I'm doing something I never wanted to do, but figured it would spur me on to write more. I'm publishing the first chapter of an epic tale that is nowhere close to completion. But, I'm well on my way, I suppose, and will try and keep things going. Please be patient. Time is a luxury we can't all afford. No beta. Please note, some chapters will be short. Very short.
Also note, sometimes, creative license will occur. I'm drawing on both cartoon and comics here. And sometimes things may not be correct. I still don't even know where exactly the PIT is….. But I'm trying to get it all right, and when I don't, forgive me.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Have fun. I am.
A World Without Heroes.
Piles upon piles of paperwork littered the soldier's desk, with a deadline that kept him frustrated and unhappy. With a sigh, he set down his pen and raked his hands down his face, willing his tension to wash away. It didn't help that he couldn't stay focused. He'd be leaving in the morning for New York, as part of some sort of good will recruiting mission.
In short, he was chosen as one of the poster boys for a junior ROTC demonstration. Some higher up paying back a favor, no doubt, and he, Scarlett, Lifeline, and Roadblock were the pawns by which the debt would be paid. How Duke managed to wriggle out of this one, he'd never know.
Leaning back in his chair, he glanced at his computer screen. He reached over to the mouse and clicked "save," deciding to head out to see if he could scrounge up something to eat before resuming his tasks. He was about to rise from behind his desk when a knock on his office door stopped him.
"Come in," he called, reclaiming his pen again in an attempt to look like he hadn't just made the decision to leave his paperwork. He scribbled something unintelligible on the notepad that rested next to his mouse, so that whoever entered would undoubtedly think he wasn't taking a break.
The door opened slowly, and a young woman clad in green fatigues walked in carrying a paper sack. "Thought you could use a break," she said, holding up the bag and closing the door behind her. "I brought us dinner."
He couldn't help the smile that flashed across his face. Things had been going well between the two of them, so well that the occasional knock down blow out fights they were famous for had, for the most part, faded, and casual conversation between the two was occasionally speckled with comments regarding a future together.
"You read my mind," he answered, rising from his chair. He walked out from around the desk and stood in front of her, watching her closely and the way her eyes danced with a hint of humor. Without taking his eyes off her, he took the paper bag from her and set it on his desk. Brushing away a lock of hair from her face, his smile faded. "I'm sorry Al."
He hadn't expected the small laugh that escaped from her lips. "For what Dash? It's just dinner."
A small smile crossed his face as he stepped away from her. He cast a glance at the discarded paper bag and casually made his way back around his desk, reclaiming the chair. Catching her eyes again, he picked up his pen. "This isn't the way I'd wanted to spend the evening with you."
"Well," she said, following the path he just walked. With a sly grin, she made a move to straddle his lap, placing her arms around his neck, massaging lightly.
Instinctively, he dropped his pen and scooted forward to oblige her so she wouldn't be hampered by the armrests. Flint brought his hands up to run along the length of her thighs, finally coming to rest on her hips. He hid his surprise at her boldness well, though he knew such a characteristic should never surprise him, especially coming from her.
Quietly she pulled his beret off and discarded it onto the desk. She brushed her fingers through his hair. "You were looking to take a break, weren't you?" she whispered softly. Without waiting for a response, she planted a passionate kiss on his lips.
He responded in kind, bringing his hands up to roam her back and lightly massage the body that rested just beneath her heavy shirt.
A slight guttural moan caught in her throat and prompted him to become more aggressive. Cupping his hands beneath her buttocks, he rose from the chair and, carrying her with him, he placed her sitting on the desk so that he stood between her legs. His hands roamed to her sides and began untucking her shirt.
The phone rang, disrupting his task. Breaking from the kissing, he muttered a "Dammit," and reached for the phone. "Flint," he answered, stepping away from Lady Jaye. He furrowed his brows to convey to her his frustration at being interrupted.
She merely chuckled and diverted her attention while he attended to the phone call.
"No Duke, I haven't finished the report yet." Pause. "They what?" Pause. Flint sighed and turned away from Lady Jaye. He ran his free hand through his hair. "Alright, I'll have it ready in an hour."
He hung up the phone and turned to face Lady Jaye. "What time do you have to leave in the morning?"
Lady Jaye slid off the desk and proceeded to fix her shirt. "I have to be on the tarmac at 0500 hours."
Flint frowned. That meant she'd have to be up and awake much earlier than that. "Duke's coming by in an hour to pick up the report," he said, gesturing to the piles of paperwork on his desk. He'd need more time than an hour to get through it all, but he knew if he had any chance of even trying to fake it, Lady Jaye would have to leave. In the field, the Joes were ruthless. Who knew that paperwork would be their downfall?
Smiling slightly, Lady Jaye nodded in understanding. "I'll leave you to it then."
"Al," he called, as she turned toward the door. "I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it Dash," she said, brushing her hand through the air dismissively. "If you get done early, stop by. And bring the turkey sandwiches."
He watched as she walked out of his office, both of them knowing that somehow Duke would wind up tying him up all evening. With a frown, he returned to his desk and picked up his pen again, casting his eyes back to the computer monitor.