I don't own GR. MOA studios does. This is my submission to Sugar Rush Contest by Solora Goldsun over on the Providence Playground.
There are primal needs. Deep down animalistic urges that bubble to the surface at the most inopportune moments. There are natural desires, unnatural lusts and extraordinarily unexpected pangs of love that will hit- curled around those animalistic urges.
I tried to avert my eyes as much as possible. It was hard as all get out. For years he had been my best friend- he had had my back in the worst of situations. We had shared a beer or two along the way and swapped war stories. With all that we knew of each other, we knew nothing. I didn't know his name, I didn't know his past. He knew nothing of my own past and my name was common knowledge.
It was fine. Things were perfect as they were. But there I sat- throwing back shot after shot trying to drown those pesky animalistic urges. He sat down next to me- the smell of blood and battle rolling off of him. It was rare to see a Providence official in this bar- even rarer was it to see two.
"I hate Mondays." He said as he threw out a bill to the bartender in exchange for a shot. One shot. That's all he ever got. One shot of Cuervo. I looked at him with a grin.
"You hate most things." I wasn't far off. He nodded then threw his head back downing the tequila like a pro. I looked ahead of me- determined to not notice his perfection. To not look at those obsidian eyes just barely visible behind his shades. Smoke hung thickly in the air, choking out the normal riffraff. It didn't bother us. Our lungs were so polluted from the chemicals we worked around daily that any tar that would come from the smoke would turn tail and run.
"Are you trying to drown yourself?" His voice almost made me physically jump- almost. I turned setting the glass down. He was looking at me through those sunglasses of his. I felt a blush try to creep across my face as I realized that from the time of him sitting down to asking that question- I had downed four more shots.
"Somethin like that." I said with a laugh. His eyes were piercing through me. Thankfully, I knew that he wasn't going to ask me any further. He didn't turn around like I had expected- he didn't go back into his own thoughts staring at the bottles that lined the wall. His eyes were locked on me and I could almost swear he was reading my thoughts.
"You can't stay here and drink yourself to death, Captain. We've got work to do." Ah, the ever business minded Six. I gave him a nod and toss a few bills down, dreading the walk back to the jump jet. That was the thing with going for a drink after work when you worked at Providence. There wasn't driving leisure unless you were on a mission that required it. We walked in silence down the deserted streets. Even the street lights seemed to crave the desolation that the night time provided.
The darkness and the quiet of a city usually gave me great comfort. But not tonight. Walking beside Six in quiet was doing nothing to satisfy the emotions lighting flames in my chest. We turned down an alley- almost to the garage where the jump jets were stashed. Suddenly, I was the only one walking. I turned back as I noticed that Six had stopped- his hands in his pockets, once again staring at me.
"Why don't you just say it?" I raised an eyebrow and looked at him. This was new. Six was NOT a vocal person. I stared at him for a few minutes- blinking a couple times before deciding that a frown would be the best answer.
"What are you talking about?" I asked as he took a few steps forward, his face hard- his eyebrows set firmly on the top of his glasses.
"You have something on your mind." He said flatly. I felt a twitch in my brow as I looked at him.
"Yeah. I normally do." I said trying to sound as sarcastic as possible. Sarcasm is the best form of defense…normally, that is if you aren't talking to a man that sees through even the murkiest water like it was tap.
"Yes. But normally you're hands are not shaking." He said with a quick nod to my hands- which quickly found their way into my pockets. He was being persistent. He was being nosey. That wasn't like Six.
"Why don't you just say it?" He repeated- his tone unchanged from the first time he asked. I didn't know what to say. What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to look this man in the eyes and tell him that I wanted him? That I wanted him to want me? That I cared for him more than I had anything in a very long time? The gears in my mind worked, my mind making me turn: putting my back to him. I started down the alley, not fully aware of just how well Mr. Sixth-Deadliest-Man-In-The-World was going to take having someone turn their back on him.
I felt him coming up behind me. Obviously, the liquor had gone straight to my head because I could have sworn that the agent was trying to attack me. I know now that he wasn't. He was reaching his hand out to my shoulder. Regardless of what I know now and what I thought then, I still swung on him. It didn't take him much effort to dodge.
"Captain, why don't you say what is on your mind?" The agent said again his voice blank. With adrenaline kicking in and that taste of aggression I lashed at him again. I was not in my best state for a few reasons. First, I would have known better than to pick a fight with Six and second I couldn't have hit a punching bag if someone was holding it. I wasn't drunk- I just had enough fire in my veins to make me clumsy and to obscure my judgment.
A sharp knee landed in my stomach, and I stumbled backwards. Knocking the air out of me seemed to bring me back around to my senses. But it was too late. I looked up just as I saw a green blur shoot behind me. My arms were pulled up as his wrapped around mine. His hands locked behind my head.
"Calm down Captain. "He was telling me to calm down- and yet he was the one with the death grip on my arms. I nodded and wrenched out of his grip. I turned to glare at him. I still can't understand how one man could be so aggravating and captivating at the same time.
"Why don't you just say it?" He said again, one eyebrow arched dangerously as he watched me. I shook my head and considered telling him where to stick it but my mouth betrayed me.
"Say what?" I snapped. Before I realized it, my back hit the wall as a pair of strong hands pinned my shoulders back. I didn't know what I had done to tick him off but what ever was about to happen as a result was going to be painful. I glared at him- again
I wasn't thinking clearly at the moment. I attempted to shove him back- he didn't budge. I didn't like him that close. That was entirely too close. The feelings and urges and desires I had been attempting to drown were alive and well and trying to make themselves known.
"Just tell me." Six's voice was cold and calculated. I swear he could have heard my heart beating- it was knocking against my lungs hard enough to make bruises.
"Tell you w-" Before I could finish my sentence- his mouth was on mine. My eyes widened as I stared at him. Like an idiot I just stood there, frozen to the ground. Any thought I had, was gone. The heat invaded my face as if I had been lit on fire. Come to think of it I was on fire. I didn't respond. It was as if my entire system had short circuited. He pulled back and looked at me.
I must have looked like a complete idiot- standing there with my eyes wide and my hands out to the side gripping the wall as if I was trying to keep it from falling over. His face was just as blank as possible. He tilted his head to the side slightly, not releasing my shoulders- not taking a step back.
My mind screamed at me to do something. Say something. I don't think I could have trusted my voice so I decided to do something.
He took his hands away and started to step back and my mind screamed for action. So I acted. I don't think I have ever moved as fast as I did then- slipping my hand behind his neck. I pulled him back, closing my lips over his- it was my turn to take him off guard. He responded almost instantly. The tang of tequila thrilled me as his tongue caressed my own. The icy chill from his ever present mint was a pleasant surprise to say the least. I broke away first- refusing to look at him. Not believing what he had done and how I reacted. He stepped away from me and started walking toward the garage that the jet was in. I watched as he walked away- his hands in his pockets.
I licked my lips, trying to preserve that feeling. That taste. I grinned to myself. He tasted sweet. Like sugar.