(no subject)
Cleaned up comment!fic ahoy!
Fandoms: Top Gear/Speed Racer
Pairing: James May/Sparky
Rating: PG-13
The bike, that gorgeous '64 Honda, cherry red, flared into life with a purr that pooled at the base of James's spine, warm and sultry, and he was forced to admit that this, this Sparky was good. Too good, if you asked James. Half the fun of old bikes was the hours spent tinkering around, picking apart the engine with a cold beer in hand just to see how it all fit together, and if it took a few tries to get it running again, so be it. Sparky, and seriously, what kind of idiot mother names their child Sparky of all things, seemed to have more flash than substance, but James was forced to concede that the man cut no corners where machines were concerned. He was good, and it was highly irritating.
"So, what do you think?"
His accent grated on James's delicate ears. Like everything about the man, from the grease under his nails to the jaunty way he tied his jumpsuit sleeves around his waist, showing just a sliver of curved hipbone, it was rough around the edges. Hell, it was downright uncouth.
"It's..." Loud. Hypnotic. Incredible. "Quite good."
Sparky grinned, trailing his fingers across the smooth leather of the seat. "Care to take her for a ride?"
James felt a little flushed. He nodded, mouth dry. Bloody smug Australians.
The other man stepped away to let James forward, tossing his spanner into the nearby toolbox with an easy flick of the wrist. James's fingers twitched reflexively, but he repressed the urge to tuck it into its proper place. The pull of the bike, that glorious noise, was just too great. The spanner would still be there when he returned, and with any luck, Sparky wouldn't be.
He straddled the bike, an electric thrill rushing over him as he gripped the handlebars, feeling the engine buzz through his old bones.
Sparky was back, pressing into his personal space, but James didn't flinch away.
He leaned in, a heartbeat away from James's lips, and whispered, "Bring her back in one piece, eh?"
James swallowed, afraid that the slightest movement would bring them into something Clarkson would mock him for until Ragnarok, but let Sparky kiss him a moment later anyway. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"Have a good ride, mate," Sparky said, that goddamn cocky grin back again, and winked, actually winked at him.
James revved the throttle once, and tore away towards the setting sun. As lazy Saturdays go, he could have done a hell of a lot worse.
Still debating whether to link this over to speed_fic, because I do love the concept, even if the execution is short and a bit weird. These fandoms were meant to meet, though. I do know that much.
Richard/Speed OTP FOREVER.
Fandoms: Top Gear/Speed Racer
Pairing: James May/Sparky
Rating: PG-13
The bike, that gorgeous '64 Honda, cherry red, flared into life with a purr that pooled at the base of James's spine, warm and sultry, and he was forced to admit that this, this Sparky was good. Too good, if you asked James. Half the fun of old bikes was the hours spent tinkering around, picking apart the engine with a cold beer in hand just to see how it all fit together, and if it took a few tries to get it running again, so be it. Sparky, and seriously, what kind of idiot mother names their child Sparky of all things, seemed to have more flash than substance, but James was forced to concede that the man cut no corners where machines were concerned. He was good, and it was highly irritating.
"So, what do you think?"
His accent grated on James's delicate ears. Like everything about the man, from the grease under his nails to the jaunty way he tied his jumpsuit sleeves around his waist, showing just a sliver of curved hipbone, it was rough around the edges. Hell, it was downright uncouth.
"It's..." Loud. Hypnotic. Incredible. "Quite good."
Sparky grinned, trailing his fingers across the smooth leather of the seat. "Care to take her for a ride?"
James felt a little flushed. He nodded, mouth dry. Bloody smug Australians.
The other man stepped away to let James forward, tossing his spanner into the nearby toolbox with an easy flick of the wrist. James's fingers twitched reflexively, but he repressed the urge to tuck it into its proper place. The pull of the bike, that glorious noise, was just too great. The spanner would still be there when he returned, and with any luck, Sparky wouldn't be.
He straddled the bike, an electric thrill rushing over him as he gripped the handlebars, feeling the engine buzz through his old bones.
Sparky was back, pressing into his personal space, but James didn't flinch away.
He leaned in, a heartbeat away from James's lips, and whispered, "Bring her back in one piece, eh?"
James swallowed, afraid that the slightest movement would bring them into something Clarkson would mock him for until Ragnarok, but let Sparky kiss him a moment later anyway. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"Have a good ride, mate," Sparky said, that goddamn cocky grin back again, and winked, actually winked at him.
James revved the throttle once, and tore away towards the setting sun. As lazy Saturdays go, he could have done a hell of a lot worse.
Still debating whether to link this over to speed_fic, because I do love the concept, even if the execution is short and a bit weird. These fandoms were meant to meet, though. I do know that much.
Richard/Speed OTP FOREVER.