Agent Whiskey x f reader (code name: Agent Sherry)
Words: 812 | Credit to GIF makers | link to NEW taglist form below
Warnings: angst, revenge, mention of a death, blood, and a weapon, some fluffy moments sprinkled in
Prompts: “ I haven't seen you in days'' + “”Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?”
You expected it to feel better than this. The brief fleeting moment of unmeasurable joy quickly dropped, transforming to something else; something heavy. Putting the key in the lock, you turn the door, noticing right away the light is already on in your apartment.
You quickly reach for your gun and hold it in position as you cautiously step into the house.
“No need for that now, it’s just me.”
The familiar voice and thick accent meet your ears, causing you to lower the gun. Adrenaline is still pumping in your veins as you close the door behind you. It's in the living room where you find him, sitting on your couch with his famous hat on the coffee table.
“How’d you get a key?” You ask as you reholster the gun.
Whiskey sits up, “I haven't seen you in days'' His tone is serious, his eyes filled with worry.
“I had something to take care of,” you sat across from him on the other couch. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Agent Sherry, you can’t just go disappearing’ like that.”
“I don’t care what Champ has to say about it -”
He interrupts you, more passion evident in his voice, “ forget Champ, it's not about that. You have people who care about you!” His voice rises then falls, “I care about you.”
His confession makes you pause, words fail to come to your lips. Your feelings about Whiskey were complicated to say the least and you figured the best thing to do was store them away. Though his words land in your heart and spark a joy in your gut, you can’t help but feel distracted.
Your hands were clean, but you could still feel the blood on them. You stand by what you did and don’t feel bad for the asshole, this heaviness was something else, something deeper and you were feeling far from romantic right now. Of all the times Whiskey could have said something, this was not ideal. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in.
You hear Whiskey stand and walk over to where you are. He sits beside you. Suddenly, everything you’ve been holding down rushes to the surface. You break down, unable to repress it anymore.
Acting quickly, Whiskey gently wraps his arm around your shoulder and touches your cheek with his free hand.
“Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?”
You sniffle and open your eyes, observing him through the tears.
“I know all too well the call of revenge. Seductive, consuming, satisfying. But it never lasts, sometimes, it feels worse after.”
You don’t even question how he knows. You kept a level of privacy with everyone at work, and were not prone to announcing your plans. But you learned over the last year Whiskey was more intuitive than people gave him credit for.
He continues, his eyes steady on yours, “Avenging the death of your partner, your teammate is an honorable thing. Now, you just have to learn to move past this, the sour feeling,” he touches his own chest, “if not, it will consume you.”
Sobbing, you lower your head. When you joined the Statesmen you didn't expect to meet your best friend, Agent Rye was like the big brother you never had. You were paired up, he was your mentor and you both quickly became family. Whiskey was already there when you arrived and knew Rye well. His death was widely felt by many at headquarters.
You nod slowly, taking in his words. In the last three months since Rye’s death all you've felt was anger, rage, and loneliness. You’ve felt this way for so long, you didn’t know if you could feel better. But something in Whiskey's words, and presence, feel refreshing. Like a little dose of hope rubs off on you.
You wipe your tears and look at Whiskey, “Jack?”
His eyes go wide with surprise, you always call him Whiskey. “Yes?”
“Thank you.” You smile warmly and sink back into the couch. Jack stays still, paying close attention to you. Letting your eyes fall closed, you rest a hand on the couch between your bodies. The other on your thigh. “Remind me to get an answer out of you about the key,” you pause and listen to his amused chuckle, “and another thing,”
You open your eyes and look at him. He briefly looks down, noticing when you turn your hand palm side up. He hesitates a moment then places his hand in yours.
“I care about you too,” you confess. The relief washing over his expression is enough to make you smile, “ let's have a re-do when I don't feel like shit.”
“It's a date.” He nods and claps his hand over yours. Whiskey brings his lips to the back of your hand and plants a kiss there. “Should I go?”
“No, stay. Can we just sit here like this for a while?”
“Absolutely.” He replies.
You close your eyes again and rest your head against the couch. Whiskey, still holding your hand, does the same.
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