179. {prompt} [suits] (harvey/donna) shut up and drive
shut up and drive; pg-13; 538 words
prompt: evasive driving by phrenitis
a/n: continuance of au-verse the clock doesn't stop
"Honey," she says sharply, warningly, "can you try driving a little straighter, please?"
"I thought you had the best shot in all of the land," he mocks.
"Don't test me or you might find yourself on the other end of the barrel," she threatens.
He laughs, reaching over to grab her gun out of her hand, "you steer."
She snarls and loosens her grip on the handle as he sets the cruise control. He stands up on the seat and squeezes through the sun roof, sunglasses blocking the sunlight so he can get a clearer shot. He points, clicks, pulls the trigger.
"You're an idiot," he hears her yell from inside the car, "I swear to God if you get shot in the head you better hope you die or else I'm killing you myself for being an idiot."
"Baby," he warns, "shut up, please."
"Oh, please, huh? What are you feeling guilty about?"
He groans, realizing that he really can't get anything by her; "this is not what I had planned for our anniversary."
"Oh, so you did remember?" The car jerks and his rib slams into the edge of the sun roof.
"I could never forget for fear that my wife might actually shoot me," he replies with a smirk.
"Oh come on," she says mockingly. She slides into the driver's seat and excelerates. The toe of his shoe balances on the arms in the middle. "Am I really that bad?"
He laughs, ducking back into the car when the last bullet in his hand gun is fired and he's met with only clicks.
"No, I've received threats but you've never actually shot me," he says. He reaches into the back of the suv for more bullets, almost certain they always have some for this gun on hand. He comes up short. "I thought we had back up bullets in here."
"Those were the back up bullets," she replies.
"What?" He snaps. "I thought you were going to get your nails done earlier, not use bullets."
"I may have had target practice on some of those filthy assholes at Anderson," she says, a bit sheepishly.
He huffs, "so that's why we're being followed. You ruined our anniversary. Not me."
He settles into the passanger seat after digging around for bullets that seem to not exist anymore.
"Guilty," she admits, offering him an apologetic smile, "but you ruined it last year."
"So, this makes us even."
"Fine," she snaps angrily.
He narrows his eyes at her, a tadbit confused, "fine. Just ditch these assholes so we can get on with our evening."
"Get your mind out of the gutter," she says, deadpanned.
He glances over his shoulder behind them to see if they've ditched their enemies yet. It seems they've ditched them, for now. He turns his gaze back to her and smirks.
"It's your fault for being so attractive," he challenges, "excellent driving, by the way. The shooting could use a little work."
Her cat-like reflexes gives him a hard slap to the chest, "if you aren't careful, you're going to be my target when we get home."
He just laughs, finding her anger too adorable for a woman who could probably kill him with her stare.
prompt: evasive driving by phrenitis
a/n: continuance of au-verse the clock doesn't stop
"Honey," she says sharply, warningly, "can you try driving a little straighter, please?"
"I thought you had the best shot in all of the land," he mocks.
"Don't test me or you might find yourself on the other end of the barrel," she threatens.
He laughs, reaching over to grab her gun out of her hand, "you steer."
She snarls and loosens her grip on the handle as he sets the cruise control. He stands up on the seat and squeezes through the sun roof, sunglasses blocking the sunlight so he can get a clearer shot. He points, clicks, pulls the trigger.
"You're an idiot," he hears her yell from inside the car, "I swear to God if you get shot in the head you better hope you die or else I'm killing you myself for being an idiot."
"Baby," he warns, "shut up, please."
"Oh, please, huh? What are you feeling guilty about?"
He groans, realizing that he really can't get anything by her; "this is not what I had planned for our anniversary."
"Oh, so you did remember?" The car jerks and his rib slams into the edge of the sun roof.
"I could never forget for fear that my wife might actually shoot me," he replies with a smirk.
"Oh come on," she says mockingly. She slides into the driver's seat and excelerates. The toe of his shoe balances on the arms in the middle. "Am I really that bad?"
He laughs, ducking back into the car when the last bullet in his hand gun is fired and he's met with only clicks.
"No, I've received threats but you've never actually shot me," he says. He reaches into the back of the suv for more bullets, almost certain they always have some for this gun on hand. He comes up short. "I thought we had back up bullets in here."
"Those were the back up bullets," she replies.
"What?" He snaps. "I thought you were going to get your nails done earlier, not use bullets."
"I may have had target practice on some of those filthy assholes at Anderson," she says, a bit sheepishly.
He huffs, "so that's why we're being followed. You ruined our anniversary. Not me."
He settles into the passanger seat after digging around for bullets that seem to not exist anymore.
"Guilty," she admits, offering him an apologetic smile, "but you ruined it last year."
"So, this makes us even."
"Fine," she snaps angrily.
He narrows his eyes at her, a tadbit confused, "fine. Just ditch these assholes so we can get on with our evening."
"Get your mind out of the gutter," she says, deadpanned.
He glances over his shoulder behind them to see if they've ditched their enemies yet. It seems they've ditched them, for now. He turns his gaze back to her and smirks.
"It's your fault for being so attractive," he challenges, "excellent driving, by the way. The shooting could use a little work."
Her cat-like reflexes gives him a hard slap to the chest, "if you aren't careful, you're going to be my target when we get home."
He just laughs, finding her anger too adorable for a woman who could probably kill him with her stare.