[27]

Wild And Free

"For the last time, I choose Portugal. Then France." Wade jabbed a finger at the map, forgetting the item was draped over Skipper's thighs. She hissed at the pain and smacked his hand away. 

"It's not up to you!" she argued.

"Actually, it kind of is. I'm the one driving." He tapped the steering wheel for emphasis and she rolled her eyes. 

"You can't drive to Portugal, idiot."

"Oh really? Wow, I didn't know that, thank you!" His sarcasm was elevated and annoying. Skipper slapped him again and continued studying the map in sullen silence.

"You can't seem to decide, so I'm just helping," Wade pointed out.

"Doesn't feel very helpful," she muttered, rubbing the sore spot on her thigh. "What's this obsession of yours with France, anyway?"

He shrugged. "Photogenic scenery, I guess. Portugal is really beautiful too. And they have castles."

"How do you know?"

He gave her a look of stoic disappointment. "How do you not know?"

"I was being facetious."

"Well, you're terrible at it, so leave it to the expert instead. Okay?" 

"Fine, whatever." Skipper huffed, blowing a stray strand of purple hair from her face. The color was fading, and as a result it gave off a spotty glow whenever she was in low light. It gave Wade more reason to tease her, though lately it seemed his efforts were halfhearted. In a way, she kind of missed his brutal sense of humor. She couldn't tell if he was just homesick and exhausted, or if he was actually going soft. 

Folding up the map, she glanced at him. "Tell me something random."

Taken aback, Wade shook his head and stared at her. "Whoa...where did that come from? What are you on about?"

"Just tell me something. Anything. Something about you."

Wade frowned and rubbed the base of his neck awkwardly. "What... I'm really confused."

She smirked tiredly. "Spontaneity. Get used to it."

"Heck no. I'll just walk on over there a ways and give you some space. You're being weird and I don't like it." He got up from the curb they'd been sitting on and began walking away. Skipper watched him in disappointment before getting up to follow him.

"No!" He exclaimed. "Get away from me, weirdo!" There was a note of laughter in his voice that told her he wasn't entirely serious, so she decided to chase him.

"I don't know what that means," she teased, a wicked smirk contorting her face as she began to run. 

"Yes you do! Stop this...tomfoolery of yours!" He was beginning to look and sound a bit panicked, and dodged her as best he could. Somehow, she caught up to him and threw her arms around his waist, dragging him back a few steps. He cried out in shock and struggled to pry her off of him, but she was surprisingly strong. Of course he was stronger, and he knew that, but he didn't want to hurt her. 

"Let me go, please?" He whined.

"No," she replied simply, her hold growing tighter. He growled and walked forward, but still she clung to him.

"See, you're really being weird! Stop it!" He scolded, and all he got in response was her mocking laughter, muffled into his back. 

"C'mon, stop it," Wade whined, attempting to wriggle away.

"Just think, this could be the last interaction you have with me," she stated, a bit too cheekily for his liking.

"Don't try to guilt me into accepting this! Because it's not acceptable!"

"Oh? How is it not?" She pressed, mischief saturating her every word. 

"It's just...well...it just isn't! Okay? Gosh, do I HAVE to have a reason?"

"You could admit that it's because your personal space bubble is very large?" Skipper suggested teasingly, still not releasing him. 

"Go away."

"Nope. Not letting go."

"I will play noisy punk music in your ears every minute of every day until you die if you don't let me go," Wade hissed through gritted teeth, gripping her small wrists and slowly prying her arms from around his waist. This wasn't funny to him, and it definitely wasn't pleasant. The fact that she was dying was no excuse to make him uncomfortable.

Would I want someone to randomly hug me if I was dying and didn't know when my time would be? He then pondered, a steady stream of guilt trickling in. He hated that she always managed to somehow make him feel guilty when he hadn't even done anything necessarily wrong. His grip on her wrists loosened and he stopped trying to pry her away.

That is, until she had to go and gloat about it.

"What is this? The big man admits defeat?" An evil little cackle escaped her, and he instantly resumed his efforts to remove the girl from his vicinity. She booed him and clung tighter like a stupid little octopus. 

"Please, I'm done. Get off me and stop being weird."

"Make me," she taunted, wagging her head. Twisting around, he snarled and rapped on her head with his knuckles until she was forced to let go, complaining that it hurt and that her head was really sensitive.

"My personal space is just as sensitive, if not more! Have some consideration and I won't do that to you again. Capiche?"

The girl folded her arms and jutted out a hip, a look of attitude darkening her features. Wade ignored her and went back to the curb, picking up the map and travel journal. "C'mon Señorita, it's our last day in Mexico. We can drive with the windows down and take as many stops as we want."

"Can I stand in my seat with the sunroof open?" Skipper brightened, her sassy posture morphing into one of excitement, and she bounced eagerly on her bare feet. Wade shrugged, pulled open the passenger door and stuffed the map and journal in the glove compartment before grabbing Skipper's crocs off the floor and chucking them at her. 

"See if I care. Just wait until we're on the freeway, alright?"

Skipper nodded, picked up her crocs, and clambered into her seat. Wade slammed the door shut on her chattering face, drowning out her words as he went to check on his anteater. Charles was behaving perfectly, as always. After a quick once-over of the vehicle to ensure everything was ready for travel. 

They had already decided that since intercontinental ferries were too expensive, they were going to drive back to the States and leave Wade's SUV there before continuing their exploration overseas. Skipper said that Wade didn't have to come along, but he had been insistent, saying that in life we should always finish what we've started. She'd cried then, because such a statement held a lot of meaning for her. She was finishing what her mother had started, and he had offered–willingly, even–to accompany her in doing so. What he said implied that they had started this together, and they would finish this together.

Which essentially meant he didn't want her to have to die alone.

Of course, he had never said that out loud, but Skipper wasn't stupid. She could read between the lines if given enough time to think it over. And as Wade was often quiet during their time on the road, she had plenty of time to consider every word he'd ever spoken. Maybe he had intended it to be this way, maybe not. That was one thing she knew she'd never figure out unless he told her straight up, because Wade's intentions were never clear. They were always muddy. Genuine at times, guilt-ridden at others. Sometimes it seemed he wasn't even aware of himself. She blamed it on his lack of sleep, but maybe it was something deeper. Either way, she didn't really care. It was part of what made Wade... Wade.

They were going to drive straight to the border. It would be a long drive, but as Wade had said earlier, they could take as many stops as they wanted. 

As they finally made it onto free, open roads, Wade opened all the windows. Charles poked his face out with glee. The sunroof opened, and Skipper unbuckled. She felt like such a rebel, standing with one bare foot on the center console and the other planted firmly on her seat, faded purple hair whipping wildly in the wind. It felt good, like she was unstoppable. Even when Wade turned on the radio, blaring his obnoxious music, she couldn't complain. They were young and wild and free, and the only thing that could stop them was death. And she wasn't going to give death the time of day, not now. Not until it was time.