Work Text:
A swallow of light illuminates the dim space. It catches on the sleek black silhouette of a souped up Trans Am. This garage is far from her home base and yet, the place is littered with tools, half-disassembled electronics, machines, and car parts.
The crawler rumbles out from under KITT's chasey. "There." Bonnie announces, wiping her charcoal black hands on a tattered rag. "That should fix things until the semi arrives with spare parts." Sucking in a breath, she turns to KITT. "How does that feel?"
An approving whirr rises from the car. "Much better. Thank you, Bonnie." KITT is about to give her another warning, but it appears unnecessary. She has already perceived the interloper quite satisfactorily.
"You know," she speaks without looking up, "most people would knock before sneaking into highly classified work places." The sentiment isn't aimed at KITT. No, it is aimed towards the shadows encompassing the door.
"Door was open," comes the far too casual answer. With him, comes the faint scent of cigarette and low wafts of familiar aftershave.
Michael Knight must have left it open when he went to freshen up. She shoves that thought aside in favor of her new company."Is that the excuse that you would present in court?" Bonnie banters back. Feeling his presence press close to her back.
He snorts in amusement. "It's Miami. Nobody locks anything." It's only a half-truth. A half-truth that causes the corners of his lips to lift. His own calloused hands move to pull her towards him, but he doesn't quite manage the task before Bonnie turns to him.
The stunning brunettes' eyebrow quirked. His white jacket is damp from the storm raging outside and the sodden fabric hung open at the collar. Sonny looked like trouble in expensive linen. "You're bleeding," she rasps. It is difficult for her to bite back the worry.
Bonnie fusses too much. "It looks worse than it is." He counters with a flare that is far too casual for the situation. She orders him to sit, and he obeyed with a tired sigh. This is not why he came. Sea-glass orbs follow her as she opened a metal first-aid kit. Thunder rattled the garage window as she crouches down in front of him. With nimble fingers, she lifts his shirt to access the glaring cut near his ribs.
The cold air feathers his skin with goosebumps. He hisses as she pours cleaning solution into the cavernous cut. It stings, stings in a way that brings tears to his sea-glass orbs.
"Are you always this stubborn?" She questions, dabbing at the wound until it is free of the inky scarlet it once oozed.
"Define always." He coyly answers, forcing inklings of a grin upon his face. "Comes with the job," he finally confides. His tone softer now.
A brief huff of laughter escapes her. "Michael would say the same thing." She glances up at him through long, wispy lashes. "Difference is, he smiles more."
Sonny affectionately glances down at her, meeting her gaze. "Maybe he's got more reasons to."
The room falters into a hush till all that can be heard is rain and the hum of fluorescent bulbs. Bonnie's fingers softly brush along his skin as she tapes the bandage into place. Must her fingers dwell there as long as they did? No, but touching him is comforting. It reminds her that Sonny is still alive. Even in the grim lighting of the garage, he almost looks like a weather worn angel. "I'd keep the bandage there for a few days." She murmurs. "You're lucky it wasn't deep enough to require stitches."
Sonny swallows. "Do you ever slow down?" He muses. It is his way of saying he wanted to spend more time with her in spite of both of their heavy schedules.
"No. That is not a luxury I have," she answers. At least, it isn't with the way the Foundation is taking on cases these days.
Without thinking, he carelessly brushes his thumb against her wrist. He is in no hurry to break the contact. "What if I gave you the right reason?"
Cheeks singe crimson and Bonnie nearly startles. Between flitterings of her heart, she tries to maintain airs of being so casual. Her voice drops to a silvery sotto voce. "And what reason would that be?"
With a smirk, Crockett leans in slow. Slow enough to give the brunette a chance to withdraw. She doesn't. So he bridges the gap a little further. His hand rose slowly, almost reverently, until the backs of his fingers grace the delicate curve of her jaw.
The touch is featherlight at first, enough to make Barstow's breath catch, enough to coax her forward towards him without thinking. Her own scorching turquoise gaze settles upon his lips, unsubtle in their yearning.
Sonny's thumb moves to gently tip her head upwards. Sea-glass eyes study her intently. How many times has he thought about this? About gently maneuvering her into a commanding kiss? How long has he been yearning to touch her? Good lord, it feels like years, even if it has only been days. With their lips scantily a breath away from each others, he utters. "You have no idea what you do to me," his voice is rough with restraint.
"Sonny," his name is whispered like a fervent prayer.
The chord of which causes Crockett to shiver with anticipation. Her lips part in a shaky inhale, and that is all the permission he required. He leans in carefully at first, but the moment their mouths met, the restraint between them unravels.
He tastes like freedom, like an unfettered rush to a place that is safe. He tastes of danger. Of being one step in front of the firing line. Bonnie moves instinctively, with aching slowness, tender and desperate all at once.
Sonny kisses her like the affection-starved soul that he is. He had spent far too many nights awake on the St. Vitus Dance imagining how this exact moment might play out and still, he hadn't come close to capture how devastatingly incredible it would feel.
Her lips are soft, a strict departure from her calloused and worn hands. His trembling hand ghosts from her jaw to the back of her neck. His fingers, ineloquent in their exploration, thread through the smooth ebony of her hair and he draws her closer. Closer until she melts against him with a soft utterance that nearly undoes him completely. Every brush of his lips is cautious, ravenous instinct. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to worship her or lose himself in her entirely.
She is first to begrudgingly break the kiss. She remembers that KITT is watching, even if he has forgotten. Sooner or later Michael would come trotting in wanting a full update on the improvements made to his vehicle.
While the kiss is broken, the spell of romance is not. Seconds later, Sonny leant his forehead against her's. Their breaths tangled together in the narrow space between them. "Do you know how beautiful you are?" He whispers.
Bonnie blushes softly."You're trouble, Crockett."
Sonny cannot help but grin. "Yeah," he murmured, "but you kissed me anyways."