A/N: Someone suggested I change the rating to M. That might be appropriate even though it's not extremely graphic, so I am. Reviews are what awesome is made of! Thanks for reading!

They've always had amazing sex. Not a very intuitive fact since they spend most of their working hours fighting so fantastically, but they seem to act upon each other as some sort of gravitational well. Not often in frequency, but fierce in intensity, the need to connect outweighing all rational thought on those occasions. 20 years of angry sex, flirty sex, desperate sex, clinging-to-life sex, and neither can ever manage to keep their distance for long. She pushes him away, she pulls him back and he the same with her in and out of other relationships, always finding each other in the interim. They could never admit they care about each other and forget about love, but behind what they won't concede to conscious thought lays a history far deeper than they know. On the rare occasion tenderness threatens to seep to the surface, it terrifies them to the core, usually manifesting itself as a more vehement argument than their standard variety. Today's looks to be especially fun.

Flynn glares at the dark haired figure in front of him. He can't accept her as his new boss, is convinced she has no place here taking charge of his team. She doesn't belong. "Every single problem we're having here is because of YOU!"

In her usual smooth manner, the Captain flips his argument to coax a modicum of cooperation from her Lieutenant. Normally she wouldn't pacify his aggression so easily, but in the interest of moving this case forward quickly, she concedes to the path of least resistance for the moment.

Sharing a seat on the bench and somewhat calmly discussing the implications of this information with her frenemy/part-time-lover seems to be a good sign until she sets him off with another go at the rules. Raydor quickly finds herself back on the defensive under hostile fire.

"You're not cut out for this, Captain," he spat with a sneer, "You don't get how we work. You should go back to IA where you belong!"

"That's enough!" she barks, slender finger inches from his nose. "Now," she begins about an octave lower. Andy grabs the offending hand away from his face with his right and yanks it, causing her body to come flush against his, lips inches apart. Any objection the small figure was about to voice was quashed in an instant as he bruised her lips in a searing kiss, tongue searching hers. She is knocked backward a few steps and hums out her shock in a high pitched noise until the wall meets her back with such force as to knock all the air from her lungs. He swallows it in his kiss with a moan until she shoves him back in search of air.

They glare at each other, panting harshly and the Lieutenant eyes the door to the small storage room just to his left. When she goes to step forward and leave, he shoves it open, capturing her lips in another hungry kiss and forcing her through the door. Refusing to be the weaker party in this augmentation of their fight, she gives as well as she gets and claws at his back as they move. Once inside, he kicks the door shut without stopping his forward motion to slam her into the back wall.

Grabbing her arms from behind his back, he slides his hands up to close around her wrists and secures them above her head with one hand while the other yanks at the hem of her skirt and presses firmly against the damp fabric between her legs. Her eyes fly open as she lets out a whelp of pleasure and he speaks against her mouth in harsh pants. "Wicked witch," he breathes.

"Insolent fraktard," she husks deeply in a strained voice of pure sex.

He buries his face in her cleavage, licking and nipping at the flushed skin he finds there. She arches into him, throwing her head back against the wall and groaning low in her chest. Mutual and desperate pawing at clothes and skin lead them quickly to the pinnacle of their typical conflict resolution mechanisms. Skirt bunched high on her hips; he hoists her up against the wall and enters her in one fluid motion as she wraps her legs firmly around his waist. The captain cries out at the sensation of him completely filling her all at once.

A flash of something that might've felt like realization passes across Andy's widened eyes. He pauses briefly to pull back and look at her, fingers digging into her hips, black eyes in a slow hard blink. It unsettles him, how familiar that maneuver felt with her. It was so fluid and natural like something they'd mastered many times over, yet he knows he's never had sex on a wall with anyone, let alone her. The thoughts pass in a flash, but it's almost enough to pull him from the throws of passion.

"Lieutenant," she's not begging, she tells herself. She's ordering. "Move!" She clings to his back, rolling her hips against him. All reverie leaves him as he loses himself in the sensations of his captain around him and against him. He begins to move in her and buries his face in her hair, lifting her slightly higher on the door. She smells of spiced tea and heady floras.

Several moments later, as they thrash together sharing desperate cries of pleasure and pain, Andy's eyes open in a meager squint, barely registering the hazy visuals of his surroundings. His humid breath and the sheen of sweat on her breast have plastered the Captain's hair to her chest. 'Is it... redder... than before?' He blinks in an attempt to clear his vision, but the sensations are overwhelming. 'Has this wall always been... metal?' No time to think. Release is eminent for both of them. He hears her panting change to rhythmic, rasping hums that sound every time he bottoms out inside of her. The waves of her orgasm sweep powerfully through her, carrying him along as she clenches and floods with heat. His rhythm falters as he slams into her one last time, a single word escaping his lips in a strained whisper... "Laura," he breathes into a mane of wild red waves. Her eyes are shut tight, head tilted back on her shoulders, basking in the glow of release when she hears the familiar name that sends a flood of warmth and connection through her body. "Bill..." she sighs absently, a whisper almost in desperate relief.

Half a second passes before both of their eyes snap wide, brows slightly furrowed in temporary confusion and unfamiliar feelings. Something has shifted for them and they have no idea what or how. It all seems naggingly familiar which makes it even more disturbing given that, at the same time, it couldn't feel more foreign.

Awkward eye movements are exchanged as they attempt to extricate their sweaty-turned-sticky bodies from one another and he lowers the lithe figure gently to the ground and steps backward.

'What the hell was that?!'

They busy themselves refastening and smoothing clothing that had been discarded or simply shoved out of the way. Andy stares; taking in the mussed hair in front of him that is dark brown as ever and decidedly not red. The captain feels his eyes on her as she runs the flat of her hand over and over her rumpled skirt. She slows her movements and stands erect, daring to glance in his direction.

"Lieutenant," she draws a farewell in velvety calm contrast to her state of mind and he swears he sees her green eyes shining with moisture behind the rims of her glasses.

"Captain," he reciprocates as a near automated response. She turns to leave, running a hand to smooth her hair on the way out the door, the exchange of foreign names clearly not to be acknowledged today.

Butterflies swim circles round Andy's stomach causing so much nervous energy he wants to run somewhere, but he has no idea why. He steps out and then a broad smile spreads across his features as he watches her nervously stride away. He has no idea what the hell just took place or why the raw, aching feeling in his chest and gut that seems to be all to do with her is ambushing his senses, but he can't shake the feeling that, somehow, he is in deep shit now. And maybe he's going to like it that way.

~fin