#flag x reader

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝟒:𝟐𝟓 𝐀𝐌 when Rick tucked his phone into his pant pocket as he descended the stairway, twenty minutes early to his departure time. He had woken from his two hour sleep - nap - with a deeply heavy mixed feeling hovering over his back and tucked within the depth of his stomach. There were tangles of emotions: dread, eagerness, longing, excitement, sadness, yet the majority of the negativity he felt had been doused with the positive feeling of waiting and already, his day was off to the perfect start. This, leading Task Force X once again into line of battle, finally, he was back to feeling as if his duty was valuable and meaningful.

His spirits were high from the minute he fell asleep the night prior, (granted, he had fallen asleep much later than he planned, however, he was in no way, shape, or form going to turn down your affection - especially when there was no telling of when he’d be back home and embraced by your endless love and touch) to the morning he woke right beside you. He had been wide awake, breezily hoisting himself off the bed with a press of his lips to your temple before stumbling into the bathroom to begin his morning routine.

For you, it had been four hours too early to be awake, yet to Rick’s surprise, when he exited the bathroom with his towel around his waist, he found your spot on the bed empty and cold. His assumption had been that you tiredly pulled yourself out of the warm covers to take your dog out bright and early. Instead, his nostrils were flared with the overwhelming scent of eggs and vegetables. 

It was a sight for sore eyes, after all, you and cooking in the kitchen did not mix without the exception of pasta and salad being our main and only niches. Rick stood in the wide open doorframe, watching in gleam and admiration as you waddled around the kitchen in mix-matched slipper socks and his big t-shirt as you went back and forth between flipping the food atop of the stove and glancing at your phone screen.

Quietly he walked to your back, his left hand resting atop of your hip while his right slid underneath your shirt, palming your bare lower abdomen. His fingers traced your skin and he pressed a closed mouth kiss to your cheek before resting his chin atop of your shoulder. 

Your body gave way to the warmth of his frame and hands encasing you to his front and as if you were a magnet finding its home, you automatically leaned backwards into his embrace. His fingers danced across your stomach while his lips once against pressed to your cheek before lingering to your earlobe. Humming, you bit your bottom lip in a soft smile, your eyes completely and desperately training to the pan. 

“You’re awake early,” he noted, his voice muffled against your skin, sending waves of satisfying vibrations into your eardrum and down your spine. Rick’s arms tightened around your lower frame, hugging you as his eyes darted from the dimpled grin upon your lips to the spatula in your left hand. “Do you recall the night we went to the beach and ate at that raggedy diner three years ago?”

Rick’s brow arched and he nodded in remembrance. 

It had been your first non-official-official date. If one would even call it that considering you were barely friends that occasionally tolerated the other in a day and found solace together at night. Your eyes met his before glancing back down to the pan, flipping the egg. “Veggie, ham, and cheese omelette,” you stated, “you said it was decent but nothing, nothing, could top your moms…”

He watched the way your tongue lightly poked through the corner of the left side of your mouth in concentration when you lifted the omelet from the pan and carefully placed it on a plate, and couldn’t help his own toothy grin from widening. 

“It was the only food that would calm your nerves, make you happy, less anxious when you were young,” you spoke and slid from his grasp, “it was always a great day when you had it with a side of sourdough,” you casually glanced at the toaster to your right, “and hashbrowns..” before opening the fridge and pulling out a liter, “and apple juice,” you finished, placing it atop of the kitchen table.

Rick’s eyes were soft, lips parted, his body was relaxed yet he felt intense fire with each beat of his heart as he stared at you in sudden disbelief and awe. Silence - a loss of words due to immense over-sensed of emotions - was a rarity for him, and all he could do was tightly grasp your cheeks and deeply press his lips against yours. Your hands found home around his back and you lightly moaned into his lips, the corners of yours twitching upward to match his heartfelt warm expression.

Your hands slid from his neck to his chest, tapping your palms against his pecs, “don’t worry,” your eyes glimmered, “I had breakfast with your mom three times last week just so she could teach me and ensure I could get it right and make it taste good.”

Rick’s thumbs lingered upon the apples of your cheeks as his green eyes burned into yours. You subtly bit your bottom lip and you rushed, giving away a slight nerve to your tone as he had yet to vocally respond. 

“It’s going to be a great day,” you stated with a slight prideful nod, “this is your day and you’re going to do a damn good job finding this starfish thing and beat the shit out of god knows what and once again, restore the world to homeostasis.” Your teeth had been molded in a tight forceful grin that Rick had been completely aware of from the second you grounded your molars. 

There was fault within your voice, a soft and slight croak where you not only were providing words of assurance to him, but also to yourself. If there was one thing you admired most about him, it was his dedication and perseverance towards his work, the look upon his face when opening a manila folder of a new mission, the way his veins throbbed and eyes lit up in eagerness to be leading, and the look of pure solace and yearning when he returned home to you. 

However, admiring him for his constant need to protect humanity had not made separation and fear any better. You were his full number one support system and you did all you could to hide the fact that deep down your fear was to receive a letter or phone call from his boss that he wouldn’t be coming home. While you mumbled positive words of affirmation, kneading the words I love you into his thick skull in case it were the last, you silently begged for him to stay.

This breakfast wasn’t just for him, it was one last moment you needed, the reassurance you needed - just in case - and Rick knew that. You didn’t have to say a word, he could read your body language and the look within your eye. There had been no spark like normal but a constant dark pool swirling your irises, a color and sensation of desperation and hopeful yearning.

“I just wanted to make sure it was off to a perfect start,” you muttered, your voice heightening of confidence and pride. Rick’s thumbs caressed the side of your face, the pads of his fingers drifting from your cheeks to your jaw, then mindlessly hovering back and forth across your lips. “It’s perfect,” he said softly, pressing his lips to yours, “thank you.”

“Flag, coming from the south!” he heard you through the radio, your voice almost muffled by the chaos around him.

He shot a quick look at that direction, but he couldn't order soldiers to stop shooting there, they would all be overtaken in a flash. The monsters just kept coming, no matter how much they tried to keep them away…

A body crashed into him, sending him to the ground with a hard thump. Flag's head hit the ground hard enough to make the stars visible despite it being mid day.

Dripping red teeth opened to bite his face off.

Hot blood splashed on his face as the head was cut off right before that. Flag pushed the convulsing body off of him, immediately getting up and reaching for his gun, adrenaline making images flash before his eyes.

You suddenly appeared in front of him, turning his face to look you straight in the eyes.

“Shoot me and I'll shove that gun up your ass,” you promised before jumping to the right, where Deadshot was putting one mag after another in a creature that wouldn't stop crawling to him.

You slash your hand, smudging your blood over the blade before killing the creature. You didn't stop to watch it. Diving between the soldiers, you run to the creatures in the fog cutting, dodging and whirling around, trying your best not to get surrounded.

“Got your back!” Deadshot yelled, stepping in behind you. Bullets couldn't kill the creatures, but at least they slowed them down, earning you more time.

“Regroup!” Flag ordered to the rest of his men.

The wounded were taken to the center of the small circle, while the rest watched the bushes. It took you a few more minutes with the help of the soldiers to finish off the wave of creatures, some more inhuman than the others.

You stood tense, watching the area around you. The rain didn't stop pouring and hitting the leaves, creating a lot of background sounds you wished weren't there. The creatures moved quietly, but you still hoped to hear them coming this time. Terror was freezing your chest every time you thought you'd seen one more misshapen mass of semi-human parts, stitched together by a mad scientist. Appropriate number of limbs were attached to the right places, but bent and twisted in a way no human would ever use them.

You jumped, almost cutting Flag in half when he approached you.

“Woah, careful with that,” he held his hands up, coming to your left. “Don't wanna get any more holes than I already have.”

You'd crack a smile if you weren't so exhausted. Your stay in prison didn't keep you in shape after all.

“How many did we lose?” you asked, almost not recognizing your own voice. It was hoarse and stranded and you took the offered bottle of water thankfully.

Flag raised an eyebrow at the use of “we”. It was a surprise to see you familiarize with the soldiers you didn't even know. He'd never think you'd consider them anything more than meat.

“Two. Some are wounded, but they can make it to the mansion. Besides, what the hell was that?” he asked, anger raising in him suddenly. “You could have been shot!”

“I warned you, but no one picked up the radio.”

“The plan was to get someone, anyone, to the mansion and at least see the security-”

“If I did that, you'd all be dead!”

“We could have retreated-”

“Don't act like a bigger fool than you are, Flag, we both saw you were surrounded. How many more have to die for you to-”

“Easy, tiger,” Deadshot slapped you on the back of your head, making you spill some water. He grabbed the bottle from you and finished it in a single gulp. “That was a helluva mess.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Flag spit, crossing his arms. He was still frowning, but Deadshot kept ignoring his moods as always.

The bottle was thrown at him. Flag noticed the red streaks on it and looked down at your hands. “Was that all really necessary? Come on, let me bandage that,” he fished a small package from on of his pockets.

“I'll be fine, there's no need to.”

“Alright, tiger, we know you're tough, but that really doesn't look well,” Deadshot grabbed your arms and forced you to get closer to Flag. “Hell, that must hurt. Can you even move your fingers?”

“I've had worse, okay? Look, it's not- OH MY GOD. I'll kill you both.”

Flag poured more disinfecting liquid on your wounds, making you hiss and try to escape, but Deadshot held you strong. You tried to stomp on his foot, but he moved away quickly.

“You need to be careful, you know?” Flag added while bandaging it as gently as he could. He was frowning, but the anger was gone from his features. He seemed worried, which surprised you even more.

“It'd be a lot easier if the rain wasn't pouring so hard, I had to smear the blades over and over again while usually a few drops would make do.”

“How does it actually work? You know, the thing you do?” Flag looked at you quickly before turning his eyes back on the bandages. “It's the first time any of those… creatures stayed dead.”

“I don't really know. I just will my blood to divide whatever I choose,” you shrugged it off.

Deadshot let go of you once Flag was finished. Your hands hurt, but you were used to it by now. The bandages looked professional, as if Flag had a lot of experience putting together awful wounds, which he probably had. It was a shame you'd have to ruin it the next time you needed to use your abilities.

Deadshot laughed. “Yeah, I remember you cut through an inch thick metal door, just like that, back at Atlanta, where we had to finish off that one guy-”

“Yeah, I remember,” you cut him off quickly, suddenly and unexplainably embarrassed of your past. Sure, the guy deserved it, but it was a really long story to explain and time was one thing you didn't have at the moment. “Come on, we need to move. More will come.”

Flag nodded, still watching you with an unreadable expression. He turned to the regrouping soldiers and started ordering them around.

Deadshot shot you a smirk.

“What?” you asked with confusion.

"Who is she?"

“No one to concern yourself with. You’ll never meet her.”

Rick made a face, shaking his head.

“You sent her on the mission. We would’ve met then.”

Waller nodded slightly, eyeing Rick.

“Funny how things work, isn’t it? She was there, but you never met her.”

Rick had left before anything more could be said, mainly before he would do something he’d later regret. He knew that Waller wouldn’t give him the answers he wanted, and even still, he had a small slimmer of hope that just this once, he’d get the answers he desired. Seeing as he was no longer on medical leave, Waller wasted no time sending him back on missions one after the other. It was two weeks later, when he was leaving the prison after his debrief, sitting in his car when he’d had a heart attack. There, sitting in his back seat dressed in black, was her. The woman who’d saved him, the woman who was the mystery he wished to solve. The cold metal of the knife she held to his neck stung as she slightly applied pressure, pricking the skin of his neck. The sound of a gun clicking rang throughout the quietness of the car, causing him to tense even more.

“Drive.”

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Flag recognized a cold shoulder when one was meant for him. You were angry and had every right to be.

“All clear, sir!” reported one of his people, a soldier named Mike. They’ve been thrown on missions together for five years now and worked well together.

“Copy that.”

Flag closed the door behind himself, sitting opposite to you. Inside, the deep howling of the machine seemed a little less deafening, but was still uncomfortable. Gaining altitude, the windows absorbed your attention. The rain blurred the outlines of Belle Reve prison, but Flag was sure you could still recognize most buildings. He got curious if you would use that knowledge once you were put back there.

When the island was just a little spot on the horizon and you still didn’t pay any attention to him, it became hard to ignore you were still mad. He shouldn’t care that much, but didn’t want to ruin the mission. After all, it required working cooperation, and moods could make it harder. And maybe, just maybe, deep inside Flag felt a little bad. He hated to have a thorn in his side.

“You know it was a test,” he finally broke the silence, out-shouting the noise.

You must have heard him, but he got no reaction.

“I had to find what you’d do,” he continued. “How prone you are to violence.”

“I’ll be more if you don’t stop chit-chatting me,” he finally earned an icy cold look from you.

“I want to make things clear. There’s no need to use that venom.”

“Maybe you’ll choke at last.”

“Venom doesn’t work that way.”

“Do you want to try mine?”

Flag slowly counted to ten backwards. It didn’t help. It never did and yet he still tried it from time to time. Especially around such annoying people - he seemed to be surrounded by them lately.

“I won’t talk about this anymore. I just needed to be sure.”

“ I already gave you my word.”

“ The word of mercenary?” Flag laughed bitterly. “Please…”

“Maybe words and promises don’t matter to you, colonel, but I never break mine. Now, do you want something from me before you set me on your enemies?”

It wasn’t perfect, but at least he got you talking.

“In about two hours we’ll meet the rest of the team. We’ll drive to the place we need to infiltrate and capture the owner alive.”

“Is this where I should ask what’s the issue a team of grown men couldn’t handle?” you raised an eyebrow.

“The owner is a scientist. He used to work for the government, but his projects have been shut down a few years ago. He didn’t like that much, so he continued them off the radar, in his mansion. They are the problems.”

“Monsters?”

“Beings immune to death by any methods we’ve tried so far. The government could nuke the place, but we need Santino alive, he needs to answer a few questions.”

“I love how you short-cut things, colonel. You should write poetry,” you sighed with amusement.

Flag frowned. “Any problems?”

“Absolutely none. I just deeply admire how you avoided to admit that the gov is a greedy bitch and wants Santino’s experiments exclusively, before any other party gets curious about the immortal soldiers.”

The noise in the cabin didn’t change, but both of you instantly felt the tension in the small space, as if taking a deeper breath could break the last illusions of balance.

You’ve studied Flag’s face. It was obvious you were right. Should you have kept it to yourself? Probably. Did seeing his shocked and infuriated face make up for his behaviour at the shooting range? Definitely.

Flag wanted to punch you. Or himself maybe, he wasn’t sure. The tactics of telling you as little as possible proved to be a complete failure, both now and back at the prison. Even Waller’s anger once she finds out you guessed everything wasn’t as bad as seeing you smirking right in front of him, with cold satisfaction after repaying him.

“Alright. Now we’re even,” he nodded, surprisingly amused.

“Are you sure?” you asked with fake innocence, clearly pleased with how much you played him.

“We better be. I just want to close this mission and free myself from you.”