Ooooh my first Goggle fic, I'm gonna have a lot of fun with this. I know everyone's used to Goggle being sweet, but I'm adding my own twist to it. This is definetly for Shiloh Beagle, who without her help I wouldn't have ever really thought of this. Remember everyone this is a PREFACE, it' supposed to be short. Lyrics belong to Angus and Julia Stone.
The Local Flavor
The hot desert sun, buzzard cries, crow calls and the rumble of an engine.
Haven't felt my heart beat in fifteen years...
I haven't felt my heart beat...
Since I saw you standing there...
She stands straight, face contorting as she cringes into a backwards arch, facial muscles relaxing as her vertebrae give a few pops of relief that spread through her slowly. She stares down at the engine in front of her with minor agitation, wiping her forehead with the back of her gloved right hand before she bends back in to start working again. A thick strand of white hair slides past her face and she jerks her hand up to press it up behind her ear where it sticks with sweat. She hums with the radio by her feet, boot tapping at the dust as her temper rises when her wrench slips.
Love is not a war that I have got to fight...
When in this life...
What I can't love right...
I, I haven't got what I need from you
The shimmer of the lens betrays a location against the red rock canyon peak, the binoculars tapping against the rocks so they tumble down the slope he perches on. He shouldn't be doing this, she had gotten onto him for this, but he couldn't help himself, it's what he's done his whole life. He mutters something under his breath, barely audible to his own ears, but his brain gets the message.
A purple skivvy remark...
You know what they are...
Memories attached to photographs...
She slams the hood down to the old dusty Mustang, satisfied with today's work, and she tosses her wrench and oil rag into a small bag of tools. "Hey Jeb, I'm goin home!"
No answer, but then she hears him from the back of his shit store. "Alright, get on now 'fore it gets dark."
She waves him off though he can't see her, and a soft smile graces her lips, knowing she was under a very watchful, safe gaze. Whether his concern was for her or himself at nightfall, no one could say. Sometimes she wondered if he knew what she ran with at night, maybe he was in denial. Either way, she liked to pretend the concern was for her. She snatched up her radio, not bothering to turn it off, and climbed into her antique, smiling at the purr she got when she started the engine.
I'm one of those girls...
Who carries on the lie...
I'm one of those people...
Who never got the facts right...
"I'm home!" she calls through a slighlty buzzing house, tools and radio left by the door.
She likes to pretend everything is normal, to the rest of the house everything is. Hair loosened from the bun at the nape of her neck, she shakes it with her long fingers, sighing her way up the stairs. She hates the heat, but it's routine now. Avoid or adapt. That's just what you do.
I, I haven't got what I need...
From you...
What I need, from you...
What I need...