A/N: On the "Ask the Squishykins" tumblr, Twinings and I are currently offering ourselves up for two full weeks of filling fic prompts for our readers, varying in length from a hundred to three thousand-plus words. The project has been dubbed the Free For All Fic For All—or FFAFFA for short. This is one of those stories—and this is the boilerplate author's note you'll see on all of 'em. The current round of FFAFFA is temporarily on hold due to IRL circumstances (hi, Hurricane Sandy!), but we'll be starting it up again in a few days, so if you want a custom fic written to any particular specifications, drop by and ask for it!

Prompt: Anything with a speedster. This was originally intended to fill another prompt, but it became this instead. Characters, y u no do what I want?

To be fair, Roxy Sutton had no intention of stealing the car when she saw it. She was perfectly content to walk right past, ogle its lines as she went, and go right back to being a law abiding citizen.

But…the wolf whistle stopped her.

It was an invitation. A dare. And Roxy Rocket had never, ever been able to turn down a dare.

Roxy turned and sized up the man standing next to the hot rod. He was pushing sixteen at most, but trying very hard to be twenty-five in his hand-me-down motorcycle jacket that was a size too big next to what was pretty obviously his father's pride and joy. She gave him her naughtiest grin and sauntered up to him, carefree as you please.

"Nice ride," she purred.

"Nice everything," he said, eyes traveling from the tips of her shoes to the top of her head.

"Nineteen-fifty-seven Studebaker President. Unf." Roxy bit her bottom lip and stroked the hood of the car. "Seamist green, right?"

"Uhh…" He seemed terribly distracted by what her mouth was doing. "Yeah. Sure."

"You know, I've driven one of these," she continued, moving closer to him, walking her fingers up his chest, "I did a remake of Dragstrip Girl."

The teenager looked like he hit the jackpot. "Actress, huh?"

"Nah," Roxy's hands moved lower, over his abdomen, down toward his jeans. She flashed her eyebrows at him and suddenly jingled his keys in front of his face. "Stunt woman."

"Hey, how did you—" The kid stumbled back as Roxy shoved him.

"Don't worry, kid. I'll be good to her." Roxy grabbed the topmost edge of the open driver's side window and slid into the car without even bothering to open the door. She turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. "These babies are sturdy. Took three tries to total my last one!"

"Hey!" he cried, jumping to his feet as she pulled away.

"See ya around, stud muffin!" she called out the window to him. "Look me up when you're legal!"

Roxy gunned it, speeding away from the scene of the crime, and patted the dashboard with one hand. "You're a nineteen-fifty-six in seaside green. He just didn't deserve you, baby."

She blew through three red lights, was flashed by three traffic cameras and didn't slow down. On the sidewalks she blazed past, skirts flew up, newspapers tumbled past and street debris dislodged from the gutters. Roxy cackled behind the wheel as the speedometer inched past fifty, then sixty, then…

"Pull over."

The voice startled her but Roxy miraculously didn't drive off the road. She looked to the left just long enough to see a red blur of arms and legs running beside the car.

"Ohh," she moaned with pleasure, "the Flash in the flesh."

"I said pull over."

"I heard you, handsome," Roxy shouted over the rushing wind, "But I'm not much of a listener."

She put her foot down. Nearly punched the pedal right through the floorboard. The Studebaker took off like a shot.

The speedster kept pace easily. "You're going to hurt somebody."

Roxy smiled at him and, without even glancing at the road, spun the steering wheel. The tires squealed and smoked. The Studebaker almost clipped the edge of a building as it rounded a corner but missed it. The Flash fell behind by a foot or two.

"Whaddya think, hot stuff?" Roxy called to him as he caught up. "Here to the Van Buren bridge! I'll race ya!"

"Stop the car," he said sternly. "Or else."

"Ooh!" Roxy cooed, jerking the wheel again and rounding another corner. "Or else what?"

"I'll stop you."

"Aww," Roxy pouted, "I was hoping for a spanking."

In a blur of red, the Flash disappeared from the side of the car.

"You're not gonna leave angry, are you, baby?" Roxy didn't slow down, even as he reappeared on the other side. He moved faster than she could see, running circles around the car. Taking this as a challenge, Roxy pushed it into overdrive.

Without warning, the wheels fell off. The bottom of the car screeched along the asphalt, sending sparks flying in all directions. The friction caused the floorboard to heat, forcing Roxy to draw her knees up to her chest to keep from being burned.

"Hey!" Three hundred feet ahead of the car, the Flash stood in the middle of the road. "How did—"

What was left of the Studebaker slowed and came to a stop, leaving just an inch of space between the front bumper and his legs.

Calmly, he walked to the driver's side door and opened it. He held up two handfuls of thick bolts. "Missing something?"

"Ooh, I like your style," Roxy murmured, leaping out of the car and throwing her arms around his neck. "Ever done it at the speed of sound?"

If she wasn't mistaken, his eyebrows lifted behind his mask. "You wouldn't survive the velocity."

"I'm willing to take the risk…" He bent down and flung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Before she could get the word "Oh!" out, she was left blinking in the middle of a jail cell on the other side of town.

The Flash stood outside, the keys to her cell in hand. "Maybe I'll call you in two to five years."