in Hazzard for at least a week. Really, there's little chance of anyone expecting anything of Bo and Luke until at least five in the morning.
Which is all the thought he needs to put into it before sliding out from between his too-warm sheets and over to his even warmer cousin. No way to be subtle about it when you're six-and-half feet tall, so he just plops himself into bed beside Luke, just like he did this afternoon when they were out in the dirt and old leaves, crawling under bushes and being disrupted by big men with even bigger guns.
"Bo," and that's just convenient. Luke's not hardly asleep. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Bird watching," he whispers back, wrapping one arm around the grumpy one's waist, and snuggling himself up tight. Kiss, meant for Luke's lips, but it's dark, and he's not one hundred percent sure exactly where it has landed. "Shh. I'm on the trail of a White-Crested Nuthatch."