Jean/Ricky fic
Title: I Would Like to Buy a Dahmbugla!
Author: Me!
Pairing: Jean/Ricky
Rating: PG (for an itty-bitty swear word)
Summary: Jean and Ricky have dinner together.
Author's note: The title makes sense if you've seen the Pink Panther movie with Steve Martin. If you haven't, you should see it. It's cute.
Ughhh. School starts tomorrow. =(
“It’s not a date,” Ricky Bobby repeated for the fourth time that night.
“Yes it is,” Jean Girard responded stubbornly. The two racecar drivers sat across from each other at a local Wendy’s the day after the race at Talladega.
“It is not!” Ricky objected, unwrapping his burger. He told himself he was only taking Jean out because he felt badly for leading the man on. He told himself that no bone in his body actually enjoyed this Frenchman’s company.
“It is, too,” Jean said, picking up his burger and looking at it skeptically. “What is this shit?”
“And what about your husband, anyway?” Ricky went on. “Won’t he care that you’re out with another man?”
“Is this supposed to be a burger? Why is it square?” Jean asked, ignoring Ricky.
“It’s meant to be square,” he explained. Jean still looked unsure.
“In France, our hamburgers-” He made ‘hamburgers’ sound as if he were trying to imitate a cat being run over by a semi-truck. “-are round.” Ricky rolled his eyes at the foreigner, who’d moved his burger onto Ricky’s tray and picked up a fry to investigate.
“It’s a French fry,” Ricky explained as if Jean were slow.
“If it were French, it wouldn’t be so greasy.”
“Just try it.” Jean stared at Ricky as if he were nuts. “It’s not going to kill you.”
Jean gave him a “yeah, right” look.
“I’ll try it on one condition,” Jean said, suddenly looking smug.
“Oh, baby Jesus.”
“If you kiss me afterwards.”
“Sure. Whatever,” Ricky mumbled. Jean looked satisfied and popped the artery-clogging potato thing into his mouth.
He frowned as he chewed, and Ricky grinned.
“See?” he asked proudly. “It’s not so bad.”
Jean made a face as he swallowed. He leaned forward.
“My reward?” he said expectantly. He puckered his lips.
“Oh, no,” Ricky said.
“We had a deal,” Jean complained, looking disappointed.
“Not really,” Ricky said, taking a bite out of his burger.
Before he could swallow, Jean pulled his head forward and crushed their lips together.
Ricky struggled only slightly, and when they pulled apart, he looked dazed.
“You...uh...You taste of...France,” he commented awkwardly.
“Thank you,” Jean said, smiling.
Author: Me!
Pairing: Jean/Ricky
Rating: PG (for an itty-bitty swear word)
Summary: Jean and Ricky have dinner together.
Author's note: The title makes sense if you've seen the Pink Panther movie with Steve Martin. If you haven't, you should see it. It's cute.
Ughhh. School starts tomorrow. =(
“It’s not a date,” Ricky Bobby repeated for the fourth time that night.
“Yes it is,” Jean Girard responded stubbornly. The two racecar drivers sat across from each other at a local Wendy’s the day after the race at Talladega.
“It is not!” Ricky objected, unwrapping his burger. He told himself he was only taking Jean out because he felt badly for leading the man on. He told himself that no bone in his body actually enjoyed this Frenchman’s company.
“It is, too,” Jean said, picking up his burger and looking at it skeptically. “What is this shit?”
“And what about your husband, anyway?” Ricky went on. “Won’t he care that you’re out with another man?”
“Is this supposed to be a burger? Why is it square?” Jean asked, ignoring Ricky.
“It’s meant to be square,” he explained. Jean still looked unsure.
“In France, our hamburgers-” He made ‘hamburgers’ sound as if he were trying to imitate a cat being run over by a semi-truck. “-are round.” Ricky rolled his eyes at the foreigner, who’d moved his burger onto Ricky’s tray and picked up a fry to investigate.
“It’s a French fry,” Ricky explained as if Jean were slow.
“If it were French, it wouldn’t be so greasy.”
“Just try it.” Jean stared at Ricky as if he were nuts. “It’s not going to kill you.”
Jean gave him a “yeah, right” look.
“I’ll try it on one condition,” Jean said, suddenly looking smug.
“Oh, baby Jesus.”
“If you kiss me afterwards.”
“Sure. Whatever,” Ricky mumbled. Jean looked satisfied and popped the artery-clogging potato thing into his mouth.
He frowned as he chewed, and Ricky grinned.
“See?” he asked proudly. “It’s not so bad.”
Jean made a face as he swallowed. He leaned forward.
“My reward?” he said expectantly. He puckered his lips.
“Oh, no,” Ricky said.
“We had a deal,” Jean complained, looking disappointed.
“Not really,” Ricky said, taking a bite out of his burger.
Before he could swallow, Jean pulled his head forward and crushed their lips together.
Ricky struggled only slightly, and when they pulled apart, he looked dazed.
“You...uh...You taste of...France,” he commented awkwardly.
“Thank you,” Jean said, smiling.