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no_true_pairTitle: Last Rose of Summer [Here on AO3]
Fandom: Automobile Stories - Eleanor M. Ingram
Pairing/Characters: Allan Gerard & Corrie Rose (Gerard/Corrie if you squint)
Rating: G
Word Count: 573
Content Notes: None
Prompt: September Two - Allan Gerard & Corrie Rose distant memory
The roar of engines brought Gerard down to his private practice-track when he returned from the factory at noon, to find four cars sweeping down the track, with Corrie Rose's singular pink machine leading the group, shining under the late-summer sun.
It brought him back, immediately and happily, to the first time he'd seen the machine, and the boy. A smile touched his lips at the memory of that day at the track: of the general laughter that followed the bright-painted car, and of its pink-suited teenaged driver, stubbornly prideful, fearless and savage behind the wheel, confiding his fear of driving against his idol Gerard to a quietly amused stranger.
There was no sign of that 'kid amateur' here, and neither laughter nor fear now: it was a pure professional, if young, who swung out of his rose-colored car, cast one appraising glance over the waiting would-be drivers, then beckoned to a dark, eager youth. "Tim," he called cheerfully, "you're up. Make me proud, man."
"I will, Mr. Rose," replied the much-envied chosen, taking his place beside the blue-suited mechanic who eyed him dubiously. Corrie spoke to the pair of them for a moment, leaning into the car to adjust his young pupil's grip on his levers; then he nodded to the boy encouragingly, and the shining car rolled hesitatingly down the track, gaining speed only slowly.
Gerard caught Corrie's eye as he turned from watching its progress, and waved him over. "How go the lessons, Corrie?" he asked as Corrie unwrapped his muffler and took off his cap, shaking free the blond curls, and came to sit on the step below him, leaning on his knee. "Do you regret, yet, taking on the task?"
"Not much," replied his protégé, surveying the four cars sweeping round the track with a proprietary satisfaction. "I don't mind their high spirits, but I did have to send away a couple of the kids who would play tag and wouldn't mind me and the mechanics, and consequently scraped up bad on the low ninety curve this morning. And I had to make Rupert stop lurking 'round the track; he terrifies the youth," he laughed, his violet-blue eyes sparkling merrily. "But most of 'em are good kids, Gerard. And a few will make real racers, someday. See Edda, there," he pointed out a red-trimmed car, darting precisely out of said sharp curve and around a slower machine; "she's only seventeen, but she has nerves of steel and nearly perfect instincts. I think in a few years she'll drive almost like you."
Gerard smiled at the open, affectionate admiration in Corrie's tone, and laid his hand caressingly on the wind-swept golden curls. "I once knew a boy with such instincts at seventeen. If your pupil has as much potential as mine, she won't drive like me; she'll drive in her own style entirely, and be as magnificent as he is."
Corrie's smooth face flushed with pleasure, and he turned to press the warm cheek into Gerard's hand. "Thanks," he said muffledly, "you know I only ever wanted to make you proud." Then, brighter and with hope: "Say, since you're here, is it lunch-time? I hope Mrs. Gerard has ordered something nice. I'm hungry as a hawk to-day."
"You always are, dear," replied Gerard laughingly, and mussed the bright hair fondly. "Go on, call in your kid racers, and bring them in to luncheon, if their manners are nice enough."
Fandom: Automobile Stories - Eleanor M. Ingram
Pairing/Characters: Allan Gerard & Corrie Rose (Gerard/Corrie if you squint)
Rating: G
Word Count: 573
Content Notes: None
Prompt: September Two - Allan Gerard & Corrie Rose distant memory
The roar of engines brought Gerard down to his private practice-track when he returned from the factory at noon, to find four cars sweeping down the track, with Corrie Rose's singular pink machine leading the group, shining under the late-summer sun.
It brought him back, immediately and happily, to the first time he'd seen the machine, and the boy. A smile touched his lips at the memory of that day at the track: of the general laughter that followed the bright-painted car, and of its pink-suited teenaged driver, stubbornly prideful, fearless and savage behind the wheel, confiding his fear of driving against his idol Gerard to a quietly amused stranger.
There was no sign of that 'kid amateur' here, and neither laughter nor fear now: it was a pure professional, if young, who swung out of his rose-colored car, cast one appraising glance over the waiting would-be drivers, then beckoned to a dark, eager youth. "Tim," he called cheerfully, "you're up. Make me proud, man."
"I will, Mr. Rose," replied the much-envied chosen, taking his place beside the blue-suited mechanic who eyed him dubiously. Corrie spoke to the pair of them for a moment, leaning into the car to adjust his young pupil's grip on his levers; then he nodded to the boy encouragingly, and the shining car rolled hesitatingly down the track, gaining speed only slowly.
Gerard caught Corrie's eye as he turned from watching its progress, and waved him over. "How go the lessons, Corrie?" he asked as Corrie unwrapped his muffler and took off his cap, shaking free the blond curls, and came to sit on the step below him, leaning on his knee. "Do you regret, yet, taking on the task?"
"Not much," replied his protégé, surveying the four cars sweeping round the track with a proprietary satisfaction. "I don't mind their high spirits, but I did have to send away a couple of the kids who would play tag and wouldn't mind me and the mechanics, and consequently scraped up bad on the low ninety curve this morning. And I had to make Rupert stop lurking 'round the track; he terrifies the youth," he laughed, his violet-blue eyes sparkling merrily. "But most of 'em are good kids, Gerard. And a few will make real racers, someday. See Edda, there," he pointed out a red-trimmed car, darting precisely out of said sharp curve and around a slower machine; "she's only seventeen, but she has nerves of steel and nearly perfect instincts. I think in a few years she'll drive almost like you."
Gerard smiled at the open, affectionate admiration in Corrie's tone, and laid his hand caressingly on the wind-swept golden curls. "I once knew a boy with such instincts at seventeen. If your pupil has as much potential as mine, she won't drive like me; she'll drive in her own style entirely, and be as magnificent as he is."
Corrie's smooth face flushed with pleasure, and he turned to press the warm cheek into Gerard's hand. "Thanks," he said muffledly, "you know I only ever wanted to make you proud." Then, brighter and with hope: "Say, since you're here, is it lunch-time? I hope Mrs. Gerard has ordered something nice. I'm hungry as a hawk to-day."
"You always are, dear," replied Gerard laughingly, and mussed the bright hair fondly. "Go on, call in your kid racers, and bring them in to luncheon, if their manners are nice enough."