Continuation of Thread #37.5 [Task Force 666]

“Snrk.”

You can’t be too entirely sure as to which one cracked, but the next few moments find both you doubled over, howling in an uncontrollable laughter. Neither of you can remain standing up, clutching to each other for stability as you slowly crumple to the floor. It’s almost too much to take in. Just from sheer absurdness of forgetting that Brady was there…the two of you aggressively flirting, and the unreadable look on his face.

Fitz recovers first, clutching her gut as she wipes tears from her eyes. Speech isn’t impossible, but she has to struggle to speak past the occasional wheezing hiccup. “Oh God…I haven’t laughed…haven’t laughed that fuckin’ hard in years…”

“The feeling…” you manage to warble out, fighting against the urge with every fiber of your body, “…the feeling is understandable…I don’t think he’s…he’s gonna let that go…for a long time…”

“His face was just…deer in fuckin’ headlights…”

“…swear to God, I think I even heard him running away…”

>It takes you several moments to recover your composure.

“…what the fuck were we doin’ though?” Fitz mutters, seemingly content to lie on the floor without a care in the world. “Good Christ, that wasn’t…professional…”

“…maybe he was right though…”

“Hmmm?” She sits up, tilting her head in a questioning pantomime. “What’s he right about?”

It takes an incredible amount of willpower for you to keep a straight face. And actually spit out the words before your higher thinking kicks back in. There’s no better time than now, everybody’s gone and both of you are just in the right mood.

“…maybe we should get a room before trying something like that again…”

To her credit, Fitz doesn’t look nearly as gobsmacked as before. Something shifts in her posture, and her eyes take on an unreadable light. Then, she grins. It’s almost imperceptible, however, but you can see that it doesn’t quite reach her gaze.

“…ya know somethin’, Sawbones? I’ve seen slick, but that’s gotta be the nicest way somebody’s ever expressed to get in my pants. Good job.”

Even as your guts twist into knots, and the left side of your brain is screaming at you to either shut up or backpedal, there’s no stopping now. Shrugging, you answer, “Never said anything about getting into your pants. And my mom did raise me to be a gentleman.”

She snorts at that. “And I’m not exactly the spittin’ image of a lady, myself…but…” Her words fade away, and she visibly struggles to say anything else. “Sawbones…Adrian…I…”

Throwing her hands up into the air, Fitz leans backward, uncaring of how her head bounces off of the nearby couch. A hand comes up to palm her face, leaving only a mouth that struggles to form words.

“Son of a…” she mutters. “Give me a one thirty-one any day of the week…”

You let her stew in silence. Eventually, and with a heavy breath, she pushes back off from the couch, coming back towards your position on the floor.

“I’m no good at beatin’ around the bush when it comes to this shit,” she says, shaking her head in a self-deprecating matter. “So…if you’ll give it to me straight…then…I ain’t gonna take the piss out of anything for the next…however the fuck long this talk is gonna go on, ya hear?”

Nodding solemnly, you answer, “Of course.”

“Good…so…I’ll go first.” A shadow of her usual smirk twitches across her lips as she punches you lightly in the shoulder. “Even if you act like one sometimes…I do think that you have a nice ass.” Ignoring the sudden heat that dusts your cheeks, she continues, “…and…and you’re my goddamn best friend…and I don’t wanna change that for…for anything in the world.”

Sarah lets out a dry, mirthless laugh. “I mean…if you just want some kind of…friends with…ah, if you want a fuckbuddy…I don’t think I’d mind. Matter of fact, I’ve…well, you’d be the only one on my list that I’d come to for a stress-fuck…and I’ve actually been feelin’ twelve kinds of stressed, lately…no thanks to me worrying about your ass nearly getting eaten by a spider demon,” she finishes.

>"Let's postpone this discussion for a better time."
>>>>“I want something more serious than just casual sex.”
>“We’re already best friends…what’s a few more benefits?”
>“You’re my goddamn best friend, too. I don’t want that to change.”

“…you’re also my goddamn best friend as well,” you quietly reply, without any trace of irony, or sardonic wit in your tone. This is as serious as you’re going to get, and this deserves nothing less than the same level of attention, detail and reverence than talking to any forgotten goddess…if not more. “I respect you too damn much to even think of you like that. Even if we aren’t having sex, destroying our friendship...”

“Heh…” Briefly, a flicker of amusement shines in her eyes. She gestures towards her body with a small, crooked smile on her face. “…like you’ve never thought about us knockin’ boots together…”

Caught off-guard, all you can really do is answer with complete honestly, “…the thought had crossed my mind, yes…many times as a matter of fact. But that’s neither here, nor there. I told you…I don’t want that from you.”

“Then what is it that you do want?” Sarah shifts, untangling her legs to scoot closer. Her voice is low, but it has all the raw intensity of a summer storm. Even as intimidating as she’s appeared in all her previous iterations, she’s never looked more anxious, more lost than she does now. Words you’d never thought to have ascribed to the unflappable former policewoman.

“Don’t go leadin’ me around, Adrian…” she whispers, “No more distractions…no more witty lines…just get to the damn pith of what you wanna say…”

With a deep breath, you meet her movement, pulling yourself towards her. She tenses as you place a hand atop her shoulder, just barely relaxing as you give it a gentle squeeze and what you hope is a warm, comforting smile.

“You are, without a single doubt in my mind, the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met and had the pleasure of being friends with,” you confess, saying the words as if they are a desperate secret that must be shared. “But lately, I’ve been feeling something more for you…something that’s more than the commander-subordinate hierarchy, even beyond just a close friendship…”

“So, if you don’t mind…” you pause, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I’d like to explore those feelings some more with you in a proper relationship.”

Today is a day for odd faces and uncomfortable silences. Her lips part, and her eyes go wide as she tries to comprehend the confession that you’ve made. It seems to be the furthest thing that she had expected for you to say. And as the seconds pass, drawing out the painful absence of sound, the anticipation, terror, and mortification for her answer almost feels like a palpable, physical weight in your gut.

“…c’mere, Sawbones.”

The embrace she catches you in is the second one in only twenty four hours. But unlike the moment in Arachne’s cavern, the hard, ceramic feeling of the DEMONICA’s plate armor is gone, replaced by the warmth that it had protected the day prior.

“…I would’ve been happy, ya know…” Sarah mutters, leaning further into your chest. “…spendin’ the rest of our career in the Task Force doin’ whatever it is we always do…hitting the sparrin’ cage, shootin’ up the bad guys, clownin’ around with the others without changin’ a single thing about it.”

The anxiety in your gut turns into ice as you brace for a rejection that’s going to hurt no matter what she says. Yet the first word from her mouth quickly reverses that feeling, and in its place kindles a small, burning hope.

“But… I’d also be lying if I said that this whole thing of…” she swallows audibly, “…you and me isn’t somethin’ that I didn’t ever consider wantin’…just there’s only one thing…”

Her voice is the driest it’s ever been, and the thin line of her mouth curves into a rueful grin. “I just know so much more about you…your family, your likes and…” Delicately, she brings her fingers towards your shoulder, tracing the tips along that ring of scar tissue. “…even how you ended up the way you are…”

It’s impossible not to wince at the instinctive recollection of that day, at the phantom heat that broils the flesh your arm and the sheer despair that God was nowhere to be found. Sarah notices your discomfort, pulling her hand back as quickly as possible, and an almost forlorn look on her face as you struggle to clamp down on those painful memories.

Then, she continues in a small and quiet voice, “…compared to that…you don’t know all that much about me…”

What the hell does that have to do with anything? Frowning, you ask, “What do you mean? You spent two years in college before going to the police academy. You think detective procedurals on TV are inaccurate and ‘Castle’ is the worst offender of the bunch.”

Even as she stares at you, incredulous with just the barest hint of a smile, you keep on going, “If you’re worried about me not knowing anything, there’s plenty of time for that! You have an immense dislike for overbearing authority, and you won’t hesitate to countermand a stupid order or countermand with a different idea. You told me that your dad was a police officer before he retired-”

“‘Retired…’” The smile vanishes, and Sarah almost spits out the word and something fierce glistens in her eyes, “…I did say that didn’t I? I just happened to leave out the fact that his retirement wasn’t voluntary, not even a fucking bit.”

You hold your tongue, remaining silent as she looks you straight in the eye. Is she…are those tears?

She blinks them away, wiping her face with the back of her hand before shakes her head, “Well, since we’re bein’ all straightforward and everythin’… I’m…I’m not too proud of my past, nor keen on sharin’ the finer details of it. And before you make any joke about teenage angst or broodiness…”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” you reassure her, but she seems not to have heard you.

“…I do want what you’re offerin’…” she says emphatically, gripping your hand tight enough to be just short of painful, “…I want it so much, but…I don’t think that I…all of my issues and…” Suddenly, she stiffens, before turning the most intense gaze you’ve ever seen her make directly at you. “…speakin’ of issues, there’s bound to be some file on me…hell, on all five of us. Alger’s probably read them, without a fucking doubt, but…since you’re the leader…”

You shake your head, quickly moving to reassure her. “The only time I ever saw your file was in the beginning of everything…just before we finished up training in Cocytus. It’s redacted to hell and back, with almost more black bars than actual text.”

The solace is plain in her voice, and she slumps against you in obvious relief. “…and you never thought about wonderin’ why?”

You try your best to shrug against the weight of her arms around your shoulders. “I always assumed police-related work you did. Stuff not fit for civilian eyes and those not a part of the thin blue line.”

Her smile is wan. “That’s real generous of you, Adrian.”

“It’s because I want to hear your story from your lips,” you answer, placing a hand on top of her own, “And not read it off from some government-issued piece of paper. If isn’t of immediate danger to our clandestine operations as a Devil Summoners, then you can take as long as you want to get comfortable before telling me.”

To a certain extent, you can see what she’s trying to get at. The amount of people who can honestly say that they’re proud of what they used to be…they don’t tally up to the highest of numbers. Everyone has regrets that they want to hide, keep hidden and locked away from the world. You’re no exception, and you’d bet a whole lot of money that everyone in the Task Force has secrets that they’d never want to see the light of day.

MacKay or one of the parish priests might say something sappy, something about crosses that everybody has to bear. It isn't entirely inaccurate when applied to the secular world. There's nobody that has no sort of burden to haul for the rest of their lives. But there's no reason as to why the burden can't be carried alone.

“You’re you. And we’ll have plenty of time for me to get to know you outside of the workplace…” Here, you have to swallow a lump the size of your fist before resuming, “…you said that you want this, that you feel the same way as I do! And all of that’s on the table along with waiting for the right time for your…more difficult subjects…”

Sarah leans back, exhaling heavily, running a hand through the tangle of her hair and sweaty mess of her forehead. “…you really don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind,” you confirm with a smile, “Patience just happens to be one of my best virtues.”

She laughs, brittle and almost too high-pitched to be anything but nearly hysterical. “No kiddin’…you have to wait how many fucking years before you get your medical license?”

“Ten to thirteen after high school, so…maybe six at the least, eight at the most.”

“Jesus H. Christ…” she chuckles, shaking her head in faux outrage. With a quiet sigh, she leans into your shoulder, and you can feel the smile through the thin fabric of your fatigues. “…most remarkable woman you’ve ever met, huh? Guess the boys and girls from upstate Maryland have some pretty low standards.”

“They’re only low because you set the bar a few dozen notches higher from day one,” you counter. “And they all fail by merit of not being you…and the fact that you’re smoking hot is only a bonus.”

“Damn straight I am.” She hums a quiet, satisfied noise in the back of her throat. And the color in her face seems to return, as well as a measure of her usual self. “…shit, I honestly can’t even remember the last time somebody’s got me all this messed up and flustered…just don’t expect me to go suddenly soft or mushy in public…I’ve got an image of a sarcastic hardass that I need to maintain.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you grin back.

“…good Christ, we’re really doin’ this, then…”

>>There is no turning back…
>>Your relationship with Fitz has become Intimate!
>>Fitz approves +50.

She shifts in her position on the floor, pulling out of your arms to give you a quizzical look. “So…what exactly are we now? Ah…fuck, it feel’s…I’m, what, your [i]girlfriend[/i] now?” There is no malice in her inflection, and the face accompanying her words is one of mutual chagrin, amusement and amicability.

You find yourself inclined to agree. The label of “girlfriend” seems to be almost too mundane to describe what Sarah is to you. In layman’s terms, it’s meant to describe a couple in a relationship and how they’re getting along. At your age, parts of the relationship include dates to the cinema, dinners at fancy restaurants, banging each other’s brains out, other enjoyable activities as you build up to something more…

The relationship you share with Sarah, even before your confession, can be anything but mundane. It starts with the two of you, unconscious in an abandoned hospital, and a bullet in your shoulder and arm due to some god-awful bad luck. Then it’s one of mutual camaraderie, a friendship forged in the fires of battle and conflict. Would you have felt the same way with another woman? Intense emotional moments shared between people always make bonds out of nothing, sometimes even enmity.

But those are “what ifs” and “maybes”, hypotheticals that have no worth beyond wasting time.

Thus, the answer is simple, “You’re my best friend that I just happen to be dating…” Sarah looks up towards you, mere inches away from your face. “…and my subordinate...that I may be fooling around with…”

This time, however, you become all too aware of the finer details…eyes that you could get lost in for eternity, the little tiny scars that run along her cheeks and forehead, the hot breath of her mouth raising gooseflesh along your skin as the two of you draw ever so closer.

In retelling this story, you don’t remember who initiated, and you don’t particularly care. All that matters is the sensation of her lips on yours, the combined warmth of your bodies as you pull all the more closer into something more comfortable of a position.

It starts chase, of course. At first, it is no more than awkward, but affectionate contact between two individuals who never could have thought of this moment happening. For a split second, the two of you part, no more than a few centimeters and your eyes meet as both of you gather your breath. Strands briefly connect you until the gentle breeze of the air conditioning breaks the bridge.

But as the seconds pass, something inside the both of you just…clicks into place. Even as the relief nearly turns you into a nervous, quivering jelly, the sheer gratification and sudden heat in your stomach keep you from stopping. The heat spreads from your gut throughout your body like lightening as you and Sarah come again once more, all hesitation and reason abandoned and forgotten.

The two of you are fast, furious, and urgent. The taste of blood fills your mouth as she bites down on your lip, and the tingle of pain makes an odd contrast to the softness of her lips. At some point, your back hits the floor, and your coupling threatens to turn into another match for dominance. But you remain content to lie there, relishing the way your bodies writhe and grind against each other, within your arms.

You want this woman more than any other woman in your life, and there had been no small amount across the years. You forget where you are, forget about the fact that somebody could walk in, once more forgetting about the rest of the world around you. The blood in your veins is liquid flame, and your heart aches with the pain of your passion. Crushing her against your chest, you hold and kiss her with a bruising intensity to match her own desperation.

By the time Sarah pulls away, both of you are heaving, struggling for breath. She wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her arm, and the act stokes another fire in your chest. For a brief, wild moment, you think about picking her up and taking Brady’s suggestion about finding a room to take this encounter to its obvious end.

“Hot fuckin’…damn!” She grins from where she straddles your waist, “…that was…whew! You’ve got no fuckin’ idea how long I’ve been waitin’ to do that.”

You can’t tell whether her roughness is one borne out of inexperience or her own fiery temperament. One thing is for certain, however. This relationship is the one that’s going to either make you or break you in half.

It takes a few moments for your higher thinking to kick back in, even more to come up with a coherent answer. “…yeah…m-me too.”

She settles herself comfortably against your chest once more. But before she could intiate round three, she casts a wayward glance towards the entrance of the barracks proper. “…when do you think the others are gonna be back?”

Fighting against the urge to just answer her with your lips, you think on the question. “…and MacKay…sooner rather than later, but not immediately. Brady might not come back tonight…” The temperature of the room suddenly becomes just a bit warmer, and she realizes it, too. Gesturing to the empty room with the hand not on her waist, you grin slyly, “…guess we have the barracks to ourselves, then.”

“…that was just a taste test, so if you’re expectin’ me to put out even before we’ve even had dinner…” She can’t finish her sentence, bursting into stitches at the offended scowl on your face. “Kiddin’, kiddin’…”

Not one to be outdone, you somehow manage to tear your hands off of her waist, pantomiming a mock count on your fingertips. “Seafood in Delaware…sandwich shop in Kentucky…”

That does get a laugh out of her. “Can’t tell if you’re actin’ like your usual wise-ass self, or if you’re just thinkin’ with your dick.”

“Who said that it wasn’t both?”

“Careful, Sawbones,” she warns, albeit without any overtones of true anger or irritation. The sing-song voice gives her amusement away, but you still take it to heart. “…samplin’ the goods is fine and all, but...”

Yep. Don’t push her.

“…tell you what…” Gently extracting yourself from underneath her body, you sit up, gesturing to the corner of the barracks where your quarters are. At the narrowing of her eyes, you hold up your hands in a gesture of peace. “Here me out: I’ve got your dad’s gun in my room, and I was gonna spend the afternoon cleaning it before handing it back. Maybe...maybe you could tell me about him while I work on it. Just…small steps for the details of your personal life, if that’s alright with you.”

The surprise on her face lasts only for a moment. The corners of her mouth tug upwards, and the smile on her face is one that’s devoid of any sort of dry or cynical wit. Nodding, she says, in a warm voice, “…I think I can manage that much…”

>…
>You spent a long time with Sarah.