using his helmet visor as a mirror?
you'd always been a pain in his arse.
too mouthy. too stubborn. too damn fearless for your own good. you had a habit of looking danger dead in the eye like it was daring you first, and somehow that infuriated him almost as much as it fascinated him.
maybe that's why he kept coming back.
it was your birthday. one night out, that was all you'd asked for,
so he'd let you drag him into a club packed wall to wall with sweaty strangers and music loud enough to rattle his skull. you disappeared into the crowd with a grin that made refusing you impossible, dancing like no one was watching.
he watched anyway.
he always did.
by the time you wandered over to the bar for another drink, your cheeks were warm from alcohol and laughter. some stranger noticed before he could.
the man sidled up with an easy smile, leaning far too close, his eyes dragging over you like he was already imagining the rest of the night. you tried to brush him off with polite disinterest.
he didn't take the hint.
then he put a hand on you.
he was moving before he'd even thought about it.
"she's not interested, mate."
his voice cut through the music like a knife.
the idiot swung first. big mistake.
one punch was all it took before the man was on the sticky club floor, groaning while security rushed over to sort out the rest.
your only response was a snort. "you done playing hero?"
"you done attracting dickheads?" he grumbled.
you laughed.
he tried not to smile.
the ride home was quieter.
you sat behind him on the motorbike, arms wrapped loosely around his waist while the cold night air stole away the heat lingering in your skin. every now and then he felt your helmet bump lightly against his shoulder whenever you looked around at the empty roads.
he didn't mind.
when the fuel light blinked on, he pulled into a lonely petrol station.
"i'll be a minute."
you disappeared inside while he filled the tank.
when you came back out, a bottle of water dangling from your fingers, you stopped beside him without saying a word.
he glanced over. "what?"
you ignored him completely.
instead, you dug through your bag until you found your lipstick. tilting your head, you leaned toward him, studying your reflection in the dark sheen of his visor.
"...hold still."
he blinked. "you serious?"
"mhm."
as though it were the most natural thing in the world, you twisted the tube, carefully fixing the smudged colour across your lips using his visor as a mirror.
his hand twitched at his side.
"you know," he muttered, voice rough beneath the mask, "most people use an actual mirror."
"and most people don't have like a six foot something personal compact standing in front of them."
"...personal compact."
"it's multifunctional."
he let out the quietest huff of amusement.
the corner of your mouth curled as you clicked the lipstick shut. "there."
you admired your work one last time in the reflection before patting his chest.
"thanks, handsome."
