Pedro Pascal Imagines

Agent Whiskey - A Drink and a Dance

"My, my, darlin' you're breaking my heart."Whiskey shakes his head at you, his eyes on you as you hide a smirk bringing the cigarette up to your lips.

You sat at a bar facing the interior while Whiskey leant with his back against the counter, his elbows propped up as he watched the people who passed by. Although you tried not to pay too much attention to him you noticed how his eyes always lingered on the tanned bodies of women who sashayed past him.

Dropping your head against your shoulder you tilted your face towards him and closed a eye, lifting your hand in the shape of a gun.

"Bang." You aimed straight at his heart. His smile lit up before dramatically smacking his hand against his chest and slumping  backwards against the counter.

You smiled as you blew away the imaginary smoke. "I didn't think that would work, I thought it was empty in there." You spin around on your stool, and as you briefly face him you reach up to tap two fingers against the centre of his chest. However, before you could spin around completely his hand was suddenly covering your fingers. He raised his eyebrow at you and pulled the tips of your fingers up to his lips. The end of your nails brushed against his moustache as the warmth of his breath tickled your fingertips.

"I just need someone to come along and fill me up." He winked at you and tightened his grip against the base of your fingers, ever so slightly pulling your fingers further into his lips as he spoke. His dark eyes daring you as he spoke.

At this point you didn't realise how close you two had been, you could feel every point of contact between the two of you. The rough texture of his denim jeans as they rubbed against the bare skin of your knee. His other hand gently touching the forearm where you held your cigarette, and most of all you were very, very, awake of how warm his lips felt.

Of course this was all just typical Whiskey behaviour. You were sure that as soon as he dropped flirting with you he'd be straight onto the next woman who crosses his line of vision without a second thought about you. He just thought he had this effect on all woman. And annoyingly enough, he does. But you wouldn't let him think that you're just like the other girls who bat their eyelashes at him and fall to their knees for his cowboy antics.

So, forcing a bored exhale you bought your cigarette up to your lips. Took a deep inhale, then casually placed the butt onto his hand atop the counter.

You didn't press down hard, or enough to leave a burn mark. Just so that he would pull away.

Jumping back he shook his hand and glared at you. You smiled back sarcastically and turned so you both watched the exterior of the bar.

"Bitch." He muttered under his breath, reaching over to grab your drink and inhale it.

"Wanker." You replied.

"You two play nice." A voice came from the earpiece. Ginger was chastising us, again.

You shook your head as you tried to glance over at Whiskey, observing him. He had returned to his usual relaxed stance. But you could see in his eyes he was concentrating, or pissed off. They both looked the same on his face.

It's been the hardest thing taking him seriously since you transferred from the Kingsman to become incorporated into the Statesman's line of work. He's an incredible professional and you can't fault him for his skill set. But it's his arrogance and attitude you can't understand. He always seems so assured of himself, you just find yourself wishing you could have a single conversation where he's not acting like a self-entitled cowboy.

It doesn't fucking help you found him attractive from the first day you stepped into the distillery. What's even more annoying is you're sure he already knows it.