Moments

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Summary: It’s always about moments.

AUTHOR: Zippit
EMAIL: zippit@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG
CHARACTER: Clint Bowyer, Kevin Harvick/Dale Earnhardt Jr, Clint POV
COMPLETED: September 19, 2008
WORD COUNT: 1,102
DISCLAIMER: If you recognize anyone in this piece, I am in no way affiliated with or know them personally. I am neither making a profit nor plan to do so. This is nothing more than an exercise in fiction. This is a result of an overactive imagination and I claim no truth to these words.
BETA: Thanks to Catw00man for the beta. All other errors are mine.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sweet boys. I need to write them like this more often.
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 Richmond International Raceway – Richmond, Virginia – September 7th, 2008

You always hear about drivers’ long memories. We recite date, race, car number and sponsor for us and the driver that took us out. It’s a driver thing. Wins are so hard fought you don’t like having one slip out of your grasp. You don’t forget. You never forget. It’s a trophy and a moment in time you can never get back.

It’s why sitting here next to Junior, listening to him talk about wrecking the 18, I have to wonder how far back that memory of his goes. Every single race frame is gonna be analyzed to death because NASCAR’s golden child spun out NASCAR’s villain. There’s no better story than that. As for what I believe, I’m not sure. If I ask around the shops enough, I’m sure I can find people saying the move was just like one his dad did back in the day. But right here, listening to him now? I’m not sure. No one’s sure. He can weave the best spells with his accent and words. It’s like listening to a master storyteller. You lose yourself in the reality they build until they finally set you free. It’s all about how things are presented, and how willing you accept it.

It’s all about perception.

Just like the whole deal between Harvick and Junior. There’s something you just can’t put your finger on and I swear that’s the way they want it. I can probably ask Kev later in the week about the wreck and get a straighter answer from him than if I went up to Junior. It’s all about the media spin and there’s no greater master than Earnhardt.

Everything about them surprises me. You wouldn’t think they know each other as well as they do. It’s the motorcoaches and the hanging out when the cameras aren’t near that tells the real story. It’s the easy familiarity when they talk to or about each other. So many hidden connections but if you catch the right snatch of conversation, it comes to light.

So somehow it’s not a surprise when we line up for the Chase drivers picture, Junior’s tucked in among us. Busch and Carl are there too, but they’re just there. Junior feels like he’s a part of the team though he isn’t. It’s really damn weird. We don’t have to be anywhere pressing after we’ve finished the hat dance so Harvick, Burton, and I sit down to rehash the Chase to the Chase. As hectic as the racing’s been, we haven’t had many chances to shoot the breeze like this.

It’s a few minutes of being teammates and pretending we have nothing else to worry about than right here, right now. Then there’re the interviews, one after another, but as soon as ESPN lets us know they’re done with us, we’re headed off to the motorcoach lot. Jeff peels off to go find Kim. Harvick and I go a little longer before I stop off at my coach. Kev disappears around the corner to his and I remember how I got stuck with either the really late or really early interviews last year in New York. Step around to ask him if I’m gonna get that again but stop short when I see Junior sitting in the doorway to Harvick’s coach. He’s already showered and changed into street clothes as he looks up at Kev through his sunglasses. He’s wearing a wide smile as Kev steps closer.

Hear Kev chuckle and reach up to run his fingers through Junior’s hair. “You changed fast.”

“Like you normally don’t.” Junior leans into Kev’s touch as he moves even closer, his other hand coming to trace along Junior’s jaw.

“Mmm, like your hair like this,” Kev says as he traces his thumb against Junior’s cheek then pulls off Junior’s sunglasses as he leans in to kiss him sweetly. Junior melts into the kiss, curling his hand over Kev’s that’s slipped down to cup his cheek. The scene’s so intimate it’s like I’m intruding on something that the world shouldn’t see. They break apart a moment later and all they have are eyes for each other.

“You gonna be ready for New York?”

Junior tilts his head to the side slightly and laughs. “When am I ever ready for New York? Just gonna be a bunch of the same questions repeated over and over. Ain’t nothing new.”

“You’re with Hendrick now.” Junior leans close to kiss Kev again and wraps his arms around his waist, tugging Kev down to kneel between his legs.

“It’s just another season, Kev. Another season of racing and doing what we always do, fight for the Championship. Nothing new in that.” This time it’s Junior tracing his fingers over Kev’s cheek before he gazes into his eyes. “You know why I couldn’t.”

The whole world knew why he couldn’t go to RCR. Too much history, too much pressure, not enough room for Junior to be Junior. But that didn’t mean Harvick took it well. He refused to speak to Junior for a few weeks and stopped having Todd chose the garage stall next to Junior’s. I’d never seen them apart that long. Kev was a hurricane around the shop. You couldn’t bring up Junior without getting your head snapped off. Not sure what fixed it, but by the end of the season they were back to how they were. I never had the courage to ask Kev about it. They’re both so damn protective of things when it comes to each other.

Harvick leans his forehead against Junior’s and hooks his arms around his shoulders. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t want you there.”

“I know.” Another sweet kiss that has me fidgeting again. They shouldn’t be so...intimate out in the open. What they have is...beyond words. Junior gazes a long moment into Kev’s eyes and smiles soft. “C’mon, I wanna get outta here.”

“Yeah, alright, impatient ass.” Junior’s laughter follows Kev inside the motorcoach and just like that they’re back to normal as if they hadn’t touched on something that hurt them so much last year.

Junior turns to follow Harvick inside, but pauses and looks straight at me. I jump guiltily and fiddle with my ear, tapping my fingers against the metal of my motorcoach. Junior shoots me a grin. “See you in New York, Bowyer.”

Watch him disappear inside then turn back to head for my own coach. I’ll never get those two. They live in a world completely their own. I’m just lucky to be able to catch glimpses of the private paradise they manage to make wherever they go.

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Zippit - zippit@cryptoffic.com