A/N: I listened to "Thunder Road" today and this happened. As always, own nothing. Especially not the Boss.
Drive
Lizzie could hear the distant growl of a powerful engine as she sat on the front porch of Sam's house in Nebraska. He lived outside the city limits, on a little piece of land off the old county highway. She loved how she could stand in the backyard and look out at the horizon. No buildings, not many trees, just space and possibilities as far as the eye could see.
Her Aunt June had recommended that she sell the place. The house was tiny, not in very good repair, and would likely be torn down; but the land it sat on was very valuable. Lizzie knew she was probably right, but right now, she just couldn't imagine parting with it. She stood up, wiping her hands on her denim cutoffs. She'd been cleaning most of the day and her ragged Bruce Springsteen t-shirt was dusty and spotted with bleach. She figured she would take a shower and have a glass of wine on the porch.
The distant growl became a throaty roar as it drifted closer. The sun was sinking on that far horizon and coated the land in a reddish glaze. She saw a black muscle car blazing up the highway. She smiled and thought about the times Sam had fussed about the teenage boys who used to drag race up the road when she was growing up. She stood when she saw the car slow down and turn into the drive to the house. She thought of her FBI service weapon just inside on the table by the door, but she opted to wait; it was likely just one of the neighbors or someone who needed directions.
The car stopped, and it was a beauty. Glossy black on a vintage body; she didn't know much about cars really, but she liked this one. The driver got out, and Lizzie's heart began to free-fall. Close-cropped hair, amber-tinted sunglasses and a swagger she'd recognize anywhere. Red.
Red was here, in Nebraska. Wearing a pair of broken in jeans and a loose white button-down, she almost didn't believe it was him. He'd never appeared so casual before, not in DC. Not anywhere. But as he sidled up to the porch, she had to admit the look suited him. It suited him brilliantly.
"Hello, Lizzie."
"Red. What are you doing here?"
"Samar mentioned you had taken a short vacation to sort out Sam's house. I would have been happy to help you with this, if you needed it."
"I didn't need your help," she frowned at him, standing there on the porch steps, "I can handle this. And I needed a break from the city."
"And from me as well, Lizzie?" He pulled off the sunglasses with a quick half-smile. He was correct, of course. But she would never admit to it. Never admit that as angry and confused as he made her, there was an equal and opposite feeling of being completely spellbound by him.
She looked past him to the car. She never realized he could drive. He certainly never did so with her before. She leaned a hip against the porch railing and smirked at him.
"Nice wheels. I didn't know you drove."
"Of course I drive. I'm just choosy about the machines I handle."
He refused to be baited and just smiled at her. She stood in the shade of the porch, all long legs and big blue eyes. She was breath taking and just a little sad underneath. He held up the keys to the Trans-Am and gave her his very best I-dare-you look.
"Want to take a ride, pretty Lizzie?"
For just a moment, Lizzie wasn't sure if he really meant the car as her brain dove into the gutter. She gave herself a moment to think about what kind of ride he would be, given the fit of those jeans. She turned away before he could see her blush.
"Let me get my shoes."
The two-lane highway is deserted under the setting sun, and the evening cool is a nice break from the heat of the day. She watched as Red as he shifted gears, smooth and easy, hands steady and competent. She always liked his hands. She let the wind from the rolled down windows blow her hair into a tangle, she would be sorry later, but right now she didn't care. She didn't even ask him where they were going, she gave her over analytical brain the night off, tomorrow would be soon enough to start worrying again.
Red reached out to the radio and punched a few buttons, and the wail of a harmonica filled the car. She looked at him sideways, she'd never thought of what music Red would like while driving. The song was a little vintage, like the car and the man who drove it.
"Screen door slams, and Mary just sways…" the gravelly vocals of Bruce Springsteen pour out of the speakers as they drive through the dusk. Lizzie closed her eyes, only opening one of them when she felt Red's hand on her thigh, just his hand on her skin. It's comforting in a way, she thinks, as she settles back into her seat, and lets the Boss handle the rest.
"In the lonely cool before dawn, hear their engines roaring on; but when you get to the porch they're gone on the wind…"
She lets herself day dream about parking the car out at the lake and sitting on the hood of the car, watching the stars come out. Maybe he would lean back against the trunk, pulling her between his denim-clad thighs, tangling his hand in her hair before he kisses her. Maybe it would be one of those nights she used to dream about in high school, long kisses and wandering hands leaving both of them almost desperate. She smiled a little to herself.
"Turn left up here, Red. I'd like to go down to the lake."
Red smiled at her, and turned left.