hiii i am OBSESSED with that recent vanderwood fic 😭😭💕💕 how about ''i hate your guts but still want to make-out with you'' kisses with vanderwood if you have the time? 😙 -luc606
Hi!!! I know I’m getting back to this so late but I’m so happy you liked that Vandy fic! It was something out of my comfort zone and I felt quite self-conscious about posting it, so your message (and tags!) really made my day!
I really loved this request combination, and had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you enjoy! <3
Vanderwood - “I hate your guts but still want to make out with you” kisses
The room you’ve locked yourselves in is completely dark, so that the only indication that you’re not alone comes from the sound of the agent behind you catching his breath.
How on earth did you end up in this situation?
Easy. It was all Vanderwood’s fault, again. If he hadn’t interfered, you’d have managed to slip in and out of the building unnoticed and you wouldn’t have been almost caught. But, of course, he had insisted on following his plan and coming along.
Ever since having him assigned as your partner, this had been happening more often. No matter how much you had insisted that you worked best by yourself, the agency obviously didn’t listen. They never liked the idea of agents working by themselves, so you were given a forced supervisor.
Your complaints that he only hindered your productivity (and his similar complaints) fell on deaf ears. So, the time you spent working together was full of bickering and butting heads.
You rest your back against the door to catch your breath and search the darkness for him. Your mind fills in the missing image for you; hair falling out of the haphazard ponytail he put it in earlier, shirt tight around his arms, posture broad and stubborn. You can just imagine him ready to berate you for what went wrong.
You try not to think about why it was so easy to pull together that image of him. How you can almost see him just by closing your eyes. You must have been spending too much time together.
Of all places to end up, stuck in close quarters with Vanderwood was the last place you wanted to be. Being too close to him for longer than a few minutes has recently started to have some…strange effects on you.
You’ve started picking up on things you were usually all too happy to ignore; what it would feel like to run your finger down the small scar on his cheekbone, how much you want to push his hair away from his eyes so you can look at them properly when you explain for the millionth time why your approach would work better. All the different ways you could get him to shut up.
Even though you can’t see him, you can feel him. The warmth radiating off him and his breath still coming in sharp gasps (he really does smoke too much for his own good). It gives you goosebumps just knowing he’s so close.
You can’t move any further away, so you try your best to distract yourself before you stop thinking straight. You redirect your building nervous energy back into your initial frustration at him.
“Why did you think waiting outside the surveillance room was a good idea?” You have to whisper to not draw attention to yourselves, so it comes out like a hiss. “It’s like you were asking to get spotted!”
“You think both of us getting cornered inside with people guaranteed to show up was a better idea? Going up there without any distraction attempts was a ridiculous idea to begin with!”
You can tell that he has been preparing for an argument as much as you have. Tonight’s mission was particularly risky, even for agents at your level. You had been going over plans for weeks leading up to tonight. Both of you were convinced that your own plans were the right ones, and neither of you were willing to compromise.
Oh, but he’s not done. He’s only just beginning. Trapped in here, with nowhere to escape his frustration, you have no choice but to endure it.
“If you had just listened to me before we left, we could be done with all of this by now, did you ever think of that? Or do you just need to prove that you’re the better agent all the time?” He growls.
In his ranting, he took an unintentional step towards you, once again distracting you from the matter at hand. You had no choice but to listen to him... except...
You take a step forward, holding your hands out in front of you. He’s close enough that you can reach the collar of his jacket pretty easily. You grasp it firmly with both hands and roughly use it to pull him towards you.
“Vanderwood, will you please shut up,” you say through gritted teeth.
Your noses bump, and you’re surrounded by the scent of him now. Something smoky, spicy, and that only spurs you on further. Any rational thought has long since left you.
He takes a breath, as if he’s going to say something else, but you’ve had enough of his complaints for one night. Your hands move up from his collar to his neck, even further up to his cheeks so you can pull his face to meet yours.
Your first kiss lands on his chin, but you quickly find his lips with yours. His hands hover over your body for a second, unsure, but then settle on your hips, pulling you closer to him. His groan comes out muffled against your lips, and you tug at his hair in retaliation, trying to get him to be quiet.
In this dark space, your senses are heightened. His hands trace the shape of you over your clothes, pressing his fingers deep enough into your skin that you’re sure you’ll find bruises tomorrow. Making out with him feels more satisfying than arguing with him, you find yourself thinking.
You’re not sure how much time passes, only that the commotion of footfalls outside subsides. When you finally break apart, he goes back towards the door and opens it just a crack to check that the coast is clear.
From behind him, you say, “by the way, your idea would never have worked.”