A/N: This is pure, shameless fluff, and I have no regrets. Come to think of it, neither do they ;-)
October 21st, 1990
1145 hours
Matt
It shouldn't have been a surprise, really. The hero always finds solace with his lady when it's pouring rain outside. Frankly, I'd wanted to lock lips with the woman since we'd landed in Glasgow; it had only taken us an entire day of reconnaissance and countersurveillance to do it. I was surprised that she'd taken the initiative for the kiss, but that being said, it was a hell of a damn kiss.
Usually, I never let my libido take control of me, especially not on a mission. Usually, it's never really an issue. But in that moment, that rainy afternoon in rainy Scotland with a clothes-sticking-to-her-beautifully-bright-eyed Rachel, I couldn't help myself. We ended up back in our rented flat, stripping away soaked jeans and ruined shirts, holding each other so close that the air could barely come between us.
It wasn't like we hadn't had sex before, but sometimes, it's just…nice.
1250 hours
Rachel
Afterward, we just lay there awake in bed, tangled up tightly in sheets and a thick wool blanket once our heat wore off. Learning about someone, mapping them out with roaming hands and tiny little smiles, would never lose its wonder. I would never get tired of lying in bed with him, exchanging tales about scars and lives in quiet whispers.
"And…what's this one from?" I asked, tracing another faded mark on his arm.
Matt chuckled, shaking his head. "You've got Level Seven clearance, but that story is classified."
I pouted. "Are you sure?"
"Very." He kissed down my neck until he met a newer scar on my shoulder. "Tell me about this one." he murmured.
"Well, I was in Paris about two months ago, with someone who we'll call Jack for now, and I did something kinda stupid…I was fighting an assassin, some pretty bitch with blond hair who thought wearing a spy movie catsuit made her a threat or something—"
"Oh, a girlfight? Please, go on." Matt waggled his eyebrows and I gave his hair a tug, rolling my eyes.
"I killed her by throwing her off a bridge. Not what I had initially planned, but still efficient. Don't worry, it wasn't in cold blood, she needed to go. She was a huge bitch anyway."
"I'm sensing some resentment here, Panther…"
I rolled my eyes. "Matt, please, do not call me that in bed…"
"It's the truth, darlin'. But how'd you get the scar?"
"Knife I didn't know she had. I was off that day."
Matt smiled. "I find it hard to believe a lady like you has off days." he said, gently dusting a strand of hair from my face.
"Well, no one's perfect."
"Even if I do come kind of close."
I chuckled. "Don't get cocky there." I kissed his shoulder and curled in closer, lying against his chest. "Hmph. You're kinda like a slab of stone," I muttered, trying in vain to get comfortable.
A smug smirk crossed his face and he folded his hands behind his head. "You're talkin' about stone like hardness? Because if so, hmm, I second that motion."
I suddenly desperately wanted to have sex with him again but managed to roll my eyes instead. "That too, but I'm talking about your physique. It's…well, it's actually quite remarkable."
Matt sat up in surprise, cocking an eyebrow at me as the sheet fell from his ridiculously chiseled chest. "What's that supposed to—"
"No, no, no, lie back down." I leaned over him and forced him back to the mattress, making him frown in confusion but then grin in anticipation. "What I mean by remarkable is that people forget that spies have to be in really good shape. You should like, never put a shirt on ever again." I traced the lines of his ab muscles, almost surprised by the sight of him. "How do you even get to this point of a physique…"
"If you keep touching me like that, we're gonna have a problem," Matt said, his voice dropping half an octave. One of his hands-calloused, gentle, greedy-drifted down my neck to hold my waist.
I grinned and leaned down, my hair falling forward. "You should know by now, Agent Morgan-I love problems," I murmured before kissing him.
