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Didn't somebody ever tell you it's the journey, not the destination?

( it's a tease, a lilt in her voice that's a barely-there drawl, like warm honey and molasses slowly falling off the cliff's edge of a spoon, and kimberly lets her fingertips draw lazy spirals along his forearm, careful not to press too hard or otherwise distract from the attentions to the road. just enough of a touch to be felt, a reminder of her presence, but not quite firm enough to be demanding.

as she looks back up, the shift in scenery is a clue as to where this particular journey might be headed. gone are the charmingly close together storefronts, the light scatterings of city dwellers on sidewalks and crosswalks, and the ambient hum of the occasional fellow car on the road; in their place are trees and tall grass and the promise of mountains in the distance. if kimberly remembers her first few days, there's a beach, too, in another direction, and a woodsy forest patch in another; it seems there's almost nothing that isn't here, if you only wanted to find it.

his question, though, pulls her attentions back into the interior of the car, where his smile is so warm and gentle under those sunglasses. not that she minds. she's more than happy to answer this question, practically purring, ) One's no good without the other... but I'd say the driver, in this case.

[ Driving out of the city makes him relax, somewhat. He's good, maneuvering around tight street corners and he's excellent at evading police under any conditions, but there are words in his head, drive west on 20, in a car I can't afford, with a plan I don't have. He feels like he's allowing this to become a truth, a pipedream that felt completely unattainable so recently.

But here he is. In a car he definitely couldn't afford, back home, with no plan, and a beautiful girl by his side. Driving away from the hustle and bustle of the city, what he's known his whole life. Like a new adventure, something new and incredible and exhilarating, just like driving can be. A chance to learn how to understand people now, the same way he understands cars.

He speeds up some, goosebumps on his arm where Kimberly's touching him. ]

Did you know there are a lot of Kimberly songs?

( his goosebumps don't go unnoticed. they dot the landscape of his bare arm, spring up with each sweep of her touch, each brush of barely-there skin against skin.

a hum of consideration, and kimberly thinks back to her own music collection, admittedly much smaller. there are plenty of songs about girls, yes, about pretty ones and mean ones and everything in between, but she can't think of a single song in her itunes database about a girl with her own name. somehow, it doesn't surprise her too much that he can.

the fact that there are supposedly a lot of them? well, that's a little more of a surprise to her, if she's honest. ) Yeah? Are they any good? ( she assumes they must be. after all, if they're terrible, why bother to listen to them? but he's the expert, so she'll ask. )

Maybe you can play one for me, when we stop.

[ He grins, looking out ahead of them, long black ribbon with nothing around them but sunshine and trees, cutting shadows across the road. He could stop anywhere, and they could lie down on the hood of the car, share his earphones. Maybe dance, like they discussed.

Make it a proper date. ]

Yeah, some of them are. Patti Smith's Kimberly is excellent.

[ He's pretty sure he doesn't have it on this particular iPod, which is hip-hop heavy, but he might have Marques Houston. He makes a note to look through it, later.

When Kimberly's hand moves up along his arm again, Baby turns his hand over, moving enough to slot their fingers together over the gear shift. He doesn't look down, but his smile is soft, pleased. He feels like he can take his time once more; with no one at his back and no one holding him hostage.

He's free. ]

Do you want to drive?

I'd like to hear it.

( kimberly is used to boys that move fast, to playing a back-and-forth game of cat and mouse, to keeping herself on her toes, but this afternoon isn't any of those things. this adventure is slow and easy-going, almost carefree as the car rumbles on, aimlessly wandering through the landscape that baby so easily navigates them through.

his hand shifts, turns so that their fingers tangle together, and kimberly can't help the exhale that slips through her lips, quiet but wholly pleased at the change. it's the sort of move she might have made with a wink and a squeeze, a promise of something more, but this feels almost innocent. as if he's holding her hand just for the sake of doing so, as if anything else is far beyond his demands at the moment. a nice change. it's a phrase she suspects she'll be thinking a lot more often in his presence. )

You'd let me drive your car?

( it's admittedly not something she's ever thought she'd get to do, and she's not exactly sure she'll be quite good at it, but the fact that he offers at all sends a little thrill of surprised warmth through her. )

Then I'll play it for you.

[ And he will; he knows exactly which iPod has it, in his extensive collection, currently all over the floor of his new Cadelle apartment.

He shrugs one shoulder; he doesn't feel like it's his car, per se, and he's let himself be driven around more than once. Sometimes, it's even nice, to not be the one in charge, to be able to let go of the control for a little while. ]

If you want to. [ Then he smiles, squeezing her hand lightly before having to let go, reluctantly, to shift down gears to fourth. As soon as he's not touching her anymore, he wants to again, his eyes dropping to her legs for a second. Thank goodness for sunglasses. ]

Or we can just stop for a while. Smell the roses.

[ He's not used to being immobile, but he's pretty sure that right now, he could just stop and contemplate for a moment without feeling like the itch under his skin and the ringing in his ears are going to overtake him. It might be the knowledge that he's finally free and can stay that way, or simply Kimberly's company. ]

( even if he hadn't been wearing those sunglasses, kimberly wouldn't have minded the dip in his gaze. a girl doesn't wear daisy dukes for nothing, after all, and there's something so sincere about baby that she doesn't think she'd really find it anything but flattering. as it is, though, she finds the sudden loss of contact a little more than disappointing, to her surprise, and her hand is quick to tangle back with his at the first real opportune moment.

when did she become the type of girl to want something as simple as a clasp of hands so much? she's not entirely sure she is that type of girl, but in this car, on this adventure, she thinks she might not mind pretending to be.

does she want to drive his car, though? or stop for a while, instead, linger in the afternoon warmth, let the music and the sweet curve of his smile claim that time for a while? she's quiet for a moment, considering, before she offers her suggestion. )

I like when you drive. But I wouldn't mind stopping for a little while, if you want to.

( for once, there's no poorly hidden tease in the word choice, just sincere pleasure in the drive, in his company. )

You did promise me a one-on-one dance lesson.

[ His smile widens, and he tips his head towards Kimberly, the challenge obvious in the raise of his eyebrows. When he turns back to the road, he pushes on the gas, checking they're fine to get back to the city before doing so, and speeds up until they get to an outcropping, nothing around and ahead than thick forest.

It's not the kind of environment Baby's used to, but he's perfectly happy with it when he parks, the engine ticking when he turns it off, the quiet suddenly deafening, even with the music still playing. The ringing in his ears flares up for a second, and he shakes it off, opening his door and leaving it open as he climbs out, stretching up to his full height by the side of the Challenger. ]

( from inside the car, that near full foot's height difference is muted. she'd known he was taller — that, at least, was nearly impossible to miss — but just how much taller takes her a little by surprise. in a good way, of course; the delighted grin that curves across her mouth as she lets her gaze trail up his body is easy to spot.

once she gets her bearings, kimberly is more than happy to follow him out, towards a clearing at the mouth of the forest, just enough space for her to spin around a few times, hair splaying out as her feet turn her in a tight circle. )

Come here, ( called out, the command is complete with a crook of her finger, an unmistakable gesture if there ever was one. ) And give me something to dance to.

[ Without missing a beat, Baby pulls out another iPod from one of his pockets, hanging Kimberly one earbud and keeping the other as he chooses a song, going over and over before glancing at Kimberly, stepping even closer. ]

What kind of music are we looking for?

Something with a beat you can move to, ( is her very descriptive answer, but to her credit, kimberly at least supplements with a sample, humming along to a song in her head. her hand hits against her thigh, percussion on the beat, a one-two-three-four count off as she bounces up and down on her toes.

she's willing to go fast or slow, any tempo in between, so long as the music is good. dancing is easy. it's all about moving to the music. )

[ He keeps searching for a little while longer, then, before nodding to himself when he gets to the song he thinks of, looking down at Kimberly as the song starts. Immediately he's feeling the best and would start dancing, shift his hips, but this is a lesson. He thinks. So he holds out a hand to Kimberly, giving her all of his attention. ]

What now?

[ He knows how to dance, but in a very thoughtless, unthinking way. He just reacts to music, in every way he can, feeling it down to his bones. But it's not - it's not practiced, in any way. And there's a large part of him that just really wants to watch Kimberly dance, hopefully close to him. He's just a man, after all, and she is flirty and beautiful and all sorts of exciting, and Baby is enthralled. ]

Edited (Wtf) 2017-08-26 17:20 (UTC)

Dance with me.

( reacting to the music isn't inherently wrong. kimberly's not a trained dancer, not in any of the classical sorts of ways. she's never taken a modern dance class, nor ballet or tap; her movement comes from years of cheerleading, gymnastics, and general appreciation for music. high school dances and nights out with friends have trained her informal techniques more so than anything else.

so when the music plays and the beat begins to thrum in her veins, kimberly takes his hand in hers, pulls herself to him to close that distance, and gently encourages his own motion. the sway of his hips, the rock back and forth, the easy shift of his weight from side to side as they move to the beat; it's close and far, darting in close enough that her breath skims across his skin, only to step out again, never letting go of his hand.

it's temptation, this sort of music. the brass and the drums, the way the tempo rises and falls like breaths in and out, the seductive harmonies in a language kimberly doesn't understand. it calls her closer to him, spins her around when she steps away again, hair splaying out around her with each turn. by the end of the song, she's let her free hand curl around the back of his neck, pulled herself flush against him, a pleased smile at the natural rock of his hips as he moves to the beat. )

I told you you could dance, baby.

[ There's something about dancing that's freeing. Baby's not a trained dancer either, but Joe had a few tricks up his sleeve that he'd taught Baby while growing up - a number of moves and it'd given Baby the knowledge of how to move his hips. The musicality, he'd gotten from his mother, from just loving music so deeply and so incessantly.

So it's easy, to fall into step with Kimberly, to move forwards and back with her hand in his, a smile on his face and his sunglasses slipping off. He lets his feet and the music do the talking, a hand around her waist when it fits, when the music leads them there. It's easy and rhythmical and her body moves in ways that makes Baby want to touch her more. He wants to touch her all over, and he knows it shows in the look in his eyes, as they dance, close, legs tangled up.

By the time the song ends, there's sweat at Baby's brow and it's not because of the dancing so much. He licks his lips as he looks down at Kimberly, a smirk appearing on his features as she speaks.

He finds that he had no words to answer her, so instead he just leans down, no hesitation in the way he lifts her chin with a couple of fingers, kissing her - not too gently, either. At the moment, with the music still thrumming in his bones and her body against his, it's all he can think to do. ]

( kimberly understands this kind of answer just fine. his mouth is warm and sure as it presses against hers in a kiss that's not as timid as she might have expected; no, it's a kiss from someone who wants, but not quite bad enough to take it. she likes that. it's the fine line between assured and cocky, but he straddles it well.

(related thought: she'd like to straddle him well. a little. maybe more than a little.)

his fingertips keep her chin tipped up towards him, not that she needs very much in the way of encouragement, and that hand splayed out over the back of his neck curls in, pulls her into him enough that she's resting on tiptoes to meet him. a soft laugh escapes her in the first exhale as they separate, but the sound is quickly muffled as she closes the gap between them again, rewarding his bravery with returned affection.

kimberly loses track after that. how many times they part and come back together, how many soft exhales punctuate the lingering sweetness that seems to define the moment. but it isn't the numbers that matter. when they finally part long enough for her to drop back down to the ground, she's smiling, soft and pleased — that's what matters. )

[ For a time, he doesn't want to move, ever again. For a time, everything feels right and in place and he belongs and there are no police sirens, no gunshots still ringing in his ears, no criminals out for vengeance, nobody he's risking the life of. It's just a guy and a girl, kissing at the edge of a new world he's yet got to explore. He smiles against her lips, pulls her up against his body, keeps her right close and amused as his blood sings in his veins, alive, alive, alive.

When they finally do pull away for more than half a second, he breathes out through his mouth, long and slow, before pressing a chuckle against her forehead. ]

Should I be driving you back to civilization?

[ He might not want to right now, but he's not naive, despite his name. He knows this is a moment that isn't destined to last forever. Just like a good drift, everything has to come to an end. ]

( should he? maybe. there's something about the peace and quiet, the warmth of his body so snug against her own, the seemingly endless time stretched out before them, that tells kimberly this peaceful moment could escalate very quickly. it wouldn't take much, she knows that. that long exhale speaks volumes.

but she doesn't want to rush things with him. she wants to enjoy this ride for what it's worth, take each turn one by one. so, even though all her senses tell her to continue, kimberly pumps the metaphorical brakes for once, and lets her hand drop from his neck down to the fabric of his shirt, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles across his chest. )

Maybe. ( but, so as not to make him think this is the one and only opportunity for such an encounter... ) We can do this again, though, right?

[ Relief loosens his muscles when Kimberly asks for them to do this again; he hadn't realised how much he wanted her to say something exactly like that. If his nod is eager, he doesn't really blame himself - he's just glad to have met someone he clicks with so quickly, and he doesn't plan on not getting to see her again. ]

Yeah. Yeah, please.

[ There's a part of him that really, really wants to stay here. Pick her up, sit her against the hood of the Challenger, get on his knees for her. He wants to stay right here and show her that he's not just his name, but a lot more too. But he's also a gentleman and he was raised right and he'll do better by her than just attempt to just her the second he thinks there's an opening. ]

I could. Cook you dinner?

( that little please, emphasized over a rush of hot air, tugs at something in her chest, flicks her eyes back up to his to catch the intensity of his gaze as he peers down at her. she knows that look. that wanting, desire that you're pushing down, a struggle to balance what's the right thing and what you want.

if baby were anybody else, she'd tip the board in favor of what felt good. immediate gratification wasn't something she was particular used to ignoring. but she's trying to make this work without rushing things. to enjoy the sweetness as it builds towards something else.

they're not there yet, even if she wants to be. )

I'd really like that.

Okay.

[ He's no chef, but he's used to cooking for Joe. And he's pretty sure he can make something romantic out of that tiny apartment he was given; just buy some flowers and candles and nice wine. He can make this work.

He keeps her hand in his as he leads her back to the car, a cheeky smile on his lips as he opens the passenger door for her. ]

Or do you want to try driving now?

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kimberly hart.