#cod mw2 oc

During a NATO intelligence exchange, Aura’s team discovered an interesting overlap between Eastern European traffickers and Mexican cartels expanding through the Balkans. Seeing it was all connected to the Las Almas cartel, Aura was temporary deployment to Mexico as part of a joint task force with Los Vaqueros. Here, she collaborated with Alejandro and Rodolfo mainly, and also realized the cartel had taken her younger brother as part of a twisted vendetta.

Rareș was tortured, abused, and used as leverage in order to bend Aura, but was released and therefore extracted several weeks later and sent to the nearest hospital. The cartel wasn’t done yet, and in an attempt to get both siblings killed, sent a deadly attack on the local hospital of Las Almas to which Los Vaqueros helped to defend impeccably.

Alejandro, seeing the potential in Rareș, requested his continued attachment to Los Vaqueros, took the role of mentor, ensured his recovery, while appointing Rudy to monitor Rareș’ progress in rehab. Aura would go back to Bucharest alone by Alejandro’s request, only allowed to communicate with her brother through the institution’s means.

»»-------¤-------««

I woke up to the sight of my ceiling fan – heavy eyes blurring my vision as well as clogged sinuses. Last night's events were vague in my memory, but I couldn't help but notice the lingering smell of Simon's cologne that I remembered from last night – it was insanely attractive, and I had to fight every cell in my body to keep my lingering eyes less obvious because he was certainly different outside of his uniform.

Although I can't deny that I would let this man do whatever he pleased with me in my bed, I sincerely hoped that it didn't happen last night. I at least would want to remember it if that was the case, or maybe not – because it would definitely make it awkward between us when we'd return back to Alejandro's base.

Standing to my aching feet, I couldn't help but be drawn to the lingering smell of fresh coffee. This was mine and Simon's usual routine at this point, either having a cup of coffee (or whiskey) at a table together, having mindless chatter about random things just to keep the silence at a minimum, but since he agreed to come back with me, our conversations between each other were slowly turning into little sneak peeks into the other's mind. Though our conversations weren't as deep, I felt like I had peeled enough of him back to know that he was emotionally unavailable because he couldn't find resolve within himself, and that was okay, because I was the same way except the only difference was that I was more vocal about it than he seemed to be.

Throwing my hair into a loose bun, I rubbed my eyes again as my bare feet traced along the wood floor that led into the kitchen, and a smile couldn't help spreading across my face.

Simon left coffee for me, the pot still on the warmer plate with thin sheets of steam surrounding it, a clean mug set alongside it, and I chuckled when I realized that he had found my favorite mug, though I knew it was likely a coincidence. When I noticed a small note written on a piece of scrap paper, I couldn't help but smile.

Gotta love this man's sense of humor... 

I took a test sip before deeming it perfect after I added ice and creamer, looking to my left to see the curtain that covered the back patio's sliding glass door was pulled open, and I knew that it was likely to find Simon there. He didn't say it, but I could tell that he liked to sit in isolation in the morning, seeming to just stare into space when I had a feeling that he was continuing to fight a battle within himself.

I stood and watched him for a few moments, wondering what he could be thinking about. Was he uncomfortable here? Did he regret agreeing to come with me for leave? Did he get too drunk last night, too?

It was when I saw a cloud of smoke shoot out from his nostrils before I realized that I had gotten more drunk than I had thought, because I never let my vape pen out of my sight.

He had to have taken it from me at some point, and I knew it wasn't because he was craving nicotine, then I remembered that he told me recently that he smokes when he's anxious. 

He didn't smoke once when we were deployed, and suddenly he smoked when he wasn't getting shot at?

"I see how it is," I scoffed playfully, watching that handsome face of his turning towards my voice, his strong jaw relaxing. "Guess you were anxious last night if you resorted to wanting a hit of fruity nicotine." I poked.

He smirked, shrugging his shoulders, those straight white teeth complementing his naturally tan complexion. How was this man so gorgeous for no fucking reason? Maybe that's why he covers his face when on duty...

"No, I cut you off because you were sucking on it like a pacifier. Can't blame you, though. Tastes good."

"Cactus Gummy Worm is my favorite flavor," I shrugged, the familiar taste making my tongue twitch at the thought. I knew it was bad for me, but apparently, so was everything else. My father preached that soda was bad for me, yet he drinks one in the morning, afternoon, and dinner with nine glasses of sweet tea in between, yet he's as lean as an athlete. He also said that drinking was bad for me, yet he drinks it before he goes to bed. He says that sugar is bad for me, but he has a whole pile of candy at his bedside because "if I don't have it, I go in knots," yet when I'd ask him if he's diabetic, his stubborn ass just says, "don't think so, and I don't give a shit." He says that the military was no place for a woman, yet he knew I could do it when I told him I enlisted.

The only thing I guess he was right about was when he said drinking coffee before hitting puberty would stun my growth, and I believe it, because I'm only five-foot-three and in my early thirty's.

"What?" He cocked his brow at me.

"That's the flavor of the juice that I put in it, Simon. And don't you look at me funny because I wasn't the one who named it."

He breathed a laugh at me, and I wondered if he knew just how attractive he was... for doing nothing at all! He had me squeezing my thighs together just by a look, yet I was too scared to make my attraction to him obvious because the last thing I wanted was to be rejected. It hurts and being rejected by a man like him would crush me, yet I couldn't understand why because we haven't known each other long at all.

My breath hitched when I watched him exhale through his mouth and inhale at the same time back through his nose. He did it so effortlessly, and I knew he had smoked a lot in the past or does occasionally, because it's very hard to do what's called a French Waterfall.

"Probably a good thing that you didn't have the responsibility for naming it. Could be much worse," He teased, his smirk quickly falling when I was completely oblivious to his pestering because I was too busy trying not to make it obvious. "I'm just messing with you, love. Here." He said, offering it back to me.

"You can have it," I waved him off. "I have a disposable one somewhere—"

"No, it's yours. I tucked it in my pocket when I took it away from you last night. Must've fallen asleep with it there."

I sighed before taking it from his hand, my finger gliding across the rough skin of his index finger, its warmth making me crave his body against mine, and I could smell the fabric of his jeans against my SMOK, the detergent mixed with his natural musk and cologne driving my senses wild.

My period must be coming up or something. 

I need to be spayed because this is ridiculous. This man handed me back my SMOK and I'm horny because my finger grazed his and I can smell him on it. Jesus!

"Simon, did we—" The words flowed out of my lips like vomit – I couldn't stop the invasive question as it was the first thing I thought of when I could smell his lingering scent on my pillow... in my bed, knowing that he had a room of his own. I needed to know.

"No," He shook his head, seeming like he knew what I was thinking before I even spoke. "I wouldn't do something like that."

"What? Never have sex?" I giggled, desperate to hide my embarrassment for asking something stupid, though the thought was nice. Obviously, because I do remember the way he guarded my purse and drink last night, tending to me in such a natural way that wanted me to have his children – to bring more men like him into the world, because every lady deserves to have a man be so naturally protective around her, even if they were friends or not. Regardless if women like me were strong and independent, I still craved to embrace my feminine energy instead of being used to operating in a masculine mindset all of the time – always worrying about my own safety as well as other women, always putting up a strong front to prevent asshole men from taking advantage of me, or being talked to like I was a dog from some men I encounter. Being around Simon was refreshing because not once did I have to feel like I needed to put up a strong front around him. He seemed to see me for who I really was, his gestures were gentle and supportive. Hell, even when he had to restrain me from instigating Soap, he was gentle with his grasp, yet firm.

"No," He corrected. "I respect you too much to let something like that happen. You were drunk. Threw up everywhere in the bathroom and you asked me to sleep next to you, so I did."

"Oh... I-I'm sorry, Simon. I know that was probably way out of your comfort zone."

"Love, if I have to be honest, I've been out of my comfort zone since I got on that plane,"

Oh, God. I knew he was regretting his decision.

I felt his eyes on me, like he was studying my reaction to his words before he continued, "But that doesn't mean I haven't enjoyed it."

"Really?"

"If I didn't mean it, I wouldn't have said it, love," He arched his brow at me, his tone serious, yet soft. "I don't mind coming out of my comfort zone once in a while."

"I'm the same way, I guess."

"You get comfortable around new people too quickly, love. That's the difference between you and me."

His words made me take an anxious inhale from my SMOK, mentally preparing myself for any rejection I felt like I was about to get. "Can you elaborate?..."

"You were comfortable with inviting me, a literal stranger, to your home for holiday. You let me stay in your house and got drunk enough last night that anything could've happened if I had ill intentions. If the roles were reversed, I would've never invited you in the first place, because I've learned a long time ago that choices have consequences, and I don't like letting my guard down to let someone in because every time I do, someone gets hurt, and not from me." He frowned. Yep, I knew it. I went too far already by getting drunk and making him feel obligated into taking care of me. Fuck, I'm so stupid.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"Because I feel stupid now that you elaborated." I sighed, taking a seat in the open chair a few feet away from him. The air felt thin around us, although it was probably just me feeling like this.

"You shouldn't. I'm just saying that you and I are completely different when it comes to what you call a comfort zone."

"And you call it a boundary?"

He shrugged, "I guess you could call it that."

I didn't respond. Instead, I took another sip from my mug and crossed my leg over the opposite, my SMOK tucked between my mug and index finger, eager to take another drag in desperate hope of easing my anxiety. My stare on the landscape in front of me was intense, yet I could feel him looking at me, could feel the wood beneath me vibrating from the weight of his heel tapping the patio below him. It seemed like he was anxious, too, except he was probably feeling awkward instead of the same way I was feeling.

I felt his eyes on me for a few moments, finally saying something when it felt unbearable, "Take a picture. It might last longer."

I waited for him to be offended by my sudden remark, but he gave it right back. "I will when I get the chance. Might even wait until I catch you eating or sleeping with your mouth wide open like it was this morning. Surprised you didn't catch a fly."

"What goes around, comes around." I scoffed, glaring at him in a hateful way, but I quickly changed my attitude when I realized that he was purposely poking at me judging by that handsome smirk on his face. Those brown eyes of his were locked onto me, and I couldn't help but feel like I was embarrassed of myself. What could he be looking at with so much interest?! What is he seeing that makes his gestures soften around me?

"I'm the wrong one to engage in a prank war, love," He warned playfully, yet I didn't believe him. "Don't start a battle when you know you can't win the war."

"Yeah, you Brits said that when they tried to take over the Colonies, too. You see what happened there, huh?" I scoffed, teasing him.

"Wasn't there when that happened," He shrugged. "And before you make a joke about it, I wasn't there when the tea was dumped in the Boston Harbor, either."

"I know better than to joke about tea with a British man."

"I'm so glad you have common sense." He smirked.

"Surprised you know what that is, because it's mainly us women that have common sense."

He shrugged, "You'd be surprised. Met a lot of women that didn't have a thought behind those eyes of theirs. A good portion were military women, too."

"Must've been recruits, then."

"None of them were."

"Mhm."

"What's with the cold shoulder all of a sudden?" He chuckled at me.

"Just because my shoulders are cold, doesn't mean I'm giving you a cold shoulder, Simon."

"Can't handle a little playful banter, love? Thought you were tougher than that."

"I don't think you can handle a little playful banter."

"Sure, I can."

"Really? Because you could've killed me with that glare as soon as I said a joke about tea."

"I don't recall that. You're the one who got hostile, love." He teased.

"Just like you Brits, rewriting history." I rolled my eyes at him, watching him click his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"Don't make me get my musket."

I laughed, "I've seen you shoot – I'm not scared of that."

"I've seen you shoot, too. Alejandro was right when he said you're one he worries about a lot because you get shot at more often."

"I can't fucking stand you!" I laughed with him.

"You can't. That's why you're sitting down, love. Keep running that bass mouth of yours, yeah?"

"I'll go and jump in the lake with my bass mouth, then."

"I wouldn't advise that, love. It's too cold for that. Wait until summer before you do that."

"I just might."

"Don't jump in, though. Might hurt your leg again."

I scoffed and shook my head, the pair of us sharing a laugh.