A Shieldshock Ficlet

Had this been a movie, or any other bit of contrived entertainment, the streaks of grime across Darcy's cheeks and forehead would have been artfully placed; she'd have been flushed, glowing, not sweating profusely, and her scraped knuckles would look a lot less like an infection risk. Still, when she let loose a triumphant whoop and Steve lowered the car down onto its successfully-changed tire, Steve felt an electric rush course through him and jolt the horny animal that was his hindbrain.

She'd changed the tire; now he wondered if he could convince her to help him test the shocks.