Hotel Six: A Call of Duty Fanfiction

Chapter 12: Friends

Price rapped sharply on Jessica's front door. He waited a few silent moments, his eyes trained anywhere but the door until it opened. She was dressed in a loose white tee shirt and black leggings, her hair hanging around her shoulders casually. Her hazel eyes almost looked like a fawn's, round and unassuming. 

Heart pounding, yet not a trace of fear or anger.

Hands.

Finger tips.

Warmth.

"Sir?" she asked, her calm and casual demeanor turning rigid and professional within moments. 

He blinked and he straightened his back a little, shoulders pushing back and chest broadening. "Saw your lights on; you're still awake?"

"No, I'm dead asleep." Jess looked away with a chuckle when he narrowed his eyes at her. "Can't sleep, sir."

"Me neither." he said. "Mind if I talk with you for a while so I can wind down?"

She opened the door. "Come on in; I could use the company." As she walked back into the house, she looked over her shoulder at him. "Want anything to drink?"

He closed the door behind him and followed her. "Sure. What do you have?"

She opened a cupboard in the kitchen. "Lots, actually: red wine, white wine, schnapps, bourbon, whiskey, spiced rum..." Her head swiveled at his sudden appearance close behind her and she side stepped to let him see the selection. "Take your pick."

Price thought for a moment and then took down a bottle. "This bourbon looks pretty good."

She nodded. "Sounds good; I'll get you a glass." 

He studied the bottle for a moment. "Didn't expect you to have something like this in your cupboard; not a typical woman's drink." 

"Well, I'm not a typical woman, sir." she said, smiling as she set down a glass for each of them. 

He popped out the cork and began to pour. "That's true," he chuckled. Price filled her glass, and watched her fingers gingerly pick it up.

Fingertips.

Hands.

Mouths slightly agape.

The Captain took a sip and heaved in a quiet breath. "You nervous about tomorrow?"

"Nah," she said. "I'm not worried about it. Are you?"

He took another sip, and his steely eyes glanced across the room. "No, not at all."

She set her brows skeptically, looking at him through her glass. "Suspicious avoidance of eye contact, mate." she purred.

He scoffed. "I'm not worried about it."

"Whatever you say," she said, taking another sip. 

Suddenly, his head popped up, as if something had occurred to him. "Oh! Soap tells me you hurt yourself during training today; are you alright?"

Her expression looked stiff and irritated. "... That son of a bitch..." she muttered. "It's nothing really, I'm okay." When she noticed that he wasn't about to leave it alone, she rolled her eyes and took another sip of bourbon. "Rolled my shoulder out of joint; like I said, I'm fine and I usually recover pretty quickly, it just hurt."

Price tilted his head. "You've done it before?"

"Many times, actually. Damaged it in a fight long before I was working with SHIELD, and didn't start having problems with it until they recruited me. Had to go through a lot of rehab before I got it to become strong again, but I've been neglecting my exercises..."