Title: Turn Left, Go Fast
Fandom: 24
Characters: Michelle Dessler/Tony Almeida
Word Count: 1,680
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Michelle catches Tony watching something unexpected. (It's not what you think!)
Author's Notes: This was written for spacefiend - who read the much less fleshed out original draft - and thus totally satisfies my fic!debt. No spoilers, set between Days 2 and 3. Thanks to featherjean for the title.
"Tony, what the hell are you watching?"
She knew she'd startled him when he waved the remote at the television, changing the channel and trying to act nonchalant.
"Nothin'."
She grinned. Like she hadn't already seen enough incriminating evidence. Closing the distance between them, she circled his shoulders with an arm and sank into his lap. His arms closed around her eagerly and he pressed his face into the curve of her neck. When his lips touched her skin, she allowed her eyes to drift shut for just a second before she shook her head.
"Nah uh, turn it back, I wanna see."
When he didn't, she leaned over for the remote to do it herself, laughing when he used his leverage to turn them both in the opposite direction, trying to keep her from getting it. Eventually she managed to kick it off of the couch and grappled for it on the ground, nearly falling off his lap in the process of retrieving the remote. Her triumphant laugh masked Tony's sheepish groan as she turned it back to the previous channel.
"I feel like I don't even know you, honey," she teased, curling her hand around his neck and squeezing gently. "I'm gone for one morning, and it comes to this?"
"Shut up," he growled, resting his head on her shoulder.
"Will not," she argued cheekily, turning her head and pressing a kiss to his temple. "But I'm sad to say, I'm not sure I can be married to a NASCAR fan." She sighed dramatically, running her hands through his hair and scratching his head gently. "Oh well, it was nice while it lasted; great sex, good food, everything I could ever want."
Tony growled, tilting his chin and leaning into her touch. "But what would people say if we got divorced just two months in? I think we've gotta keep up appearances here, Michelle."
"That depends entirely on how invested you are to the 'race for the chase,'" she volleyed, reading the ad that extended across more than half of the screen with the utmost seriousness.
Tony snorted, grabbing the remote from her and turning the volume down. She took it back just because she could, muting the television before leaning over and placing it on the coffee table, right next to Tony's discarded socks. She made a face at him and he rolled his eyes, knocking them to the floor with the slide of his foot.
"Better?"
"For now. Though when combined with your other activities..."
She could tell he was refraining from sticking his tongue out at her. "This is the part of the season when it gets interesting."
"Uh huh." She nodded, unconvinced. She kissed the corner of his mouth gently before continuing, "Interesting isn't watching cars go around in an oval for hours on end, honey."
"Okay, yeah, I can give you that. Except for the wrecks, those are pretty interesting."
She sighed. "Don't you get enough mayhem at work?"
"It's a different kind," he defended, shrugging. "There's a lot of work that goes into it. Strategy, patience, even teamwork to some extent."
"I still don't see the fun of it," she argued, glancing across the living room to stare at the TV. She saw about thirty brightly painted cars following each other almost bumper to bumper. Not exactly the fast-paced sport she'd grown up watching Danny play.
Tony squeezed her gently, and she leaned into his touch, forgetting about their playful argument. "Did I ever tell you why I joined the Marines?" he asked.
She shook her head, shifting in his arms and nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder. She loved listening to him talk.
"When I was a teenager I would sneak out to race down that street just around the corner from my house; the one you told me to slow down on about nineteen times at Christmas," he added to give her reference, laughing as she pinched his shoulder. "One night junior year I was on a roll, I decided to celebrate with a six pack, and then thought I'd go again."
Her eyes widened. "Oh no."
"The cops showed up while I was prepping. I thought I could out run them and instead I uh, ran off the road and hit a tree. That's where this scar came from," he added, taking her hand and pressing her fingertips to his forehead.
She removed her fingers, stretching up and kissing his face. She'd known he'd been pretty wild when he was younger, but it was painful to hear that he'd been hurt. "So that sort of explains racing. What about the Marines?"
"I'm getting to it. The paramedics came and fixed my head up, and the cops took me home. We woke my parents at three in the morning-"
"Bet they were thrilled."
"You know it. Mom went to school with one of the officers and she was able to convince him that I'd be suitably beaten and that charges weren't necessary. The next day they took a break from reaming me a new one and signed me up for ROTC."
She stroked the back of his neck gently, indicating her approval with his parents' course of action.
"I ended up loving it, especially the hand to hand and the sniper training. When they found out I was good with computers, they put me to work there, too. I knew I'd found my niche when the CIA recruited me and I joined CTU. So I guess it was decided for me that racing should be left to the people who get paid for it, and I wasn't one of those people."
Nodding, she kissed his cheek. "Good. I can't see you in a, what's it called? A fire suit?"
He nodded.
"I can't see you in one of those anyway," she continued, running her finger under his collar. Her smile became light and teasing again. "I like you better in nothing. Though, your dress uniform's a close second," she added with a smirk.
One of his hands cupped the back of her head while the other slid underneath the cotton top she'd worn to have lunch with a friend from college. His fingers traced the edge of her bra and she shivered, leaning closer and catching his lips. Shifting on his lap garnered a groan and an insistent tug at her shirt, but she ignored it in favor of touching his face. He was scruffy and her fingers rasped against his cheeks. He must have opted not to shave when he woke up. His lips were soft, pliant and warm sliding against hers and she felt a delicious warmth building as he opened to her the same way he had in a darkened hall in CTU, pushing his tongue against hers. His hands made her skin tingle.
She squealed his name when he moved, pushing her back into the cushions while his hands abandoned her shirt and slid to the button on her jeans. Her own hands reached for his t-shirt, tugging it over his head and sliding her fingers into his tousled hair.
"You're missing your race," she teased, leaning forward to kiss his neck. Tony completed his task of pushing her jeans down her hips and letting her kick them off, grinning triumphantly and pressing his mouth to her navel once before stretching above her. She felt his hand cup her cheek and leaned into his touch, caressing the silky skin on the inside of his wrist with her mouth, making him groan.
"Well in that case," he murmured, rocking his hips against her. "I didn't know you were paying attention," he taunted, taking her bottom lip between his teeth. "You wanna stop and watch?"
She pulled his hips closer, laughing when he groaned.
"Shut up and get naked, Tony," she ordered, moving her head and biting his ear.
She was about thirty seconds from nodding off. Every muscle in her body was relaxed, and although she wasn't sure she'd be able to move, her contentment assured that she didn't even want to. One of Tony's hands was making her favorite lulling pattern up and down her bare back, sliding into her wild hair on every third pass and scratching her scalp. His other hand was tangled with hers, pressed against his still-racing heart. She felt his legs shift and adjusted her own in response, curling her foot around his ankle in satisfaction.
"You want to cover up?" he murmured, dropping a kiss on her temple. Sleepily, she shook her head, turning her face against his skin. She was never cold, or self-conscious around him. He nodded his acquiescence, still caressing her back.
"So who won the race?" she asked, not really caring, but not wanting to fall asleep just yet.
"I think that was you, sweetheart," he quipped, sliding his hand down to her bottom. She mewled, pressing closer to him.
"I like winning," she answered softly, closing her eyes only to open them again. "But you've got me curious now."
Tony chuckled, but tightened his arm around her waist while he stretched to grab the remote so he could turn it to SportsCenter. She hadn't even realized the TV was still on.
"Tony Stewart," he answered finally, turning the television off completely and tossing the remote to the floor, giving her his full attention once more.
"Mmm," she nodded. She had no idea who that was.
"Guy in the orange car," he added in explanation.
"Mmm," she repeated, pressing a kiss to his chest. "Good day for Tonys."
His fingers curled against her skin and he laughed again. She always said the silliest things when she was half asleep.
"How many more races are there?"
Tony shrugged. "Can't remember. Why? Did I win you over already?"
She shook her head, kissing his chest gently. "Just wanted to know."
Tony's lips slid down her cheek. "You gonna seduce me every time?"
Her mouth curved against his skin. Now he was catching on. "Mmm, maybe."
He matched her smile, lifting her chin and kissing her once gently. "Good."