A/N: The long-awaited, hopefully not overrated, 'handcuffs fic' from yours truly. Enjoy!!!
A/N 2: For discussion, commentary, and coming attractions on my stories, please visit my thread at the Planet Hood forums. (Link in my profile, under 'Eleventh Hour')
Disclaimer: Well, CBS has given it up, does that mean it's up for grabs? I'd be happy to take it if JB and SG are willing to give it up...
Dedication: To Aethre and LatteLady, thank you so much for the Beta's and the reassurance!
REVENGE IS SWEET
Frustrated, he tugged again. The results were the same as they'd been before - the handcuffs rattled against the head of the bed, and a sharp twinge of pain went through his wrist. Virtually growling with exasperation, he flopped back onto the pillows and glowered at the ceiling.
"You're gonna have a bruise if you keep yanking on it like that, Doc."
Raising his head a little, Hood transferred his glare to Felix, who was sitting on the other side of the hotel room, half-hidden behind a newspaper. On the table beside his elbow rested three items Hood rather wished he could get his hands on; a handcuff key, a cellphone, and a gun.
Not that he would use the gun, of course. But he was getting tempted.
"Felix, I wouldn't have to give myself a bruise if Rachel wasn't being such an idiot."
"Nice try, Doc, but that was the smartest move she could have made, and you know it," the newspaper answered. "And you don't have to give yourself the bruise."
Hood growled and dropped back onto the bed again, his left hand resting on the pillow behind his head at the limit of the handcuff's chain.
Quite honestly, this had been the last thing he'd expected after the argument. They'd found the identity of their criminal, ordered security on his location, and rushed mobilization of a full unit. And while Rachel was getting ready, the argument had started.
* * * * * * *
"I'm going with you."
"Like hell you are, Hood. This man put out a contract on your life. Until he's neutralized, you do not leave cover."
"He put a contract out on your life, too, Rachel! And of course you're going out after him - "
"I'm the agent, Hood, that's my job!"
"Your job is to protect me, dammit!"
"Which is exactly why you're not going. I'm responsible for your life and mine. That means I have to ensure that any threat to us is properly negated, and you have to stay undercover. No arguments, Hood!"
So he'd sat on the bed, clenching his teeth and trying not to be furious as Rachel strapped on a bulletproof vest, double-checked her gun, and snapped extra clips onto her belt.
A moment before she was ready to leave, she'd stopped, walked back, and knelt before him.
"Hood."
He'd glanced at her, a frown still marring the edges of his mouth. "Yes, Rachel?"
"I'm sorry," she said softly, touching the back of his hand with calloused fingers. "But I have to do what I can to keep you safe, whether you agree with it or not. Okay?"
He looked up at her from under lowered lashes, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards. "Okay."
"Good," she said simply, and the ratcheting, metallic click of handcuffs echoed loudly in the still room. Before he could react, she'd jerked his arm around to that damned ugly mission headboard and latched the other end of the cuff to one of the posts.
"Rachel!!"
"You said you understand," she reminded him, leaping backwards before he could grab her. "Felix, your watch. If he attempts to leave the hotel room, subdue him."
"Rachel!"
"Agent Young?!"
"I said subdue, Agent Lee, not injure. But be warned, if he gets out on your watch.... I will shoot you."
It was impossible to say whether or not she was joking.
"Yes, ma'am," Felix answered, swallowing audibly.
She'd nodded to him, then turned to fix Hood with a level gaze. "Behave yourself," she ordered flatly, and vanished out the door.
* * * * * *
That had been three hours ago.
Now, Felix lifted his head suddenly, setting the newspaper aside and reaching for his gun. Hood glanced at him, curious.
"What?"
"Footsteps. People on the stairs," came the quiet answer. Gun in hand, Felix moved towards the door.
Rap-rap. Rap-rap-rap. Rap-rap.
"Two-three-two." Bending enough to see out the peephole, Felix exhaled an audible sigh of relief. "It's her."
When they were first proposed, Hood had thought the coded knocks were a ridiculous idea. However, he'd never been so glad to hear Rachel's seven beats.
Felix unfastened all three locks in seconds, yanking the door open to admit Rachel, leaning on the arm of a man in ballistic armor. She murmured a thank-you, adjusting the white blouse that was draped over her shoulders like a cape. As she did so, both Hood and Felix caught sight of the blood-tinged bandage wrapped around her right bicep.
"Rachel?" Hood said sharply, his voice mingling with Felix's worried "Agent Young?"
Wearily, she stepped in, waving off their questions. "I'm fine, guys. We got him. And the bullet just winged me. Felix, would you please go get my equipment from Agent Rotham and pack it back up for me?"
"Sure thing, ma'am. You just take it easy," Felix answered quickly, following the armored man out the door.
Moving slowly, Rachel stepped into the room. There was a grim tension around her mouth that Hood recognized as emotional strain, not physical, so whatever painkillers they'd given her obviously hadn't worn off yet.
"How bad is your arm?" he asked after a long moment of silence.
Rachel's responding smile was tired, forced. "Three stitches. Tolerable."
"Three stitches are enough, Rachel," Hood snapped, feeling an irrational surge of anger. "Why is it that every time you leave my side, you end up bleeding?"
Startled, Rachel rocked backwards, away from the heat of anger in his eyes, then visibly marshaled herself and took a step forward again.
"I'm FBI, Hood. Shot happens."
He sat up further, hissing in pain when he accidentally jerked against the handcuff, reminding him just how much damage he'd done to himself. Her eyes narrowing, Rachel crossed to the bed in three strides, wrapping her fingers around his wrist.
"Jesus, Hood." The skin under the cuff was rubbed raw, already edged with purple-red bruising.
"I was frustrated."
"No kidding," Rachel muttered dryly, standing up and walking carefully to the bathroom. Water splashed in the sink, and she returned a moment later, carrying a dampened washcloth. Retrieving the key from the table on her way back, she crouched next to the bed and carefully unfastened the cuff from his wrist.
Hood hissed in pained relief as the cool cloth scraped over his raw skin, and Rachel instinctively jerked the cloth back.
"Sorry."
"It's all right." Suddenly sheepish, he glanced at her. "Here I am, complaining about my wrist, while you have a gunshot wound in your arm. How sore is it?"
"It's not," she answered, carefully dabbing his wrist with the washcloth. "The lidocaine hasn't worn off yet."
"Ah." Sitting up fully, he stared down at her until her hands stilled and she glanced up at him, irritation and confusion warring on her face.
"What?"
"Rachel, you handcuffed me to the bed."
The quiet intensity of his voice almost drove her back again, but she clenched her teeth and snarled back at him. "What the hell was I supposed to do, Hood, let you come running after me like some... some damn puppy and get yourself killed?"
"Oh, that does it," he muttered, his tone astonished rather than angry. Even so, Rachel didn't have time to move before his bruised wrist suddenly twisted out of her grasp, and her own wrist was imprisoned in his hand.
"Hey!" she yelped, half-furious, half-startled, and was yanked off-balance when he pulled her arm across her body, tugging her forward. She managed to catch herself on the bed with her right hand, nearly cracking her head on his knee in the process. It was enough to distract her until it was just a moment too late.
The ratcheting metal sounded even louder than it first had.
Astonished, Rachel froze in place, twisting her head up and around to glare at him. "You did not. Just. Do that."
"Actually, Rachel, I think you'll find that I did," came the too-casual reply. Standing up, Hood slipped from between her and the bed, whisking the handcuff key off the nightstand as he did. "You can just consider this payback."
"Revenge isn't your style, Hood." The warning in her voice was clear; frost could have formed from the fury in her eyes.
"Obviously you never spoke to my former handlers."
Blank surprise slipped across Rachel's face for a moment. "You handcuffed your former handlers to hotel beds?"
"What? No!" Indignant, Hood shook his head at her. "I was more creative with them. And a little less..." he paused for a moment, then, darting forward, caught her up and swooped her onto the bed. "Personal," he finished, dropping her on the mattress and dodging backwards again, out of range of her furious kick. "And Rachel, tonight... I am going to get very, very personal."
The sudden heat in his voice, and his eyes, drew a wide-eyed stare from her. Face burning, she instinctively squirmed backwards against the headboard, trying to retreat from the suddenly overwhelming presence of the scientist before her. In response, he stepped forward again, resting one knee on the mattress and leaning forward, pressing into her personal space.
The sound of the door opening startled them both.
"I got your gear put away, Agent... Young?" Felix's voice trailed off in bewilderment as he took in the scene before him; Hood, towering over Rachel, his eyes gleaming as the blonde agent jammed herself against the headboard, wide-eyed and flushed.
"...Everything okay here?"
"Fine," Hood answered tersely, never taking his eyes from Rachel's. "Felix, give me your cuffs."
"My cuffs? What do you want with..." Felix trailed off, his eyes widening as they darted between Hood, waiting patiently with one hand outstretched, and Rachel, whose shocked disbelief was rapidly being replaced by genuine fury.
"Felix, cuffs," Hood repeated sharply, jerking his hand slightly for emphasis.
"Agent Lee, don't even think about it," came Rachel's angry-cat growl.
Looking back and forth between the two of them, virtually dancing from foot to foot, Felix finally let out a wordless moan, retrieved his cuffs, and dropped them into Hood's waiting hand.
"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, backing towards the door, trying not to meet Rachel's disbelieving expression. "I'm really sorry, Agent Young. But the worst you can do is shoot me, ma'am, he could... turn me into a toad or something!"
"I could certainly try," Hood grumbled, but quietly enough that only Rachel heard him over the sound of the door closing again.
Moving slowly and deliberately, he brought his hand forward, listening to the faint, musical whisper of the handcuff chain as it moved.
Slowly, holding the handcuffs steadily in his palm, he extended only his index finger and touched it gently to Rachel's bottom lip. The shuddering gasp she drew in at his touch was exhaled in a shivering rush as he ghosted his finger across the width of her mouth.
Torturously slow, he moved his finger down her chin, her throat, over her collarbone, skipping over the twisted strap of her white camisole to slide across her shoulder and down her wounded arm, barely skimming across the tightly wrapped gauze. His finger followed the ticklish trail down her forearm, leaving goosebumps in his wake, until it finally reached her wrist.
Staring into her eyes, he waited, patient, his finger ghosting lines across the back of her hand until Rachel's eyes flicked away, blinking once, and then met his gaze again.
The answer was reflected in her eyes.
A smile quirking the edges of his mouth, Hood dropped his eyes to follow the path of his fingers, tracing along her pale skin, finally stopping at her wrist. Wrapping his fingers around it, he gently lifted her arm until he could lay his mouth against the tender skin over her rapidly beating pulse.
The sound of the handcuffs was softer now, muffled by Hood's enveloping hand. Rachel's breath hitched at the sensation of still-cool steel against her flesh, then again as Hood's agile fingers stroked up the inside of her arm.
Gently, ever so slowly, Hood drew her wrist back, watching her eyes intently for any sign of pain. Even with her injured arm bent back, wrist against the headboard, all he could see was the burning hunger in her gaze.
The second handcuff snapped into place.
* * * * *
In the room next to theirs, Felix settled the earbuds from his phone a little more securely into place and, smiling, turned the volume up as high as he could stand.
End