Hello my wonderful shippers/random readers who decide to read this. This is a "behind the scenes" sort of variety for the first theater scene in Goggles and Hicks.

I do not own The Cape, enjoy the story everyone!

Behind closed Doors

Orwell stared down at her partner's chest, her fingers slowly gliding along every smooth surface, and every crevice of his torso. She studied the light that casted an orange-like glow to her surroundings. Pursing her lips together ever so slowly, the brunette tried to keep her mind from wandering. Trying to keep it from realizing exactly what was going on. She felt her cheeks begin to flush as Vince looked down at her, smiling ever so slightly. He wouldn't keep a hold of their gaze for more than a moment. The blogger could easily detect the tension between the two, and that scared her. There wasn't supposed to be tension; there couldn't be tension. She had to start off a normal conversation. "So how was your day off? Before you got the target on your back…"

"Well, I uh got to watch my son playing baseball," Vince looked down at his partner, grinning at the thought. "He fielded the ground ball perfectly, it's just like I taught him."

The vigilante had to quickly dart his eyes away from the brunette. It made the tension just a little less awkward. He had to swallow a lump in his throat as he felt her feather light touch travel up his neck to turn his head. Why did this have to feel so… intimate?

Orwell hesitated a bit before she responded. Why had Vince looked away from her so quickly? Was he embarrassed by this? "But he didn't know you were there," the blogger responded in a monotone.

"I know," the Cape responded almost immediately. He met with his partner's eyes again and wished he hadn't. Her eyes told him that she was just as on edge as he was. The both of them knew that they shouldn't be feeling pleasured by this, but the fact was that they were very pleasured. He frowned and let out a staggered breath. The vigilante knew that he couldn't hide the feelings he had for his partner for much longer. To try to keep himself from becoming lost in the moment, Vince began another conversation. "Where are your parents?"

The brunette studied the vigilante's body and didn't dare to look up at him. Her eyes glistened against the candlelight, her thoughts not too far from Vince's. "I never really knew my mother," she paused, knowing it was a full blown lie. "And my father left when I was 12," again, which she knew was a lie. "I've been on my own ever since," a partial lie.

Vince furrowed his brow as he stared ahead at his partner. He just knew she couldn't be telling the truth. The way she spoke, alone, was suspicious to the vigilante. "Are you just lying to me, or to yourself as well?"

Orwell looked up into Vince's eyes only to look back down as her hands trailed across his abdomen to his broken ribs. As she tentatively touched the bruised site, he jumped back in pain. "I'm so sorry," she replied smoothly.

The Cape narrowed his gaze at the blogger but didn't say a word.

The brunette sighed, taking her hand to rest in her lap. "Vince, is this a little weird for you?"

"No, it's not weird," the vigilante began, receiving a pointed look from his partner. He stuttered a bit as he continued. "Orwell, I- I dunno. Not a lot of things are making sense about us right now."

"What doesn't make sense? We're partners, right?" Orwell replied lightly.

"Yeah, but there's gotta be something more," Vince paused. "C'mon, Orwell, you can't tell me that all of this isn't a little overwhelming."

"Oh it is," the blogger began in a breathy tone. "But there isn't much we can do about it."

"And I'm really sorry about that," the vigilante said, worry lines crinkling his face.

"It's not your fault, Vince," Orwell said, taking in a trembled breath. The more they talked about it, the more tense she felt.

Vince stared into his partner's wide eyes, a light smile illuminating his features. "Still, I don't like the fact that you're uncomfortable with me."

"I'm not uncomfortable with you, Vince," the blogger paused. "I- feel so comfortable with you around, but I know how wrong it is."

The vigilante stared back at his partner. He literally had no words for her, Vince knew what she was saying was true. They weren't meant to be and that only made them want each other more. The insatiable feeling to want something or someone that is impossible to have, only drives you closer to it. The Cape shook everything aside and leaned forward to place his forehead against the blogger's. He took in a deep breath of air as he looked down at Orwell. The brown in her eyes almost looked golden against the flame of the lighter.

The brunette could feel her heart beating erratically against her chest. She had wanted this for quite some time, and now she didn't know what to do. Orwell's lips parted, but no sound escaped. She subconsciously noted that, within every moment, his lips got closer to hers. "Vince," she cried out, sudden emotion clinging to her voice.

He looked back at his partner, a sad look in his eyes. "Do you trust me?"

Orwell was silent.

Vince tried again, this time in a much more pressing tone, his voice still soft. "Do you trust me?"

The blogger blinked at the vigilante. "Yes," she replied rather hoarsely.

The Cape moved his free hand to collapse it against his partner's cheek. He smiled at her, feeling her staggered breath so close to him.

Slowly, their lips met. They fell into a repetitive pattern of kisses, their bodies finally crashing against the other. When Vince broke up the kiss a moment later, his partner looked over at him, confused. She watched as he brought the lighter closer to him.

"What are you doing?" Orwell whispered.

"Well you don't want us burning the theater down, do you?" Vince asked with a light grin.

"That's probably a good idea," the blogger stared down at her lap, a sad smile crawling on her face.

"You okay?" the vigilante asked.

"Yes," Orwell responded softly. She finally met with his eyes. "Vince?"

"Yeah, Orwell?" Vince questioned curiously.

"Can you just go back to kissing me?" the brunette's eyes flickered in sadness, almost identical to the smile she was wearing.

The vigilante wrapped an arm around his partner and blew the flame from the lighter out. Even though their light was obscured, they could still make out each other's figure. Vince found Orwell's lips and began to kiss her, no hesitation. It were as though there were no interruptions. Almost as though they had been kissing the entire time. The same ignition with enough power to fire up the whole theater with light.

Vince pressed his body closer to hers as he deepened the kiss, careful of his broken ribs. He was losing himself in his own thoughts and at that time, the vigilante knew how crazy he was for the brunette in his arms. However, he quickly pulled away when the blogger accidentally brushed against it as she craned her neck to continue the kiss.

"Oh god, Vince, I'm so sorry," Orwell paused as she looked over at her partner's pained expression.

"No, it's not your fault I have broken ribs," the vigilante began with a smile. He pressed another kiss to the blogger's lips before he lit up the flame again.

As the orange-like light filled up the room, the brunette looked down at her lap and refused to look back up at her partner's face.

Vince's brows furrowed in confusion. "Did this upset you? Because if this did, I'm so sorry."

"Please don't be sorry," Orwell began. "Let's just get back to what we came here for," she spoke breathlessly.

The vigilante spared his partner a concerned look. "Yeah, you're right," he responded, almost sadly.

The brunette bit down on her lip to keep herself from saying what she wanted to. To calm herself down, she took a deep breath. Vince in turn took her hand in his and kissed the palm of her hand. As she took her hand back and held it against her chest, she called out to Vince, trying to hide the weakness in her voice. "Turn around for me."

And I'll end it right before the next scene picks up. Hope you enjoyed the read!