Finding You

Blood Red

Her red lips graze the shell of his ear, breath hot against his face. His eyes flutter down gently, his chest heaving.

She drops her hooded eyes shut, exhaling a final time before her lips form the words he's been dreading.

"It's time,"

In any other context he would have taken over her completely, to have melded his lips to hers, to have followed her lead to the bed. But not this time, not with a pistol clasped in each of their palms and their innocent sweaters discarded.

It was only a cover, he reminds himself, grasping her hips that lay over his own and kissing her soundly. He stands, mouth never leaving hers as her thighs twist firmly about his waist, her leather clad legs squeezing against his own.

She pulls back first, blood red lips shining in he dim light, and smirks. "You can't put this off, Fitz,"

His eyes again fall shut, forehead resting against hers. She's soothing, her fingers with their scarlet nails tangling through his shorn curls. Despite the lack of sight, he can still feel her eyes boring into his own.

"Jems, I just ..." He falls off, blue eyes blinking up at her tearfully. "They were our family."

Her façade breaks, whiskey eyes softening. "I know," she murmured, fingers still dancing.

It's times like these he can almost remember what before was, what it was like to not take orders and not be in a constant limbo. It tugs at the corner of his mind, causing his face to scrunch, but he pushes past it to watch his love.

"But we have to," she whispers. Her eyes are crystalline and her cheeks snow, and for a moment he can remember when she wasn't so cold. But it's gone before he can remember, before he can pull the piece from its box. "We have to, or they'll -"

Her cut off reminds him of where they are, of who they belong to. Of what they are. If they don't do this, they die. It's as simple as that. And to lose her ...

A tear slips down his cheek unbidden, but her scarlet tipped finger wipes it away. "We can do this,"

He doesn't mention they way her voice cracks, about the way her legs slip down the backs of his or the way she seems powerful yet terrified all at once.

So he follows her out the bunk door, swallowing down his guilt and disgust, and readjusts the pin on his tactical suit.

"Hail Hydra," she whispers, lips red like what will soon coat her finger tips, and a single droplet escapes her stony face.

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Might make this a full length fic if I get enough comments 😉❤️