your Uber has arrived (and it's not a car, sorry) - seth-kia
1.5k words, Matt Simmons & Tara Lewis fluff piece
Tara needs a ride, and Matt's happy to help her out--when he shows up, she expects a car, and gets a motorcycle instead.
Oh, well. They're gonna be late, anyways.
Fic under the cut!
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See, this is why Matt loved having a motorcycle.
The look on Tara's face when she stepped out of the university to see her ride was absolutely priceless--somehow, she conveyed complete exasperation just by raising her eyebrow.
She'd texted him ten minutes prior asking for a ride, well aware that he always took the bike to work. It was his pride and joy, and after the IRT disbanded, he couldn't bring it along on cases--the BAU's jet was incredibly small compared to international.
It made logical sense; he was swimming state-side, so he traded case-work on the bike for a normal circadian rhythm. And he could drive it to headquarters. He'd take what he could get.
Grinning, Matt honked the horn. He gave a two fingered wave.
Tara scoffed amusedly as she came closer, looking the bike up and down. "Don't you have a car? I doubt you could fit four kids on the back of that."
"Kristy took the Honda to work, unless you want to ride in a big empty Subaru with three car seats, sports gear and a stroller shoved in the back, this is your best bet."
"That's fair. But since I've no other choice..."
She paused, looking him over.
"I get to wear your helmet."
Matt shook his head. "I have another one for this exact reason."
"Yours is badass. Give it over."
"I'm the driver!"
"Okay, then I get the jacket."
Matt sighed, failing to hide his grin behind his exasperation. He pulled off the helmet and handed it over. "You're lucky I value you, Lewis."
It wasn't a huge admission--Tara was probably the one he was closest to on the team, besides Luke. She was level headed and smart as a whip, and had trained herself to laser focus on a case.
But outside of work, she was a hell of a drinking buddy. She and Kristy got along like a wildfire. She was a good listener, and even better at kicking sense into him when necessary--which was often--and she was sensible and caring and gentle when she wanted to be.
She was a good friend. Matt was glad to know her.
Tara sat off the side of the bike, flicking his visor over her eyes. "Dude."
"What?"
She looked at him, eyebrows raised. "How much did you pay for this?"
"No more than the bike, at least."
Slow blink. "That... is a very vague and mildly concerning answer to my question."
"Hush." He pulled on the second helmet, shaking his head until it settled. "It's also seven in the morning. Why are you at the school?"
"I did a guest lecture last night. Couple students needed extra assistance and I'm on good terms with the principle, they set me up with an empty dorm."
"You seriously stayed the night? How late were you guys up?"
"Three in the morning." At his incredulous glance, she nodded sagely. "College students. They work like no other. I didn't want to walk home that late, so I just bunked up."
"You could've called me then, I'd be happy to give you a lift home. And I would've had the Honda."
"I know, but you've got kids. I'll let you have whatever sleep you can get."
He snorted. "You know I need it."
"Are we gonna get going, though?" She poked him in the side. "It's past seven thirty already."
"I was enjoying our conversation?"
"Yeah, yeah, love you too, now get on with it."
"Okay, fine, I digress." Matt laughed, and he shifted, stretching his fingers over the handles. "Arms around my waist, but don't squeeze me to death and don't move around a lot. If you need to talk to me, you'll have to yell."
"Noted." Tara swung her leg over the seat, wrapping her arms around him securely.
"Ready?" He looked back, waiting for confirmation.
She shifted one more time and nodded. "Get going, we're gonna be late already."
"You were the one who decided to stay the night after a formal guest lecture."
"Yeah, well, you were still at home by the time I called you. It took you ten minutes to get here. What's your excuse?"
"In your own words, I have children."
She laughed. "Just go."
He kicked off, the engine rumbling beneath him. "Lean forward," he yelled over his shoulder, and set off to BAU headquarters.
It was maybe a twenty minute ride, and it took half of it for Matt to adjust to the different helmet. It was slightly wider on his head and let the air in through little gaps--he'd bought it for Mae back at the IRT, his first and favorite passenger.
Tara was as much of a lovely rider as his old coworker, though, stiff enough not to shift the weight of the bike and yet still relaxed enough to keep him at ease. She was comfortable on her seat, almost like she'd ridden before.
She might have driven a bike before, from how calm she was. Knowing Tara, it was certainly an option.
Of course, she was still new to riding with Matt. He had to have a little fun.
He took his turns sharp, leaning deep on either side with practiced effortlessness, and probably qualified for a mild speeding ticket--he only glanced at his speedometer maybe once or twice, letting the rush of euphoria fill him.
At one point, he hit the curb and jumped off the cement, shouting with glee at the air time as he touched on the road again. Surprisingly, only two cars honked at him.
"Having fun, Doctor?" He yelled behind him, grinning wildly.
Tara's arms remained tight around his waist, and to her credit, she didn't scream.
But when he parked in the garage, ten minutes late, toeing the kickstand and balancing the extra helmet on his handlebars, she wasted no time ripping into him.
"Matthew Simmons." She dumped the helmet into his waiting arms. "You, are crazy."
"What makes you say that? Didn't you have fun?" He glanced up and grinned, fussing a little with the visor.
"You drive like a lunatic!"
"Correction: I drove like a biker."
"Do bikers regularly speed?" She snorted at his innocent expression. "Yeah, I saw the gauge, you're not getting away with that one."
He jogged up the front steps to the building and opened the door for her, waving her in dramatically and hopping in after her. "Maybe that's just how motorcyclists work."
"Oh, do motorcyclists purposely hit bumps high enough for them to come off of the road on a normal drive?"
Matt rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. "Okay, that one was just me having fun."
"Seriously?"
The door to the roundtable room was still open, shapes behind the closed blinds moving.
Matt nudged her forward a little, smirking. "C'mon, they're gonna start without us."
He was mildly out of breath--after every ride, he had to readjust to normal air flow, instead of the constant wind buffeting his face. According to Kristy, he always has this expression of dazed joy coming home, a lightness in his step and a grin on his face. She called it his "biking high".
After a few desperate and unsuccessful attempts to organize his hair into something mildly professional, he stepped into the conference room.
"Nice of you to join us," Rossi commented, throwing an almost stern but mostly amused glance their way.
"I went as fast as I could--"
"--meaning he nearly killed us both--"
"--and it's Tara's fault I'm late, she wanted a ride--"
"--Oh, really, mister 'I have children'?" She countered, crossing her arms loosely.
"Well, I got us here." Matt shoulder checked her as he came in behind her, grinning and windswept.
"Yeah, no thanks to road safety laws."
He scoffed. "Shush."
Prentiss looked them over, a barely contained smile on her face. "Anyway," she drawled, pointedly clicking the remote.
"Right," Matt said, taking a seat by Reid.
"You know, almost six thousand people die a year in motorcycle accidents," Spencer said discreetly, leaning over.
"Yeah. Now I do. Thanks, doc." Matt stared at the ceiling.
Tara watched him with an expression halfway between disappointment and mild terror.
"Anytime," Reid said, grinning as Emily began the debriefing.
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On the way back after the case, Matt offered another ride.
She accepted, on the condition that he "wouldn't ignore the speed limit signs this time."
With a snort, a grin, and the trading of helmets, Tara wrapped her arms around his waist again, and off they went.
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