abscondence ➳ [harry styles au]

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There was a lengthy silence, each staring at the other expressionlessly. Then she said, “I didn't think rebellion was in you.”

“It wasn't. Until that night you claimed my sense of adventure was staler than my taste in women.”

She took a slow drag of her cigarette and laughed quietly.

“Ironic isn't it? How the life of a spy is inherently deemed as a life of action-filled adventure, yet the mindset of a spy doesn't necessarily reflect this generalization but the exact opposite?”

“Really? I reflected the exact opposite?”

“At the time, I thought so.”

“And what do you think now?”

“I think . . .” She gave a coy smile. “My drunken words affected you that much?”

“Everything about you affected me,” he said. “Drunken or sober, if it came from you, I was affected.”

“Well, I was certainly wrong about your taste in women. It's superb.”

“I know.” Seizing her like he had on their very first night, he kissed her hard.

The cigarette fell from her fingers to the cold cement, her hands levitating to grip his hair. She spun them around, the heel of her stiletto deftly crushing the stub, as her eyes drifted close. Despite the night's wintry chill, she felt only the warmth of him pressed against her, the both of them precariously bent over the railing of the balcony. What a perfect way to die, she thought. But before she could think further, he was already carrying her inside, mouth still on hers.