China is done and you're back at home, in your apartment, thinking of her. You realize that you really shouldn't be surprised to see her again, as she seems to show up everywhere you go. Raccoon, Spain, and now Tall Oaks and China. If it wasn't for the mutual attraction you'd think she was stalking you.
You flop onto your seldom-used bed and start to think of her, only stopping when you realize you're getting hard. You roll over and groan into your pillow, trying to shake images of her from your mind before heading for the bathroom. As much as you'd like to do otherwise, you take a cold shower and find yourself still thinking of her. You managed to get closer to her this time than in the last few meeting. Last time you'd actually held her had been under Raccoon, after she'd been sliced open by Birkin, and then, after she'd been shot, dangling over a railing…
The shower works and you slip your dirty, well-traveled clothes back on. You have to head back into the agency soon, D.O.S wants a first-hand account of Simmons death, and you and Helena are needed.
But, before you leave, you reach into your pocket and pull out the compact. You hold it up and you sit back on your bed, looking for anything else. It's been looked at by almost everyone, yourself and Helena included, but you still find yourself looking for something more. She gave you the proof of you innocence, and you truly thank her for that, but what you really want is a note, a chance to open dialogue, a phone number. You did try the number she used to text you, but sometime between China and home it had deactivated.
You open the secret compartment, even check over the makeup, before admitting defeat.
She hasn't left you anything extra, just the SD card, a rocket launcher, and a helicopter ride out of the hell that was China, so why would she add anything else?
You stand and walk over to your closet, and dig around, pulling out a nice sized, fire-proof, safe box. You take it over to your bed and drop it, letting it bounce. You push your hair out of your eyes, water dripping down and soaking your shirt, and open the box.
Inside, you've collected what she's left you. Notes of warning with lipstick stains, a myriad of key chains with plastic animals attached, and, buried far down in the bottom, the gun she couldn't shoot you with.
You look your treasure trove over before adding to compact to the fair sized collection. You lock it up and hide it back in your closet, before leaving the room.
You really need to give her her things back, one of these days.
A/N: all I've been wanting to write are stupid little things like this, sorry.
It's also unedited and was written last night at 1:30 AM.
Also...this is the first time I've had something implied as sexual in a story and I feel stupid for feeling stupid about it but uhg I am being stupid and am going to stop this sentence now (Uhg I feel silly uhg OTL uhg)
Anyways, enjoy this silly stupid thing uhg
