Hate to Love You
Chapter 1
Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI) Canon-typical violence, rough sex, sort of enemies to lovers, some humiliation, face-slapping, Jack Daniels is a switch, smut obviously, oral sex, face sitting, hair pulling, dirty talk, you two get snowed in, reader has chronic pain and uses marijuana byproducts, multiple orgasms, degradation, praise kink, begging, P in V sex, NO USE ON Y/N
Word Count: 5.8k
A/N: I have been working on this fic for so long and if nobody likes it I might actually cry
Tag list: @str84pedro @ariundercovers @ezras--moon
1 2 3 4
When you joined the Statesmen, your goal was to live up to your mother’s legacy. She was known as ‘Agent Bourbon,’ and she was one of the best they had. When you were growing up, she taught you everything you’d need to know to be an agent under the guise of ‘self defense, because the world was a dangerous place. When she started teaching you how to use weapons, your suspicions began, and because she had taught you so well, it didn’t take you very long to discover the true nature of the distillery she worked for.
When you confronted her, instead of being angry with you for spying on her, she was incredibly proud, because it told her that you knew how to utilize the skills she taught you. She was completely transparent with you, but had you swear that you would keep the secret, and in return, she would teach you to be an agent. As soon as you were old enough, she convinced Champ to bring you in as a junior agent. You worked as a surveillance agent and they called you ‘Tonic.’ You hated it, because it meant you wouldn’t be working in the field. Your mother promised you that you would get the chance to be a field agent when you got older, and she was right, but unfortunately, she wasn’t there when you finally became one.
When you became a field agent, your name went from being ‘Tonic’ to ‘Bourbon.’ You were working from the Kentucky office while your mother was in the field on the day she died. For the longest time, you blamed yourself, claiming that you were the cause of her death. It took almost three years to be convinced that it was something completely out of your control. When it happened, almost everyone came to offer their condolences, although most seemed to be simple formalities, there were a few that seemed genuine.
A year after your mother’s death, you asked Champ to transfer you. Home office had too many memories, and you needed a fresh start. You packed up the house and sold it, buying a place in New York with the money from the house and the money you made at Statesmen. Champ sent agents to help you move, and they helped you get your new place set up. It was a decent-sized condo with a wonderful view of the city.
That was the start of your new life, and you were ready to work hard to become just as amazing as your mother. At first, Agent Whiskey refused to let you go on field missions, but when Champ chewed him out, he had to start sending you out. It didn’t take long for him to realize that your mother trained you well, and you were a force to be reckoned with. It started off fine, but over the years, you began to grow weary of him. He was the most annoying thing in the world to you. The two of you would be in the middle of a mission, and he’d be flirting with you through your comms. At first, it was charming and it made you feel giddy inside, but when you realized that it wasn’t just you he was constantly flirting with, you grew tired. Aside from the flirting, he was a damn good agent. He’d flip between telling you how pretty your eyes were and how well he’d treat you if you gave him a chance and slicing people in half with his electric lasso, back to back with you while you shattered someone’s skull with your meteor hammer.
It continued like that for years, and got to the point when annoyance became hatred. You despised working with him, and you often told people you would rather chew off your own foot than choose to be on a mission with Whiskey. And yet Champ kept sending you on missions with him. You had to remain professional and tolerate him while you were working together, but as soon as the mission was over, you kept your distance, and when he bothered you, you regularly told him to eat shit. You weren’t sure when you fell for him, but when you realized you had, you decided to mask it with an extra dose of ‘I hate you,’ and you made sure he was well aware of just how much you hated him. The more you expressed your hate, the more determined his flirting became, and it was a vicious cycle of hate and flirting between the two of you.
That was how you ended up in what you considered to be in both the best and worst predicament you’d ever been in.
You and Agent Whiskey were out on a mission up in the mountains. You were infiltrating a facility that had sensitive information they’d stolen from the Statesmen. Your job was to eliminate the threat and get the files returned to Champ’s office, erasing the rest. It was going just fine at first. You’d cleared your path to the main control room and you were in the process of getting all the files downloaded and erased while Whiskey was taking out the remaining targets (although you told him to wait until you were finished so you could go together) when Ginger Ale alerted you that he was in trouble. She showed you the feed from his glasses and you audibly groaned.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Whiskey?!” You exclaimed, slamming your fist onto the console.
“It’s not my fault these fuckers ambushed me, sugar,” he replied, his usual arrogance very present in his tone. He was trying very hard not to sound bothered by the situation he'd gotten himself in.
“See, to me, it looks like you don’t need any help-”
“Because I don’t! I told Ginger to call you and tell you that you looked good in that snowsuit.”
You groaned again and shook your head. “One, shut the fuck up, you fucking pig. Two, your feed absolutely tells me otherwise!” You yelled, looking at the computer to see how close you were to being done with transferring and wiping the files. They were almost done, and you sighed. “Can you manage to stay alive for maybe five more minutes?”
You didn’t get an answer, and you were concerned for only a moment because a couple minutes after you asked that question, the door behind you burst open, and there was Whiskey with a trail of gunfire behind him.
“You fuck!” You screamed, ducking down to avoid getting shot while you pulled your gun from your bag. You pressed yourself against the wall while you loaded the magazine into the weapon, before peeking around the doorframe, taking aim and shooting different targets. You watched them fall one-by-one while Whiskey used his lasso on those you weren’t taking out (he’d apparently run out of ammo). Ginger wasn’t joking when she said he was in trouble, and Whiskey wasn’t joking when he said he was ambushed. When the last person you could see was cut in half, you lowered your weapon and breathed out, scanning the hallway for movement while listening for footsteps. Whiskey opened his mouth to speak and you punched him in the face, glaring at him with a ‘shut the fuck up’ look.
You didn’t hear any movement, so you quietly made your way back to the computer. You watched the 99% become 100%, then you took the hard drive and stuck it in one of your pockets. Even though the computer had been completely wiped, you were told not to leave any risk for recovery, so you used the weight of your meteor hammer to smash open the main panel and you began to place the explosive charges Ginger had given to you inside the console.
While you were angrily working, Whiskey was still standing in the same spot he was in when you punched him, flabbergasted (and a little turned on). You’d never actually hit him before. You always threatened, but never actually did it. What he was going to tell you was that on his way back to you, he’d trailed his own charges throughout the building and they were on a timer. When he saw you placing yours, it reminded him that he had something important to tell you, but first he gathered what little equipment you brought and he grabbed your arm once you’d finished. “We have to get out of here! The place is gonna blow any second!” He whispered to you, making your face go white.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that?!”
“You punched me before I could!”
“Yeah, because I was listening for footsteps! You could’ve told me when you saw me- fucking nevermind,” you huffed, running through the hallways with your weapons at the ready, Agent Whiskey in tow.
The two of you barely made it out before the whole place exploded behind you, taking your escape vehicle with it, and you ended up getting knocked down into the snow. As soon as you were able to get your bearings, you noticed the clouds in the sky. “Fucking hell…great! Just fucking great! Ginger, find me a cabin or a building as close as fucking possible. Based on the way the sky is looking, we’re in for a fucking blizzard and I’ll be damned if I die in the snow.”
Whiskey stared at you, astonished and enamored, not really listening to what Ginger had to say as he followed you. He wasn’t paying attention to anything other than you. He was admiring your beauty and skill, trying his best not to get an erection when the memory of you punching him in the face crossed his mind. Fuck, that was hot, he thought, trying to even out his labored breaths.
You were following Ginger’s directions to an abandoned cabin that belonged to a dead man, walking as fast as you could through the snow so you could find shelter before the blizzard started. Luckily for the two of you, when you arrived, it was evident that the man had recently died, because the cabin still had furniture and firewood. You made Whiskey bring the firewood inside while you continued to talk to Ginger about when you’d be able to be extracted. She told you that by the time they got an extraction team out there, the blizzard would have most likely begun by then, so you and Whiskey had to wait out the blizzard and stay in the cabin until it was safe for the extraction team to come get you. While you talked to Ginger, Whiskey worked on getting a fire started, that way there would at least have some heat in the cabin. You told Ginger you were going to try and get some rest before you took your glasses off and tucked them away somewhere safe, and Whiskey did the same.
“You know, this would be a great time for-”
“Don’t you ever shut up?!” You snapped, glaring at him.
He looked surprised for just a second before his signature smirk appeared on his face and he chuckled. “You’ll have to make me, darlin’. I’m not-”
“Shut the fuck up! For fuck’s sake! You could’ve gotten both of us killed! What were you thinking, bringing those guys back to me? Your job was to-”
“Take a breath, sugar. It’s okay, we’ve got plenty of time to-”
“Stop!” You exclaimed, looking at him with a fury that he’d never seen before burning in your eyes. “Just fucking stop! Shit! It’s not okay! What the fuck is wrong with you? When I started working for Statesmen with my Mom, I thought you were some cool, cute, older guy that worked with her, and I was going to be able to work alongside you and be just as amazing as she was! And then I start actually working with you and all you do is fucking flirt!”
He was taken aback by your outburst, and you were fully expecting him to apologize, or at least stop acting like an idiot, but you were very wrong. “You thought I was cool? And cute?”
“What the f- That’s what you take away from that?! For fuck’s sake! This is why I fucking hate you!”
“Why do you hate me so much?”
“Wh- really? You really don’t know why?! You don’t take anything seriously when we work together, and you’re always fucking flirting! You walk around with this arrogant ‘I can do anything’ look, and you act all suave, and you look at me with that smug fucking smile and your stupid eyes looking at me like I’m everything you’ve ever fucking dreamed of. You act serious every so often and then you’re out making sexual innuendos at me and at Ginger and you’re just a stupid fucking whore! Or at least that’s what you fucking act like.”
By the end of your rant, you were panting and trying to catch your breath, your heart pounding in your chest from the rush of adrenaline you’d just received. Whiskey slowly approached you and stood in front of you with that exact smug grin on his face that you were complaining about. “Did that make you feel better, darlin’?”
That was what did it for you. You growled at him as you grabbed him by the lapels of his snowsuit and you slammed him against the wall, knocking off his hat and making the decorations on the wall shake. When his back hit the wall, all of the air was knocked out of his lungs and it pushed out an involuntary moan. While you had him pinned to the wall, you gave him an incredulous look.
“Did you just fucking moan?” You asked, a bewildered laugh passing through your lips. “What, you like this shit? You like being thrown around?”
Your words were making Whiskey feel hot, even though the cabin was freezing cold, and he could feel himself growing hard under his snowsuit, praying you wouldn’t notice, but you did. “Wh- are you hard right now? Holy shit, you are!” You exclaimed, reaching down to roughly squeeze his thick cock through the suit. Whiskey let out a choked moan and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall. You had to pretend you weren't impressed by what you had in your hand. "You really are a whore. A pathetic little slut.”
Whiskey’s breaths were coming out ragged and it was taking everything for him not to whimper as you squeezed his dick. Both fortunately and unfortunately, his resolve faltered and a small sound escaped him, making you raise your eyebrows. “Oh, fuck it,” you said brusquely, fisting a hand in his hair and crashing your lips into his. Whiskey let out a surprised gasp when the two of you connected, turning into a moan when your other hand was replaced by your thigh pressing against his crotch. With your other hand free, you wrapped it around his throat, but you didn’t squeeze. You parted for only a moment to breathe, then you recaptured his lips, biting at his split lip (split from when you punched him). You pressed yourself harder against him and he moaned again, allowing you to push your tongue into his mouth. He immediately surrendered to you and you could taste his blood while you explored the wet cavern. His hands slowly moved up to grasp your hips and you pulled away from him, giving his hair a sharp tug. Now that there was enough space to see each others’ faces, you could see the desperate need and complete adoration in his eyes, and he could see the anger on your face, and the desire in yours.
"Do you want this?" You asked him, and he nodded fervently. He opened his mouth to say something else, but you didn’t give him time to speak as you began dragging him to where you assumed the bedroom was, but when you opened the door, you found that it was actually the bathroom. You let out an annoyed groan and opened the next door, revealing the quaint bedroom, and you pushed him in, towards the bed. He started trying to remove your clothes and you slapped him, then grabbed him by his face, squeezing his cheeks. “You get what I give you, understand? You’re not the one in control here, you fucking slut.”
Whiskey let out what sounded like a squeak and nodded as best he could while he was in your grasp. You released him so you could begin undressing him, quickly and with precision. Even in your lustful state, you were still able to remove his clothing without fumbling over every zipper, buckle, and button. When you had him down to just his boxers, you shoved him towards the bed and nodded towards it. “Get on the bed.”
He nodded again and sat in the middle of the bed, waiting patiently for your next instruction while he watched you. You pushed him to lay back while you began taking off your own clothes, but only a little at a time. First, your boots and your snowsuit, then your pants and socks. You stood there in your shirt and underwear and looked him over with a scrutinous gaze. You could see just how hard he was with the tent in his boxers and the little wet spot on the fabric that covered his tip. You hummed and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist and hovering over him. He was flushed and already panting, hands gripping the blankets on the bed with the effort he was putting forth to not touch you. He’d already made that mistake once, and even though he liked when you smacked him around, he didn’t want to risk you deciding to stop.
You slowly began to inch your way up the bed, crawling forward until you were just above his chest. You had him move his arms so you could situate yourself above his face, and you stayed there, teasing him and once again getting confirmation. “You fucking want this?”
“Yes,” he breathed out, looking into your eyes.
“Then fucking beg for it.”
His eyes widened and his cock twitched, the very thought of having to beg you to let him touch you making him want you even more. You were both extremely aware of the fact that if he truly wanted to, he could flip you over and take control. But he didn’t. He was letting you do this, and there was a part of you deep inside that felt warm at the thought that Agent Whiskey trusted you enough to give you control like that.
“Please,” he begged, his voice wavering and needy. "Bourbon, please let me taste you. Sit on my face and use me to make you feel good. Shit, I need to know what you taste like…what you sound like when I shove my tongue in your pussy. I’ll give- fuck, I’ll do anything. I’ll be so good for you, I swear. Just, please…”
Fuck, he’s hot when he begs…
You hummed and looked like you were considering your options before you looked back down at him. “If you can get my underwear off without making me get up, I’ll let you taste me,” you challenged, a smirk on your face as you watched the wheels turn in his head. When you saw the little lightbulb go off, you were curious what he would do, and you yelped as he grabbed the fabric and literally tore it off you. He practically shredded the garment, and once he managed to snap the elastic, he tossed it to the floor and looked up at you, waiting. You couldn’t mask your surprise, so you let him see it before giving him a smirk and began to lower yourself down. His eyes were drawn to your core and his cock twitched at the sight of it. You stopped when you were just barely hovering over his mouth and he looked up to ask why you stopped when you spoke. “Make me cum and I’ll let you fuck me,” you told him, waiting for him to nod and accept yet another challenge.
Based on his arrogant attitude, you figured that he was all talk, or that he’d at least not be that great at giving head, but you were very wrong. When he opened his mouth for you and you lowered yourself down, he seemed like he was in home territory. He pressed his tongue into you and moaned deeply, making you gasp as you felt his mustache rubbing against your clit. He could tell how wet you’d started to get and he had to stop himself from smirking against you. He did so by dragging his tongue through your folds and circling around your clit, pulling it into his mouth to pay it some extra attention. You groaned from above him and braced a hand on the wall while the other reached down to tug on his hair, making him moan again. You ground yourself down against his mouth and he moved back down to lick long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, devouring you like you were his last meal on Earth.
You moaned when he pressed his tongue inside you again and nosed at your clit, making you keen above him. You held onto his hair tightly and squeezed his head with your legs, not caring whether he could breathe or not. Whiskey was enjoying every second and he felt like he could cum just from this, without touching himself at all. He had to fight it as he continued to work you towards your edge. He used his tongue to fuck you and you felt his teeth scrape over your most sensitive parts. It was the most amazing you’d ever experienced and you could feel yourself getting closer. You started grinding on his face again, holding him by his hair so you could chase your finale. You were a mess above him, panting and moaning while your other hand stayed on the wall, and Whiskey could feel it when you came, the way you twitched above him and your moans became more guttural. He continued to eat you, because he felt as if he couldn’t get enough, and you had to pull him away from you while you caught your breath.
When your breathing had evened out, you slowly scooted back down his torso, pulling off your shirt in the process, and everything underneath it. Whiskey moaned at the sight of you, and he raised his hands up, but they only hovered over your thighs, and he gave you a pleading look. “Please, let me touch you.”
You placed your hands on his wrists and guided them onto your waist before you leaned down to kiss him. This one was less rough and more hungry, and you could taste yourself on his lips. Whiskey began to roam your body with his hands, dragging his rough fingertips over the smooth skin of your back and shoulders, running his fingers through your hair and caressing you gently. You wanted to melt into his touch, but you were still pissed about him fucking up the mission. You allowed him to explore for a moment more before you sat back up and unmounted him, kneeling next to him. "Get up. Show me that dick isn't just there for decoration," you ordered, eyes trailing down to his painfully hard erection. "I hope you're as good at fucking as you are at eating pussy."
When given the permission, Whiskey got up and made room for you to lay down on the bed. You spread your legs for him while you got comfortable and you watched him remove his boxers and toss them to the floor. "You don't have a-"
"It's fine. Quit procrastinating and prove to me that you're not all talk, Agent Whiskey."
"Yes ma’am," he replied, pumping his cock a few times before he rubbed his head through your folds. You jumped a little at the feeling, and you opened your mouth in a silent moan when he started to push in. He was big, and the stretch was painful, but it hurt so good. He took it slow and held your thighs while he kept pushing, watching your reactions while he filled you up. He fed it to you, inch by inch, and his eyes darted between your face and your core as it swallowed his cock. When he reached the hilt, he shuddered and moaned, squeezing your thighs. "Fuck, that's so good…so fuckin' tight."
He was giving you a moment to adjust to his size while his hands began exploring your torso again, carefully palming your breasts. He brushed his thumbs over your nipples and they hardened under his touch. You clenched your walls around him when he dragged his tongue over one of your nipples and he bucked into you, fingers toying with the other. You arched into him and huffed. "You gonna just sit there or are you gonna fuck me?"
He took that as an invitation and he began to move slowly while trailing kisses up to your jaw, rolling his hips with every thrust. You couldn’t hold back your moans when you felt the way he was stretching you open, arms on either side of your head to keep him stable. "Fuck, your pussy feels so good," he murmured, nipping and kissing whatever skin he could reach.
His thrusts started to pick up speed and you gasped when you felt him hit a spot inside that made you see stars. You let your noises flow freely while you wrapped your legs around his waist, allowing him a new angle to fuck you in. He started hitting that spot more frequently and you arched your back, a high-pitched sound emanating from your mouth. You started to roll your hips in time with his thrusts when they started to increase in pace. "Oh shit, fuck yeah…Oh fuck, yes just like that," you moaned, pulling Whiskey down so you could suck a mark onto his neck, not caring about the fact that it would definitely be visible. He groaned at the pain of your teeth digging into him and his speed began to increase.
Even though you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got you in bed, he was making you feel so good that you didn’t even care. You moaned against his neck as he pounded into you and your fingers found their way back into his hair. You pulled on it and at the same time, he grabbed your legs and pushed your knees up so he could hook your legs over his shoulders. You practically mewled as his cock started to hit that spot that made you see stars over and over, pounding deeply into you. You were pulling his hair so hard that you were almost pulling it out, and Whiskey loved it. He continued his pace, getting rougher with every thrust until the bed was thudding loudly against the wall.
You had moved your head to the other side of his neck and you were panting and moaning in his ear while you listened to him babble in yours. "Oh fuck…Bourbon, you feel so fucking good…wanna fuck you like this all the time…fuck pull my hair harder…please…oh fuck, just like that…you're so fucking perfect, I fucking love this pussy."
While you listened, you could feel a second orgasm building inside you and you were desperately trying to get there, doing everything you could to get him to fuck you harder. "Fucking hell... oh fuck, right there…oh my g- oh fuck, yes, right there, good boy, yes! Fuck…harder, fuck me harder," you said to him, fingers gripping him tightly.
Being called a 'good boy' awoke something in Whiskey that he hadn't been aware of before, and he fucking loved it. He did exactly what you asked, keeping the same pace but thrusting harder, drilling into you at a pace that left you almost screaming.
"Fuckfuckfuck, yes! Fuck, that's so fucking good! Oh fuck, you're such a good boy…shit, Jack, I'm gonna fucking cum!"
That was the first time you ever called him by his name instead of 'Agent Whiskey,' and he loved the sound of his name coming from your mouth. He loved the way you praised him and he was so close.
He let his forehead drop to your shoulder and he panted heavily, almost whining against you and he moaned out your name. Not 'Bourbon'. Your name. After he said it once, he started repeating it over and over like a prayer, moans turning to whimpers as he released inside you, and you groaned when you felt him begin to spill inside you. Then you realized he was about to stop and you squeezed him with your legs. "Don't fucking stop, don't you fucking stop!" You demanded, chasing your orgasm that was sitting right on the edge.
Whiskey moaned out your name again, in the most pathetic way, and you came hard, your walls clamping down around him while you bit into his shoulder, stifling the loud, guttural moan that ripped through you. Whiskey's thrusts slowed to a stop and you both stayed there for a second before he carefully released your legs, helping you to drop them back at his sides. You were sweaty and the cold air of the cabin suddenly hit both of you, making you shiver.
You slowly sat up and clenched as you let Whiskey’s softening cock slip out of you, trying desperately to avoid leaking any cum out while you made your way to the bathroom. It was always a good idea to pee after sex so you didn't get a UTI.
After you used the restroom and you were sure all of the cum leaked out, you went to go wash your hands and try to sleep. You hated sleeping in day clothes, and you'd rather sleep naked than wear the clothes you had to bed. When you exited the bathroom, you started to feel that dull, all too familiar ache in your bones that would soon be vibrating and pulsing throughout most of your body. Hopefully sleep will help, you thought to yourself as you saw Whiskey sitting on the side of the bed, starting to put his clothes back on.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"I'm getting dressed so I can go sleep on the couch."
You paused for a second, hating what you were about to say, but excited at the thought. "The fuck you are. Pull the sheets back and get in that damn bed," you said harshly, pulling the curtains over the windows to block the extra light, since there wasn't a light switch to turn off lights.
Whiskey gave you a confused look and you gave him an expectant one while you climbed into the bed. When he joined you, you grabbed his hip and pulled him close, pressing your front against his back. You pulled the blankets up around you and you held him in your arms, breathing against the back of his neck. He shivered and was about to say something when you interrupted, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking his head back. "Don't say a fucking word."
You could feel his attempt at a nod and you released his head, wrapping your arms around him again as you murmured "go the fuck to sleep."
—-----------------------
A few hours into the night, you're awoken from a dead sleep by the creaking of the cabin, the sound of the wind outside, and the sharp pains shooting through your nerves. Whiskey was still fast asleep, but the fire was almost out. You could feel it in the lack of warmth. Reluctantly, you left the comfort of the bed to go investigate the strange creaking sounds, put more wood on the fire, and look through your bag to see if you packed emergency anything. Digging through the bag, you managed to find a bottle of your THC oil that you made, but you were almost out. You sighed and unscrewed the dropper and put a few drops under your tongue, letting them soak in while you put the bottle away. You also got out your glasses to see if Ginger left any messages, and there were a couple, but they made your stomach drop.
20:07 - It looks like the blizzard is going to be a heavy one. It may be a few hours or even a few days before we can get you.
21:43 - I think you might end up getting snowed in. I'm so sorry.
23:58 - We're going to have to dig you out when the weather dies down. Don't kill Agent Whiskey, please.
You groaned as you read the messages on the display of the glasses and you took them off, putting them back. After you made sure the fire was going again, you went to go check one of the windows, but you couldn’t see anything because of how bad the snow was. You couldn’t tell if you were snowed in or not, but regardless, you despised the idea of being stuck in a cabin with Whiskey. It wasn’t just because it was Whiskey, either. It was because just like him, you were almost head over heels in fucking love with him, except you hated it. You hated the idea of someone making you so vulnerable, so you masked it with hatred because you'd be damned if you let another loved one die. Since you'd already crossed the line you'd drawn by sleeping with him, then sharing a bed with him afterwards, you were afraid you'd let your feelings slip out. You had to come up with a plan, but at the same time, you were cold and wanted to go back to bed.
It was decided that while you were laying in bed, you would come up with a plan, so you got back under the blankets and got comfortable, facing away from Whiskey. Unfortunately for you, at that moment, he turned over in his sleep and unconsciously pulled you to him, holding you close in his arms. You hated that you loved it, and you had to fight the urge to turn and punch him. You eventually let yourself relax under his touch and you started to drift off while you were trying to plan how you'd avoid accidentally revealing your feelings. The plan was to continue pretending you hate him, same as before, and definitely not sleep with him again.
