For the next three weeks post-Blacklist, everything was relatively fine with the world. Apart from the typical body counts in the Middle East, cynically written off as part of reality instead of an urgent problem, the world had no need for Fourth Echelon for a while. CIA and Vic were doing well with gathering intel on the Blacklist. The information that Sadiq gave them via interrogation was especially necessary to avoid or at least preempt any future Blacklist type attacks. The biggest worry for Grimsdottir was not to fall asleep during the meetings that mostly consisted of boring ramblings by desk jockeys whose most serious life or death decision was whether to add milk to their morning coffee. What once seemed incredibly exciting to a college-age, wide-eyed idealist, was mind-numbingly dull to someone who's had the fate of the free world resting in her hands several times over. Everyone, involving the CIA, NSA and the POTUS wanted to know everything there was to know about the Blacklist and further development of the Fourth Echelon program. The team kept the best parts to themselves, of course. Otherwise POTUS would shut them down faster than you can say „direct disobedience of presidential orders".
Truth to be told, as horrific as the Blacklist attacks were, Grim actually missed that time. Split second choices, race against the time, insurmountable stakes. Being a part of a team constisting of solely the best professionals in their line of work, hopped up on adrenaline and blacker than black coffee, on the hunt for a mad man. She wondered that perhaps the rampant workaholism in this business was so prevalent not because of the responsible nature of the work, but because no other feeling could ever mimic it.
Sam attended most of the meetings as the de facto leader, of course. For the most part, he communicated in indifferent grunts and short sentences that made whoever was talking to him feel like an idiot. Sam was obviously bored – he hadn't been in the field ever since American Dust was averted. Rumor had it he spent a lot of times on the range and with the bottle. Wild animals get restless while locked in the cage of a civilized life. For the most part, they didn't even acknowledge each other, let alone speak. That didn't do their personal relationship any favours, especially considering how rocky it was before. Grim wrote their escapade off as a momentary weakness of character, celebratory spirit, fueled by copious amounts of alcohol, and the desire to just selfishly let go and feel something good after sacrificing so much fighting for strangers who will never thank them. Though as time went on, they knew they'd have to bring up that night sooner or later in order to work together.
„Maybe in five years we'll be able to maintain eye contact." Grim thought. She barely looked at him, but she managed to notice that for a man who apparently felt at unease in suits, he managed to pick very well fitting ones. She did notice that Sam looked at her a lot more than she looked at him. It seemed like he knew she was going to be the one who chickens out of making eye contact, and that pissed her off to no end.
They both thought about that night, of course. Hazy but vivid memories, usually recalled on a whim and quickly shelved away, just like what they do in places like Iran or Gitmo, it remained only a memory left exclusively to the minds of people who were there, a case to be buried.
Until, during a meeting in Langley, at a point when Grim internally begged for another international conflict to start, a familiar hand snaked up her leg.
She nearly jumped out of her chair. The entire room, except for one person, quizically looked at her.
„Sorry. Thought I missed something important. Nevermind."
The rest of the room resumed the discussion on the upkeep costs of the Paladin and she used the chance to glare daggers at the man sitting next to her.
Sam, however, kept his gaze on the participants of the discussion, as focused as ever. He might as well have been studying compound blueprints. His hand though, seemingly unstoppable, was ever so slightly stroking her leg, slowly moving upwards.
Grim whispered a barely audible insult while he cleared his throat.
His fingers disappeared under the hem of her skirt, far enough for it not to be completely obvious while close enough to light a fire under her. When she was contemplating grabbing his hand and either breaking it or guiding it closer, the meeting was adjourned – apparently Company men had joined her in the appraisal that the meeting has long since gotten useless. Sam withdrew his hand with the utmost seriousness on his face. She left the room for the garage and felt him coming in behind her, about 15 feet away, never moving closer but never pulling away.
She stopped in her tracks next to his car.
Their eyes locked and Sam was looking at her without a hint of apology, more like a dare to make her do something. Sam expected her to slap him, or at least ask him what the fuck does he think he's doing. He didn't expect her to reach up, tangle her fingers in his greying hair and kiss him, hard. She could've sworn she tasted a hint of alcohol in his mouth and registered his cologne, which just spurred her on.
In took about five tries for them to get inside the car. In spite of them trying to devour each other, he managed to slam the door close and lift her on top of him. That low cut blouse had been bothering him all day.
Some buttons flew off the blouse and he buired his face in her breasts. He alternated between sloppy kisses and hard bites while she returned fire by pulling his hair as hard as she could.
„Fuck, you smell good." He was on the verge of losing his mind.
„Shut up…" She let her desperate tone slip despite her best intentions. „Get on with it…"
„Anna…"
She rode him, desperate and frantic, while he pulled her down strongly enough for it to leave bruises. The fact that someone could easily walk past the car and see the highest ranking Fourth Echelon operators going at it like crazy only fueled their fire. At this point, anything short of a terrorist attack wouldn't be enough to stop them. The sheer physical need and the wish to repeat what should have never happened again was too strong. Once again their professional exteriors fizzled away. It seemed like each other's presence was a way to jolt themselves back from the dull reigns of civilian life.
Sam was just as uncontrollable as she was, if not more, and that gave her immense amount of satisfaction to see his blood run hot in contrast to his usual detached and cold nature.
She bit his shoulder hard enough to draw blood to stop her from crying out when she came. Seconds later she felt him shudder and whisper obscenities as he joined her.
Grim collapsed into her colleague, both regaining their breaths. After registering that they're both still in Langley's parking lot, Grim got off him, slumping into the other seat while Sam quickly readjusted himself and loosened his tie, still trying to still his breathing.
She picked up her panties from the floor, finding a strand of black fabric instead, and a realization dawned that half of her blouse buttons were on the floor as well. She now realized this was only the second time they've had sex but she was already picking up Sam's habits, like his utter disregard for the fabric of whatever overpriced clothing she was wearing.
„Sorry." Sam growled, looking straight ahead.
She almost laughed at the absurdity of one of the most dangerous men on the planet acting like a high schooler.
„Just clothes."
He took off his jacket, careful not to touch her, which was quite absurd considering what transpired there before, and handed it to her, still looking away. „Take it."
She considered the idea of walking back to her car with her blouse open to her navel and shrugged the jacket on.
A few seconds passed. Sam was slowly tapping his trigger finger against the door handle. She noticed that the windows were covered with a thin layer of condensation. Grim felt like it would be childish to walk away this time without saying a word.
„What, do you need to talk about this?" She adopted a mocking tone on purpose.
Sam instantly felt she was teasing rather than serious. That's good. That's easy. Exchanging banter. He snapped his head towards her. Eyes briefly drifting towards the point where her blouse came apart, he locked eyes with Grim and that made her shudder almost as much as when he touched her.
„No. Do you?" His tone was back to that of a stern commander.
„Nope." Slight pause. They were entering comfortable grounds.
„Uh, I'm probably heading the same way..."
Grim smiled for the first time that day, if only slightly. „Sam, I know it was pretty good, but I'm still ready to drive."
He rewarded that with a chuckle.
She exited the car. The fabric of her underwear was still lying on the seat. Grim felt him watch her walk to her car before driving away.