This one's set in that moment during Mrs. Rosco P. Coltrane after the boys have crashed the General into the back of the flatbed truck, and they discover the conveniently located horse. There was a lot to like in this episode...

"And I'm driving!"

"After that? You're crazy." Discussion over.

Luke is not half the driver he thinks he is; Bo can blow his doors off. Ask anyone, except the ass over there flirting with a horse, and they'll tell you that Hazzard County's got nothing but corrupt lawmen plus the only driver in the whole south who can take a car around Dolly Parton shaped curves, then fly it right over a barn, and land gentle enough you'd think the ground was made of marshmallows. Without Bo Duke, the name Hazzard wouldn't even be printed on most maps. Just because the General's now in a dented heap in a pile of once-bailed hay, teetering at an awkward angle as it hangs onto the sloped bed of an old truck, doesn't mean Bo's not the better driver.

Letting Luke drive means mounting up behind him, one arm around his waist and holding on against the jarring gallop. The tighter he molds himself to Luke's backside, the less likely he is to injure some of his own more important organs. Needs to curl his longer body to fit perfectly into the curves of Luke's, then match exactly the rhythm of his rise and fall.

Somewhere within the first half mile, Bo realizes just how much he is enjoying this. Luke's eyes roll toward him, head half turned and tipped back, when he tightens his hold around his cousin's waist, closing that last tiny air pocket of space between them. Skeptical face, one side of Luke's lips dropping down, what are you up to, Bo in the squinted corner of bright blue that's trying to see him back here.

He lets his hand answer for him; in the little bit of movement to get Luke closer, it has discovered the lines of muscle that line Luke's stomach. The contour there is nothing like whichever of the Boone twins Bo was feeling up last weekend, but it's pleasing to explore all the same.

If Rosco wasn't in some kind of trouble that they couldn't understand, Bo would be getting punched right about now, probably. But Duke boys were duty bound from birth to protect those weaker and stupider than they were, and Rosco fits both bills. Luke won't pull back on the reins until they get home or find wheels, whichever comes first. Bo risks a broken nose to nuzzle against the side of Luke's face, smells like sweat and hay and… Luke. Damn. They still have a few death defying stunts before the afternoon can settle into the calm of night and relief from this newly agitated state will come in the form of one kind of beating or another.

"Bo," gets growled at him somewhere right in the middle of that thought. "What are you doing?"

Tree branches are flying by too close, they both have to duck or they'll wind up flat on their backs in the dirt. God, does it really matter what happens to Rosco? Really, what place does honor have involving itself in the Duke boys' lives anyway? They are moonshiners, Rosco is the law, and if some filly from two towns over wants to take him for all he has, what does that have to do with the price of eggs in…

Just over that last rise lies the farm and their kin. Bo lets his hand drop down to Luke's thigh as his cousin starts to slow the horse to a canter.

"Tell you later," Bo answers the question that Luke has clearly forgotten he asked. "Tonight," he promises. "I'll show you, actually." A few more steps and they'll be able to see the farmyard. "And I'm driving," he finishes, right into Luke's ear, before letting his hand fall completely away from Luke's body.