Addicted

Rated: PG

Summary: She is a drug. When she kisses him, she pumps him with real poison. He's addicted to her, and he's not quitting anytime soon.

Based on Kelly Clarkson's song "Addicted". Don't know what possessed me to write this. The pairing should be evident by the middle of the fic. May be provoked into writing sequel if given the proper motivation.

It was an accident.

He didn't mean to start it, all he knew was that he ended it. Maybe it started when he read her thoughts on the porch of Elektra's (Now late) assistant. She had been killing some flowers in the pots on McCabe's front porch, watching them dry and curl up at her deadly touch. He spoke her name, and he saw her jump. He had never be able to surprise her before.

He had looked straight into her dark and faraway eyes, prying into her mind. Her thoughts were of death, destruction and pain. He liked it. He didn't let it on though. He simply told her that her thoughts disgusted him, and steered her into the forest ahead of him to find the assassin and the treasure. He hadn't revisited the thought for a while.

Then it continued in the forest. All he had said was that the girl was truly a "little treasure". She turned away and pretended not to care, shrugging it off. But he could tell she was jealous. She hadn't thought that he would notice, but she turned her nose up slightly and narrowed her eyes to slits. No… she didn't like being replaced…

Later on they were resting in another part of the forest, resting after the fight. Tattoo was in a deep, untroubled sleep; the energy that had been lost after losing one of his tattoo creatures was too great. They sat in silence. She, absentmindedly examining her polished-black nails, he, sitting as still as a stone. Then she spoke.

"Do you really think she's a better treasure than I was?"

He looked at her, smirked, got up, and went to sit next to her. He asked if she was jealous, and she denied it. He put his hand on her knee, and asked again. She denied it yet again, though there was a waver in her voice when she answered. He wasn't entirely certain what he was expecting when he hovered about an inch from her face, asking one last time. There was a pause, and then she leaned her forehead on his.

"I suppose."

He wasn't thinking clearly when they kissed. Meaning, he forgot that he was kissing a walking-talking disease. Staying like this too long would, most likely, knock him hard off his feet. Even he couldn't withstand her poison. Not forever, anyway. When they parted for air, he felt like he wanted to go back and do it all over again. But he couldn't. He shouldn't push his luck; he was already feeling a little off. Add to that, Tattoo woke up a moment later, causing the two of them to scoot an inconspicuous distance from one another.

But he saw the looks she sent him. She wanted to do it again too. They were addicted to each other, never mind that it was simply an accident. Neither had asked for it. It just happened. But one thing was for sure; Kirigi and Typhoid Mary weren't going to quit their addiction anytime soon.