Mike Warren had not been not a man of many vices until he joined the FBI.
Caffeine was his first addiction as he stayed up late nights and woke up early mornings and spent every waking moment fighting to be at the top of his class at Quantico. He succeeded, but the caffeine withdrawal headaches after graduation almost split his head in two.
Alcohol flowed freely before Graceland, he must admit, so he can't fully blame that. He should be on a track to Director, not slumming it in some undercover house in LA on a whack-a-mole hunting mission. Misunderstanding and rage at his current situation drove him to search for solutions in the bottom of the bottle. Bottles don't hold answers, though, just blinding pain the next morning.
Graceland exacerbated the alcohol use with damn near constant Congratulations on not dying and Cheers to a criminal behind bars and the occasional somber Here's to the ones that didn't go home. Booze around a beach campfire became soothing in a way his post FBI assignment drinking wasn't. It represented life and living, there in Graceland.
In the way that cold beers around a warm campfire constituted everything good in the world, oxy pills hastily dry-swallowed in secretive rooms became everything that could go wrong in life. Mike fell deep down into a dark hole and it took everything within him and around him to claw his way to the surface again.
All of these addictions, though, they manage to pale in comparison to the unquenchable thirst he feels for Paige Arkin. It's lust, definitely— how could anyone look at her and not lust after her? But it is something else entirely, something more. Beyond lust, beyond anything even in this world, infinite planes of existence away, resides his heart that holds nothing but love for her.
Love is the best drug, his mom used to tell him every time she kissed a man on the lips and took a pill or snorted a line or shot a needle of actual drugs, the only times he remembers his mom from his childhood. Mike still doesn't know if she had meant love for him or love for her drugs.
But the sentiment maintained. Love is one hell of a drug. Love makes you look past malicious transgressions. Love makes you forgive the unforgivable. Love is the beginning, middle, and end.
She moves above him, around him, engulfing him and he lets himself be claimed by the rising flame that is Paige Arkin. He would do anything for her, he realizes, and wonders if she knows this fact.
"You're the closest to God I have ever come," he whispers frantically and grips her hips tighter and oh god oh god yes. It's a funny compliment, especially considering he had seen the light and all that jazz. He didn't feel close to God then. He had felt cold and confused and somehow determined to find answers to questions he didn't know. Nothing about his red birds and clocks felt close to God. Oh, well. Maybe the next time around.
"The Devil was close to God too," she tells him as she dresses again and doesn't quite meet his eyes. The good Catholic inside him understands the biblical reference in a lofty technical sense, but his synapses aren't connecting the relation to her.
"Paige, please—" he starts the same way he's started for the past month. It always ends the same: she sleeps in her own bed and they pretend they don't need each other during daylight hours. Paige presses a kiss to his forehead like she always does and trails her fingers down to Mike's neck to trace where his airway is.
She steps away and closes the door and he can see her silhouette press her back against the frosted paneling. If he didn't overanalyze it, it would almost look like her shoulders are shaking with tears.
The realization that her actions were driven out of guilt cost him a night or four of decent sleep. Paige must sense it, because she doesn't come back again for a week. But she comes back, because they always find their way back to each other. For better or for worse, it's always each other.
"What are we doing, Paige?" Mike asks as he sits up in bed. She's already dropped her silk robe and is kneeling with one leg on the bed and her hand stroking his chest.
"I think you know where this is going, Mike," Paige responds with a seductive coating lobbed on. He knows her voices, but this one he can't tell from her undercover voice from her real voice.
Mike makes a quick switch of positions with her, pressing her shoulders to sit down on his bed as he retrieves the maroon and gold kimono. He hands it to her wordlessly and the look of defeat in her eyes is almost enough to make him stop what he's doing and let her have her way with him. He would enjoy it too, he would love it and crave for more, but that's not what they need right now. He takes a seat next to her on the bed, a respectable distance between them.
"Is this your version of repentance?" Mike implores and it sounds so ridiculous that it must be true. Her green eyes glance away for a beat and he has his answer. "You know is both the worst and best part about loving you, Paige?"
Paige swallows thickly but bravely doesn't break eye contact this time. He doesn't expect her to respond.
"Never being able to stop," Mike breathes. "Every mistake you've made, I forgive you, because I can't stop loving you."
Author's Note: Title is Like I Can by Sam Smith. Thank you for reading and reviewing!