A/n: sooo, i was going to post this just twice a week, but the chapters are so short and there are so many of them, my patience won't stand for it. So, i guess i'm gonna post a chapter a day. All comments are appreciated, and even suggestions even though i've technically already completed it, amazing ideas are fun to try and incorporate.
The sky is pale and splotchy, like stone washed denim as the sun rises in the rear view mirror. Danny is exhausted and he knows he should stop and rest, but he just wants this trip to be over, to reach his destination and do what he has to do. The first time his eyes drift shut, it's only for a second, and he doesn't even think he really falls asleep.
Mindy is snoring softly to his right, the passenger seat reclined slightly, one arm thrown up over her face. She's no help. He fiddles with the radio, trying to find something to keep him awake, but the hypnotic rhythm of snare drums and a bass cello does nothing to make him more alert. Jazz stations are the worst, and it says something about just how tired he is when he leaves the dial where it is.
The second time his eyes drift shut it's pleasant. The sun warms the air in the car to match his body temperature and he feels like he's suspended in a cozy sea of blankets. He only wants to rest his eyes for a second, but his chin drops to his chest and the car begins to drift to the right, slowly but surely crossing over onto the shoulder.
She screams at the same time the tires hit the loose gravel, grabbing his arm to shake him awake, even though his eyes are already wide open and his foot is stomping down on the brakes. The car fishtails, skidding to a halt mere inches away from a steel sign post.
He can't hear anything over the hammering of his heart in his chest, each beat pounding in his ears like a war drum. Eventually, he calms enough to feel the soft skin of her palm where she's clutching at his hand like it's a life preserve. She's chanting to herself, some mantra he can't quite understand, her eyes squeezed shut. He focuses on the breathy words.
"It's okay, you're okay, we're okay, I'm okay."
She blinks rapidly, coming out of a daze before glancing up at him. Her eyes are wide, and he realizes that this is the first time he's ever looked at her in the light of day. She's beautiful. Her nut brown skin is even and smooth, wide eyes fringed with long sooty eyelashes. The adrenaline pumping through his veins sends a strong surge of emotion through him, and he's left breathless for an altogether different reason.
Her eyes drop to their hands, a flood of embarrassment washing over her before she starts to pull away. It leaves him cold, and against his better judgement he reaches for her hand again, holding it tightly for a moment. "You okay?"
She nods in response, mouth still hanging open in shock. He squeezes at her hand one last time before letting her go. Looking around him, he's relieved to see a large sign advertising a roadside motel. The vacancy neon is lit up like a sign from heaven. "I think we should stop and sleep maybe."
"You think?" She's smiling again. The full force of it is a thousand watts beaming across at him, her eyes crinkling slightly as she teases him.
The motel only has one room available, of course, and the room only has one questionably hygienic bed, but it's daytime and somehow the thought of sleeping together doesn't seem quite as nefarious as it would in full darkness. Even with the curtains pulled shut, the room is still dimly lit, and Mindy watches Danny fall exhausted across the faded duvet, barely bothering to kick his shoes off before his eyes flutter shut.
She's not quite as tired, and the lure of a hot shower pulls her away from the bedroom scene. The last few times she's bathed have been at rest stops where the hot water mysteriously didn't work. She slips into the compact shower, and stands under the hot water until it stops being hot.
As far as motel towels go, these are probably the most threadbare she's ever encountered, having to use two of them just to dry her hair. It smells of lavender now, and she makes a mental note to raid the bathroom before they leave.
Freshly clothed, she's steaming and as limp as a noodle when she drops down beside him, not bothering to scoot under the covers he's so rudely sprawled across. She takes the opportunity to observe him unnoticed. His features are so smooth in sleep, the stubble on his chin silver in a couple spots. He's ruggedly handsome, and she fights the urge to trace the lines of his lips with the tips of her fingers. If he wasn't so incredibly grouchy when conscious, she'd be hard pressed to fight the sudden desire she has to kiss him. The only thing stopping her is the way his brow knits in irritation every time she speaks. Sighing, she lets one finger trace down his cheek to the corner of his mouth. Too bad.
The bedside lamp shuts off with an audible click, and she closes her eyes, turning onto her back. Drifting, she barely registers the tingling sensation she feels when the back of her hand brushes against his knuckles.