Work Text:
The advantage of country lanes was that you didn’t often meet someone coming the other way, so Erik could take his mask off and put it in his lap, and feel the breeze on his face.
The car was a dark grey Mercedes hardtop convertible, though Erik left the house so rarely that it wasn’t often used, and he hardly ever took the roof down.
It was off now, bathing himself and his passengers in sun, Christine beside him, Meg and the daroga in the back.
He took the turns of the road easily, casually, hand on the wheel, no rush. They had no particular destination in mind; today was about the journey, the blue sky above and fresh air all around.
The radio was on – not Mozart as he’d wanted, because Meg had insisted on modern music, but the artist was at least tolerable, and Erik was in a good enough mood that not even pop music could ruin his day.
Erik didn’t need to turn around to know that the daroga would be smiling, head tilted back, resting in the warmth. Behind Erik, Meg whooped, pure joy at the golden day.
He glanced over at Christine. Her hair was blowing about in the breeze, and she’d lifted her hand up to catch the rush of air against her fingers as they drove. But she wasn’t looking at the passing countryside. No, she was looking at him, a smile on her lips.