5 years ago

I couldn't decide if it was irony or bad karma that he was treating the wounds he'd inflicted on me. Whichever it was, I didn't question it. It was nice to feel his touch without worrying if it would leave a bruise later on.

Unlike in combat training, his fingers were feather-light as they probed my ankle, looking for any signs of something more severe than a sprain. I was awed by the transformation. The same hands that could snap a man's neck were gently tending to my injury, warmly brushing my skin. "Don't tell me you finally managed to break a limb, Comrade," I joked, needing to fill the silence and distract myself from that dangerous train of thought.

He smiled slightly. Though it was a small gesture, it was a rare one for him, my heart kicking into overtime at the sight. Automatically, I silently and ruthlessly chatised myself for getting so excited. "Of course not," he said. "It's just another sprain."

I scoffed. "'Just'? You're only saying that because you're not the one that has to deal with it."

"Perhaps, but at least you'll live. Compared to some of your other injuries, this should be nothing."

I sighed and crossed my arms. It was a typical Dimitri response using typical Dimitri logic. I was surprised he hadn't thrown in some related, zen-life lesson. Of course he was right though. In our line of work, a sprain was the least of our worries. Training to be a FBI agent was more intense than most gave it credit for. "Still," I grumbled, knowing I was whining, but not caring. It would slow me down for the next week. Dimitri, seeming satisfied he really hadn't broken anything, wrapped the semi-swollen ankle, reminding me for the third time not to push myself. I waved it off, saying, "Yeah, yeah, bed rest, I got it."

He gave me a pointed look, probably guessing I'd jump out of bed at the first opportunity. Damn. He knew me too well. "I mean it, Rose," he warned, "No practice for the next three days until it's healed."

Now that caught me off guard. I leapt up in disbelief, forgetting all of his advice in an instant. "You can't be serious!" I exclaimed. Yet, even as I said that, I stumbled, my injury giving way. Dimitri caught me in a flash, steadying me. He opened his mouth, probably to say I-told-you-so, but cut himself off before he said anything.

Like me, he realized the situation we were in. Whatever heat had warmed between us before flamed up at our close proximity, crackling between us. It was clear from the look on his face I wasn't the only one experiencing it. I had little self-control, and even though Dimitri was the poster boy for stability and reason, I could see him wage his own mental battle, trying to regain his picture-perfect composure.

In that moment, I realized two things.

One was that Dimitri wasn't as collected as he appeared to be. He was simply better at hiding it than me. When it got down to the core, we were practically the same, each trying to stay in control and reign in our emotions for the sake of doing what was right.

The second thing I realized was, right then, I didn't want to be right. As I said before, I had barely an ounce of self-control. I gave into what I wanted, preferring to live in the moment and not care about the later consequences. That being said, Dimitri really shouldn't have been that surprised when I leaned forward and kissed him.

And as I hoped, and expected, Dimitri's will also cracked. He kissed me back fiercely, just as passionate as he was in battle. Between our two competitive personalities, things got hot and heavy pretty quickly, both of us lost in our primal instincts.

I barely had time to dwell on how I was going to hell for hooking up with my mentor.