A/N: One-shot revolving around the strange relationship between Geronimo and Vidocq.

"Did you know, that during La guerre de la Conquête, General Louis-Joseph de Montcalm-Gozon actually decided to fight in Montreal, rather than retreat in a timely manner? And of course he got killed during the escape afterwards…ah, well, c'est la vie." The Frenchman carefully bookmarked the page, as he always did after his daily read. The scent of cigarette smoke was thick, though not unwelcome, as the woman straddled his lap, her gauzy nightgown barely hovering above her thighs.

"Yeah yeah, but really, when will you learn that I honestly have no interest in history?" She drawled, taking another drag before exhaling the smoke, cigarette dangling between her teeth as she ran her fingers through his short blonde hair.

"…You're mistaken, ma cherie, I do not read aloud for your entertainment," he emphasized, setting the book aside to free his hands that were now stroking her thighs, "I just thought you might find it…tragic, perhaps."

"Hmph. Sure, whatever you say…Vidocq." Nose nearly touching his, her eyes were half-lidded, enjoying the leisurely pace his hands were setting. "Mmm…really, is that all you ever do?"

The hands stopped momentarily, before taking the cigarette out of her lips—a slight scowl from the woman—so he could take a drag, as well. "Do? You act like you're expecting something…LeMond."

"Don't call me that, I've told you before—" cigarette back in her mouth, the ashes sprinkled onto his shirt and the bedsheets in the process. "And get your own smoke next time."

He smirked, reclining back against the pillows, while watching this amusing play before him. The great leader Geronimo himself reincarnated—well, more like the slender, willowy frame of a woman who housed his soul. The chiffon hardly did anything to cover her, nipples raised on pert breasts that he knew, she would later demand he lavish. "…Mes excuses… Still, hardly seems fair cherie, after all Hunter addresses you as such, no?"

A snort, rather un-ladylike, but then again Geronimo had never been much for indulging in her feminine side anyway, aside from this baby-doll set with matching lingerie (which he highly suspected might've been a present). "What makes you think I gave him permission to? It was after Stone Forest…he was probably tired, not used to fighting in the field—I let it slide, just this once…" Reaching the last bit of her cigarette, she took one final drag, before snuffing it out in the ashtray by his bed. "Now…are we just gonna sit here and talk about formalities all night, or are you actually going to use those hands of yours for something other than turning pages and stealing cigs?"

"How vulgar, dear Geronimo. You should know better than that…" A sudden shift as he deftly untied her panties, allowing him complete access without even having to move her.

"Oh, I do know. Even so, you're such a prim boy, Vidocq…not adventurous at all." When it came to the standard of standards, he was certainly skillful enough—she'd give him that much.

But as for anything else…

"Me? Prim?" Her folds were hot and wet, hips rocking to the steady rhythm with which he thumbed her clit. "You're just the uncivilized one…"

"Uncivilized?" Eyes narrowing, she tightened her legs around his waist momentarily, eliciting a gasp from the man. "I don't think I like that tone you're taking with me…"

It was always like this; since the beginning, it seemed, there could never be an encounter between the two without heated exchanges and snarks thrown every which way, some sarcastic, but most intended to do damage. Perhaps they would never get anywhere beyond the physical aspect—not like the playful on-again, off-again flirtations of Mirza and Beckham, and certainly not like the sweet, innocent first-love that the Second Platoon's sniper and Ripper seemed to be indulging each other in.

No, it was about the feeling of another's body—or rather, what one could do to that body, and receive in return. He tolerated her brash behavior, and somehow she put up with his arrogance; equivalent exchange, maybe?

"I think you're reading too much into this…ah," his breath faltered as her nail scratched down his chest, leaving a flushed trail in its wake. "You know what I mean by that."

"Of course I do…I know exactly what you mean in every sense of that word." She hadn't hacked her way to the top of the First Platoon without a reason, fighting strength or not. A good leader knew how to command each member of her team, and how to utilize them for maximum advantage. "Are you trying to prove me wrong?" A sudden gasp as he flipped them over, now towering above her as he loosened his clothes.

"Non, Geronimo…I'm just trying to prove us right."

Let us see just who is the uncivilized one here…