Ain't that a bitch

Prompt: Treats

    You wanted candy; it was really very simple. Once in a while you would go through this odd phase where you craved a certain kind of food, and it varied. Last time it had been meat, which wasn’t really a problem, since meat was a must to keep up their physical shape- but this time you wanted sweets, and there was no logical reason for the Director or the kitchen staff to have candy on the MOI; so they didn’t have candy, and you were very upset about it.

    Lucky for you, your boyfriend, Agent Washington, was there to keep you company as you worked through your cravings. God- you were like a teenage girl on their period. “Sorry,” you muttered, leaning against the Freelancer’s shoulder as he pet your hair. “I’m being a pain in the butt, aren’t I?”

    Washington simply shrugged, continuing his motions on your hair. “I mean, yeah, but it’s fair. York gets upset about way weirder things- like the toilet paper hanging the wrong way in the stalls.” He shrugged, “You’re cute when you’re hungry anyways.”

    You huffed, looking away with a sigh, and when Washington stood, only then did you turn around to see what he was doing. “Where are you -”

    He held his finger up in a signal for you to be quiet. You frowned in disapproval but decided to stay quiet. And then he did the unthinkable; he pulled out a chocolate bar.

    “Holy shit,” You muttered, your eyes wide as you practically began to drool. “is that-”

    “Yep, I was saving it for your birthday, but for some reason I feel like you might want it more now.”

    “I love you.”

Prompt: A dance

     (Y/n) had never learned how to dance, not that it ended up being a big deal in the end. She was a part of project freelancer, and as such, she hardly had the time to dance. Excepting special occasions like a birthday, Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving and Halloween, because who doesn’t like dressing up? That’s why she was sitting at the bar during their Christmas Eve dance. The year before, they had invited everyone: the staff, the guards, even the Director (who obviously didn’t show). But this year, they wanted to keep it small, so it was just the Freelancers. Excluding Maine, who had gone to bed early, insisting he was tired. 

     York tried to drag her onto the dance floor, but (Y/n) declined, and before he could push her any further, Carolina had dragged him off. Wash was next- but he didn’t get too far. She had a reputation of spraining and dislocating body parts to rookies. It wasn’t entirely true, but the Freelancers like to scare the newbies. Which was what Washington was, weather he’d admit it or not. After Washington came North, who did a pretty good job. He appealed to her, ‘admitting’ he didn’t like dancing much either, talked with her for a while before trying to convince her to dance. She hadn’t fallen for it. Florida had been last, and they both knew (Y/n) wasn’t going to dance, so they had a pleasant conversation before Florida had left to tell the others he had failed.

     So, besides Maine, the only man that hadn’t come to see her was Wyoming. Which was odd, because they were basically partners. Sure, there was no official partners, but everyone knew who worked best with who, and the Director would always put those people together. For instance: York and Carolina, or North and South. Wyoming and (Y/n) had worked well since the beginning, but then again, maybe that’s why he hadn’t come to try and convice her; he knew she wouldn’t dance.

     “Come dance,” Ah, it seemed she had been mistaken. (Y/n) sighed, shoulders slumping as she leaned against the bar table, a bottle of beer in her hand. 

     “Wyoming, you know what my answer is going to be.” She turned around, abandoning the bottle at the counter and sliding off the stood to greet her friend. He had recently gotten back from a mission, and she hadn’t had a chance to properly say hello again. 

     “Please?” He paused, catching her easily in a hug, and reaching over to press a kiss to each of her cheeks. 

     “No, but you’re more than welcome to come and sit with me.” She pulled back from, rolling her eyes as she noticed most of the others watching her. “I can;t dance, you know this.”

     “Do you really believe the rest of us can dance? The only one that knows anything close to proper dance is North, but that’s ballroom dancing. Hardly applies to this.” He gestured to the loud, booming music that seemed to almost drown their conversation.

     (Y/n) couldn’t believe she was really considering this. Eight years and she had resisted dancing every single time- and yet, here she was, falling into the clutches of her partner. “. . .Fine. One dance and that’s it.” She huffed, taking his hand and dragging him onto the dance floor.

     “That’s the spirit love!” He cheered, a small grin slipping onto his face as a few others joined them on the floor. 

     “Where am I?” Tucker groaned, rubbing his head and looking around the dimmely lit room- a bedroom? He could say for certain it was a room that he had never seen before- and was even more certain that it wasn’t even close to looking like what he was used to; there was no gun rack, or ten beds lined up on either side of the room. Instead there was a double bed centered against the back wall, and a dresser- and a bunch of other really fancy shit. Almost like he was back on earth again.

     His head tilted to the side when the door clicked open and a woman walked in. She stared at him for a minute before stepping inside slowly and closing the door behind her.”You have exactly fifteen seconds to run before I beat your ass, tie you to the bed and call the fucking police.”

     Tucker’s mouth fell open in shot, and he stood, holding his hands up and shaking his head. “Look babe- I have no idea what the fuck is going on, I’d ap-”

     “Honey,” the woman stepped forward, a grin flashing on her face as she pulled Tucker forward by his collar, “don’t call me that.” She breathed, her lips almost touching his, before she pulled back and shoved him back down onto the floor. “Alright, so what are you doing here?”

     “All I remember is going to sleep in my bunk as usual- and then I just wake up here!” Tucker flinched, rubbing his now sore ass as he watched the woman. 

     “Okay,” she shrugged, “you can stay here for a week, after that I want you gone, now get out of my bedroom.” She jabbed her thumb in the direction of the door. “Don’t touch anything until I’m out, and don’t go exploring. I’m (Y/n) by the way.”

     “Uh.. Tucker, Lavernius.” He stood, moving quickly to the door, before turning around to say something and ending up with a door in his face. 

     “Don’t touch anything hot shot.”

     York saw her at the park so often that he almost felt like he knew her. They would smile at one another, almost having a silent conversation as they passed each other, before going about whatever they had been doing before. York admittedly had a small crush on the woman- despite the fact that she was absolutely stunning, she had a child- and seemed kind, from what he had seen at least.

     Today was different somehow though, she wasn’t smiling. Whenever he saw her- she was always smiling. It seemed odd that he saw her so much, didn’t it? But after the war- he realized that outside of the Freelancer’s he never knew anyone well. He had started coming to the park daily- in a way to escape everything else he had to deal with upon returning. 

     “Miss?” He had finally managed to work up the courage to speak with her- and it was only because she wasn’t smiling. The frown didn’t suit her face after all, and York would be damned if he was going to let that slip. “Are you alright?”

     At first York was sure she was going to say yes, deny any sort of problem n her life, after all, they didn’t even know each other. Instead she looked forward, at her child he played with a few of his friends at the park a few feet away. “No,” she breathed, scooting over on the wooden bench she had been sitting quietly on so he could sit with her. “but I’ll manage.”

     He guessed that she must have recognized him- after all, you don’t see the same face every day for two years and not remember it- even if they had never talked, it didn’t seem to matter. “Do you think I might be able to help?” It was time York made a friend anyways, he didn’t have many of those now a days.

     “Yes.” She spoke honestly, turning to face him as he sat next to her. “Kiss me,” she paused, smiling at him and leaning forward, “Kiss me please.”

     York didn’t know how to reply at first. He simply looked at her in astonishment. She barely knew him- had only talked to him once, for less than a minute and yet- he was compelled to agree. “Alright, I can-” She didn’t even let him finish before she took the collar of his shirt and pressed her lips to his.

     The kiss didn’t last long- but it was certainly sweet, and before York could even formulate a response, she was standing- ushering her child over and turning to walk out of the park. “Thank you,” she smiled again- but this smile looked more devious than anything else, like she had been planning on the kiss. “I haven’t kissed anyone before.”

     Hadn’t kissed a man before, but had a child. York could only assume the worst- but she didn’t seem like that sort of thing had happened. 

     “My name is (Y/n).” She called, waving at him, before walking off down the stone path of the park. 

    Agent Maine and Agent (S/n) made quite the odd couple. (S/n) talked a lot, and Maine preferred the quiet. (S/n) preferred not to kill people if she could help it, Maine took pleasure in killing. (S/n) was always cheerful, always glad to help, while Maine always seemed to be grumpy or put off. They liked these things about each other though. (S/n) knew when to be quiet, Maine knew when to keep his blood thirst to a minimum, and they both knew when the other needed time to themselves. 

     It was about three in the morning, and just about that time when everyone was finally getting to sleep- but not Maine. Maine had a tendency to stay awake into late hours of the night, and often found himself wandering the halls instead. Which was what he had been doing until The Director had found him and told him to get some rest. Instead of going back to his room, he found himself going to (S/n)’s room- (Y/n) as she wanted him to call her. 

     He didn’t knock- she was probably asleep, and he didn’t plan on waking her up so late at night. She had a mission tomorrow anyways, she needed the rest. He simply walked inside, making sure to keep quiet as he shut the door behind him, and padded over to the the woman’s bed.

     “Maine?” She whispered, and the Freelancer couldn’t help but smile at the cute sound of her sleepy voice. “What are you-”

     “Sleep.” He said simply, slipping under the blankets next to her, wasting no time in pulling her to his chest, her smaller frame tucked under his. 

     “Okay.” She didn’t bother to argue, it was too late, and Maine was too warm for her to even consider telling him no. Besides- the company was nice. 

     “Love.” He whispered, because he was too afraid to say the whole phrase , but they both knew what he meant.