Hello Sailer!

You were unassuming, blending right in with every other simpleton that walked the streets of New York. He wouldn’t have paid you more than a cursory look if you hadn’t stopped dead in your tracks and whipped out a camera from beneath your coat, snapping photos of the scenery around you.

You were completely entranced by what you had seen through the lens, indifferent to the nasty looks you received from others around you who had to move out of your path. Dex had tilted his head at your actions, his gaze darting between you and your camera’s line of sight. What could be so interesting to you?

The answer was the AVTF. There had been two officers just across the street adorned in heavy duty armor and brandishing their weapons, although there was no threat. Dex had melted back into the shadows, choosing surveillance over an immediate attack in broad daylight, not that he was above that.

You had snapped your photos, taking care to frame the scene with the AVTF as the center and create a distinction with the way civilians scattered away from them as if they were infested rats. Just as quickly as you had started, you had forced the camera back under your coat, narrowingly missing the roaming eye of one of the officers. You were quick to walk away, integrating yourself back into the crowds. Just another face amongst hundreds.

It hadn’t stopped Dex from following you, though. He could find those AVTF officers whenever he wanted, but he couldn’t afford to lose you.

You had unknowingly led him straight to your home, an apartment building that had seen better days. Silently, he had tracked your movements in the building until he located which apartment was yours, and from there, he had enough information to find out who you were.

It was easy to cross-reference your apartment number with the box out front, which boldly listed your name. It had dripped from his lips, carving its way through his mind.

In one afternoon, you had captivated Dex in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long time. In one afternoon, he had scoured the internet for as much information about you as possible.

People were so lax with their internet security, Dex had found. Knowing someone’s full name and address could unearth just about anything, as long as you knew where to look. Dex did, of course.

By day, you were a barista at some coffee shop down the street. By night, you ran a somewhat successful blog about the happenings of Hell’s Kitchen. Dex had expected to find the typical fluff of most blogs, like which restaurant was the best for a first date or which color worked best for which season. He’d been pleasantly surprised to find that you wrote the hard-hitting pieces that newspapers were too afraid to print.

Your latest post was about how corrupt and violent the AVTF were; how they were turning New York City into a prison state. Front and center was the photo you had taken just hours before. Dex had smiled at it, your first shared moment with him, even if you hadn’t known. Then, his smile had faded. You were publicly criticizing Mayor Wilson Fisk under your real name.

You were going to get yourself killed.

No, he wouldn’t allow that to happen. You had good intentions, if not naively executed. The world needed more good guys like you and him, so he would just have to stick around and protect you from whatever evil may come your way.

He wouldn’t screw up again like he had with Julie once upon a time. He’d keep his distance for the time being, make you feel safe and secure. Eventually, he would work his way up to meeting you "coincidentally" and then become your friend, someone you could trust. He wouldn’t slip up like he had with her, his act would be perfect this time. For that to happen, though, he would need to be on his best behavior.

Dex would make sure you didn’t notice him until he wanted you to.

~♦~

You were being stalked, that much was obvious. It had started as a tingling on the back of your neck; the overt feeling of being watched. You’d brushed it off at first, more focused on taking the photos necessary for your new post, but the feeling never truly went away. No matter where you went, the feeling followed. Reprieve was few and far between, and only for a couple hours at a time.

A job like yours required you to be just as good as any distinguished reporter. You had to be boots on the ground, had to get there first so that your blog stood a chance against the Bulletin or the Daily Bugle. This, of course, meant that you had your ear to the ground, metaphorically speaking. You listened to the police scanner, tracked down any possible leads, and even followed people that could steer you to a story.

All that to say, you were used to being the stalker, not the one being stalked.

It shouldn’t have felt as exhilarating as it did.

Any sane person would have reported the matter to the police by now, but you? You let the game continue, let whoever it was follow you to and from, mapping out your daily routines.

If your stalker knew where you were going to be at all times, then you would know where they would be, too.

Two could play at this game. The real question was: who would falter first?

~♦~

Dex had been continuing his surveillance of you for weeks now. Your schedule as a blogger unfortunately kept you from having a predictable routine, given how many random meetings in random locations you had to arrange, but your morning routines stayed the same.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, you clocked in at your barista job. You left for work at 6:45 am each day, after taking approximately thirty minutes to get ready. Your walk to the coffee shop had you arriving before 7. You would clock in, put a fake smile on your face, and work until 4, then quickly leave before anyone could ask you to pull a double.

You had Thursdays off, which meant you typically slept in until the bustling noise of Hell's Kitchen woke you up. From there, you would laze around in nothing but your pajamas for most of the day–a long t-shirt and panties.

Thursdays were Dex's favorite days.

Saturdays and Sundays were wild cards for you, frustratingly so. You would sometimes cover shifts at the coffee shop or track a lead all over New York for some new story. Either way, Dex always managed to keep tabs on you, even if he was now more preoccupied with the AVTF.

The novelty of following you was starting to fade, that itch under his skin becoming more apparent. He needed more. The timeline he had self-imposed was already starting to fall apart. Dex just needed something to quell the loudness in his head, something that would let him learn more about you without compromising his distance.

His fractured mind settled on breaking into your apartment.

All he had to do was wait for you to leave on Saturday, your camera slung around your neck as you hastily locked your door before making it to the street. You didn’t even notice his position in the stairwell, steely gaze locked on your form.

Dex waited another fifteen minutes in case you doubled back for a forgotten item before he casually strolled to your door and pulled out his lockpicks. He made quick work of your door, the lock easily giving way into your space. Dex inhaled sharply, knowing he was about to cross the boundary he had placed when it came to you.

His mind was already made up, though. Quickly, Dex pushed your door open, stepping into the studio apartment he had only seen from the street and an unoccupied apartment across the way. There was an organized chaos to your home. Reports and printed photographs were everywhere, but they were all stacked in certain orders. Each for a different article, if Dex had to hazard a guess. Coffee cups littered your work desk, along with near illegible sticky note reminders stuck to your desktop and notebooks. Dex’s fingers itched to fix the mess, tidy up your space, but he couldn’t. He knew better than to change anything that might tip you off to a presence in your home.

He walked the length of your apartment slowly, using his close proximity to memorize every bit of it. Your kitchen was small, only a half-wall dividing it between your living room/bedroom. The lack of privacy had only made Dex’s surveillance easier. The only rooms he hadn’t seen were your bathroom and closet.

It was always interesting to learn what a person would do in the open when they thought they were alone. Dex had enjoyed being able to see that side of you, the way the tension bled from your shoulders or the way you talked to yourself out loud in order to catalogue your thoughts.

Warmth spread through his body at the notion that he knew you better than any other living person ever would.

He made his way to your bed, his fingertips running over the neatly made duvet. What a contradiction you were sometimes, he thought. You left every day for work at the same time and made your bed the same way every morning, but you were also the type of person to leave week’s old coffee cups sitting around.

Where did your brain draw the line?

The scent that lingered on your sheets broke Dex from his musings. Oranges and vanilla. Dex was sure if he went through your shower, he would find the exact combination in your shampoo and conditioner. He couldn’t help himself when he gently brought his knee down onto your bed in order to bring himself closer to your pillow, letting his face press into the soft material. He inhaled deeply, memorizing your scent. It was like heaven.

He could lay in your bed all day and imagine you were beside him, your head on his chest while he carded his fingers through your hair.

But he couldn’t. With a soft sigh, Dex reluctantly pulled himself back before he got too lost in the fantasy. Weekends were unpredictable for you, he had to remind himself. He didn’t know when you would return, although he had averaged the times to be about four to six hours. Logically, he had plenty of time, but there was no reason to test fate when it came to you. He wouldn’t lose you like he had lost her.

Dex straightened to his full height and swept his eyes around your apartment once more, looking for anything that would tell him more about you. He already knew a lot, thanks to the internet and his visible eyeline into your room, but there was so much more to a person, especially in what they hid where others couldn’t see.

He first checked through your desk drawers, carefully rifling through the documents you stored there. Nothing of utmost interest, mainly tax returns, paid bills, and inquiries. All Dex could ascertain from those were that you didn’t live above your means and you were good with money. His heart warmed at how responsible you were.

The next thing that caught his eye was your clothes drawer. Now, Dex knew that a normal person should never go through someone’s unmentionables, but you were already practically his. What’s his is yours and what’s yours is his, and all that. He only felt a twinge of guilt as he opened the top drawer and gazed down at your bras and panties. His fingers grazed the various materials, picturing you parading around the small room in each set just for him. He’d sit right on your bed as you would approach him, swinging your hips with each step. He’d place his hands on your hips to box you in between his spread legs and then–

Dex slammed the drawer shut with a little too much force, the sound echoing throughout the apartment. He physically shook his head, trying to disperse the mental image. His pants were already growing painfully tight that if he thought about you like that again, he might just break his promise and overstay his welcome.

This wouldn’t be his last time in your place, he had to remind himself. He could come back at any time you weren’t home to continue his search. Maybe he’d choose a day you were at the coffee shop next time, that way he’d have a clear timeframe for how long he’d be able to stay.

Yes, that’s what he would do. He had gathered everything he needed for today to satiate the buzz in his head, but he needed to leave.

Decision made, Dex started to walk toward your front door, shoulder brushing your clothes rack situated next to your drawer, before taking a pause, a clinical thought popping into his head. If you stored all your clothes in your drawers and on a rack, what was in your closet?

His gaze bounced between the rack, the closet, and the front door, indecisively. On the one hand, he could leave now and ensure that he wasn’t caught, but on the other, he wouldn’t be able to sleep without knowing the answer. He had seen you walk into your closet before, disappearing behind a door his binoculars couldn’t pierce. Mind made up, he briskly walked to your closet, throwing the door open before he could change his mind.

It was bigger than he expected, much bigger than a normal closet for a studio apartment in New York. It was dark, but Dex wasn't prepared for what he saw when his fingers found the switch and turned on the light.

Photos and newspaper articles covered the walls, nearly every inch. Photos and articles of him.

Dex froze, eyes swinging around. There were the obvious articles about his attack on the Bulletin and Josie’s, but what caught the breath in his throat were the photos. Sure, there was his official FBI headshot and one from his trial that was plastered on wanted posters, but those were in the minority compared to the surveillance posters plastered across the walls. Dex prided himself on being the hunter, the stalker, yet he hadn’t even realized that he was being watched.

There were dozens and dozens of photos of him from days where he knew he was following you. Him on the subway last weekend when you went to meet with a source, security footage of him in the coffee shop, him going into the building across the street from your apartment. All the times he had let his guard down because he was so sure that you were unaware of him. The most disarming sight though, was the flashing red light in the corner of the room. A camera.

“See something you like?” you asked from behind him. Dex startled at the sound of your voice, his hand already itching to grab for a knife. You tsked, staring up at him with a frown. “You wouldn't hurt me, would you?” you questioned with a tilt of your head.

Slowly, as if he couldn't believe this was actually happening, he turned his head to finally look at you. You appeared unafraid that a man had broken into your home. You stood there with an eyebrow raised and your arms crossed, looking more expectant than upset.

“No,” he breathed out, his hand falling away from the knife holster. His mind fired through all the possible scenarios for what the hell was going on. Was this a sting operation from the cops? A way to get him trapped with his guard down? No, too many variables. Plus, if this was the police or AVTF, they would have already busted in. “What–” he couldn’t force the words out.

“Do you like it?” you questioned again, taking a step forward into the small space. “I worked really hard on getting these all up.” You lovingly stroked one of the photos, one of him peeking from behind an alleyway. Distantly, Dex could recall that day. You had turned around and snapped some photos, but he had been sure that he had ducked behind the brick wall before you could notice him.

“How long have you known?” he found himself asking instead, the words tumbling from his lips.

“Known that you were stalking me? Oh, quite a while. You’re good at it, I’ll give you that, but I can feel when I have eyes on me,” you explained, taking another step closer to Dex. You breached his space so carelessly, like you didn’t care who he was. “See, at first, I thought you were some PI hired by Fisk or some company I slighted with one of my articles. But, well, if that were the case, I probably would have already been hit with a lawsuit or an assassination attempt,” you laughed, like the thought of someone killing you was funny. Dex’s face twitched with anger at the thought of someone trying to hurt you. “So, not a PI. Then I thought you must be one of those run-of-the-mill stalker fanboys. I’ve never had one before, but it sounded kinda fun.”

You trailed your finger across the wall, grazing each photo. You circled Dex, finally stopping on the opposite side, which put him with his back to the closet door and you away from a clean exit. The lack of concern for your own safety confused Dex.

“It wasn’t until I took a couple of photos of you that I realized who you were.” Your eyes found his again, and you looked up at him with barely concealed mischief. “Benjamin Pointdexter, disgraced former FBI agent, wanted mass murder, Bullseye.” you raised an eyebrow at him, checking to see if he would interrupt you. He didn't, just swallowed. You watched his Adam’s apple bob, transfixed on the motion. “What did I do to get the number one wanted vigilante in New York’s attention?”

“The AVTF,” he finally said, his throat dry. “You took photos of them. Wrote that article, too.”

“You read my article?” you asked, your cheeks heating up. Dex nodded, unsure with your reaction. This wasn’t how he had expected today to go and the sudden shift was really throwing him for a loop.

“I liked it, but you put yourself in Fisk’s eyeline,” he admitted, looking down at you with disapproval.

“Is that why you continued to stalk me? You were protecting me from the mayor?” you teased, not mincing words. “How sweet.” And to you, it really was.

“You think so?” Dex asked in a genuine tone. No one had ever found his compulsions as anything other than creepy.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, looking up at the greyish blond-haired man through your lashes. “I don’t put this much effort in for just anybody, you know?” you said, gesturing around at the closet. You’d devoted hours of your life to researching and catching shots of the man in front of you, all so you could build up your shrine for him. “I was so pleased when I saw you in the stairwell; I knew today was the day that we’d finally speak.” You had noticed him outside your apartment this morning, and he thought he had been so sneaky. “Did you like touching my panties, Dex?” you asked, innocently.

The question froze Dex in shock, his mind struggling to keep up. You knew he was following you, knew he was dangerous, knew he had touched your things and spent the morning in your apartment. He had never met someone like you before, the only one that came close was when he looked in the mirror.

You weren’t his North Star. You were his equal.

“Dex?” He had been silent for too long.

“Yes,” he said, rushing to get the word out. You raised an eyebrow, silently pushing him to continue. “Yes, I liked touching your…things.” He couldn’t say the word, the mere thought of it sending bolts of heat down his body.

“My things?” you asked with a smile. You walked straight into his space again, your faces now mere inches from each other. “Tell me, Dex, did you picture me when you touched them?” God, he loved the way you said his name, like you could see straight into his soul.

“Yes,” he choked out again, pleasure building embarrassingly fast. Dex feared he’d cum from your voice alone if you kept talking to him with that tone.

“I thought so.” You nodded, more to yourself than to him, then your hands were on him. They circled his shoulders until they rested behind his neck. Dex tried not to freeze at the casual embrace, but he had never experienced such tenderness before. “What was I doing?”

“You were, uh, wearing them–the lingerie–and I was on the bed.” Dex’s face felt flushed, both from embarrassment and arousal. You hummed again and then he was being forced backward by you, your arms still locked around him. His hands automatically rested on your hips, taken aback at your actions. You forced him back until the back of his knees hit your bed, and with gentle hands, you guided Dex until he sat down.

“Like this?” you asked, finally able to look down at him. Dex nodded, his mouth too dry to form the words. “Lucky for you, I thought today might be special.” He wasn’t able to ask you what you meant before you stepped away from his arms. He missed your warmth immediately.

You took more steps backward, never letting your gaze fall from his own. Slowly, you traced a finger down your shirt and popped a button open. Dex’s eyes dropped to follow the motion, enraptured with how nimble your fingers were. You worked another button open and Dex dipped his head in hunger at the sight of the lace that hid beneath. You continued your work until there were no more buttons and peeled the shirt off of you, carelessly throwing it onto the floor.

In any other situation, Dex might have been annoyed at the messiness, but the only thought on his mind at that moment was getting his hands on you.

Next came your pants, the sleek fabric pooling at your feet as soon as the button popped open. He licked his lips at your matching panties. You’d wore lacy underwear for him. Dex’s mouth watered at the sight before him; you were like an angel straight from the heavens.

Dex was suddenly achingly aware of how hard he was, his dick straining against the material of his pants. He fidgeted on your bed, the movement only exacerbating the drag of fabric against his sensitive skin. Yet, he never once reached for his zipper. He wouldn’t do anything until you allowed him to.

You took a second to capture this moment in your memory forever: Dex, arguably one of the dangerous men in the city, coming undone by the mere sight of you. His face was flushed red, the scarlet blazing all the way up to his ears. He was perched on your bed, his skilled hands digging into the soft fabric, like if he let go, he would pounce on you like the predator you knew him to be.

The smile that stretched across your face was one of pure joy, as you dragged your hand across your body, feeling Dex’s eyes follow your every movement. Across your bare stomach, up to your clothed breasts, and then down to the waistband of your underwear; his eyes never once faltered. Agonizingly slow, you dragged your fingertips along the lace before finally dipping below. You were already so wet from watching Dex break into your place, but having him in front of you and at your mercy was like turning the dial up to a hundred.

How had you gotten so lucky?

You interrupted your own thoughts by circling your clit, rubbing slow circles around the tightly wound bud. Dex’s huff of agitation at not being able to see what you were doing beneath the fabric was like music to your ears. After so long of him teasing you in the form of stalking, it felt wonderful to have a leg up on the vigilante.

The slickness between your thighs had already soaked through your panties and made a mess of your fingers, so you tested the waters by sliding a finger inside of yourself. You met no resistance, overtly aroused at the turn of events for today. You were so wet that you felt comfortable enough to add a second finger.

You pumped both fingers in and out as best as you could, leaning against your couch for stability. The angle was awkward, especially considering the barrier of lace that your fingers continuously hit. With your other hand, you tore your underwear down hastily until it hit the floor. Finally free from your confinements, your fingers continued to curl inside of you unfettered.

You didn’t bother to hide your moans; Dex deserved to hear how you sounded. Through your lashes, you could see Dex’s composure start to crack. His breathing was heavier, the long exhales resonating throughout the room in tandem with your own moans. Your fingers curled again, this time spreading wider to stretch your pussy out. Your head flew back and your eyes slid shut, already so worked up.

Your other hand crawled back up to knead at your breasts, aching for the touch of the man in front of you. Though, you wouldn’t be the first to break.

The shifting of fabric drew your attention back to Dex, to the way his hips shuttered in small movements. He was humping your bed, those hazel eyes of his never once straying from your figure. It made you feel powerful, desired. The high of being worshipped by a man like Dex was going straight to your head…and to your growing orgasm.

Your fingers moved faster, hitting that soft button inside your body that sent a jolt throughout your system each time. With each withdrawal, you dragged your fingers against your clit. The pressure was building, but you needed to time it just right.

Give Dex a show, but not enough to push you over the edge until he had jumped first. From the looks of things, it wouldn’t take too long.

Dex’s forehead dripped with the sweat of restraint, but the bulge visible against his pants let you know he was close. His hips dipped low enough for his crotch to catch the seam of his pants with each drag, and he let out a tiny puff of a moan when his clothed penis hit the perfect spot.

Dex wasn’t much of a moaner, but you were. You were loud and arched your back into the sound, which only helped your fingers find your spot with ease.

“Dex!” you moaned out. Fire blazed in his eyes, wanting nothing more than to shoot up and off of the bed to be at your side. He swallowed thickly, his hips picking up speed. “Dex, fuck! Close!” you said, pumping in and out.

“Fuck,” he grunted out. He couldn’t see his dick, but he was sure it was turning a concerning shade of red and purple from how badly he wanted to cum. “Close, too.”

“Yeah?” you asked innocently, like you weren’t aware of your effect on him. “Will you cum for me, baby? Wanna see you cum.” You were playing dirty, but damn did you do it well. Dex nodded and his eyes slid shut in concentration. Your pace slowed down, instead focusing on circling your clit.

Dex choked out a moan like he wasn’t used to being heard and jerked his hips violently. Immediately, he doubled over and you could see the way his body shook from the exertion. The only notion you had that he had cum was the low swear from his wrecked voice. Dex straightened up, still shaking slightly, and looked at you with watery eyes.

The heat in your stomach doubled, but before you could cum from just his gaze alone, you prowled toward him. He was still trying to catch his breath, but it caught in his throat once you made it to him and swung your legs to sit on his lap. His hands found your hips and you could feel the damp spot of his crotch against your pussy. You looped your hand around to roughly grab at the back of Dex’s head and drew him in for a kiss, more teeth than anything.

He panted into your mouth, the hot air combining with your own. You brought your other hand back down to play with your clit, picking up speed with each swipe of Dex’s tongue in your mouth. Dex bit at your lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste filling your mouth in seconds. With a cry, you came fast and hard, your orgasm tearing through you and leaving you without the energy to even stay upright. Dex’s hands clamped down to keep you in pace, his lips never leaving your own. You shuttered against him, freshly sensitive.

“Mmm, Dex,” you moaned out, finally breaking the kiss. You brought your fingers, the ones that had been sheathed inside of you, up to your bloody lip, feeling the wound. Dex tenderly grabbed your wrist and brought your fingers forward until they slotted in his mouth. He licked your cum and blood off the digits with fervor, eager for the taste of both. Another shot of arousal spiked through your body.

“You did so good,” you praised him, your hand playing with his greying hair.

“Want to fuck you,” he breathed out, his hips jolting again. He was so eager to be inside of you, he needed it. Refractory period be damned.

You let out a laugh, more genuine than mocking. “Don’t worry, honey. You will. I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured. There was no way either of you were leaving this apartment until you were both completely drained and satisfied.

You weren’t going anywhere. The words echoed around Dex’s head nonstop; you wouldn’t leave him like everyone else. You wanted more of this, more of him. Dex couldn’t help the smile that crawled across his face, pulling his scar tight across his skin. You kissed him again to seal the deal.

Maybe this was just a symptom of your intense dry spell. You hadn’t slept with anyone since you arrived at Top Gun, let alone gone on an actual date. Now you had agreed to a date with the biggest womanizer on base, so that was great.

You tried to remind yourself that that wasn’t fair to Jake. He hadn’t treated a date with you like a punchcard; he had put in the work to show that he was sincere. Jake had begged for a chance to prove himself, even going as far as to keep the whole ordeal a secret from his and your friends forever as long as it made you more comfortable. He had been different with you in a way you had never seen him act before, and you had seen him flirt with all types of women. Jake had been gentler and had listened like he actually cared about what you had to say. It gave you hope, in an anxiety-ridden sort of way.

Days passed like that, with quiet anxiety hidden in your chest while you tried to pretend that nothing had changed. You woke up, went to mission briefs, went to training, slept. No one mentioned any change in your behavior, no one was none the wiser. Jake acted the same, still loud and abrasive, but he seemed almost more subdued when it came to you. You had grown used to his constant jabs and innuendoes, which were all in good fun, but those were nowhere to be seen. You hadn’t realized how little things like that had become a part of your daily routine, in a weird sort of way.

“You good?” Natasha asked, breaking you from your thoughts. You quickly shook your head in agreement, continuing your task of changing out of the flight suit. Drills were a wonderful way to keep your mind focused, but your thoughts always wandered right back to your worries as soon as they ended.

“Yup, I’m good,” you reassured her, flashing a smile. “You don’t have to wait for me, Nat. Go back and nap.”

“Whatever you say, girl. I’m taking you up on that nap offer, though. Dinner tonight?” she asked as she hunched over to lace up her boots.

“Of course, see you then!”

“See ya!” Nat lazily called out, more than happy to get an hour of downtime in all to herself. You laughed to yourself at her antics. It didn’t take you much longer to get dressed, but it was better than having an antsy Phoenix breathing down your neck. You grabbed your stuff and headed out of the changing room, surprised to see Hangman leaning against the farther wall.

“Hey, you,” he said, pushing off the wall to stand in front of you. He looked nervous, which was so unlike his typical demeanor.

“Hey,” you hesitantly responded, looking down each side of the hallway. It was just the two of you; everyone else had gone back to their rooms. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Yeah, I was. I was wonderin’ if that agreement for a date was still good?” He shifted his weight from leg to leg, like he was genuinely worried you might revoke your decision. It pulled a smile at the corner of your lips.

“And if it was?” you goaded, wanting to hear him say it.

“Then I would very much like to take you out on a date tomorrow night,” he said, his eyes sparkling. He’d forgone the toothpick in his mouth for this discussion, which you were happy about because the damn thing always distracted you enough to keep looking down at his lips. “There’s a drive-in theater that I want to take you to.”

“A drive-in?” you questioned, imagining it. Driving, just the two of you to some theater far from base, parking in front of a giant screen, the cold night air surrounding you. “Seems kind of old school for you,” you teased.

“You know I can be a gentleman when I want to be, right?” he asked with a laugh, tilting his head down at you, his hands on his hips.

“Can’t wait for you to prove it, then.” You arched an eyebrow at him in challenge.

“So is that a yes?” You rolled your eyes at his eagerness, even as your stomach did flips.

“Yes, it’s a yes.” The setting sun shone down the hall, its rays hitting the two of you in golden hour glow.

“Great, see you tomorrow,” he said your name softly, his eyes never leaving your own. You tried to hide your small swallow, not used to the undivided attention. When, if ever, had someone said your name with such reverence before? “Pick you up at six.”

“See you then.” You were quick to leave, your heart racing. Your quick steps echoed loudly throughout the empty hallway, your thoughts running wild.

A five minute conversation with Jake had turned you into a blushing, overwhelmed mess. How were you going to survive the close proximity of a date with the man?

~♦~

Time seemed to move agonizingly slow. It was stupid, how excited you were to go on a date with Jake. You even lost sleep over the matter, so that’s how you knew how serious this whole thing was. Sleep was a commodity on base, and so for you to have been kept up thinking about his smile and dashing eyes and arms? Yeah, you were starting to fall into dangerous territory.

You wrung your hands, looking yourself over in the mirror. You’d lazed around for most of the day, which meant that you spent an ungodly amount of time getting ready. A dress was certainly out of the equation, so you had chosen to wear jeans and a shirt, but then came the problem of a regular shirt or sexy shirt. Without knowing what movie you were seeing or if there would be a secondary stop on the way home, you had eventually decided on a regular shirt. For warmth, you paired the incredibly safe ensemble with a flannel from back home.

What should have taken you less than ten minutes ended up being over two hours of careful deliberation. You hadn’t felt this way in ages.

A knock broke you from your thoughts before you could switch tops again. You quickly wiped your hands across your jeans, hoping to conceal any hint of sweat.

Silently, you tried to hype yourself up. Everything was going to go well tonight. Either you and Jake were going to have an amazing night that could turn into something down the road or it wouldn’t work out but the two of you would be complete adults about it and there wouldn’t be any hurt feelings on either side. Those were the only two options that were allowed to happen.

You opened the door and there Jake Seresin was, propped up against the doorframe. He wore jeans and a flannel like you, but where you had chosen sensible shoes, he was wearing cowboy boots. You suppressed an eyeroll; sometimes he was so Texan that it hurt. You had half a mind to ask where his cowboy hat was and if you were riding his horse to the drive-in.

“You look good,” he said after a moment, eyeing you up and down, his gaze catching on your face for a tad longer than the rest. You didn’t get the opportunity to wear makeup often, given how nonsensical it would be for piloting, but you had done your whole routine for going out.

“Thanks, so do you.” You stared at each other for a few awkward moments, neither willing or able to figure out what to do next.

“This is weird, right?” he suddenly asked, breaking the tension. Your anxiety melted away in a moment as all you could do was laugh, Jake joining in, as well.

“It’s a little weird,” you admitted, doing the finger motion. “I’ve never actually been on a date with a guy that I was friends with before, let alone working with.”

“I can’t say the same, although those were agreed upon flings so this definitely feels different.” Jake shut his mouth and examined you, like he was looking for offense.

You cocked your head at him. “I may rib you about it, but I don’t actually have a problem with your history with women, you know that right?”

“Right, sorry. It’s like date etiquette 101 that you don’t bring up past relationships, especially when we haven’t even left your door yet.” That earned him a laugh. “Speaking of–” He extended his hand out to you, which you took, and he led you out to the parking lot.

“So what are we seeing?” you asked, walking with him side by side. You had dropped his hand, all too aware of the personnel that buzzed around the area. He didn’t seem to take it personally.

“We are going to see a classic.” He led you toward his car: a red four door Jeep Pickup. A man and his truck, you thought with a roll of your eyes. Nevertheless, he opened the passenger door for you and you gratefully hopped up into the seat. You waited until he was also in the car to continue your questioning.

“A classic?” You narrowed your eyes at his nod. “A romance movie?” you asked sceptically. He avoided your eyes as he pulled out of the parking lot and made his way off base. The drive-in was apparently quite a bit away, so you settled in for the drive.

“...It has romance in it,” he said with a smile, eyes darting over to you.

“Uh huh.” Jake was utterly unhelpful in narrowing down even the genre of movie.

“Just trust me, please? You’re gonna love it.” You harrumphed and grumbled, but ultimately gave in and accepted that it would be a surprise.

The radio played lowly, but you itched to fill the relative silence.

“Tell me about yourself.”

“What?” Jake asked. He leaned over to grab something from the cup holder, finally procuring a fresh toothpick, and popped it into his mouth. Your eyes immediately followed the motion. Damn.

“I’m trying to get to know this version of you better, give me something.” You smirked, shifting in your seat so that you could face him.

“Okay, well, I grew up in Texas, of course. Uh, dad was military, Army, and mom was a school teacher. They’re both retired now. I won the superlative for biggest flirt at my high school and my highest grades were always for gym and auto shop. Joined the Navy as soon as I could and didn’t really look back.”

“Yeah, that somehow tracks perfectly for you.” The skin around your eyes scrunched with how big your smile was. “I always pictured you as one of those popular jocks that ran a kid up a flag pole or something.”

“Hey, I never did that.” Jake accentuated his outrage by cutting his finger through the air. “I did, however, get a cow into the school’s elevator for Senior Prank Day.” You devolved into a fit of giggles, picturing such a feat.

“No fucking way. Who’s cow was it?” Jake’s cheeks burned with a weird mix of embarrassment and pride, he hadn’t recounted his high school days like this in forever.

“She…may have been a neighbor’s cow,” he interjected before you could even open your mouth to speak, “but she was totally fine! I wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t 100% safe.”

“I’m sure your principal loved that. Did you get caught?” You were itching to know, leaning over the console like it was a secret between the two of you. Maybe it was, you feel like you’d remember if Jake had told the rest of the Daggers such a tale.

“By my principal? No. By old man McGurdy when he noticed his cow was gone? Oh yeah, big time. Made me get up at dawn for the rest of the school year and help take care of her since I ‘wanted to be all up in her business anyway.’” Jake threw up air quotes, imitating his neighbor.

“Aw, who knew you were a big softy for farm animals?” you teased, settling back into your seat with satisfaction. You’d learned more about Jake’s character from one five minute conversation than you had in the entire time you’d known him. Amazing what a little proximity and privacy from societal norms could do.

The drive seemed to pass by in a blur, each of you sharing stories and anecdotes from your past. You told him about how the first time you met Natasha, she had almost broken a man’s toes by stomping on his foot after he wouldn’t leave you alone. He told you about the time him and Coyote ran a black market for various hard-to-come-by snacks during their academy days.

It was nice, to talk to him like this.

The conversation tapered off as he pulled his truck into the drive-in and you finally got a look at the movie slated to be shown on the ginormous screen.

TWISTER

You barked out a laugh, glancing at the man in the driver’s seat. “Twister? That’s your classic go-to date movie?”

“Okay, one,” He put the corresponding finger up. “I did not say it was my go-to movie, only that it was a classic and I was excited it was being shown. And two,” Another finger went up, wagging in your direction. “Twister is a fantastic movie, ten out of ten. It has everything anyone could ever want. There’s romance, there’s suspense, there’s goddamn tornadoes. What’s not to love?”

“Wow, did not expect you to be one of those natural disaster obsessed fanboys.” You raised an eyebrow at his excitement. Jake was practically vibrating in his seat, head ducked so that he could look up at the screen.

“I prefer storm chaser. Ya know, if I hadn’t joined the Navy, I probably would have spent my free time chasing tornadoes? There was nothing more I loved as a kid than watching a nasty storm roll in.” He fiddled with the radio, tuning it to frequency for the drive-in.

“That…actually does not surprise me at all,” you agreed, cracking a smile. “I can practically picture you driving head-on into a tornado.”

“Do I look as dashing as I do in my flight suit?” he asked with a coy smile.

“Mmm, better,” you teased back.

“Better?” he exclaimed, his eyes darting back to your face.

“Uh huh, tight jeans and a cowboy hat. Does more for you than that beige they have us wearing.” The flirting was coming to you like second nature, now that you were far away from the stresses of being on base.

“Well, sweetheart, if you wanted to see me in something like that, all you had to do was ask.” Jake winked at you, his hand tightening around the steering wheel.

“Oh yeah? I’ll just have to keep that in mind for the future, then.”

Before Jake could respond, another witty retort on his tongue, the lights of the drive-in dimmed and the screen flickered to life. The two of you were immediately entranced by the start of the film, the instantaneous chaos that filled the screen.

Somewhere along in the movie, you had scooched your body closer to Jake’s in order to lift your legs to rest on the seat. He glanced at you, taking in the way your skin pebbled up from the sudden cold, and reached behind your seat to pull out a blanket. Without ceremony, he draped the material across your body. You muttered your thanks, instead choosing to show your gratitude by laying your head on his shoulder.

Jake’s body froze under you and you almost lifted your head up to ask if it had been okay, but he was quick to recover and brought his other hand around to pat your head, smoothing loose hairs down. The darkness of his truck concealed your heated cheeks and smile.

The two of you stayed like that throughout the entire movie, eyes locked onto the screen, yet still completely aware of the limited space between your bodies. During the particularly tense moments of Jo and Bill’s tornado chasing escapades, Jake would continue to run his fingers through your hair. He was an unexpected grounding point for you.

By the time the credits started to roll, you were fully leaning against Jake, absorbing his heat. The sudden movement of cars leaving and the brightness of the drive-in caused you to blearily blink away your tiredness and drag yourself back into your seat.

“So, what did I say? It’s a perfect movie,” Jake boasted, although his voice cracked slightly, from not using it for so long or from your closeness, you couldn’t tell.

“I never disagreed with you, but I have to ask. Did you deliberately choose a drive-in showing Twister just for that scene?” you asked, referencing the moment from the film where the local drive-in was destroyed by a surprise tornado that nearly killed the protagonists.

“I thought it would be ironic, yes.” Jake and you shared a laugh. The two of you didn’t speak for a moment, just stayed in blissful silence. The echoes of your laughter was all that either of you could focus on.

“I guess we should head back to base now, huh?” Jake rhetorically asked, already putting the car into drive.

You actually felt quite sad at the thought. It had been refreshing and fun to spend the evening with Jake. Somewhere along the way, your heart had thawed when it came to Jake Seresin. He really was completely different from what you had expected. He’d been funny, charming, and respectful all night.

Maybe this could work.

You spent most of the ride back home lost in thought, the silence comfortable. Jake played the radio on a low volume, the only other sound from your combined breathing and the noise of his fingers smacking against the wheel to the various beats. He didn’t try to pry into your mind, letting you enjoy the night atmosphere. It was only when he had pulled back onto base that you finally spoke.

“I had a really great night, Jake,” you said, looking up at him from your seat. You slowly undid your seatbelt, wishing the night didn’t have to end.

“Yeah? Good, me too,” he said softly, his eyes finding yours. He looked at you with such warmth, like he was etching this moment into his mind forever. You’d never been one to feel overwhelmingly shy in the face of attention before, but Jake brought that side out of you.

“Maybe we could do this again sometime?” you asked before you could chicken out.

“Are you asking me out?” Jake joked, looking flustered.

“And if I was?” you shot back, steeling your nerves. “You proved me wrong tonight, Jake, and I want to see where this can go.” There, it was all out in the open now.

Jake blinked once, then twice. “Yeah, yes!” He cleared his throat. “Yes, we should do this again.” You smiled at his reaction, pleased that he was just as jittery as you were.

“Great, well, um, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” You opened the truck door and hopped down, turning to look at him.

“Right, tomorrow. Goodnight.” The lights of the parking lot cut across Jake’s face, casting shadows across his coiffed hair and sculpted jaw. Your heart seemed to skip a beat and before you could psych yourself out, you surged back into the truck to plant a kiss onto his cheek. Just as quickly, you removed yourself from the vehicle and settled back on stable ground.

“Goodnight,” you said, sweetly. You turned on your heel and began the walk back to your room, replaying the night’s events in your head over and over again. Meanwhile, Jake stayed rooted in his seat, his fingertips grazing the very spot you had pressed your lips to.

You’d kissed him goodnight.

Jake Seresin went to bed that night with a goofy, lovestruck smile on his face. And it wouldn’t be the last.

~♥~

It was hard to see stars in Miramar, given the light pollution, but if you squinted enough, you could just make them out. You gazed up at the sky, letting your thoughts wander. You’d been at Top Gun for a couple of months now, which was sometimes hard to believe. Hard to believe you made it onto the Dagger Squad and that the Navy saw it fit to keep the squadron around for similarly dangerous missions.

Under Maverick’s tutelage, the Dagger Squad worked like a well-oiled machine, at least, it did now. It had been pretty rocky at the beginning, given how everyone was vying for the limited spots on the mission and whatever the hell Rooster and Hangman had going on. You couldn’t really picture yourself with any other team, though.

“Make out any constellations?” The voice roused you from your thoughts. You turned your head to the side and spotted Hangman walking up beside you, his shoes in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Speak of the devil.

“You see right there?” You pointed into the sky, Hangman’s eyes following. “That’s Ursa Major and I think that one over there is Canis Major cause the brightest star is Sirius.” He sat beside you in the sand, silently handing you off the water. You took it, but didn’t comment.

“You good? You kinda dipped out without telling anyone,” he asked.

“Too stuffy in there. Plus, I never get to enjoy the sand like this.” To emphasize your point, you scooped a handful of damp sand and watched it fall from your fingers.

“Like what? All up in your ass crack?” Hangman laughed, showing off his teeth. You huffed out a laugh, not at all willing to stroke his ego with a real one. You couldn’t remember a time, if ever, that the two of you had had a one-on-one conversation. Usually, your interactions were limited to group settings, where he would say something stupid and slightly chauvinistic or shamelessly flirt with you and then he’d get dogged on by the rest of the team.

“No.” You made a show of rolling your eyes, turning your body to face him. “I meant at night and without hordes of people around. There’s something very calming about digging your feet into the sand and listening to the waves.” You wiggled your toes for emphasis, the sand on top falling away.

“What, like this?” Hangman asked, burying his own feet into the damp sand. He folded his arms around his knees, copying your body position. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in before letting it out, the tension slowly leaving his frame. “That is nice,” he admitted.

The conversation lapsed into silence, the two of you choosing to instead embrace the tranquility. Hangman kept his eyes on the horizon, listening for the crashing waves and gentle laps as they crossed the beach, while you returned to gazing at the stars.

Jake “Hangman” Seresin was a deceptively complex man. On the surface, he presented himself as an arrogant, yet incredibly proficient, pilot and an even cockier womanizer. While those aspects of him were certainly true, you could sense there was more to him that he buried beneath all that macho bullshit.

You had seen it first hand after he risked his life to ensure that Maverick and Rooster made it back from the mission in one piece. You remembered the way that sinking dread had settled over the reserve Daggers as you heard the news that not only had Maverick gone down, but Rooster, too. Hangman hadn’t given up on them, he’d stayed poised and ready to assist in their rescue and it was because of him that there had been a celebration rather than two funerals.

Jake Seresin had proven his call sign wrong that day; he hadn’t left his teammates hanging. It was hard not to admire him in some small way after that. Although, you probably would never voice it; no need to stroke his ego even more.

“So, why Squeaks?” he asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. You turned to face him, but immediately turned away at his shit-eating grin.

“It’s really stupid,” you tried to dissuade him.

“Most call signs are, that’s just how it goes.” There was that smile again, all bright and charming. Your resolve cracked, not that it was that strong in the first place.

“It’s because of my shoes,” you admitted, hanging your head dramatically. You’d come to love the call sign, but retelling the story of how you got the name was still just as embarrassing.

“Your…shoes?” he asked, clearly amused.

“I just wanted to be comfortable on my day off; I didn’t know my slides would squeak so loudly,” you cried out, your tone exasperated. “My squad immediately started in on the jokes and the name Squeaks just stuck,” you sighed out, burying your feet deeper into the cool sand.

Jake let out a full-body laugh, his shoulders shaking with the weight of it. You glared at him half-heartedly, even as you felt your cheeks burn.

“Knowing you, this makes complete sense.” He swiped tears from his eyes, clearly exaggerating the motion to get a rise out of you. All the while, his smile never faded once. He caught the way your eyebrow raised and rushed to say, “Not an insult!”

“Uh huh,” you replied, dryly. “How else am I supposed to take that?” you teased, no heat behind your tone. Under the starlight, your eyes twinkled with mischief.

“I never thought the call sign fit you well, you know? I thought it was a quip about you being as quiet as a mouse or something and that’s just not you.” Jake leaned back on his arms and stretched his legs out, his gaze following the patterns of the night sky. You watched him curiously, wondering where he was going with this. “You have your quiet moments, sure, but you always speak your mind when it matters. You’re determined and persistent and even after you got assigned that call sign, you still wear those god-awful shoes.” Your breath hitched from the intensity of his speech.

“Wow, I didn’t know I had my own stalker,” you joked, trying to settle the uncomfortable feeling rising in your chest. You hadn’t expected such high praises from Jake of all people. To a pilot like him, you figured you fell in as background noise, but he had seen you in a way no one else had in a long time.

“Not a stalker, just observant.” He smiled like it was a secret between the two of you. It sent butterflies throughout your stomach, a feeling you thought you’d never have over Hangman of all people. “I notice a lot about you,” He said it off-hand, like it wasn’t a big deal. Your cheeks warmed from the attention.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you asked hesitantly, almost afraid of his answer.

“Like how you get easily irritable if it's too hot outside, which it usually is because it’s California, or how you doodle on the margins of mission briefs if the meeting drags on for too long.” Jake took a deep breath before continuing, “How you reapply your lip balm every hour or so because your lips are always dry from biting them.” You blinked owlishly as he finished. Out of everything you thought Jake might notice about you, it was the small things that stuck out to him.

“I don’t know, that sounds pretty stalker-like, Jake,” you said with a laugh, trying to diffuse the building pressure between the two of you. You couldn’t put a name to the feeling, only that you knew it was starting to slip into something not appropriate between colleagues, but it was hard for you to care when he was looking at you with those eyes. He looked at you like you were the center of the universe, like there was nothing else he’d rather be doing at that moment than talk to you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me Jake before,” he admitted. His smile softened, as if he knew he had found a crack in your armor. It was true, in all the time you’d spent with the Daggers, you had kept the barrier of first names between Jake and you, in part because of his excessive play-flirting.

“Didn’t want you to think you had a chance,” you admitted, looking up at him through your lashes. He looked a little shocked at your answer.

“And now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you. He fiddled with his fingers, that smooth Hangman persona reduced to anxiety. You licked your lips in thought of how to answer him, all too aware of his eyes following the motion.

“Now, what?”

“Now do I have a chance at a date with you?” His tone seemed sincere, happy even. His words hit your heart like an arrow, but your traitorous mind was already running the scenarios for how this could play out. There were too many ways it could go wrong.

“...No.” It felt untrue to even say it, but you couldn’t let one single night with Jake sway what you already knew about it, even if it pained you to see the way his face fell into confusion. “Just because you flirt with anyone who has a pulse does not mean I’m going to let you disappoint me.” Jake’s eyebrows shot up at your accusation.

“Why are you so sure that I’d disappoint you?” he asked, earnestly. He continued on before you could answer, already rushing to defend himself. “I may be a flirt, but I am not a cheater. If you said yes to me, you’d be the only one.” You tilted your head at his words, involuntarily envisioning what it would be like to be with him in such a way. It was crazy how hours before, you wouldn’t have even given him the time of day outside of team-bonding hangouts. Now you were seriously debating spending more one-on-one time with the man. Your nose twitched at the thought. “Oh come on. I’m just gonna keep asking you out until you say yes, y’know?” he said, putting on that award winning smile once again.

“That’s more likely to earn you a restraining order than a date,” you deadpanned, raising an eyebrow at his audacity. You feigned a yawn and brought your hand to your mouth, using it to conceal the smile that tugged at your lips. You couldn’t believe you were actually falling for Jake Seresin’s charms. Maybe you needed a trip to the base’s medical unit.

“Now, hold on.” Jake raised his hands up in mock surrender. “I know how to take a rejection.” You interrupted him with a snort. “But you hesitated to say no. Look, I know in the past I’ve been–”

“Aggressively arrogant and sexist?”

“Hard-headed,” he finished, pursing his lips at your add-ons. “Please, just give me one chance. One date and if I blow it, we never have to mention it again. I promise.”

“You promise? You’re not gonna parade it around for your boys?” That was the last thing you needed, to be known as easy while on a naval base.

“I promise,” Jake reassured you. “Me and you will be the only ones who’ll know. Scout’s honor.” He even held up three fingers to make the pledge to you. You had to stifle a smile at his ridiculousness.

“Fine,” you agreed, getting up and dusting the sand off of you. “You get one date, Seresin. Better make it good.” You held your hand out for him to take and he did so eagerly, pulling himself up off the ground.

“I think I did a pretty good job at this pre-date, so I think I’ll be fine.” There was that cockiness, but it didn’t bug you like it normally would.

“Hmm, I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.” With your shoes clutched in one hand and the water bottle Jake had given you in the other, you began the trek back to the Hard Deck. “Goodnight, Hangman,” you called out over your shoulder, pleased that the darkness would conceal from him the smile on your face and the heat on your cheeks.

“Goodnight, Squeaks,” he yelled back, his voice carrying over the crashing of waves. Once he watched you sneak back into the bar, he took a deep breath and released it before turning his gaze upward. Staring at the same stars you had pointed out earlier, Jake suddenly felt the calmest he had felt in ages.

Smoker had quietly resigned himself to spending the night in his office just to get through enough paperwork where he wouldn’t drown when the next load came in tomorrow. His stomach grumbled in protest, obviously upset with the fact that he had been forced to skip lunch and dinner. 

Smoker sat back in his chair and tried to rub away the pain that resonated through his neck, but the uncomfortable feeling persisted. He grunted from the force of his calloused fingers, sending a cloud of smoke to coat the already stuffy room. He settled back in on the paperwork and tried to ignore the soreness, but combined with his aching stomach, he was about ready to call it quits and suffer the consequences the following days. Smoker’s whole, already busy, schedule would be fucked if he didn’t get through at least two-thirds of this mess, though.  

He just needed to push himself a little bit more and then he could collapse from the combined exhaustion, eye strain, hunger, and typical body aches. Imagine that, the feared Marine Captain Smoker taken out not by a Pirate Lord or mercenary, but by his own World Government’s paperwork. 

Smoker’s attention was so focused on signing his name on every sheet that he nearly missed the creak of the window behind him opening. He paused, the pen in his hand hovering just above the page, before he deliberately went back to what he was doing.

“Hey, stranger,” a voice called out. Smoker took a long drag of his cigars to prepare himself for who he’d see when he turned around. There you were, perched high and mighty on the windowsill of a Marine’s base, without a care in the world. “Miss me?”

“No,” he lied, and twisted his body to continue reading his Marine’s reports. Your pout went unnoticed, but not one to be ignored, you gracefully jumped down to stand at Smoker’s side. You pretended to take a peak at the documents on his desk, knowing full-well that it would rile him up. 

“Eyes off,” he barked, but there was no heat behind his tone. You rolled your eyes, but moved away. Instead, you grabbed a stack of finished paperwork and placed it on the ground, which gave you ample space to sit against the edge of his desk, now fully facing him. 

“Have you taken a break since you started?” you asked, knowing the answer already. That was just who Smoker was. Once he started something, he’d lock on until it was finished. You found it annoyingly cute, more annoying than cute when it came to him hunting down certain pirates, though, of course. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, ignoring your question. “If anyone saw you climbing up the base–” 

“Oh, stop worrying!” You placed your head in your palm and watched up, watched the way his shoulders grew tenser and tenser with each passing minute. “No one saw me. I did my recon and found the weak point in their shift change, just like always.” 

“Just like always?” He was looking at you now, his eyes wide in disbelief at your audacity. “I’ve changed their patrol routine twice since you last snuck in.”

“Hmm,” you dismissed, taking the time to inspect your nails. “I don’t know what to tell you, Smoker. They left me enough time to get up here and when they finally did come back around they didn’t even notice me. Tsk, tsk, Captain.” You teased, enjoying the way he glared back at you. 

“How long were you hanging from the window?” he grunted out, shifting his cigars to the other side of his mouth to keep the smoke out of your face.

“Aw, you know I like to watch you work.” You danced around his question with ease, too used to the way he worried, both about your safety and the secrecy of these meetings. If anyone from the Marines ever found out, it would be both your heads. “You look like you need a break,” you said, bringing the conversation back to what started it. 

“Can’t.” 

“Can,” you shot back, plastering on a smile. “You’re going to burn out if you keep going and something tells me you haven’t eaten yet.” 

“I’ll eat when I’m done,” he sighed out, as he reread the same sentence over again. It had gotten to the point where all the words blended together, but he wasn’t about to admit defeat to an expense report. 

“Or you can eat now. I brought bread, meat, and cheese,” you said smugly, pulling out the wrapped offerings for him from your satchel. You placed the food on top of the report he was currently working on, forcing him to look up at you. He simply raised an eyebrow before finally leaning back in his chair in defeat. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, crossing his arms across his bare chest. Distractedly, your eyes darted to the movement, watching the way his muscles popped out. He smirked at your reaction and you huffed out your own laugh. 

“What? Can’t I be loving and bring my partner some food?” Your tone was saccharine sweet, even though you meant every word. 

“You risk execution to bring me dinner?” 

“Mmm, I’d risk it all for you, sweetie.” You were up in each other’s faces, so close that you could feel the burn of his cigar mere inches from your cheek. To an outside perspective, it may have seemed like the two of you were fighting with thinly-veiled words, but that was just how the two of you flirted best. 

“Fine. I’ll eat the damn meal.” Smoker backed down, not willing to piss you off on top of an already stressful day. He stretched his neck side to side, trying to get it to make a satisfying crack or pop, but none came. 

“Your neck bothering you?” you asked, already getting up from the desk to stand behind him. He didn’t even have to respond before your hands were on him, feeling up and down his shoulders and neck muscles for the knots that were undoubtedly present. 

Smoker tried to relax under your touch and took a bite out of the assortment you brought him. He recognized a few of the meats and cheeses as ones sold by the vendors close to the heart of Loguetown and he prayed that you had actually paid for them. He wasn’t foolish enough to ask. 

“No wonder you’re in pain,” you grunted out, your fingers already getting to work on a massive knot in his shoulder. He groaned out in pain at the feeling, but allowed you to keep doing your work. Little by little, you broke up the knots of stress in his body, taking extra care to work them out as thoroughly as possible. Somewhere along the line, he had finished his meal and had sunk deeper into his chair, your magic fingers sending him into an early relaxation.

“Maybe I could get Tashigi to do the rest of this,” he said, his eyes closed. Any longer and he might fall asleep right there in his office. Immediately, your soft, but capable, fingers were gone from his skin. He opened his eyes at the loss of the feeling and stared up at your unimpressed face.

“Really? Don’t pawn your duties off on her.” Your tone was stern and unamused. From the little he’d told you, she was an eager to please officer that worked directly under him, which meant she would probably accept his order of cleaning up his mess with little to no complaint. 

“I wasn’t, that’s not–” Smoker tried to backpedal. “I just wish I didn’t have to do all of this.” he finished, feeling like a scolded dog. There weren’t many people that could make him feel that way. Actually, the list pretty much only consisted of his mother and you. 

“I’d help you, but we both know that’s not going to happen.” You returned to your position on the desk, not even sparing the paperwork another glance. 

“No,” he agreed, solemnly. “It’s not.” Smoker stretched his neck again, feeling how much looser your massage had made his muscles feel. “How long are you going to be in town?” The dreadful question. 

“Couple of days, just to restock. No need to worry, Captain. It’s just me this time,” you reassured with a smirk. You played with the cuff of your sleeve, wishing that you could stay longer, but you both knew it would be dangerous to do so. 

“And I assume you’ve already made yourself at home in my place?” he asked, cocking his head at you. You blinked up at him through your lashes, the picture of innocence. 

“How else would I have known that you skipped dinner and were still working?” You crossed one leg over the other, your foot balanced in Smoker’s lap. His gaze never strayed from you, cataloging every aspect of your face and body. It was hard to keep the heat off of your cheeks from his piercing stare. 

You licked your dry lips, trying to retain some moisture, but smirked at the way Smoker’s eyes darted to follow the motion. He took his cigars out of his mouth and leaned into your space, a move which you copied. You could feel his hot breath ghost over your lips, the smell of cigar smoke so familiar and prevalent. All you had to do was close the gap and–

“Captain! I was wondering how far you’d gotten–” You shot off the desk and away from Smoker before your brain could even recognize what was happening. Before you stood a young woman with blueish black hair and glasses. She froze at the scene, not at all expecting Smoker to have had company. “Oh my! I’m so sorry, I didn’t knock!” The woman rushed out, embarrassed by her own actions. Smoker adjusted himself in his chair, straightening his back in an attempt to save face. 

“Hello, Tashigi. It’s okay, they were just leaving.” He didn’t even send you a sideways glance, his attention fully on damage control. “What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be home at this hour?” 

“Uh,” The woman, Tashigi, glanced back at you, but you kept your face hidden by the shadows. “Sorry, yes. I was about to but I wanted to see if you needed any assistance on finishing paperwork.” Smoker brought his cigars back to his mouth and took a long drag. 

“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll be fine.” Tashigi nodded at his insistence, her gaze still jumping between the two of you. You stood behind her Captain, your attention on the ground beneath the window. The shifting lights from outside finally cascaded on your face, illuminating your features for just a few seconds before you were cast in darkness once more.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve really gotta go now,” you said, glancing at Smoker. The two patrolmen had just cleared the ground and no other Marines would be around for the next five minutes. It was either now or wait another thirty minutes. “It was nice meeting you, Tashigi! Smoker’s told me such good things about you.” You climbed up onto the windowsill, ignoring the squeak that escaped from the younger woman. “See you later~” you drawled out, blowing a kiss to Smoker. In the next second, you let your body pitch backwards and out the window, disappearing from sight. Smoker showed no reaction to your antics, well-accustomed to it by now. 

“Um, Captain? Was that…?” Tashigi trailed off as her eyes darted to the board of wanted pirate posters in her superior’s office. There, front and center, was your face with a mighty high bounty. 

“Getting wasted on a work night, huh? I respect the gall.” Your voice cut through Robert’s moping, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts. His gaze swiped over you, looking you up and down. Unassuming to most, he presumed, but there was a sharpness in you that had him cocking his head to the side.

“Yeah, well, first day on the job tomorrow. Can’t have them expecting too much from me,” he shot back, the side of his mouth quirking up in a half-drunken smile. His voice was gravelly and dripping with that sardonic tone. You slid onto the bar seat next to him, raising a finger for the bartender to bring you a glass.

“I’d say congratulations, but it doesn’t seem like you’re all that happy with it.” You could relate, you supposed. The bartender placed your drink in front of you and you swirled the liquid around its glass, your eyes still locked on to the man in front of you.

“No,” he said with a laugh, the sound bitter. “Definitely not what I thought I’d be doing.” He brought his hand to his hair, mussing up the brown strands.

“Mmm, cheers to awful jobs, then!” you said, clinking your glass with his. You let the liquor slide down your throat until it was all gone, slamming the glass back down onto the bar top. The man followed suit, his eyebrow raised at you. “My motto is never drink alone, so who do I have the honor of drinking with?”

“Robert,” he said, holding his hand out limply for you to shake. You took it, giving your own name.

“You know, you’re gonna have a wicked hangover in the morning. Don’t worry, though. I know what can give you a little pep in your step.” You smiled at him, mischief in your eyes.

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” he asked, his hot breath close to your face. He hadn’t noticed either of you leaning in to make the conversation more private, but he was suddenly hyperaware of how close you were to him. You both had swiveled in your seats to face each other, and his long legs had boxed in your own.

“Meaningless sex,” you breathed out, gazing at him through your eyelashes. Your nimble fingers circled his wrist, pulling his hand forward until it rested on your thigh.

“Mmm, you offering?” he asked, his breathing hitched, as he began rubbing circles into your plush skin.

“Why don’t you take me home and find out.” You smirked, enjoying the vivid blush across Robert’s cheeks. He nodded, fishing his wallet out from his back pocket and depositing enough cash to pay for both yours and his own drinks. He looked like a man on a mission as he grabbed your hand and started leading you out of the shitty bar and back to his place.

~♦~

The two of you barely made it back to Robert’s apartment with all your clothes still on. As soon as he shuffled you inside and closed the door, you were on him. His back pressed against the door as you invaded his space, slotting yourself in between his legs to bring yourself closer. You reached up, guiding his face in the darkness of the apartment to your own, bringing his lips to yours. You moaned at the taste of cheap booze, swirling your tongue around his own. A jolt of pleasure shot through Robert as he realized his hands fit perfectly in the dips of your hips.

“Bed! Bed!” he moaned out, the words escaping him like a gasp. His eyes had adjusted enough in the darkness to push you forward, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck for assurance. You walked backwards into the bedroom and Robert’s hand came around to guide you gently onto the bedsheets. With your hands still around his neck, you brought him down to kiss you once more, but was interrupted by a high-pitched bark. You pulled back in surprise, scanning the space for the cause of the sound. “Fuck, sorry,” he sighed. “Beef, come on, boy.” He ushered toward the door and you could make out the tiny form of a little dog following suit. “Sorry, boy,” Robert said, as the dog cleared the room, and shut the door to keep him out.

“Did you name your dog Beef?” you asked, amusement in your tone. You had brought yourself up on your elbows to stare at the man in front of you, the only illuminations coming from the scattered moonlight through his window.

“...Yes. Now can we please get back to,” He gestured wildly at you and you laughed, nodding him over. With precision, Robert ripped his shoes off, sending them scattering across the floor. The next to go was his jeans, and by the time he reached you at the edge of the bed, the only clothes that remained were his underwear and hoodie.

“Someone’s eager,” you taunted, devouring his figure with your eyes. The hoodie he wore was long and fell around his crotch, but you could still make out the strain of his cock against the cotton material. Subconsciously, you licked your lips.

“Seems like I’m not the only one,” he retorted, stepping between your open legs. Robert followed the shape of your body, caging your head between his hands, which clasped into the sheets below. He kissed you hungrily, the weight of it pushing you down into the bed. You moaned, bringing your hands up to fiddle with the zipper on his hoodie, sliding it down until you could peak at what was underneath. No shirt, not that you were complaining.

He leaned back to remove the hoodie, giving you ample time to memorize the toneness of his abs, as well as the blossoming bruises from whatever fight he had obviously gotten himself into earlier that day. Broken men had always been your weakness. Robert attacked your neck next, sucking on the sensitive skin as if to mark you for all to see. You arched up into him, giving him more space to work. You moaned, digging your fingers into his back for purchase.

“Up,” he commanded, smacking the back of your thigh. You listened, bringing your ass up as he shimmied your pants down and off your legs. His pelvis pressed into your own, and you moaned at the feeling of his cock against your soaked underwear. Robert laughed at the feeling, his head dipping into your personal space as he claimed your lips again. His hand snaked down to palm you through your underwear, causing you to squirm underneath him.

“Robert, please. Touch me,” you panted, breaking the kiss. Your nails raked across his skin, aggravating his bruises, but the pain only encouraged his fingers as they gripped your underwear and pulled them to your ankles.

“So needy,” he teased, a cocky smile on his face. You rolled your eyes, some of that earlier bravado returning to you. You hooked your feet around his waist to pull him closer, and while he was distracted, you tugged his dripping cock free from its constraints. It was thin, but long; so very Robert. He inhaled sharply at the feeling of hot fingers curled around his sensitive dick and his body jolted with the first swipe of your thumb across his slit. “Oh, fuck!” he moaned, his hands returning to the bedspread in order to stabilize himself.

“If you don’t fuck me right now, Robert, I’ll do it myself,” you growled out, chasing the feeling of pleasure that his hand created. He didn’t need to be told twice. With one hand, he swiped his fingers through your own slick pre-cum, wetting his fingers sufficiently, before bringing them to your aching hole.

“Is this okay?” he asked. You nodded your head vigorously, urging him to continue. He pressed a finger in, looking over at you again as your face screwed up.

“Keep going, it’s okay,” you reassured him. It’s not like you weren’t used to hook-ups like this, it was just Robert’s fingers were so long. He worked you open with that finger, probing your walls to relax. You turned your face into the mattress to try and muffle your moans, well aware that an apartment as shitty as this probably had the thinnest walls possible. You rocked against him, enjoying the burn that came with it. At your eagerness, Robert inserted another finger. “Fuck!” you cried out, biting the sheet in protest at the unexpected addition.

“There you go, take what I give ya,” he panted in your ear, his voice somehow even huskier. Tears pricked your vision, not from pain, but from that sudden rise in pleasure. His fingers moved inside of you, curling inward to press against the sensitive tissue. You could feel your orgasm forming, overwhelmed with Robert’s ministrations. You grasped at his shoulders, directing him to look you in the eyes.

“Fuck me now, Robert,” you commanded. At this rate, you wouldn’t last much longer, and you were much too curious about what his cock would feel like inside of you to pass up the opportunity.

“Right, uh, condom?” he asked you. You nodded, breathlessly pointing down to your discarded pants. He removed his fingers to go rummaging through your pockets, and you whined at the loss of pressure. “Got it!” He silently cheered, pulling a condom from the back pocket. Without further ado, he tore into the packet and rolled the condom onto his cock, and you were ever so thankful that you had picked up the pre-lubed condoms. Robert guided his stiff cock to your entrance, gazing down at you as he did it. He wanted to see you fall apart on his cock, and fall apart you did.

“Oh, fuck!” you cried out, your earlier worries of staying quiet for the neighbors lost within the haze of pleasure. He eased in, but it burned nonetheless. He swooped down to bring you into a bruising kiss, and you let out a yelp as his teeth pulled at your lip, breaking skin. The pain from that was enough to momentarily distract you from the pain of being stretched by Robert’s cock. The taste of your own blood mixed in with the kiss just made you hornier.

Then Robert started to move and your vision immediately burst into stars. The man you had met had been, by all accounts, nice. Sure, he was sarcastic and dry, but he hadn’t let you trip once on the way to his apartment and had even paid your tab back at the bar. That was nice. The man fucking you now was anything but nice. He pounded into you with abandon, like he was working his own frustrations out through you, which he probably was. Shitty apartment, shitty new job, and shitty emotional balance? Yeah, that was the kind of guy who needed to let loose through sex, which was why you had chosen him. Of course, you couldn’t have known about the apartment or job, but you had a keen eye for spotting damaged men in need of a good fuck. You could even call it your second superpower. Robert snapped his hips, drilling his cock into you, shaking you from your thoughts.

“There we go. Eyes on me, honey.” The pet name was punctuated with another thrust, his long cock buried deep inside you. Both of your moans mixed within the small room, although yours were reaching a fever pitch. You didn’t dare close your eyes, instead focusing on his brown ones. You memorized his face, cataloguing the scruffy facial hair, the strong jaw, and even the notch taken out of his right ear. God, he was beautiful. He thrust into you, over and over, causing your toes to curl.

“Close. I’m close,” you slurred, your voice utterly wrecked.

“Yeah? Why don’t you cum for me, honey? Cum,” he growled out. The sound traveled straight to your heat, and that rubber band of pleasure snapped. You came with a long, drawn-out moan. Your legs shook, still hanging off the side of the bed. Robert gave two more thrusts before he stalled within you, spilling his seed into the condom with a gravelly groan. It sent a throb of pleasure through you. If the two of you ever did this again, maybe you’d see if you could get off solely from his voice alone. Slowly, Robert pulled away, dragging his cock out of you limply. You let your head fall back onto the sheets, that pure exhaustion hitting you full force. With your eyes closed, you could hear the latex snap of him taking the condom off, tying it off, and throwing it away. He moved away from you, walking somewhere else in the apartment, before returning with a warm washcloth, which he dragged across your body to clean you up with a word. Ah, a man with manners, you could just about swoon.

“My, my, what a gentlemen,” you teased, your tone giving away how tired you felt. You opened your eyes to look at him, only just noticing that he had put on a loose sleep shirt and boxers.

“You know, it’s pretty late,” he started. You sighed, forcing your body up. You were not looking forward to the cold nighttime walk that you would have to take to get back home, but you knew the risks when looking for a one-night stand like this. “You could, uh, always sleep here tonight. It’s not much, but it’s probably better.” Nice guy Robert had reappeared in full force, you realized.

“Really? You’d let a complete stranger sleep over the night before your first day on the job?” you questioned.

“Please,” he scoffed. “I just had my dick inside this ‘complete stranger.’” His use of air quotes had you rolling your eyes with a smile. “Plus, it’s past midnight, which means it’s technically the morning of my first day.” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Fine, but only because you’re such a charmer.” You got off the bed, pulling your discarded underwear back on. You moved to the other side of his bed, getting in under the covers at the same time as Robert. It took some awkward maneuvering, but you finally felt comfortable when he pulled you close so that you could place your head on his chest. Soundlessly, you drifted off to sleep, content with how your night had ended up.

~♦~

Waking up at the ass-crack of morning was never fun, especially considering you weren’t in your own home. Contrary to what you may have conveyed to Robert last night, you also had a job to get to in the morning, and now you had no clothes or even a toothbrush to prepare for the day. You groaned, flopping over onto your back. Robert had gotten up only a couple minutes earlier, and although he had tried to not wake you, you were a light sleeper by trade.

“So, I don’t want to kick you out, but–” Robert started, emerging from the bathroom. His hair was wet, the droplets of water catching on the towel he had hung around his neck.

“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry about it,” you huffed, planting your feet on the cold hardwood floor. You stretched, hearing the satisfying pops coming from your back. “I’ll get outta your hair in a minute.” You dressed quickly, all too aware of Robert’s tall form standing behind you. He wasn’t rushing you, in fact, it seemed like he enjoyed watching you bend over and pick your clothes up off the floor. Pervert. The two of you shuffled to the door, both dreading the oncoming day. “So, did I deliver on that meaningless sex?”

“Oh yeah, you got a Yelp page? 5 stars.” He was looking at you with those eyes again, the eyes that said he would take you against this door right now if he wasn’t in such a hurry.

“Mmm, no Yelp page, but how about a good luck kiss for the road?” Okay, maybe you were skirting past the meaningless portion of this arrangement. It was hard to just go your separate ways when this man looked that good and fucked even better. Ugh, the last thing you wanted to be was a clingy one-night stand.

“Yeah, I think we can make that work.” Robert leaned down and kissed you deeply. Your lips were still bruised and plump from before, but you accepted the affection regardless. You licked into his mouth, enjoying the way he grabbed at your hip for stability. He pulled back and you reached for the handle, opening the door. “Maybe I’ll see you again, Robert. Have a good day at work.” Then you were gone, leaving him standing there with a half-chub and no time to whack one out. Devious little minx.

You rushed home, throwing on your suit as quickly as spandex and leather would allow. You brushed your teeth, getting all the booze and sleep out of your mouth, and brushed your hair, which thankfully wasn’t a rat’s nest after last night. Finally, you headed over to SDN, resigned with the knowledge that Blonde Blazer would be extra annoying today with your lateness. You rolled your eyes, unamused that you had to answer to her. It’s not like you were even one of the worst villains, but she had made it her mission to get you “rehabilitated.” So now here you are, on the Z-Team of washed up villains in hopes of becoming Torrance’s shining new heroes. God, you wanted to go back to sleep.

Entering the building, you didn’t spot Blondie, which was unusual. Usually, she would stand right in the lobby with her arms crossed until you stepped in, waiting to hear your bullshit excuses. You shrugged, heading up to your work floor so that you could grab coffee and breakfast. What you weren’t expecting was for a hard body to collide with yours on the way into the breakroom.

“Fuck, dude, can you watch where you’re going?” you grumbled, looking up at the figure. You froze, meeting Robert’s eyes. Oh fuck, no. He wore the same blue button-down shirt as this morning, only now without bleary eyes, you could clearly read the SDN logo on the breast. First day on the job at SDN? Oh, you knew exactly what that meant. “You’re the new dispatcher for the Z-Team.” It wasn’t a question, but you were genuinely blown away by the turn of events.

“Huh, yeah I am. And you’re,” He looked you up and down, taking in your suit and mask. “on the Z-Team, right?” He sounded just as tired as you felt.

“You know, when I said I’ll see you again, this isn’t exactly what I pictured.” Did the universe hate you? You picked up a random man at a bar, had a wonderful night, and now you’ll have to hear his voice in your ear all day long. Maybe you should have just let Blonde Blazer take you to jail.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. This is really…awful timing.” Robert looked genuinely remorseful. He brought his hand up to rub at the back of his neck, but then his eyes slid to your own neck and you felt your face heat up. Crap, you hadn’t covered up the hickeys. To be fair, you didn’t think you’d have to. Z-Team would celebrate your sexual conquest and you’d regale them with all the dirty details, pointedly ignoring Mandy’s disappointment. Now, all you felt was embarrassment. Here you were, parading around the marks your team dispatcher gave you last night.

“Well, if you don’t want to spend your first day in HR, I recommend pretending that last night didn’t happen.” You knew you were lashing out with a thinly veiled threat, but Jesus, how did you end up in this position? It was like the plot of a poorly done soap opera.

“Oh, am I that easy to forget?” he asked with that teasing tone. He was enjoying this, watching you squirm. Robert didn’t seem all that occupied with professionalism himself, so you tried to relax.

“I didn’t say that.” You winked, trying to compose yourself. You wet your lips, watching as his eyes darted to watch your mouth. “Just thought you’d want to avoid the paperwork. You’ll have plenty of that if you’re gonna be our team’s dispatcher.” You crossed your arms and leaned against the wall, sizing him up. In the light of day, he didn’t look like much. The bruises were darker now (you probably should have asked about those already, oh well) and moved like he wasn’t used to his own body. Hmm, maybe there was more to Robert than you originally thought.

“Is it really that bad?” he asked. You couldn’t help the snort that escaped.

“We’re not exactly known for playing by the book. Don’t worry, though. Unlike the others, I actually do my paperwork.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “What? I do! It’s…calming.” It was his turn to laugh, shaking his head in exasperation.

“Yeah, this is gonna be a very interesting job,” he muttered, mostly to himself. You righted yourself off the wall, prepared to leave to finally get that coffee you were craving.

“Well, this has been informative, but I gotta go before Blondie finds me. I look forward to working with you, Robert.” You laughed, throwing your hand up in a wave as you walked away. You didn’t see him wave back, a smile still on his lips. Interesting, indeed.

“Your girl? What the fuck are you talking about, Adrian?” Chris’s volume increased, utterly baffled at what he was hearing. His eyes cut to those gathered around, taking in everyone else’s confused looks.

“My girl? My girlfriend?” Adrian questioned, his eyebrows scrunching together. “Hello, the one I told you about?” He knows he told them about you…like repeatedly. He practically couldn’t go a day without mentioning how hot and smart and sexy and awesome you are.

“Wait, she’s fucking real?” Economos asked, incredulously. He couldn’t picture any woman being in her right mind to date such a psychopathic weirdo.

“Dude.” Leota glared at him, sending a hand out to lightly smack at him.

“What? You thought she was fake, too.” Economos gestured his hands around, clearly upset with the hypocrisy. Harcourt rolled her eyes, displeased with how quickly this mission had gone off the tracks, and they hadn’t even left yet!

“What do you mean she called dibs?” she asked, trying to get to the fucking point.

“She called dibs on killing rapists, but she said I could have dibs on racists, so I guess it’s okay.” Adrian smiled, pleased that he could talk about you more. Admittedly, it had bummed him out when you called dibs–everyone knows that’s basically legally binding–but you had a preference and he totally understood that. If you wanted to kill mainly rapists, who was he to stop you?

“What if the target is both?” Chris asked, pointing to the dossier that detailed how Mr. Peppery took over some sect of the neo-Nazis after the White Dragon’s death. Adrian’s face broke out into an even wider smile and he half-launched his body across the table at his best friend.

“Ah dude, that’s the best cause it means we get to tag-team!” he gushed, bringing his hands to his suit-clad heart.

“You’re not going to let us do this without her, are you?” Harcourt asked, her tone betraying the fact that she already knew the answer. She closed her eyes and tried to stave off the incoming headache that always accompanied Vigilante speaking for too long. How Peacemaker was able to work with him on a regular basis, she would never understand. Sure, Adrian got the job done (most times), but always at the sake of her sanity. She couldn’t even begin to care about quizzing him on animal facts per his request, just for him to get them wrong and then complain that she was wrong.

“Nope, I already texted her to join us!” Adrian smiled, showing off his phone to the team. Leota and Economos both raised their brows at the underwater theme set for the text messages and the contact name My Angelfish🧜‍♀️. “She said she’ll be here in 5.”

“So, uh, we’re just gonna let this happen, huh?” Economos mumbled under his breath, as he gathered his coat to head to their new work van.

“Honestly, as long as this guy ends up dead, I don’t care who does it,” Harcourt said over her shoulder as she passed him. She didn’t have time to worry about Vigilante and his so-called girlfriend, she just needed everyone available to kill Peppery and his cult of KKK members.

The 11th Street Kids migrated out front, with Harcourt and Economos doing most of the packing for their journey, while Leota, Chris, and Adrian stood around and chatted.

“So, this girl of yours, she also a vigilante like you?” Leota questioned. She tried to remember the things Adrian had already told her about you, but was drawing a blank. At the time, she hadn’t thought he was being serious, so everything sort of just went in one ear and out the other. Whoops, lesson learned, she supposed.

“Yup! She’s super good at it, too. Like I’m good, but she’s better!” Adrian started swinging his arms around, the energy within him needing an outlet somehow. “She gained the name Wraith cause of how silent she moves and people only see her when they’re right about to die, it’s so rad.”

“Aw, thanks, babe,” you spoke, surprising everyone around you. Leota and Chris spun to look at you, not having heard you walk up. Harcourt leaned out of the back of the van to get a look at you, before deeming you as not a current threat to them, and went back to organizing their vast array of weapons.

“Jesus, fuck!” Leota gasped out, grabbing at her chest. Chris pointed his gun at you out of habit, but slowly put it down once he took in your unblinking form. The smile you sent him was all teeth, like a predator about to catch its prey.

“Guys, meet my girlfriend! Babe, say hi.” Adrian threw an arm around your shoulders, completely unbothered with how off-putting you were to his team.

“Hi, on missions you can call me Wraith.” You waved. Leota was the only one to wave back, albeit hesitantly. “So, I hear there’s a pretty bad guy y’all need to kill?” You raised an eyebrow, assessing your boyfriend’s friends. You’d heard all about the famous Peacemaker, Adrian’s best friend, and only little about the others on the team. You knew their names and their skill sets, but really nothing else, other than that Economos dyed his beard, that is.

“I mean, he’s a bad guy. I wouldn’t call him pretty, though,” Adrian grumbled, his hand grabbing your own, while you walked into the van behind Leota and Chris.

“Not what I meant, but noted. Thank you,” you responded, well-versed in the way your boyfriend’s mind worked. You took a seat on one of the benches, Adrian plopping down next to you, basically on top of you.

“Hand her the dossier, we’re heading out,” Harcourt called out, taking the driver’s seat. Economos sat beside her, leaving Chris and Leota to sit across from the two of you. Without saying a word, Adrian handed you a file of the target and Harcourt put the van in drive; the mission finally in motion.

Your eyes scanned the information, memorizing each detail that was available. Target: Milton Peppery, Age: 33, Meta-human: No, Crimes: Hate crimes, Domestic terrorism, Arson and property damage, Kidnapping, Murder in the first degree, Rape, Rape of a minor, and Tax evasion. Yup, he was right up your alley to kill. Adrian left you to your own devices, directing his need for conversation to his friends. You could hear him telling them “facts” about manta rays, but you tuned everything out in order to properly map out in your mind the perfect way to kill Peppery and his followers. That’s how you spent the hour-long drive, going over strategies in your head and factoring in working with a team of five others.

Out of courtesy, you asked, “What was your plan, Harcourt?” It was the first time you had spoken since getting into the van, and it seemed like Economos had forgotten you were even in the back of the van, based on the small jolt he did in his seat. The blonde glanced at you through the rearview mirror.

“Peppery and his followers are camping out in an old biker bar. Two exits, one in the front and one in the back. Leota and I will cover the back, Economos will cover the parking lot from the van, and you, Peacemaker and Vigilante will head up the front. The three of you cut through Peppery’s underlings and we’ll take out any that try to escape through the back. I don’t really care which one of you kills Peppery, as long as he dies. Got it?” She looked between you, Adrian, and Chris. You nodded, pleased with her plan.

“This is gonna be awesome!” Adrian gushed, grabbing your hand into a high five. He didn’t let go, just swung your combined hands around in joy.

“So, Adrian tells us you kill rapists. Is that, like, part of your tragic backstory?” John asked, his voice breaking you away from staring into Adrian’s eyes. You glanced up at him and quirked a brow in disbelief.

“My what?” you asked, your voice dryer than sandpaper. You didn’t think you’d actually have to explain to them why you killed the people you do, it felt insanely obvious.

“Your tragic backstory. Every cape and vigilante has one!” he retorted, looking around for help from the rest of the team. He didn’t find any support.

“I don’t have one,” Adrian said, cocking his head to the side with a furrowed brow. He hadn’t been aware that was a requirement.

You looked him up and down. “Yes, you do.”

“I do?” he asked, pointing at himself, as if you were talking about anyone else in the van.

“Mmm, yes, you do,” you said, your eyes narrowing. Gut Chase was lucky he was dead, because you would have skinned him alive for the things he had put Adrian through as a child. “I don’t, though. Have a tragic backstory, that is.”

“You do it for the love of the game, mad respect,” Chris piped up, nodding his head in approval.

“No, I do it because I’m a woman and those types of people should die.”

“We’re here.” Harcourt’s voice echoed throughout the van, silencing your conversation. Ignoring the others, you began running through your mental prep list. Your black gloves were on tight, your chestplate was attached correctly, your knives sheathed to your leg and belt, and lastly, your gun fully loaded and ready to blow a hole through the heads of rapists and racists alike. Harcourt held her hand out to you and you opened your palm with no hesitation. She dropped a comm unit into your extended hand, sending you a nod. You returned the gesture, putting the comm into your ear. “Everyone ready?” she asked, looking every member of her team in the eye.

With no objections, she opened the van doors and ushered all of you out. Your steel-toed boots hit the pavement and you surveyed your surroundings. Like Harcourt had said, it was a shitty rundown bar. Her and Leota took off to circle the back, while you, Adrian, and Peacemaker made your way to the front.

“Enter in three, two, one.” You heard over comms. The three of you burst into the bar, immediately laying down a barrage of fire. This wasn’t the type of mission where you had to worry about innocents, which meant you could go crazy without fear of hurting someone undeserving of it. Faced with a surprise attack of three people all with guns, several of the Nazis were dead before they even realized what was going on. The remaining nine, by your quick count, all reached for their weapons. The three of you advanced, splitting up to divide and conquer.

Peacemaker took two to the left, his long Desert Eagle pistol firing into the head of the man sitting closest to him. The other fired his gun, but his aim was shaky enough for Chris to be able to dodge with little worry. He sent out two shots, one to the attacker’s hand, knocking the gun and his thumb clean off, and the other to the Nazi’s chest, blood erupting from the damage. While he dealt with them, Vigilante took on the three men in the middle of the bar. Three shots to the body of one man and he was falling limp to the ground. Adrian expected the return fire, angling his body low to the sticky bar floor, and aimed his pistol at the head of the more annoying douchebag that was screaming obscenities at him while he shot. A perfected bullet to the head silenced his aggravating voice for good. Now, it was a one on one between Vigilante and a much larger guy.

“You know what they say, the bigger they are…the harder they fall!” Adrian screamed, his voice more joyful than scared, as he threw his empty gun at the man’s head, momentarily distracting him. Seizing the distraction, Adrian pulled out his combat knives and sent them straight into the neck of his foe. The Nazi fell to his knees with a thump and then keeled over, bleeding out on the disgusting floor.

Simultaneously, you took on the remaining three men. You ran at them, weaving between bullets and overturned chairs. You ducked under one’s gun, bringing yourself close so that you could drive your bowie knife into his outstretched arm. He screamed in pain and his hand opened like a latch, dropping the gun to the floor. With him disarmed, you brought your boot down hard on his leg in order to twist your body toward the man closest to him. With the windup, your fist collided with his ugly face like a whip, sending him spinning to the side. You brought your elbow back, hitting him right in the jaw. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the third man turning tail toward the exit, but you didn’t have time to worry about that now. You swiped a second blade from their holster and brought both into the necks of the men. Hot blood gushed from their wounds and sprayed you while they gasped for air. You couldn’t bring yourself to mourn their deaths, knowing the kind of pain they brought others.

Your individual fights ended around the same time, and you all breathed heavy in the following silence. The drips of blood from your blade and the fallen bodies filled your ear; that post-carnage euphoria starting to set in. A single shot rang out and you all tensed, your eyes tracking to the hallway that man escaped down. Chris lifted his gun, but there was no need. Harcourt and Leota turned the corner, their guns drawn, as well.

“Got the runner,” Harcourt reported. She surveyed the scene, and it was times like these where she was at least pleased that Peacemaker and Vigilante, and she supposed you too now, were on her side.

“That door lead to Peppery?” you asked, cocking your head to the closed office door between her and you. She nodded, falling back as the three of you took the lead once more. The three of you placed your backs against the wall with Peacemaker in front to open the door for Adrian and you. He silently counted down from three and you burst in, your gun drawn. Peppery sat at his desk, face white as a sheet. You almost laughed at the irony.

“Please, please don’t shoot,” he begged. Your eyes zeroed in on his hidden hands, one edging out from under the desk. You fired immediately, not willing to take any chances with him pulling a weapon. Your aim held true, the bullets trailing across his desk and finally hitting his shoulder. Non-lethal, but enough to hurt like a bitch. “Fuck!” he screamed out, dropping his concealed gun.

“Gotcha.” You smirked, advancing on him. Adrian had your back, his gun still raised on Peppery. “Milton Peppery?” you asked, rhetorically.

“What do you want, bitch?” he spat, his lips wet with blood. He must have been used to people cowering at his glare, but you refused to back down.

“Nothing much,” you responded, rounding the desk to stare into his eyes. His eyes were blue and full of tears, and although he tried to hide it, you could see the darkness with them. This was a man of pure evil. “I just need you to die.” Quicker than he could react, you flipped your blade out to sink into the flesh of his neck. Peppery’s eyes widened, his hand coming up to try and stop you. The blade had sunk deep and he gurgled with every breath, the strength in his body leaving him in moments. He shuddered, taking in one last rattling breath, before he slumped over in his chair. His eyes went cold, the darkness within them finally extinguished.

You sighed, pulling the blade free from his neck. It sent splatters of blood across your face and torso, but you paid it no mind. You were used to being covered in blood, after all. Turning around, your eyes bounced between each member of the team. Harcourt and Peacemaker looked at you with varying levels of respect, while Leota looked like she was trying not to puke. Still new to bloodshed, you assumed. Your eyes landed on Adrian, something inside of you warming at the awestruck look in his eyes.

“God, that was so hot,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. You actively had to keep the heat from reaching your cheeks, but you couldn’t help the swell of pride at his compliment. “I love watching you kill bad guys, babe,” he gushed, bolstering his gun. Harcourt let out a huff and rolled her eyes, turning on her heels to exit the now bloodied bar. Leota followed suit, none too eager to stay in such a shithole.

“We’ll be in the van,” she called out, side-stepping the corpse of one of the men you had killed. You waved them off, stepping into Adrian’s space. You watched his eyes roam all over you through his visor, observing every blood splatter on your perfect skin. He raised his gloved hand to caress your cheek, rubbing the blood into your skin with his thumb.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful drenched in blood,” he mused, his gaze turning hungry. He tugged off his mask, letting those brown curls loose.

“Hey guys, not to interrupt whatever this is, but if you’re gonna have sex, you should probably take your comms out. Trust me, I learned that the hard way,” Chris said, knocking his fist against the doorframe while he watched the two of you. He fumbled to catch the two comms that you and Adrian had ripped out, but with one glare from you, he turned around and left without another word.

“Come here,” you commanded, bringing Adrian in for a kiss. He complied, his lips slotting with yours. You could both taste the blood of your victim on your lips, but it only made you both hornier. Adrian’s boner pressed against your thigh, straining against the fabric of his Vigilante suit. His gloved hand rose to the back of your, fisting the hair there as he deepened the kiss.

“Fuck, baby. Need you so bad,” he whined, breathlessly. “You know how turned on seeing you covered in blood gets me.” And boy did you. The first time he had watched you kill a man, you had taken your sweet time. Tortured him for his crimes over the course of a couple hours. It had left him, and you, soaked in blood, but you had walked away smiling. It was that smile that made Adrian fall for you.

“Mmm, prove it.” You dropped to your knees, your hands immediately going for the holster buckle and button on his pants. You’ve gotten him out of his suit enough times for it to be like a second nature. Going through the motions, you dropped the belt and shimmied his pants down, pleased to see those adorable tighty whities. You licked your lips, the image going straight to his dick. You raked your blood-stained hands across his underwear, turning the white cotton red in some places, and pulled them down to his ankles.

“Fuck, you’re so hot. Need your mouth, baby. Need your mouth on my cock, please,” he begged, grabbing your shoulders. You smirked and looked up at him, letting him see the devious look in your eye. Your hand found his cock and you slowly slid up and down the length, getting him nice and hard. “Yes, baby, just like that. More.” Adrian’s whines were addicting to you, and you would do anything to hear more of them.

“Gonna give you exactly what you need,” you mumbled, bringing your head to his cock. You guided his length to your mouth, your hot breath ghosting the sensitive head. Adrian’s body seized and jutted forward, forcing his dick deep into your mouth. You grunted, but took him in regardless. Adrian always got a little too eager with sex, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. His pre-cum smeared against your tongue and you lapped it up, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. He tensed with each movement, his head thrown back in pleasure. His moans and mewls were music to your ears, encouraging you forward.

You moved your hand to cup his balls, squeezing them at the same time you hummed around his cock. “Fuck, fuck, do it again!” Adrian begged, forcing your head deeper again. He grasped the back of your head and set the pace, pounding into your mouth. You hummed, creating the vibration around his cock again. “Close, baby, I’m close. Love you so much!” he babbled, his face screwing up in pleasure and pain. You preened at how quick you could send him over the edge.

You kept taking his dick into your mouth, making it to the base. God, he was so long, hitting the back of your throat with every thrust. With practiced moves, you swirled the sides of his cockhead before running across the middle. In your hands, you felt his balls tighten and you knew he was close.

“Please, please let me cum on your face. Baby, please,” he begged again, his movements stuttering. You hummed your approval, sending more pleasure to his growing orgasm. He pulled his dick from your mouth, a trail of your spit still attached to the head. “Fuck, so pretty, you're so beautiful!” he grunted, gazing at your blood-stained face. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and smiled softly. He immediately came, thick ropes of his cum coating your face, covering red with white.

Adrian used one of the discarded chairs to balance, his energy waning. Slowly, you got off the ground, ignoring the ache in your knees. Surely, they’d be bruised by tomorrow, but you couldn’t care less. With soft fingers, you wiped at the globs of cum on your cheek and swiped it into your mouth. Salty and sweet, your favorite flavor.

“We should, uh, probably get out of here before the cops come,” Adrian mumbled, his eyes never leaving you. He could already feel himself getting hard again and he knew if they lingered, he’d have to fuck you against this dingy bar wall. He handed you a tissue from the desk, allowing you to wipe away the evidence of what the two of you had done, at least from your face.

“Mmm, probably should. We’ve kept your team waiting long enough,” you agreed, helping him gather up his underwear and pants. You walked out of the office, ignoring the carnage you had left behind. Nothing like a good murder and blowjob to blow off steam.

“You mean our team,” he stated, raising his eyebrows at you seriously. “After all of this, they’d be crazy not to let you join. Plus, we have to be the power couple, babe! Killing baddies and saving the world!” It was hard to disagree with Adrian when he looked at you with those adorable puppy eyes and jutted out lip.

“Fine, guess I’ll join your super secret superhero group,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Adrian pumped his hands in the air as the two of you left the decrepit bar. He helped you into the back of the van and you pointedly ignored the incredulous looks from your new…coworkers.

“Nice going, bro,” Chris said with a smirk, giving Adrian a fist bump. You rolled your eyes at the theatrics.

“Can we fucking go now?” Economos asked, annoyance clear in his tone. Harcourt put the van into drive without another word, peeling away from the crime scene.

Concealed in the back, you smiled. Yeah, maybe you could get used to doing all this teamwork crap, as long as it meant that you got to spend extra time with your boyfriend. He smiled down at you and you gave him a quick peck on the lips, ignoring the exaggerated gagging coming from those around you.

You laid back down, closing your eyes to try and let the nausea fade. With your eyes blind to the rest of the world, you failed to notice the newcomer in the clearing until your skin crawled with the feeling of being watched. The figure was by your feet, looming over you, and it took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust in the moonlight and realize who it was.

“Lottie, you scared me!” you exclaimed, propping yourself up on your elbows to stare at the girl. “Woah, what’s that?” you asked, referring to the headdress made out of antlers, fabric, and flowers. In the darkness, her form seemed almost supernatural, yet ethereal.

“It told me you would be here. It wanted me to find you,” she murmured, the sound just barely reaching your ears. You tilted your head at her, confused about what she meant.

“Uhhh, what?” you asked with a laugh. Lottie dropped to her knees in front of you and you rose to sit with her, worried about the brunette. She placed her hands on your knees and you jumped at the surprise touch. “Lottie, what’s going on?” You were starting to get worried and the far-off look in Lottie’s eyes wasn't helping.

“I thought it wanted Travis, but I was wrong,” she whispered, bringing her face close to yours. “It wants me to please you.”

“Please me?” You were severely confused by now, and not just because of the trippy stew that was making your brain feel like molasses. Lottie didn’t answer you, but instead bridged the distance between you and claimed your lips. Your eyes widened and you felt your shroom-addled brain snap back into focus. One of her hands moved from your knee to rub your shoulder and you realized that you hadn’t moved a muscle.

Lottie Matthews was kissing you and you weren’t doing anything about it. You parted your lips to kiss her back and you felt the pressure bleed away from Lottie as she finally relaxed. She pulled back just enough to gaze into your eyes, and you could read the question within hers: is this okay? You nodded, bringing your hand to her cheek to bring her back into the kiss.

Her lips tasted like honey and you couldn’t get enough. She kissed you like a man starved and you returned the action with just as much fervor. Lottie’s hand reached to brace your back, pushing you back until your body laid on the forest floor once more. Staring up at her with the moonlight cascading over her face was like being at the altar of a goddess.

“Lottie,” you whispered, afraid your voice would break the moment and send her rushing away from you. She spread your knees apart, making room for her body to slide in between your legs, and the image sent heat straight to your core. You squirmed at the sensation, but your attention was diverted when Lottie brought her lips to yours again. You moaned into the kiss, overtaken by the pleasure of her hands running down your body and the feeling of her tongue in your mouth.

In your current position, your dress fell just above your knees, which left your underwear completely visible to the other girl. You could feel the heat of Lottie’s body through the flimsy fabric and you bucked your hips to chase the contact. You let out an involuntary whine as Lottie released your lips and pulled back, looking down at you. She watched you pant, your eyes hazy and wet with need. Carefully, Lottie removed the antler crown on her head and set it on the ground above your head, as if you now wore it in your submission to her.

Sitting on her knees, she moved to pull your panties down, dragging them across your supple skin and past your dress shoes. She let them drop into the dirt, knowing you would not need them for the rest of the night. You tensed, feeling the chilled night air on your bare pussy. Lottie rubbed circles into the meat of your thighs, trying to get you to relax.

“I’ll make you feel good,” Lottie said it like a prayer, as if nothing else in the world mattered other than you and her in this tiny patch of land, hidden away from everyone else. You could only nod your head at her, utterly transfixed by the way she pushed her hair off her shoulders to cascade down her back and brought her face in between your thighs. You gasped at the first sensation of hot breath against your pussy, the sensation only adding fuel to the pressure building up inside of you. Lottie’s tongue passed from her lips and gave an experimental lick to your folds. That alone had you throwing your head back in pleasure, your nails digging into the soft ground beneath you.

“Lottie, Lottie!” you moaned out. It sounded like a scream in the otherwise quiet forest. Her tongue dipped deeper in, lapping up the wetness that soaked your cunt. Your breath hitched, overwhelmed with the feeling of her hot tongue probing you open in a way that you had never experienced before. You had never even touched yourself before, and now you were giving it all away for Lottie Matthews.

Her tongue continued its assault and she brought her hands up to the underside of your knees to keep them apart. You hadn’t even realized that with the newfound touch, you had begun to close your legs out of second nature. You squirmed again, that pressure building higher and higher within you. Lottie pulled back just enough to look up at you and you whined once more from the sudden loss of her mouth.

“Will you let the Wilderness in?” she asked, her tongue running along the wetness that coated her lips. You couldn’t focus on her question, much too drawn to her and your rising orgasm. You needed to cum; you needed her to make you cum.

“Please, Lottie!” It came out pitched and ruined. “Yes, whatever you want, just please~” you begged, tears springing from your eyes. Lottie looked pleased at the words you weren’t even aware you were saying and brought herself back to your pussy. You nearly came from the immediate return of pleasure. Your moans echoed throughout the space, growing louder and louder. Her tongue swiped up and down, digging deep into your pussy, but it was only when her tongue slid out to circle your clit that your moans turned to shrieks. “Fuck, please!” you screamed out, your vision going black from the lack of oxygen. She sucked on the sensitive bud, swirling it just right.

Your orgasm tore through you, and you subconsciously clenched your thighs despite Lottie’s hands. You trapped her between your legs, your pussy juices drenching her face like the fruits of her labor. She didn’t fight it or try to come up for air, just accepted her fate and lapped up your cum, washing you clean. Your breaths came hot and fast as you tried to untangle your thoughts.

It was only when your hands started to cramp, did you realize that you had been clawing them into the dirt. You barely even realized the sting from your cracked fingernails under the force of your mind-blowing orgasm, and as the blood from your ruined nails mixed with the earth, you knew without a shadow of a doubt that you would follow Lottie wherever she went, even all the way to hell.

“Sorry, who is she?” Adrian 2 asked, hitting his signature confused puppy head tilt. His gloved finger pointed at you and you shot a look at your Adrian. 

“Uh, she’s my girlfriend. Does your world not have a Y/N?” Adrian pouted, upset with the thought. He couldn’t imagine his life without you in it. Without you, he might not have made it out of Butterfly Goff’s torture basement or bled out on the side of the road after his run-in with those Nazi’s. You had been with him so long that the thought of any Adrian Chase going through life without you was an incredibly depressing thought. 

“Oh!” Adrian 2 said, rubbing the back of his neck. He refused to make eye contact with you, trying and failing to conceal the evergrowing blush on his cheeks. “Uh, no, I guess not or, at least, I don’t know a Y/N here.” 

“Aw man, that totally sucks! She’s the best girlfriend ever, seriously," Adrian exclaimed, talking with his hands. You loved watching him get excited, throwing his hands around to better explain what his words failed to convey. “She bakes me fresh cookies after hard shifts and she sews up my suit when fuckers try to stab me!” You smiled at the praise. “Oh, oh! And she does this thing with her tongue that just–” 

“Okay!” You interrupted. Now it was your turn for your cheeks to burn. It was odd to be embarrassed of your boyfriend telling the alternate reality version of himself about your sex life. “We don’t have to share that.”

“Why not?” You were weak to one Adrian puppy-dog confused face, but two? Oh, you were a goner. You looked between the two of them and sighed. 

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair to brag about your girlfriend to a version of you that doesn’t have one?” you questioned, trying to break down the complexity of the scenario. 

“Oh, I don’t mind!” Adrian 2 started. “It’s actually kind of nice to know that at least one Adrian has a smoking hot girlfriend.” 

“That’s what I was thinking!” Your Adrian chimed in, jumping up to stand and face the other Adrian. You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to win this conversation. You supposed you technically started all of this by accidentally letting your thoughts drift into dangerous territory and then let that random thought pass your lips.

“What were you saying about it being hot, again?” Adrian 2 asked, diverting his attention back to you. Speak of the devil thought or whatever. 

“Is it too hot in here? Should we crack a window?” Your Adrian asked, worried about you. You were already only wearing a tank-top, but he knew that you reacted poorly to heat regardless. 

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just…well I’ve had dreams about this exact scenario, ya know?” you admitted, your whole body flushed. “Two of you, only one of me…” you trailed off, glancing between the two of them. 

“That’s kind of a weird thing to dream,” Your Adrian said, furrowing his brows. “What were we doing? Oh, was it like a weird carnival dream where the clowns chase you or something?”

“I think she was talking about a sex dream,” Adrian 2 pointed out, wagging his finger at you. You blinked, surprised between their two reactions. You knew your Adrian was kind of dense, you wouldn’t have him anyway, but you hadn’t expected Adrian 2 to pick up on the topic you were tiptoeing around. 

“Yeah, actually, it, uh, was,” you said. 

“Oh, well, why didn’t you just say that?” Your Adrian asked, flopping back down next to you on the couch. He put his head in your lap, gazing up at you, and the light glinted off of his silver-framed glasses. “So, you’ve dreamed about there being two of me? Two of us?” You nodded, embarrassed at the attention from both Adrian’s. Just thinking about the dream started a pulse in your core. “Anything specific?” 

“Well, uh.” You thought about it, trying to recall the dream that had you waking up drenched in sweat and needy for your boyfriend. “I don’t really remember how it started, but I remember looking at you in front of me and then I felt hands behind me and when I turned around, it was still you.” You furrowed your brows, trying to remember how the rest of the dream went. It had been one of those dreams where you couldn’t really pinpoint exact events and in which order they had happened, only the faint understanding of what your subconscious conjured up. Adrian sat up, suddenly enthralled. 

“Oh, yeah? Tell me more.” Your boyfriend pulled you into his lap, your legs falling on either side of his lap. You let out a surprised noise, grasping his shoulders for purchase. Adrian 2 stepped up behind you, the heat of his suit seeping into your back. His hands hesitated for a second, but you turned your head to give him a slight nod. With your consent, he placed them on your hips, rubbing circles into the plush skin. Fuck, you were really doing this. 

“Is this okay?” The Adrian behind you asked, directing the question to both you and his counterpart. You murmured out a yes, while Adrian nodded his head emphatically. The situation you found yourself in was starting to make your head spin. The man you love had essentially been copy and pasted right behind you and all he wanted to do was live out your fantasy and give you pleasure. 

“Next, uh, you kissed me,” you said to your Adrian, “and you kissed down my neck,” you told Adrian 2. The Adrian whose lap you were in gave a cheeky grin and pulled you forward into a kiss. You melted into it, the feel and taste so familiar and warm. Your tongues explored each other’s mouths and while you were distracted, Adrian 2 took the opportunity to graze your shoulder blade with a kiss. You shivered, feeling his lips on your skin. He kissed higher and higher, taking his time to suck hickeys into your neck.

You breathed in their scents, both smelling like gunpowder and smoke, although your Adrian smelled like the mint body wash you bought for him. You ground down in Adrian’s lap, feeling his erection through his suit pants. 

“Playing dirty,” he panted, breaking the kiss. You panted with him, running your fingers across his chest. Adrian 2’s hands moved up from your hips, cupping and kneading your breasts. You arched your back into him, taken by surprise at his boldness. 

“Ah~” you moaned, the noise getting swallowed up as Adrian claimed your mouth again. The hands on your tits dropped back down to your shorts and began unbuttoning your shorts. Meanwhile, your Adrian tugged at the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one fell swoop, only letting your lips part for a moment. 

“Is this how it went?” Adrian 2 asked, shimmying your shorts off. He held your legs for safety so you wouldn’t fall off the couch or off of Adrian. It was a sweet gesture, one that warmed your heart, as well as your pussy. You were dressed down to just your underwear now, slowly rocking back and forth on Adrian’s lap. 

“Actually, yeah, kinda,” you said, exhaling out a moan. “I mean, there was a real bed and all, but a couch works just as nicely in a pinch.” 

“Mmm, I’m sure it will,” Adrian mused, popping off his suit’s chestplate. You helped him, having helped take off his suit after an exhausting night several times. You heard the rustling of armor hitting the floor behind you and you figured Adrian 2 was also following suit, taking his clothes off. You help Adrian get his own pants down, amused at his lack of underwear, and he lifted you off his lap long enough for him to lay down on the couch, placing you right back to where you were before. Your clothed pussy bumped against his leaking cock and you both moaned, your head arching back into Adrian 2’s form. He had positioned himself at the end of the couch behind you, now fully unclothed. 

His hands found your tits again, your body rocking against Adrian’s cock. The room was growing hotter, the heat of your bodies filling the place with the smell of sweat. Your Adrian was getting pent up, jolting his pelvis up to meet your messy movements. His frustrations grew, culminating in him gripping your underwear and tearing it from your body. 

“Hey!” you complained, not at all happy to be without underwear in an alternate reality. The thought was completely lost to your haze of lust, though, when you felt Adrian’s cock meet your bare skin. 

“You ready?” he asked, brushing loose strands of hair from your face. Behind you, Adrian 2 peppered your shoulder blades with kisses, dragging his fingertips across your sensitive skin. 

“Mmm, yes, please.” No sooner had the words left your mouth, Adrian had lifted you up and lined his dick with your slit. He lowered you down, your body giving no resistance with how slick with want you were for the both of them. Your moans echoed the space and you rolled your lower half, chasing the high. From behind, Adrian 2 pumped his cock, lubing it with his pre-cum. One hand kept you upright and against him, forcing you to rise and fall directly onto your boyfriend’s cock. 

“Please, please,” you whimpered, the sensation too good. 

“So good, fuck, oh you’re perfect,” Adrian panted out, his glasses fogging up. He gazed up at you in awe, watching your tits bounce with each jolt. He placed his hands on your hips, helping you up and down. The head of his cock caught your entrance with each thrust, pulling moans and pants. 

Your pace faltered, not out of tiredness, but because Adrian 2 was pushing you forward, sending your hands to catch yourself on either side of Adrian’s head. Looking over your shoulder, you finally noticed his glistening cock being lined up with your asshole. Your eyes widened. 

“I-I’ve never, um, done that before,” you admitted, quietly. Adrian 2 froze, his eyes darting up to your face and then to Adrian’s. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to stop? Change positions?” he asked, genuinely worried about your comfortability. 

“No, um.” Your face burned, hating to admit you were intimidated by the task. Your boyfriend raised his hand to cup your cheek, checking in on you. His eyes were full of love. “We should follow the dream…” you trailed off, taking in a calming breath. “I can do this, just, go slow, please.”

“Of course, Y/N, anything for you,” he responded, giving you a kiss on the lips. You relaxed back on Adrian’s dick, bringing your face close to his to give him, and yourself, a reassuring kiss. Adrian 2 ran his hands across your back, squeezing for permission once again. When you didn’t back away, he used one hand to line up his cock with your hole. He pressed in slowly, the burn a completely unexpected and new feeling. You gasped, and Adrian chased the sound with a kiss. It was an intrusion you had never felt before, but the slick of his pre-cum on his cock aided in pushing it further. 

Both Adrian’s were patient with you, letting you take as much time as needed to take Adrian 2’s cock. He sank in, inch by inch, until finally he was fully sheathed. You panted into Adrian’s shoulder, hiding your face as tears filled your vision. It wasn’t necessarily too painful to continue, but you had to work the courage up to rock your body against both their dicks. You felt so full. 

“Ah fuck, please move!” you moaned. 

“Him or me?” They both asked in unison. You huffed out a laugh; what a crazy situation you had found yourself in. 

“Both of you!” you exclaimed, needing them to move. That pressure building inside of you had decreased and you were not about to lose it completely. Giving them the okay, both Adrians began to move, pumping into you. You met each thrust; that pain quickly turning into pleasure. “Yes, God, oh!” you slurred out, completely overwhelmed. 

One of their hands, you couldn’t tell which with your eyes closed, reached down to thumb at your clit. The unexpected shot of pleasure triggered your orgasm, gushing your cum down Adrian’s cock. The pulsing tried to push Adrian 2 out of your asshole, but he continued to drill in. 

“Can you do one more for me, baby?” Your Adrian asked, sweetly. Never one to deny him, especially not during sex, you nodded weakly. The come down from that high was zapping all of your energy, but you kept going for them. Their thrusts were becoming erratic, hitting at different intervals instead of the well-timed teamwork they had been working with before. Your body was pulled in each direction, and you simply let it take you there, too tired to fight for your balance. They would keep you from falling, regardless. 

“So close, baby, so close,” Adrian 2 murmured into your back, the sound emphasized by a particularly hard thrust that sent your boobs jiggling in your boyfriend’s face. 

“Me too,” Adrian panted out, his fingers pressed into your skin so hard that you knew you would have bruises the next day. “Come inside?” he asked. 

“Yes, please, yes!” you called out, sinking your nails into his chest with need. Your orgasm was building back up and you knew you wouldn’t last if they both came inside of you.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Adrian 2 whispered over and over again, like you were a goddess in need of worship and praise. He fumbled with your clit, rubbing circles into the sensitive bud once more. You arched, meeting each thrust with a growing anticipation. 

Adrian 2 let out a grunt, wrapping his arm around your front, as he buried himself deep and let his cum flow into you. You moaned, the sound triggering your boyfriend’s own orgasm. He kept pumping into you, working his cum in, and the sensation sent you off the ledge.

The three of you were a mess of cum, sweat, and exhaustion, but you stayed in that position as you came down from your orgasms. Adrian 2 slipped out first, leaving your hole clenching around air in disappointment. He got up, coming back with a towel to clean you off with. Adrian helped you into a sitting position on the couch, his cock slipping out of your pussy, which leaked onto the upholstery. 

“So, was that just like your dream?” he asked with a dopey smile. You gazed into his eyes, memorizing each green fleck. You glanced at Adrian 2, taking in his identical eyes, save for the different glasses. 

This really wasn’t how you thought traveling to another reality would go, but damn were you pleased with the results. 

His day had started normal; he woke up a little after ten and had decided to take some time to himself to mindlessly scroll on his phone, rather than getting up and act like a functioning member of society. His plans had been quickly derailed by the sudden pounding on his door. He had nearly jumped out of his bones and only had the time to throw on his sleep shirt before the door was being thrown open by none other than Alexei Shostakov. He wasn’t dressed in his battlesuit, but rather a bright red hoodie with “NEW AVENGERZ” poorly stitched on. Alexei had been pretty upset that their new sparkling government approved superhero team didn’t have any proper merchandise (primarily due to Valentina’s ongoing legal battles against Sam Wilson and his Avengers team), so he had taken it upon himself to make his own designs.

“Rise and shine, Bob!” The Russian man shouted, throwing his arms out in greeting.

“What? Uh, what’s going on?” he stuttered, his eyes darting around his room to see if he left anything embarrassing out.

“Oh, you think we do not know? It is your birthday!” Alexei laughed, the sound booming throughout Bob’s room. “Come, come! We made food for you.” Bob was pulled from his bed quickly and he stumbled as Alexei attempted to drag him out of his room.

“Wait, can you give me just like five minutes, please?” Although he had woken up some time ago, he was still bleary-eyed and shaking off that deep sleep feeling. Alexei looked him up and down, taking in how Bob rubbed at his eyes and his hair stuck up in certain places. Alexei pouted, but let go of Bob’s hand nonetheless.

“Fine,” he sighed, smoothing his beard out, “but you will be timed.” Alexei pointed at him, wagging his finger. Finally, the older man left, neglecting to close the door.

Bob sighed, the tension in his frame loosening ever so slightly. Moving forward, he closed the door silently, turning the knob beforehand so the latch bolt would fall into place with no noise. It was a trick he learned early on in his childhood, when his father was drunk off his ass and even the sound of his door shutting normally would have his child-self punished for being too loud.

Bob physically shook himself from those thoughts and tried to keep the darkness at bay. The Void still whispered to him sometimes, but things had been going well while at the Watchtower. He had people who cared about him, really cared about him, and that was a new feeling. Of course, now his birthday had come around to tear that all down.

He frowned, trying not to focus on that pit that had started to form in his stomach the night prior. Throwing a glance at the shut door, Bob quickly dressed for the day, throwing on one of his soft sweatshirts and a pair of comfortable jeans. He was barely finished with brushing his teeth when someone knocked on his door and he hurried to open it, revealing Bucky on the other side.

“C’mon kid, pancakes are getting cold,” he said, urging him forward and toward the main kitchen.

Most of the others had chosen rooms on other floors, which wasn’t surprising, given that the Tower was huge and had more than enough rooms to house everyone comfortably. Bob had been the one to choose the–in comparison–small room on the floor with the full kitchen, citing how it soothed him to be able to wash dishes or bake something when things got rough in his head. Yelena had chosen the bedroom on the opposite side to his, and although she claimed it was because she wanted to make sure he was settling in well, he knew it was because someone needed to keep an eye on him…and them. The Sentry and The Void.

“You comin’?” Bucky’s voice startled Bob out of his thoughts. He absentmindedly rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed to be caught in his own head. Bob nodded and tried to steel himself for the day to come. “We tried to keep it as toned down as possible,” Bucky admitted, keeping his eyes forward. “Alexei wanted to go all out with confetti and sparklers, but that didn’t seem like something you’d enjoy. Yelena reigned him in.”

“Uh, thank you,” Bob whispered, surprised by the extra thought.

“Unfortunately, we couldn’t get him off of the idea of a birthday dinner at a certain restaurant. Sorry about that in advance.” Bob whipped his head over to stare at Bucky, trying to decipher what that could possibly mean, but he didn’t have the time to ask as they hallway opened up into the kitchen.

“Finally! You took forever!” Alexei cried, throwing his hands up in the air. He sat at the kitchen island, alongside Yelena and Ava. Walker was at the stove, flipping fresh pancakes onto a plate. Bucky slid past him and took a spot next to the others, but didn’t sit down. He nodded his head at the last empty seat between Yelena and Ava, and Bob reluctantly took the seat, pulling his sweater sleeves over his hands.

“Walker wouldn’t let us have any pancakes until you arrived,” Ava complained, making a face at the blond man.

“Happy birthday, Bob,” Yelena interjected, placing a hand on his shoulder. The upper corner of her lip twitched; not a full smile, but an expression that told him that she understood all the confusing thoughts that must be running through his brain.

“Happy birthday,” Ava mumbled, not used to celebrating such an occurrence, let alone for someone other than herself. There hadn’t exactly been birthday parties during her S.H.I.E.L.D. imprisonment.

John finally turned around and placed the stack of pancakes on the counter. He looked at Bob expectantly, his hands on his hips. “Well? Dig in.”

“Oh, uh, thanks, Walker,” Bob said, his smile twitching. He reached forward, releasing his sweatshirt sleeves and gently moved a pancake onto a separate plate. After he settled, it was an immediate battle between the rest of the team to grab their slices of pancakes. Ava took one, while Yelena, John, and Bucky took two. Alexei somehow ended up with five. Bob stifled a laugh, but when he looked down at his own plate, he somehow had two. He looked sideways and caught Yelena’s wink, before she dove back into her food.

“Wow, these are actually really good,” she mumbled, her mouth full.

“What do you mean ‘actually?’” Walker asked, looking offended.

“I just did not know you could make decent food is all. You look like the type of man who does not know how to cook.” The blonde woman defended, raising her hands up in mock surrender. Ava didn’t even attempt to hide her snicker.

“I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent cook, okay? Ever heard of ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ or whatever?” Walker’s face was going red with aggravation, a typical reaction when he talked with either of the women on the team.

“John, let it go,” Bucky sighed, cutting into his pancakes.

“I try to do something nice and this is the thanks I get!” he mumbled to himself, gathering his plate and morning protein shake. “See if I’ll make you anything for your birthday.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Walker. Don’t walk away.” It was too late, he had already made his way to the elevator and pressed the button to head back to his room. Walker waved off Yelena’s poor attempts to call him back. Ava laughed again. “Walk away. Get it.” She turned back to her pancake, ignoring John’s exit as he entered the elevator.

“Pah, party pooper,” Yelena mockingly spat. “He better be back for our dinner reservation.”

“What dinner reservation?” Bob piped up, finishing up one of his pancakes. His leg started bouncing at the idea of leaving the Tower and eating in public, especially if it was going to be somewhere fancy.

“Do not worry about it, Bob,” Yelena responded, waving her fork at him. “It is a surprise for the birthday boy.”

“So, that, um, actually does make me worry more,” he informed her, glancing at the rest of them.

“No, no, it is good surprise, birthday boy! We will have good, American birthday dinner,” Alexei shouted, pounding his fist to his chest.

“It’s not anywhere fancy, if that helps,” Ava cut in, finishing off her plate. “Alexei’s just discovered that some restaurants have fun themes, as well as celebratory desserts.” She rolled her eyes.

“They will sing you happy birthday and give you free food! I love America!”

“Yes, we got it, Dad,” Yelena snapped, sensing Bob’s growing anxiety. He pushed his remaining food around on his plate, his head down.

“Wow, this was a great breakfast, guys. Thank you,” he said, giving the four a forced smile. He rose from his seat and placed his plate in the sink, scurrying down the hall to his room before any of them could stop him. Ava and Bucky shared a look, both of them turning their gazes to Yelena. She felt their stares and stood, following behind Bob’s retreating form.

She caught up to him right as he was entering his room and shoved her foot in between so that he couldn’t run from this conversation.

“Ah, ah, let me in, Bob,” she called out, pushing her shoulder against the heavy door. Her body pitched forward, the pressure of Bob trying to keep the door closed suddenly gone. Her Widow training kept her upright and when she looked up she found him sitting on his bed, his elbows propping up his downturned head. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“I, uh, just don’t do well with my birthday, ya know?” he started, clenching his teeth. “It hasn’t exactly been the happiest time for me in the past and now everyone’s made a plan that involves going out and Alexei mentioned dessert and I know they have the waiters come sing for that and that just seems like so much, Yelena,” he rambled, his sentences never truly taking a pause.

“I understand, Bob, really. It’s not like we really celebrated birthdays for secret child assassins.” Bob winced, suddenly hyperaware of how whiny his problems seemed in comparison to someone like Yelena. “It’s okay,” she reassured him, kneeling down in front of the man. She grasped his hand and Bob let her, that point of contact like a lifeline for him. “Your experiences are just as…valid as any of ours.” Yelena hesitated on the word, the phrasing coming off as stilted and unnatural with her usual way of speaking.

“Bucky’s got you with his therapy speak, huh?” Bob laughed, the sound low.

Yelena gave a huff, blowing a loose strand of her blonde hair out of her face. “He’s so annoying, isn’t he? Telling us that ‘our emotions are valid’ and that ‘the only way to heal properly is to talk about what hurts us,’” she joked, her eyes alight with mock exasperation. Yelena quickly sobered up, bringing the conversation back on track. “A lot of us have never had much of a family to celebrate birthdays with before. I suppose we got kinda carried away with it.”

“No, it’s okay.” Bob rushed to reassure her, feeling guilty. They were trying to do something nice for him and what had he done? Complained and ran away? What a coward.

“I don’t say that to make you feel bad, Bob. I want you to know why we may have seemed to go so overboard.” She met his gaze, her own unfaltering. “We wanted to give you a good birthday, but that doesn’t have to include the dinner if you don’t want it. We can cancel the reservation and do something more relaxed instead.”

“Can I have some time to think about it?” he questioned, his voice small. On the one hand, he really didn’t want to deal with a public space and to become a spectacle while everyone sang Happy Birthday to him, as he awkwardly tried to smile through it. On the other hand, he wanted to try for his friends. They had shown him love and empathy when they didn’t need to. God knew he didn’t expect or deserve it after showing them their worst fears and deepest shame, yet they had stayed and helped him. Maybe this was a small step toward normal, for him and for everyone else.

“Of course! Here,” she spoke, holding out her hand for him to grab. He did so hesitantly, not exactly ready to leave the comfort of his room. “Would you like to join me on an errand to clear your head and then we can figure out afterward how you feel on the matter?”

“Yeah, that sounds doable.”

“Great, let’s go!” Yelena exclaimed, pulling him to his feet and dragging him out of the room.

“Wait, now?” he sputtered.

“No time like the present, Bob!” She marched off, their hands still intertwined. His cheeks flushed at the closeness, feeling how sturdy and warm her hand was in his. All Bob knew was that he didn’t want her to drop his hand, so he would let her drag him anywhere she wanted to take him.

~♦~

It turned out that Yelena’s errand was a trip to a small, family-owned bookstore a couple of blocks away from the Tower. The red brick storefront looked misplaced nestled between towering office buildings, but it made it all the more welcoming. A bell dinged, as Yelena pushed the door open, their hands still laced together tightly.

Halfway through the walk, Bob had realized just how sweaty his hand had become after holding on to the woman for dear life as she led him away from the Tower, yet Yelena had made no move to break the contact. She must not have noticed. (She was a former assassin prodigy, of course she noticed such an obvious thing. Bob just couldn’t rationalize as to why she had kept holding his hand.)

“Welcome in, can I help either of you find anything?” The older woman behind the counter asked. Her hair was greying and pulled back into a half-bun and she was dressed in a floral dress and a dark cardigan.

“No, thank you. We’re just browsing,” Yelena replied, scoping out the rest of the store. It was cramped; the kind of bookstore that barely left space for customers to walk through. Every available space was taken up by shelves filled with books and, although Bob should have felt claustrophobic at the tightness, the store emitted a homey vibe he had only experienced secondhand from television and movies.

Yelena pulled him forward toward the fiction section and only then did she drop his hand. With her back turned to him and scanning the shelves for familiar titles, Bob quickly wiped his palms against his jeans to get rid of the sweat.

“Do you have any suggestions, Bob?” she asked, turning her head to stare at him. He straightened under her gaze, once again flustered by her attention.

“Was there a certain genre you wanted to read?” he asked, starting to wrack his brain for books that fit her vibe.

“No, I’m not picky. What are your favorites?” she asked, crouching down to look at more titles.

“Well, when I was younger I really enjoyed books like Ready Player One or Red Rising. I’ve been reading more classics lately, though, like The Catcher and the Rye, The Outsiders, and Little Women,” he rambled, moving his hands enthusiastically. He was so engrossed in his recommendations that he didn’t notice the way Yelena gazed up at him, full of amusement and reverence.

“Hmm, maybe I’ll get one or two of those,” she murmured, rising to her feet.

“You could always borrow my copies, no need to buy your own. That way if you don’t like it, you can just give it back to me.” It was said softly, but Yelena could tell the words were loaded. Bob was worried that she wouldn’t like his recommendations, that by extension, she would like him less.

“Oh no, that’s okay,” she said, picking up a copy of Red Rising from the packed shelf and reading the synopsis. “I tend to get a little rough with my books. The only time I seem to have to read sometimes is in the bath and I like to scribble in the margins.”

“Sacrilege!” Bob joked, lightly gasping for an added effect. In a moment of vulnerability, a state he usually found himself in when he was alone with Yelena, he continued, “I used to be the same way, or well, I couldn’t really take care of the one or two books I had while I was on the streets.” he admitted, his voice just above a whisper near the end of his sentence. “Now, it’s really important to me that they’re kept in pristine condition, as like, a reminder that I’m not there anymore, that I’m better.” Bob’s eyes stayed on the floor, not quite prepared to see Yelena’s expression. Would she find it sweet that he cared for books? Would she find it sad? Maybe she’d find it pitiful and a reminder of how much of a loser he was.

“I get it,” she said, and the admittance had him snapping his gaze up to meet hers. “That’s why I kept Better John,” Yelena started, referencing the unofficial mascot of their team: her stolen guinea pig. “In the Red Room, caring for a helpless animal like him would have been seen as a weakness deserving of death. He’s a reminder that I’m free from them, and that I can still be human after everything they did to me.”

He had no response for that. Not because he didn’t want to apologize for the circumstances of her childhood, even though he had nothing to apologize for, but because she was so real. The world had tried to turn her into a cold, detached killer, yet here she was, bringing light to his and everyone else’s lives. He watched the afternoon sun shine through the storefront’s windows and cast its beautiful golden rays over Yelena. Her hair practically shone white in the light and the beams caressed her face the way that Bob sometimes wished he could. His observations must have only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough time for Yelena to tip her head to side and call out–

“Bob?” He blinked hard, trying to get his thoughts back on track. Talking about their bad childhoods was no time to fantasize about the woman, though there seemed to never be a time when she wasn’t constantly on his mind.

“Sorry, yeah.” He coughed into his hand to clear his throat. “Yeah, I get what you mean.”

“Good, good. C’mon, pick some books out.” They didn’t speak about it any further, just basked in each other’s presence. There were tiny comments made here and there about the books they picked off the shelves, but the time flew by as they explored every nook and cranny of the bookshop.

By the time they were done, Bob had picked up six new books to read during his downtime when the team was off on missions. Meanwhile, Yelena had only grabbed two, both from his suggestions. Bob placed his books down on the counter, sending a smile to the woman at the register.

“Find everything okay?” she asked. Yelena approached from behind him, placing her books on top of his.

“Yes, thank you. All these together, please.”

“What? Oh no, I can pay–” Bob started, patting his pants for his wallet, only to find that he no longer had it on him.

Yelena leaned in to him and whispered, “I took it from you before we even left the Tower, Bob. Consider it a birthday gift.” She left no room to argue, already handing her card over to the cashier. The woman behind the counter scanned their items and placed them in a bag, sliding it over to Bob with a wink.

“Never argue with your lady, young man. Happy birthday.” Bob went red at that, sputtering out a ‘thank you’ as he grabbed the bag of books. Yelena’s hand found the crook of his elbow and she led him out of the store back toward their home.

“That was fun.” Yelena smiled, lightly swinging their connected arms.

“That was quite the trick,” Bob mumbled, glancing at the books. Had he known she was going to pay for his books, he wouldn’t have gotten so many, which, he supposed, was the exact reason she had done it.

“Thank you.” She smirked, pleased that her plan had worked. “Have you given any more thought to the dinner?” she asked after a moment.

Bob slowed on the sidewalk, moving closer to the buildings so as to not get in anyone’s way. He had managed to forget what the rest of the day would entail, but now that anxiety swelled once more. In all honesty, all Bob wanted to do was go back to the Tower with Yelena, order takeout, and have a movie night with the team. It would be easy and there would be less chances for the Void to rear his ugly head, but that other voice in his head, Sentry’s voice chimed in. Do we not deserve a celebration?

That made him pause. He had lived so much of his life without a real birthday or Christmas or even Halloween. It had started because of his father, but even after he had left home, he couldn’t bring himself to find joy in those days.

“We really don’t have to, Bob,” Yelena piped up again. She was looking at him with those eyes, so soft and piercing. It was like she could see into his soul and she liked what she saw. It hardened his resolve.

“I want to try,” he said, his voice shaking.

“Really?” she asked, surprised.

“It’s just a birthday dinner, I can do this.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her.

“If it helps, we can always tell the staff that it's Alexei’s birthday or something. That way you don’t get sung at, but you still get the dessert!”

Bob smiled at reassurance, his anxiety dying down. “So, uh, where exactly are we going?”

Yelena side-eyed him and he could feel that whatever her answer was going to be, he wasn’t going to be thrilled. “Well…”

~♦~

Bob Reynolds could not believe that this was the restaurant his friends had chosen for his birthday dinner. Actually, that was a lie. He could believe that they would do this, he just couldn’t believe that he didn’t immediately back out once Yelena told him.

The Rainforest Cafe.

They had chosen the Rainforest Cafe for dinner; had even gone as far as to make a reservation for the jungle-themed restaurant.

He gazed up at the sign welcoming him into the restaurant and wondered how his life had come to this point. There was nothing inherently wrong with having dinner here, only that they were six grown adults with no children with them.

“Маленькая (Little One), come here! Come look at the alligator!” Alexei’s excited yell broke Bob out of his musings. Looking over, he watched the older man lean dangerously over the ledge to pet the animatronic alligator display, ignoring the clearly marked DO NOT TOUCH sign. Bucky and Ava watched from the sidelines, using the Red Guardian’s obstructive form as a challenge to see who could get their coin past and into the gator’s mouth.

It was quickly devolving into who could hit Alexei in the head without him noticing.

“Alright, we’re good to go,” Walker said with a clap of his hands, walking back from the host stand. Yelena pulled her dejected father away from the restaurant’s front animatronics and followed the animal prints on the floor toward the fish tank arch. The others followed and Bob tried to take in what he was seeing.

He had never been to a Rainforest Cafe before, and while he thought he understood the novelty of it, seeing it was a whole other story. The walls were covered in jungle wallpaper and plastered on vines. There were fake trees everywhere and a fake starry night projected onto the ceiling.

And there were animatronic animals everywhere. Snakes hanging from trees, tigers resting on rocks, and even a giant elephant shaking its head around. All in all, it was probably the most overstimulating restaurant he had ever been to.

They were led by the hostess to a half-circle booth in the corner of the room, away from prying eyes. He slid into the booth, ending up in the middle with Bucky and Ava on either side of him. Yelena sat last, having stopped to talk to the hostess about something that Bob couldn’t overhear.

“Isn’t this place great!” Alexei clapped, the sound echoing throughout the restaurant. Yelena thudded her head against the table in embarrassment. “Where else would you get these Chimi-Cha-Chas?” he asked, pointing down to the item listed on the menu.

“Yeah, I’m not calling it that when I order,” Walker said, blankly.

“But that is half the fun!” Alexei pouted.

“God, Valentina is never gonna let us go out in public for leisure again if you keep shouting like that,” Bucky sighed, rubbing at his temple.

“I can’t believe she let us go this time,” Bob chimed in.

“Oh, she didn’t. Valentina can kick rocks for all I care, though. She wasn’t going to stop us from our master plan,” Yelena admitted, picking at her nails without a care in the world. Bob always admired her for that, how she truly wasn’t afraid of Valentina or the power she held. She would risk a lecture from that woman, as long as it meant that the team could celebrate his birthday like normal people. Bob smiled to himself, honored by the small action. They all resumed their perusing of the menu, all mentions of Valentina and the New Avengers fading away. Right here and right now, they were just six individuals at a restaurant to celebrate, not save the world.

The dinner passed with little affair. Their waiter took their orders (Bob got the Rasta Pasta and fumbled over his words when he ordered, embarrassed at the phrase), and once the food came out, they were left to devour their meals in peace–save for the loud sizzling of Alexei’s fajita order. They even all splurged on the specialty drinks that promised they could keep their Rainforest Cafe™ glasses.

As the meal started to wind down, with leftovers ready to be boxed up and brought home for late night snacks, Bob felt he could breathe a sigh of relief. No one had made a big deal about his birthday during the dinner and he almost thought that his team had abandoned the notion of creating a fuss, that was until he looked up and saw their waiter walking toward them with a plate of chocolatey dessert.

He froze, suddenly wracked with anxiety and fear of this social situation. His eyes darted to Yelena, searching her face for reassurance. She gave it to him in spades, smiling in encouragement while also conveying that they were all here for him. Their waiter approached, glancing around before setting the plate in front of Bob.

“I hear it’s your birthday, but you wanted to keep it lowkey, so from Rainforest Cafe to you, happy happy birthday!” he said, singing the last part quietly, so only their table could hear. Bob flushed, mumbling his thanks at the gesture. Their waiter left, living up to his promise of not making it a big deal.

“I may have told the hostess that you wouldn’t like a showy celebration,” Yelena admitted, smiling ear to ear.

“‘Told?’ More like threatened that if they made a scene, you’d make them cry,” Walker mumbled, taking a swig from his tropical drink.

“Thanks guys,” Bob said, drawing their eyes back to him. His smile was watery, overwhelmed with the knowledge of how deep these people–strangers mere months ago–care and know him. They had taken him out of his comfort zone, yes, but only because they knew he needed to take the next step in his recovery. He needed to broaden his horizon outside of the Tower and this was the smallest step toward that direction.

“Of course, Bob. You’ve had a good birthday, right?” Ava asked, playing with a lock of her hair. It was a nervous habit she had when she couldn’t read other people’s emotions.

“The best I’ve had in a long time,” he agreed, taking in this new family he miraculously found himself surrounded by.

“Good, now eat your dessert, the ice cream is melting,” Bucky said, nodding his head at the drooping vanilla ice cream pooling at the base of the chocolate volcano dessert.

His musings were interrupted by the movement of your body next to him. You shifted again, moving yourself closer to him, mumbling something under your breath. Moonlight had peaked its way through his blinds, he realized. The slivers of light cast themselves onto the bed, illuminating your face.

“Mmm, Rhett?” you grumbled, cracking open one bleary eye. The first thing you noticed was that he was no longer lying beside you like he had been when you fell asleep. Instead, he had propped himself up in a sitting position against his pillows. The second thing you noticed was how Rhett flexed his hand slowly, using his left hand to apply pressure to the wrist.

“It’s okay, darlin’. Go back to bed,” he told you in a hushed tone.

“Is it the pain?” you asked, ignoring the last part. You lifted your head to stare at him, looking into his eyes. They shuttered and he released a sigh, dropping his head to his chest.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s uh,” He started with a laugh, the sound sardonic and wet with barely constrained emotions “it’s gonna rain today.”

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. You haven’t gotten any sleep, have you?” you questioned, rhetorically. The night before a thunderstorm was always a sleepless affair for Rhett, and more times than not, he would refuse to make a “fuss” out of it. He didn’t want to wake you up for a pain that couldn’t be fixed. Still, you would try. You moved your body to press against his, tucking your head underneath his chin and laid your palm flat on his chest. Softly, you moved your thumb back and forth on the bare skin. “Do you want me to go down to the kitchen and get the ice packs?”

“Nah, you know it won’t do much. Too much surface to cover,” he said it like a joke, but you knew it wasn’t. You made a face of discomfort, not at all happy with how he passed off his pain. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized, kissing the top of your head.

“I wish you Abbott boys had better coping skills,” you said with a sigh. You tried to look up at him from your position, but he dodged your gaze.

“You and everybody else,” he grunted, repositioning himself underneath you. His hip was being the biggest bitch out of all his sore spots. It felt like it was locked in place, like no matter how or which way he flexed it, his hip wouldn’t allow him to walk again. Once the storm passed, he’d be back to normal, or as normal as he usually was with the hand of life he was dealt, but the discomfort was clouding the logical part of his brain.

“Anythin’ I can do to help you?” you questioned, trying not to let the helplessness flood your tone. Your boyfriend, the man you loved with all your heart, was in pain and you could do nothing to stop it. This wasn’t something a bandage or a trip to the hospital could fix. He would always carry this pain with him.

“You being here is enough, darlin’. You take my mind off of it,” he admitted, cupping your chin with his hand to lift your head up to kiss your lips. You smiled into the kiss, feeling his morning stubble rub against your skin.

“Oh, is that so?” you teased.

“Mmm. You’re very distracting,” he growled. The sound went straight to your core. His hands gripped your shoulders, forcing you to twist your body up to follow his motions.

“Well, I can think of a few more ways to distract you.” With that, you carefully threw your leg over his body to straddle his lap, using his shoulders to steady you. Rhett let out a hiss as his hips subconsciously jerked upwards to meet you. “Shit, is it too much?” you asked, worryingly.

“Nothing’s too much when I’ve got you in my arms,” he muttered, placing his hands firmly on your waist. The warmth of his palms seeped into your skin, warming you from the frigidness of the room.

“Cheesy,” you mumbled, chasing his lips. This time, you caught Rhett’s chin and initiated the kiss. The groan he released into your mouth was one of pleasure, rather than pain. The noise filled you with pride. You kissed him slowly, letting your lips linger after each caress. He tasted like oranges and cheap beer, but you couldn’t get enough. If your boyfriend needed a distraction from the ache in his bones, you were more than willing to play your part.

You started slowly, grinding your pelvis down onto his clothed cock. You dragged the motion out, content to be in the moment with him. Your hand clasped the wooden headpost of the bed, shifting your weight. Rhett chased your lips, needy for the contact. You panted into his mouth, feeling his tongue slip into yours. You could taste his growing anticipation. You ground down again, pulling a strangled gasp from his lips.

“Fuck, baby, please…” he moaned, bringing one of his hands up to cup your face once more. You kissed the tip of his thumb, letting him push the digit past your lips and inside your wet, hot mouth. Looking up at Rhett through your lashes, you could see your boyfriend starting to fall apart.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” you cooed. “Just lay back. I’ll take good care of you.” Gently, you pushed his body back onto the pillows, letting one hand caress down his chest. Keeping balance against the frame, you arched your back to bring the two of you close and began trailing your lips against his neck. Rhett let out a needy groan, as you sucked bruising hickeys into the soft skin. You could feel the pulse of his veins beneath you, fast and excited.

His hands stayed firmly placed on your hips, rubbing circles into your skin. Rhett bucked his hips once more, and this time, the pain was not as severe. All he could focus on was the feeling of your body so close to his own.

And oh how you could feel his need pushing through the fabric of his boxers.

With practiced ease, you stripped off the oversized t-shirt you had stolen from Rhett when you first moved in and threw it to the floor. Your gaze never left his as you placed your hands over his own on your hips, slowly bringing them up to cup your breasts. Without a pause, Rhett began to knead the supple skin, letting the pads of his fingers graze over the sensitive buds of your nipples. A particularly hard pinch sent your head snapping back with a wanton moan.

Rhett replaced his fingers with his lips, repaying the favor that you had given to his neck. He swirled his tongue around one of your nipples, nipping at the pebbled skin. Your hands found purchase in his hair, as you rocked your hips back and forth in his lap. The moans you let escape were pitched, but you tried to keep the volume down. The last thing the two of you needed was for someone in the house to wake up and catch you in the act. Rhett’s kisses dipped, following the valley of your breasts and down your stomach. Before he could get close to the waistline of your soaked panties, you brought your finger to his chin and tilted his face up to look you in the eyes.

“Ah ah, sweetheart. This night is all about you, not me.” He opened his mouth to argue, but you had already snaked your other hand down to his underwear and palmed the growing bulge. He hissed, surprised with your actions. Roughly, you brought your lips to his again, biting at the swollen flesh. All the while, you walked your fingers over his clothed cock, edging closer and closer to the hem. The grip on your hips tightened, ecstasy starting to overtake Rhett.

Pleased with your teasing, you sat back on your heels and looked at the man before you. Sweat clung to his forehead, plastering his brown strands to his face. Rhett’s head had fallen back on the pillows, his elbows digging into the mattress so as to keep his upper half upright. He looked like a work of art; the only thing missing was his Stetson cowboy hat. Unfortunately, that accessory was over on the dresser and there was no way in hell you were putting a pause on this to go get it.

Repositioning yourself farther back on the bed, you dragged your hands down his chest, your nails scraping the sensitive skin. Finally, you gave him what he desired. Hooking your fingers into the waistline of his boxers, you pulled them down, painfully slow. Now visible, Rhett’s cock was weeping and red with neglect. You smirked up at him, proud of the reactions you could pull from him.

“Darlin’, I need you,” he gasped out. “Please.”

“I love when you beg.” Reaching out, you gripped his cock near the bottom and took him into your mouth. Immediately, his hands tangled themselves into your hair, pushing your mouth farther down his shaft. You moaned at the sudden movement, which only sent a shiver down Rhett’s spine at the vibration that rocked through his penis. Your hot breath felt like heaven. Slowly, you trailed your tongue up and down the shaft, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum. Flipping your hair to one side, you angled your head to take more of his length, panting at the growing emptiness in your cunt.

“Baby, baby! I’m not,” Rhett tried to choke out, gasping with another moan. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.” Continuing your movements, you hummed around him, sending a jolt throughout his body. You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock and quickly popped your mouth free.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” you asked your boyfriend, tilting your head as you looked up at him. He was breathless, taken off-guard by the sudden removal of your mouth. He moved to fist his cock, but you slapped his hand away and pinned it back to the bed. Pressing your knees hard into the bed, your hands pulled down your underwear, revealing the growing wet spot that had leaked from your pussy. Rhett was hypnotized, unable to look away as you stripped fully and sat back on his thighs. “You ready?” Rhett had never nodded so fast in his life.

You raised your hips, using your hand to guide his cock into you. You both moaned at the contact, the ache to be filled dissipating with every inch. God, it was so good and you were so wet. His cock met no resistance, the slick of your cum welcoming him in. Finally, you were fully seated with him inside you; home. You pitched forward, your forehead meeting his. You sighed, satisfied with the effort. Rhett laughed, the sound choked and lacking air, before his lips found yours again. At first, the kiss was fierce and powerful, but it steadily slowed and turned tender, the two of you happy to take your time.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought your face into his shoulder, feeling his hands wrap securely around your waist. He hadn't attempted to thrust up again, much more preferring to let you set the motion.

Finally catching your breath, your hips lifted in small movements, up and down. To an outside force, it might not have looked like motion at all, but the both of you could feel the subtle drag of your cunt moving on his length.

“I love you,” you moaned out, looking Rhett in the eyes. His eyes widened, lost in the thralls of pleasure, but you could see the way your words struck him. Bringing both your hands up to the sides of his face, you licked into his mouth. He reciprocated, pushing his tongue into your mouth. You let your hands drop down to his shoulder and began to massage the tense muscles beneath. It seemed like there were new knots every day he came home to you from working on the range. Rhett groaned at a particularly stubborn knot, the sound lost within your own mouth. All the while, you rode your cowboy nice and slow.

“Fuck, darlin’, love you so much,” Rhett said, his mind clearing enough for him to remember to return the words to you. “So good to me, you’re so good.” he said, the words like a prayer.

“You wanna cum, baby?” you asked, moving back to look at the man in front of you. Rhett Abbot was well and truly wrecked. His breathing was ragged, but the weight of the world had been stripped from his shoulders. Right here and right now, you were the only two people in the world. There was no Royale, or Perry, or fucking Tillerson’s to deal with. Just you and him. The thought made you smile.

“Yes, baby, yes,” he whimpered out, the sound adding to your building orgasm. Who knew that all you needed in life was a hot cowboy moaning beneath you? His confirmation made you pick up your speed, grinding down on his cock. You brought yourself up and down, each passing action more desperate than the last. That fire inside you was reaching its fever point, and based on the stuttering moans from Rhett, his orgasm was fast-approaching, too.

Softly, you swept your thumb across Rhett’s face, pleased with the blush that stained his cheeks. His eyes, which had been shut with the oncoming pleasure, snapped open to meet your gaze. The adoration and love in your eyes slammed into him like a truck and he found himself gripping you tight as his orgasm ripped through him. The jagged motion of his cock slamming into you brought you to your own orgasm, leaving you breathless and limp against him. You tried to blink away the stars in your vision; so overcome with passion that you felt like you’d never catch your breath again.

A minute passed by, the only sound in the room being the mingled pants and breaths of you and Rhett coming down from your highs. You had enough awareness to feel Rhett lift your hips and slip himself out from you, setting you back down on top of him. Your tiredness hit you immediately, and you barely had the energy to lift your head to look at him. Your mumbled thanks were met with Rhett’s hand smoothing out your sweat-slicked hair.

“Was that distracting enough?” you asked sleepily, your head comfortably resting on his naked chest. Idly, you traced his bull-riding tattoo and listened to the reverberations of his breathing.

Rhett kissed the top of your head, snuggling your body closer to his and pulled the top sheet over your naked bodies. “Amazingly so.” That throb in his bones had all but vanished, his body overloaded with love and satisfaction. Instead of suffering through the night in silence, you had taken his pain away and soothed his aches.

“Good, cause after that workout, I might be the one who needs those ice packs for my hips.” You laughed, Rhett joining in.

“You obviously haven't seen him in his cowboy boots and Stetson, then,” you said teasingly from behind. Natasha turned to look at you, taking in your form. You certainly blended in with the crowd of the bar; wearing jean shorts that clung to your body and a crop top that showed just enough cleavage. Your feet were adorned with cowboy boots, worn in and sturdy, and on your head was your own cowboy hat.

“Y/N!” Bob shouted, pulling you into a hug. You returned it with just as much ferocity. You hadn't seen your brother in several months, not since before he left to join the mission at Top Gun. Your family had worried endlessly about his safety when they learned it was a classified mission that only the top pilots were invited to compete for, but he had made it back alive, and that's all that mattered.

“Missed you too, Bobby.” You laughed, pulling back from him. “Now, you must be Phoenix.” You grinned, looking the woman up and down. She was beautiful, with sleek brown hair that fell to her shoulders and warm brown eyes. “Bobby's told me a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” she said, extending her hand for you to shake. Her grip was firm, and you could feel the same calluses that your brother had on his hands.

“Oh this and that. It's nice knowing that my brother has someone as reliable as you to watch his back in the air and on the ground,” you admitted, looking her in the eyes. Phoenix seemed taken aback with your honesty, her eyes darting to Bob for reassurance.

At his nod, she responded, “I do what I can. He does the same for me.” Your eyes twinkled at that, pleased.

“I'm gonna get us a round, let you two get to know each other!” Bob exclaimed, heading off to the bar before either of you could object or offer to go in his stead. You blew out a breath and shook your head with a smile, your hair falling into your face.

You weren't what Natasha was expecting. Bob's stories of you had made you out to be a firecracker of a woman, picking fights with men twice your size and never letting anyone tell you what to do. Yet, she could immediately see the softness in you in the way you silently thanked her for being there for your brother. Your eyes, which had previously shined with cockiness, had softened when you gazed at Natasha.

“I told him the first couple rounds were on me, since I chose the bar,” you said, taking your seat across from Natasha at the high top.

“Oh, Bob made it sound like it was his idea to come here, said he didn't want to overwhelm you with our typical bar.” And by “overwhelm”, she meant meet Jake “Hangman” Seresin. You were an attractive woman and being Bob's little sister wouldn't stop him from trying to flirt with you.

You scratched your neck, a little embarrassed. “I mean, he suggested we go somewhere more my style, but I chose Moonshine Flats.” Your eyes strayed from Phoenix to something behind her. Natasha angled her head to catch what you were staring at, but all she could see was a crowd of rowdy people surrounding something. “And that would be why.” Cheers rose from the crowd, as they parted to let someone through from the inside of the circle. There, in the middle, was a mechanical bull.

“Woah, no way!” Phoenix laughed, the sound escaping her before she could stop it. “You ride?”

“Y/N over here used to swindle men out of their money by betting that she could stay on longer than them.” And there was Bob, swinging his arm around your shoulder and clutching three bottles in his hands. He placed them down on the table and sat next to you, smiling innocently.

“Bob!” You scolded, trying to hide your blush. You weren’t necessarily embarrassed by your exploits, more like proud of them, but there was no reason for your big brother to air your business like that in front of his squadmate.

“What? It’s not my fault that they didn’t recognize an Elite Lady Bull Rider. A champion, no less.” Bob smiled, shooting his hand out to mess with your hair. You dodged his attempts, pushing back against him and almost knocking him off his chair. The sound of Natasha’s laugh broke the two of you from your play fight.

“Well, didn’t know I was in the company of royalty.” Natasha nodded her head at you, rolling her hand in a mock bow. You playfully rolled your eyes and took a gulp of your beer, letting the bitter taste wash over your taste buds.

“Why don’t you show her how you ride!” Bob exclaimed, his smile wide. You shot him a quizzical look, but his eyes refused to meet yours. Was he trying to…set you up with his pilot? Was that what this was, Bob leaving the two of you alone, talking you up, and bringing up how you “ride"? Sure, when he had shown you a photo of him and Phoenix together before their mission, you had made a comment about how pretty she was, and sure, it had been awhile since you’d pursued anyone romantically, but your older brother’s squadmate? What a cliche. Then again, Natasha “Phoenix” Trace was exactly your type, and you wouldn't mind seeing her out of those civvies. Bob snapped you out of your thoughts with a well-directed elbow to the ribs.

“Ow, dick!” You glared at him. He looked back at you, his eyebrows raised in expectation as he looked between you and Natasha. Fine, if he wanted you to show Natasha what you could do, you absolutely would. “Keep your eyes on me.” You winked at her, hopping down from your chair. Natasha raised her beer in agreement, taking a swig to hide her own blush.

You sauntered over to the mechanical bull, pushing your way to the front. There were cheers from the crowd, ready to see another person try their hand at staying on the beast. Even if the bull was fake, this was your element. Your confidence surged and you walked into the ring, easily pulling yourself on to the bull and positioned yourself correctly. Your hand immediately gripped the bull rope, getting a feel for the less than standard material.

“You ready, little lady?” The operator asked, standing near the front of the bull. He held a full beer in one hand, and it gave you a wicked idea. Before he could stop you, you had plucked the cup from his hand and began downing the alcohol. Around you, cheers and shouts rang out, along with chants to “Chug!” You finished the beer, handing the cup back to the stunned man.

“Now I am!” you shouted, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’ll pay you back once I’m done,” you assured him. He gave a short nod and headed out of the ring to start the bull up. You adjusted your grip on the rope and clenched your thighs, preparing for the erratic movements of the mount beneath you.

From your position, you had a clear view of Bob and Natasha. The lights of the bar hit Natasha in such a way that made her glow, and although it was dark, you could still make out her radiant smile as she watched you. Next to her, Bob looked extremely smug, as if he had planned all of this and had known exactly what you’d do. Inwardly, you rolled your eyes. Of course he’d play wingman.

A countdown began throughout the crowd, all enthusiastically shouting “3…2…1!” Then, the mechanical bull started up, the unnatural jerking motions trying to buck you off. With one hand on the bull rope and the other holding your cowboy hat in place, you allowed your body to feel the movements. The bull rose and fell intermittently, shaking side from side and twisting around. The seconds ticked by, but through it all, you kept your grip tight and moved fluidly with the motions. You could hear the rally of encouragement from the pack of drunk spectators, but your focus was purely on Natasha. She gazed at you with such a reverence that it made you feel hot under the collar.

With a particularly nasty spin, the mechanical bull attempted to buck you off by jerking you side to side and then dropping down low to throw you off balance. Your hips lifted, but your thighs stayed squeezed to the sides of the faux leather of the bull. Compared to the ferocity and dangerousness of a real bull, this was a breeze. You let out a whoop and arched your back, keeping your hat on tight. You looked wild and free, unburdened by the obstacles of life.

Natasha had never seen someone so beautiful.

The bull began to slow; your time up. It eased down, allowing you to swing your leg over and slip off the side. More cheers met your ears, but you were a woman on a mission. You left the ring, politely waving off the few men who tried to approach you with offers of buying you a drink. Instead, you strutted your way back to your table, stopping right before Natasha.

“Wow, that was amazing!” she complimented, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. It wasn’t done in a shy manner, more like she wanted to see you fully.

“Well, I ain’t no country boy quitter.” You winked, tipping your hat at her. Off to the side, Bob scoffed, amused by your method of flirting. “What can I say, I love to ride cowgirl.” Reaching past Natasha, you grabbed your forgotten beer and took a healthy sip.

“Okay, and that’s my cue to leave,” Bob interjected, getting up from his seat. You stuck your tongue out at him, which he returned with his own funny face. He threw a couple of bills down onto the table and hugged the both of you. “You,” He pointed at you, “keep it in your pants until you're in private. And you,” He pointed at Phoenix, “treat her right, but please for the love of God, don’t tell me anything. I’m still her big brother.” With Bob’s explicit approval, Natasha gave a mock salute, her grin wide.

“Yeah, yeah, love you too.” You began pushing him away, eager to get Natasha alone. “See you tomorrow.” Your eyes darted to Natasha’s, looking her up and down, your smile coy. “Although, probably not until the evening.”

“La la la, not listening!” Bob said loudly, putting his fingers in his ears. “Don’t make me regret this,” he called out, finally taking his leave. The two of you watched him go, suddenly aware that you were now alone together, the loudness of the packed bar falling away.

“So…you got a hotel room, right? Natasha asked, her eyes darting to your lips.

“Mmm, absolutely I do,” you assured, taking her hand to help her down from the tall chair. The action positioned you two close, so close that your breaths mingled.

“Good, that’s good,” she whispered, the sound only for you. “Can I kiss you?”

You let out a laugh, the sound light and amazed. Without another word, you brought your lips to hers. It was like someone had set off fireworks, and from the surprised moan Natasha let out, you knew she felt the same. Her lips were soft and tasted like cherry chapstick, and you found yourself licking your own lips when you pulled back from the kiss, if only to savor that flavor a few seconds more.

“Wanna get outta here?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“Lead the way.” Natasha smirked at you, holding your hand tight.

“Oh, I will.” You smiled back, leading her out of the bar.