Okay, this was based off a conversation Maya and I had a while ago, back during Season 2.

Basically this is some smutty Pike goodness, with a side of angst and Johnny adorableness. Spoilers for "Gratis" but set a few weeks later. (Also, given what happens after that, it doesn't follow canon.)


Lamplight


It was her first time in his apartment, and Johnny encouraged her to sit down while he went to the fridge to grab a couple of drinks. She sat down on the sofa, noticing a lamp … simple, really, a rectangular base which was broken, exposing the stem of the lamp, as though it were meant to be that way.

"What's this?" she asked, curious about the broken lamp that sat so pristinely upon a side table.

"Oh that," he muses, a smile turning the corners of his mouth. "Some years ago, I had these roommates, right? They were hot on each other, real pain in the ass, you know?" He stops, shaking his head at the memory of the stubborn agents of times past, as he crosses the room and hands his companion a drink. He takes a sip.

"So anyway, they finally got their shit together and started hooking up, right? And like, I didn't even mind that I could hear them – they were in the next room, and they tried to be quiet. Whatever. Well, they got into this big fight, long story, but trust was … let's just say for a while things were really tense in the house, right?

"So this one night I guess the tension reached this point and they got at each other's throats, but like, they didn't fight like most people would have, you know? They got into some like, pissed off sex, somehow made it to my bed, and well, they broke this lamp."

"And you kept it?" The question was asked almost incredulously, and Johnny couldn't really blame her, after all. Who would want to remember the fact that their roommates had sex on their bed?

"Yeah, well, the story goes, they freaked out, realized they were in the wrong room, classic. I guess one of them started laughing, then the other, and suddenly they were good again, you know? So I kept it. Reminds me that you can break something and – well, it's not all that bad."


Mike was waiting for her in the living room when she got home, and she slid her sandals off, kicking them haphazardly to the side, and ran a hand through her hair as she tried to suppress the roll of her eyes at the sight of him.

He turned in his seat, his arm propped up on the backside of the sofa, his stare intense as he regarded Paige, once the object of his affections. She had closed herself off to him, her obsession with the survival of the girls caught up in the atrociousness of the sex trade trumping her need for his comfort, or anyone else's, for that matter.

"Paige," he said, pensively. Surely she had to know that he'd been waiting for her to come home.

"Mike," she nodded curtly, and turned to head up the stairs. Whatever he wanted, it could wait. It was late, but she could spend at least another hour scouring the net for Lina. Or at least convince Mike that that was what she was doing, since her gut was telling her Mike had lied and that Lina had not escaped.

"We need to talk," he offered, standing and crossing the room toward her.

"No we don't." She turned, again, to head up the stairs, this time, his hand caught her upper arm, pulling him away from the stairs. She glared at him.

"It's about Lina," he supplied, again attempting to open the lines of communication between them. His expression was neutral, and aside from the hand grabbing Paige's arm, his body language, he hoped, was as non-confrontational as possible.

She shook her arm away from his grasp, anger overcoming her. "Did you find her? Because if you didn't, then I don't want to hear it." She began to stomp up the stairs, and Mike grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"No. Paige," he started. "Listen." He tilted his face slightly, his eyes peeking at her through hooded lids. "I need to talk to you about what happened to Lina."

"What happened to her?" Paige was fuming. Mike had left the house where all of the girls, herself included, had stated waiting for a fate more terrible than he could have ever imagined over three weeks ago, and now he wanted to bring this up?

"Okay, Mike," she spat, "What happened to Lina?"

He swallowed, started to open his mouth, then caught her gaze.

She knew.

"She's dead, isn't she? Isn't she?" She yanked her wrist away from his grasp, and resumed her ascension of the stairs, livid. Mike followed her, wanting to explain himself, when she stopped short, whirling toward him, her voice lowering to just above a whisper, "I saw the incinerator, Agent Warren, and I put two and two together. Tell me what happened in there!"

Defeated, he started to speak. "She fought him. Sulla. He tried to force himself on her, even though I had pledged to buy the girls. I tried to protect her. I had no idea she'd fight him, and I couldn't tell her not to, not without risking my ass." Her eyes narrowed, and he continued. "So I told him I was leaving, and taking her with me. Sulla grabbed her and– "he wiped his brow, lowering his eyes, "he stabbed her. Several times." Silence descended on the staircase, and he felt a tear come to his eye, mirroring the tear that was streaming down Paige's face. "I tried to save her. You have to believe me."

She reached up and wiped the lone tear from her face, a sigh passing between them. "Why did you lie?" she asked through gritted teeth. Mike marveled at the fact that, had he not seen the tear on her face just a few seconds ago, he'd never be able to tell she'd even been crying.

"I didn't want to hurt you," he replied lamely. And it was lame, he realized, now that he said it out loud. A stinging pain knocked his face to the side, and he realized she'd slapped him, hard, and he nodded imperceptibly, accepting the blow that had been more than deserved.

He took a breath, then spoke again. "I am sorry, for what it's worth. I shouldn't have lied." She nodded slightly, but Mike could tell that Paige was still upset with him.

"I don't know if I can trust you again," she responded, her jaw set. He ascended another step, leaning toward her, reaching for her again. She'd said it herself, they'd had something special. He wanted it back.

"And no, you shouldn't have lied," she added, taking another step up and away from him. He reached to stop her again, this time missing her arm, which came swinging to smack him again, this time harder, causing him to stumble back a step and almost fall completely.

"Come on, Paige, this isn't fair," he implored, stepping forward to gain his position back.

"Fair?" She shouted.

"Yeah, fair." He was done being the hurt puppy dog, and it was his turn to go on the offensive. "Like expecting me to keep a promise you should have never made in the first place!"

Shaking her head, Paige turned and took the rest of the steps, Mike hot on her heels. "Oh, you're just going to walk away then, are you? Tell me more about how fair you're being to me, when all I'm trying to do is keep this goddamn house from crushing underneath its own weight."

"You have no right, Mike, to even act like this house rests on your shoulders. We were perfectly fine here without you. You kicked Bates out and didn't even take his goddamn place on the chore wheel and now I'm supposed to fall down at your fucking feet because you apologized for a shitty decision you made?" She walked back toward him, her bare feet padding heavily on the floor outside the bedrooms. "Every last one of your calls since you've been put in charge here have been wrong and have gotten people killed. But you're only thinking about your goddamn self. And furthermore-"

She was silenced by his lips connecting with hers, the rest of her anger swallowed by his hot kiss. He pushed her angrily against the wall, his hands running through her hair as he assaulted her tongue with his own, her loud moans of protest as she pushed against him drowned out by the sensation of … oh. She'd missed this. She pushed him away.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Her words came out in short breaths, her cheeks flushed. Damn him, she thought, for making me feel this way.

"What I should have done weeks ago," he responded roughly, and without waiting for her to respond, he crashed his lips on hers once again. She was pissed at Mike, tired from work, upset about Lina's death, and … his lips expertly melded against her own, and she had to admit, she was turned on as all hell.

Why not use him for one more good fuck, then kick the shit out of him later?

She wrapped her arms around his neck finally, relenting to his advances. She was still angry, and she chose that moment to dig her nails into the back of his neck, but he didn't seem to mind, instead growling into her mouth as he pulled her forcefully away from the wall and over to the bed, unzipping her dress and letting it fall to the floor.

Paige stumbled as she felt the mattress against the back of her legs, and pulled at Mike, bringing him down with her. Gasping for breath, she grabbed his collar, yanking him forcefully toward her, muttering, "Fucking asshole," before joining their lips together for another rough kiss.

Grinding her into the bed, Mike began to work on removing his shirt, starting with the buttons before pulling it away and tossing it to a corner of the room. Leaning back down on top of Paige and kissing her again, his bare skin hot against her flesh, Mike began working on the ties of her bikini top, but Paige grabbed his hands and pulled them away, keeping him from his goal. Looking down at her with a questioning look and meeting her gaze, he found nothing but ire staring back at him. Clearly, she didn't want to take her top off, so Mike slid his hands downward, running his hand down her stomach.

"Pants off," she ordered, and he stood up, unbuttoning them and sliding them down, boxers and all. She said nothing as his erection sprang free, only lifted up her hips and slid her bikini bottom to the floor, then grabbed Mike's arm and yanked him to the bed. Before he could get his bearings, she pulled him to his back and sat on top of him, digging her nails into his chest and running them slowly downward, leaving red marks in her wake.

"Ow! God!" he groaned, his eyes narrowing at her. Ignoring his frustration, she leaned forward and bit him, hard, on his nipple, causing his hips to jerk upward in response, a sharp yelp escaping his lips. It hurt, but with Paige sitting on top of him and doling out torture, her half-naked frame straddled atop him, he couldn't help but feel himself grow even harder, the pain turning into some sick sort of pleasure. He furrowed his brow, wondering what she had in store for him next.

She wasted no time grabbing him, yanking his length roughly, causing him to gasp at her touch. "Jesus," he gasped, leaning into her touch and trying to pull her down toward him. Paige glared at him, pushing against his chest with her free hand without missing a stroke. Lifting her hips up, she continued stroking his cock, rubbing him against her moist heat, back and forth, back and forth, until she was wet enough to sink down on him, taking him all the way into her with one long, smooth stroke.

Mike groaned, then reached his hands to grab her ass, hoping to regain some semblance of control. "You can touch, but I'm in charge here," Paige warned, sensing Mike's intentions from the beginning. He dug his fingers into her ass, and she began to move, a rapid, frantic pace he'd never expected from her. It was nothing like the last time – no, that time had been slow, languid, sensual, where this time was rough, fast, and intense.

Paige dug her nails into Mike's chest as she rode him, enjoying the faces he made as she repeatedly drove herself down onto him. "You like that?" she whispered, leaning toward him to bite his earlobe, never missing a beat as she rhythmically rode him, taking a nibble of his neck for good measure, laughing as high-pitched yelp escaped his lips. "You do, don't you?"

"Yes," he croaked, unable to think of anything more coherent to say. He'd never seen Paige this angry before, but it was so damn hot he couldn't even find a single reason to try to slow it down and get her to forgive him.

"Good," she gasped out, leaning forward to take his bottom lip between her teeth, biting him lightly there before kissing him more gently. Mike took his opportunity to really kiss her, wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her toward him, working his tongue expertly into hers, causing her to moan into his mouth. Taking that as his cue, he started to roll her onto her back, wanting to take charge and give her as good as he'd gotten, but he felt himself – and her, start to tumble over, and something fell from a nearby table with a crash, the couple landing on the floor with a thud.

"Owww," she moaned, flat on her back beneath him on the floor between the bed and the desk.

"You okay?" he gasped, his eyes alight with worry, but she smacked his ass and dug her nails in, causing him to bite his lip in response.

"Well, don't stop," she grumbled, and he obliged, slowly working up speed, beginning with slow, longer thrusts – despite her repeated attempts to get him to move faster – and eventually building to a rough fast pace on top of her, their bodies still tangled together on the floor of the bedroom, Paige's ass thumping against the hardwood floor with every thrust. "Faster!" she begged, needing him to fuck her, hard, and he obliged, pounding against her with all his might. She met him thrust for thrust, her legs squeezing him like a vice.

She was getting closer, her body starting to tighten, and her movements started to become more erratic. Sensing this, Mike reached between them to rub her clit, but she pushed his hand away, looking at him pointedly and saying, "Let me do it."

"If you say so," he said huskily, his voice hoarse with exertion. She reached between her legs and stroked, just the way she liked it, and he felt her body start to stiffen around him. It wasn't long before she was crying out with pleasure, a strangled string of expletives passing from her lips as she came, and her hand stilled between them. "God," he muttered, the sight of her breathless in the afterglow of her orgasm sending him over the edge, and after a few more fast, rough thrusts, he came, his breath coming out in short puffs against her cheek.

They lay together on the floor for a few moments, breathless, before Paige looked behind her and noted where they were. She was just about to say something, when Johnny burst into the room, surveying the scene before him, and the two agents on the floor, barely post-coitus, his room in a state of disarray.

"Hey what the hell are y'all doing in my room?"

"Your …" Mike trailed off. Oh, shit. This was Johnny's room. He turned and looked back at Paige with a deer in the headlights look, his bare ass still pointed toward the doorway, right in full view of Johnny's appalled gaze.

Paige started to snicker, trying not to laugh out loud, but she couldn't keep her body from shaking at the sight of it, despite being caught in the act. Mike turned to look back at Johnny, still not ready to get up off the floor – that was one walk of shame he wasn't willing to face yet, and then back at Paige, seeing her covering her mouth with her hand, desperately trying to keep from bursting out laughing.

He broke into a silent chuckle, as well, and that sent Paige over the edge, her laughter spilling out, big, belly laughs that filled the whole upstairs – and possibly, if she was being honest, all of Graceland. Mike started to laugh, too, finally climbing off of Paige and reaching for his pants, catching Johnny's eye only once he was covered completely, and laughing harder once he saw how annoyed the other agent was.

Entering the room to survey the damage and ignoring the two bumbling idiots who didn't have the good sense to use one of their own fucking bedrooms, he noted what looked like one of his bedside lamps on the floor.

"Dude! You broke my lamp too?" Johnny narrowed his eyes at the pair who seemed to have trouble forming actual words, noting that the angrier he looked, the more they laughed. He crossed the room to where the base of the lamp sat, mostly still intact, with a few stray pieces strewn about his bedside table and the floor.

"Yeah," shrugged Paige, raising her eyebrows nonchalantly, choking back a giggle.

"Sorry," her partner added, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "We – uh …"

"We fell. That's when it happened," she supplied, still unable to keep from laughing, taking the bikini bottoms Mike had finally handed her and sliding them back on. Mike marveled at her ability to talk to Johnny as though she wasn't just wearing a bikini top the entire time he'd been in the room. Few women had that level of comfort with their bodies, but Paige was something else.

"Breaking my stuff is funny?" He shook his head, reaching down to the switch and finding that, although broken, the lamp still worked.

"Nooooo." The word was drawn out, almost comically so, her eyes wide as she spoke. As though she were a child doing her best to keep from bursting out laughing.

That was all it took for Mike to lose it, and a quick glance at Paige got her started again, too. She leaned toward him, and almost instinctively, he raised his arm up to wrap it around her, pulling her even closer toward him as he tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow another fit of laughter.

"Wait, you two are … you're good?" Johnny looked at the pair, his eyes traveling between the two of them, a smile spreading across his face at the slight nod Paige gave him as she leaned her head on Mike's shoulder.

"We … we might still need to talk, but … yeah. We're good," Paige nodded, not quite catching Mike's eye as she said it.

"Aw, you know I don't care about no lamp!" He practically squealed as he stepped forward, enveloping the two of them into a tight bear hug.


"So are they still together?"

"Yeah … they're together, and my lamp still works. So it's all good."


Thanks for reading - and I hope you enjoyed! I don't write Paige and Mike that often, but the new season coming up soon and all of the previous episodes on Netflix has given me a burst of inspiration.