Ok. I heard the song and was like
O.o
(Da Fauq?)
Then like
XD
(Damn this is good!)
Then like
O.O
(EPIPHANY!)
So this is my screwed up brain baby witch I call CIPPER! I have no Idea if this has been done before but you know, I started this thing so I could write stories based around the most mental parings I could think of. So far, I haven't really done that, so now it's going to start.
We got Kofredi, Mans, Jipper, Ravio, among other seriously… original … pairings coming up. So, you know. Stick Around I guess!
But I digress. So I give you Clemson and Skipper.
HOWEVER: I do feel the need to say that this one-shot should probably NOT be read by small children. There's nothing really bad in it, but it will lead to possibly awkward questions X/
I'm too much of a creeper for my own good.
Song: Situations by Escape the Fate
Pairing: Cipper. (Clemson and Skipper)
Skipper… wasn't a party person. The loud music and stupid antics always managed to tick him off more than just a little.
And yet there he was, slumped at a bar as Marlene celebrated her birthday with gusto among the club patrons, Julian more than happy to insist the girl had her party here, possibly an attempt to woo her. He could occasionally catch snippets of conversations and drunken banter brushing past his ears as he contemplated how much longer he would have to stay in order to make it not rude to be leaving.
Exhaling he lent forward on the wooden bar counter, toying idly with his drink, bored silly by the whole situation. At least up until about 4 minutes ago he'd had his lieutenant to be bored with. That had worked until around four minutes ago when Marlene's exuberant cousins had dragged him towards the dance-floor. Unsurprisingly Kowalski had been pulled away stammering excuses and attempting to squirm away, but Becky and Stacy had been holding his arms firmly. He wasn't going anywhere.
And now he was stuck drinking and waiting for something to happen to zest up the evening, or make it end, whatever came first.
It was then he felt a light hand on his shoulder. He span around sharply, flashing and colourful lights casting an odd glow over the man's features. His eyes were glinting with cynicism, thinly veiled with a fake look of pleased surprise, mouth twisted into a smirk. The long Ginger hair was pulled back and held up by a thick brown hair-tie, only a few stray strands hanging in his face.
He gasped, one hand rising up to his chest. "Oh My! Skipper? Is that you? How long has it been?" He gasped, slipping into the bar-stool beside him hand moving from his shoulder to his knee as he did.
Skipper glared, hard eyes tracking his every move. "Apparently not long enough." He growled.
Clemson smiled and squeezed the team leaders knee gently, bright aqua eyes flickering with something that was starting to make the commando more wary, as he stated. "My, my. Always the Kidder, am I right?"
These situations,
Are irrelevant now.Skipper scowled and shifted away, the movement making the slender man laugh brightly. "Skipper, you really should, stop living in the past, and I know that we didn't meet under great circumstances, but still, we can still be friends can't we?" He asked innocently, twirling a lock of the bright ginger hair around his finger.
"Oh yes," He growled sarcastically, "Because I always end on good terms with my enemies."
"There you go, see?" Clemson laughed, purposely missing the bitter remark, as he plucked the bottle from Skippers hand with a wink. "We don't have to hate each other, what happened then is irrelevant to now." He raised he bottle as if to drink before pausing, eyes catching to his left.
He sat forward, eyes wider. "Kelsey? Kelsey! Hi, Babe, call me!" He shouted, waving a phone gestures at the small brown haired woman who was dancing not too far away.
Skipper instantly scanned the petite girl for any threats, but aside from waving and blowing Clemson and light air kiss with a dopey giggle, she didn't seem to care about what he was doing.
"Hey you know what? Let me buy you a drink Skipper, you look about as sober as a sheep in the slaughter house." Clemson laughed, spinning around and gesturing the bar attendant over.
The Black haired male scowled and took a deep drink from the bottle that had found it's way back into his hand. The liquid didn't scorch and burn like it had before, now slipping down his throat with ease. Perhaps he had been drinking to long? He pulled the bottle away and eyed it suspiciously, only to see a small fruity looking cocktail be pushed over to him.
Clemson was holding his expectantly, straw held lightly between his fingers as he watched the leader with something akin to knowledge in his eyes. He tilted his head towards the drink. "Aren't you going to try a sip?" He asked, voice growing a slightly hard edge.
Skipper scowled and titled back his original drink, letting it coat the inside of his mouth, leaving a strange furry after-taste.
The con-artist rolled his eyes and nudged it closer. "Come on Skipper, there's no arsenic in it I promise you." He crooned, looking at him imploringly.
Skipper lent forward, face only an inch from the villains as he snarled lowly. "Do you think I was born yesterday?"
"Fine!" He resigned, sitting back and sipping his own drink. "Have it your way, but remind me to never invite you to one of my parties."
Skipper couldn't help but smirk. Clemson may be able to outsmart people like Ringtail, but he was too sharp to fall for his conniving little lies.
She loves the way that I tease,
I love the way that she breaths.
"So what is it you want?" He asked finally, spinning the now empty bottle across the table. "I've noticed when you do something, you do it for a purpose, so 'fess up."
Clemson looked genuinely surprised for a moment, the usual hint of deception vanishing as the lights flashed orange. "Up to something? Skipper? Really? I'm not Hans."
The soldier let out a bark of laughter. "So you two have met then?" he asked, attempting to keep a calm face despite the stab of panic that bolted through him at that moment.
The con artist nodded. "Uh-huh. Bit of a character isn't he?" He stopped and suddenly grinned darkly. "Don't worry Ol'Skippy, he isn't saying anything."
Skipper looked away, the lights now irritating his eyes as he fought to gather his thoughts from where they were now scattered. "That would be because there isn't anything to say." He stated, finding the words and managing to string them together in a sentence.
Why was that getting so difficult?
I touched her Oooh,
She touched my Ahhhh,
It was the craziest thing!
I love the girls who hate to love because they're just like me.
Clemson lent back slightly, skinny fingers gripping the counter of the bar and he lent on it, head in his palm as he watched the team leaders balance start to sway from where he was perched, eye-lids fluttering slightly.
"Skipper are you feeling ok?" He asked a toying level of worry in his tone as he spoke.
The agent growled slightly, the sound dripping off as a warm feeling skated over his back and shoulders, coiling there. He tilted his neck to the left to see the con-artist looking down on him with nothing short of detachment in his eyes.
"The lights are blurry aren't they? It hurts your eyes?" He questioned, fingertips massaging the muscle of his shoulder as he lent closer. "Skipper? You still with me skippy?"
"Don't call me Skippy." He muttered, focusing on the males face as the lights dimmed slowly, letting his gaze adjust to the ever changing swirls of light. "Nah… Nah… It's alright now…" He managed to get out, surprised to hear how clear his voice was.
He was also surprised to see just how well his muscles were responding as the taller ginger tugged him from the chair and onto the ground. He didn't even think as he shifted his trajectory to land square on the ground instead of on a pile of clothing, it came so easily. It was like his brain was numb but his body still fell into its natural performances.
"Then I hope you won't object to a dance?" Clemson laughed, tugging the team-leader onto the dance-floor with ease as he walked swiftly beside him, hardly stumbling despite how the deafening thuds of the music were seeming to be rising and falling like someone was sitting there messing with the volume buttons.
People grumbled and grunted as the taller male dragged him through the crowd, nails biting into his wrist sharply. The pain didn't register though, it seemed like a reflex to know that that was pain, but it was like he was detached from his body and somewhere on the other side of the universe another skipper was standing at the centre of drunken and lustful people with bad intentions swaying and dancing, hissing and trying to squirm away from the vice grip.
The light was bathing over the people, including his partner. The typically aesthetically beautiful features a wash with crimson, jade and violet and the colours vibrated over the planes of his face, long hair swinging as he tossed his head back and laughed, showing off a straight row of perfect and even teeth.
Perhaps that was why Clemson was so good at what he did? He was able to trick lie and deceive using all means necessary, that helped, but possibly his biggest aid was that he was naturally eye-catching to both females and males, whether they chose to admit it or not. And that could swing even further into his favour if he let it.
He could feel eyes on him as he let his slightly drooping eye-lids open a fraction wider to take in the con-artists sharp and knowing gaze. Clemson shuffled closer and bent his head down, still swaying and dancing to the music as he spoke.
"You're staring. Any reason?"
Skipper shook his head, now noticing how dry his mouth was as a pair of feather-light hands snaked onto his hips and pulled him ever so slightly closer.
He didn't speak for a moment or two before drawling. "Because I think I might be able to name a few…"
A certain girl, she took my hand and ran it up her thigh,
she licked her lips and pulled my hair,
I fall in love for a night.
Clemson was swaying against him, body flowing and fuzzy around the edges as the blurry mass of people morphed into one ever changing blob. The music swarmed over them and the flickering lights draping everything in a crazy glow. He made to pull away knowing that something had happened, he just couldn't pick what. It was dangerous to be out like this, but for what reason he couldn't remember. Hands caught his own and dragged him back, skimming up the inside of his arms and down his sides.
"I've been doing my research Skipper." Clemson purred in his ear, the words distorted and faded as if he were speaking through water, almost undistinguishable against the pounding bass and fluttering pitch of the music. "I learnt an awful lot about you…" He felt the sharp bite of nails in the back of his hand and the ginger grasped it tightly and slowly but purposefully directed it.
"And what did you find out?" He asked, surprised by the clear tone of his voice in stark comparison to the blurred vision and fluctuating hearing.
"Oh, just about your friends… Colleuges… Sexual orientation…" He growled.
It was then he realised that the rough material under his palm was the denim coating the inside of Clemson's thigh.
He wanted to pull away and fight it, but the little voice in the back of his head that was screaming abuse as ever being consumed by the hazy fog that was draping over his mind, warm and comforting. Briefly the still functioning part of his mind came out with one sharp word, harsh and direct as a whip crack
DRUGGED
But it seemed impossible to keep hold of the idea, the thought wriggling and twisting back into the blurred mass of sensations and simple blissful emotions.
A hand skated over his jaw and brushed past his ear. He could feel the hot breath against his neck as the slender fingers knotted into the hair at the base of his skull, tugging his head back into the vulnerable position. The music changed, thrumming growing louder and more insistent. Another hand with feather-light touches traced light patterns over his jaw and face, demanding and possessive.
He noticed that his hand was still drifting up and down the villains leg, but no hand was holding it there. He moved to withdraw it when he was distracted. The thudding skipped up again, roaring of the crowd driving bronze nails through his skull. A soft pressure enveloped his lips, fitting deeply into the grooves with harsh and wanting kisses.
Skipper knew that he shouldn't be kissing the person, the name now escaping him, but it felt so nice, who would really care?
She can't behave.
As if moments later he was in his own room, like a section of the drama unfolding had been cut out. Hands were selfishly mapping out the area of his body as he fought to keep the soft lips against his own. A sharp thud sounded, the pain not registering as his back was slammed against the wall.
And I'm just a slave.
A hand disappeared for a moment, a soft tickling around his neck and face following it back when it returned. He was pulled down again as without realizing it he tried to squirm away.
Why? It was something he couldn't answer.
Something was telling him that something was off, telling him not to be the lamb that lay with the lion, but the thoughts were lost as quickly as they came.
Don't worry I'll be gone when the morning comes.
He was moved, a strong push against his chest sending him stumbling backwards and landing heavily against the mattress. He opened his eyes, the world still dancing and changing as he watched on blearily. A weight crawled on top of him, warm and comfortable. He could feel the warm breath against his face, aquamarine pools glinting back at him. Their hair hung limp, ginger creating a shroud around his head and face. A sly smirk fluttered under the distorted vision and a smooth crooning purr replaced the roaring in his ears.
"Don't worry, I'll be gone when the morning comes…" They promised.
But who were they anyway?
Darling,
what is going on?
It wasn't those sharp eyes that got him, not the clear and deep aqua irises.
But it was the expression. That knowing and alluring mask hidden by a tissue thin look of fake shock and confusion.
Skipper slammed his hands on the table, leaning down and getting right up in the man's face as he hissed lowly. "What the fuck did you do last night."
"Skipper?" Clemosn asked, shuffling back slightly in his chair and readjusting the scarf around his neck, a sure sign of nervousness as he shot a look at the girl next to him, her eyes wide with shock and lower lip quivering slightly. "Are you feeling alright?"
The agent scowled and fought from punching the ginger in the face. "I'm serious, Clemson what the hell did you do to me." He snapped.
The girl latched onto Clemson's arm, pressing against him. "Clemmy didn't do anything to anybody!" She protested, eyes still wide. "He couldn't have!"
Skipper narrowed his eyes, the girl was the same one from the club last night. Casey or Something. She had been one of his final, not sketchy nor missing, memories. Last thing he knew he was flat on his back with someone on top of him and then it just went burry, all he could remember was bliss.
Something had happened and judging by the vague image he had managed to build up he knew that Clemson was involved.
And it wasn't a good involvement either.
He almost went bright red with both outrage and embarrassment at the thought of what the clues pointed to.
It didn't take a hell of a lot to work out Clemson didn't give a second care to who he slept with. And from what his tampered mind, and marked body was telling him apparently he didn't either.
And Holy mother of Mary he had a raging Hangover.
All in all this wasn't the best start to his day, and it seemed like it wasn't going to get any better.
"What happened last night… Well lets see. You got drunk. I took you home. The end." Clemson sighed, and as if he wasn't bothering to focus he was running his fingers up the side of the girls bare arm, causing her to cling to him further.
Skipper narrowed his eyes and lent even closer. "I believe up until 'the end.'" He growled.
The con-artist eyes grew wide.
Honestly that never happened;
lying is your favourite passion.
Clemson looked like he was choking on something as he managed to splutter out. "You think… Skipper, Seriously?" He gasped.
"think what?" The girl asked, batting her lashes ineffectively at the villain.
The ginger pressed his hand against his fore-head and groaned slightly. "Oh Skipper… No. No, Honestly that never happened."
Skipper snapped and pulled down the collar of his shirt, showing the bright blood bruise on his neck. "Explain that." He demanded viciously.
"Ok." Clemson started, keeping a mildly soothing tone, like he was speaking to a pre-schooler. "you were Dancing. A lot. No Doubt some random person thought you looked tasty and decided to put their theory in action." He shrugged. "I'm not to blame for that."
The team leader growled. "You're lying to me."
Clemson shrugged. "Show me your proof, go on."
The girl pressed herself tighter against the ginger and buried her head in his neck. "Clemmy has an…" She started, voice childish as she dropped off, voice laden with confusion.
"alibi?" Clemson offered, chucking the girl under her chin.
"Yeah! He was with me the whole night." She finished, looking pointedly at skipper. "You have a nice apartment by the way." She giggled, like it was an afterthought.
This threw the Team-leader off. She had never been to his teams apartment. How would she know? He froze as he attempted bury the new-found information amid the chaos of his own pounding thoughts in a way that made it fit. But it just wouldn't go.
Leave me,
go where you belong.
Higher heels and lipstick napkins,
dying is your latest fashion.
Clemson waved a hand, almost like he was bored as he picked up his coffee cup and took a long sip, placing it back down next to the napkin it had come with, the corner filled with a lipstick kiss mark and black pen ink reading – call me! 846 974 3376!
"Skipper I suggest you go back home and rest, your mind is obviously not in the right place right now, and sleep is what you need. Plus I have to take Kelsey to the central park zoo. I promised." He stood up and pushed his chair in soundlessly, the tail ends of his blue and yellow scarf swaying as he did. Then he turned back and met the team leaders angry and confused gaze evenly speaking slowly and clearly the next few words, the sentence rolling off his tongue in an almost husky tone.
"You and I both know I always keep my promises, don't we?" He asked, winking sharply before twining his hand with the girl teetering along in her high-heels and swept out of the small café whispering to her.
Skipper only stood there, a faint trail of numbness tingling in his finger-tips as he recalled a few words.
"Don't worry, I'll be gone when the morning comes…"
"Dear. God." He whispered.
The frustration,
it's a regular thing.
I hate the ones who love to hate because they're just like me.
Once again Skipper was slouched at the bar. This time of however, it was of his own accord. He lent even harder on the slightly sticky brown wood, elbows gripping with ease and raw knuckles sticking slightly as he rested his temples between them.
He grimaced ever so slightly, rubbing them up and down slightly as if attempting to lessen the pain. Apparently venting you're frustration did not go well with un-protected hands, especially when you vented your frustration by pounding into a punching bag like you have a personal vendetta against it.
Lesson learned.
It would have been worth it had it worked, but it had only really half-done it's job. After burning off the original anger he had been left with a horrible feeling of anguish and self-hatred. Had he really leapt that far to a conclusion? Had he been that desperate?
Drinking was apparently supposed to help. At least that's what he had assumed; so far it didn't seem to be doing well either, the edges slightly fuzzy but the stark lines that had been drawn only intensified. He sighed, letting his head fall even further towards his bottle.
That was when he felt a light touch run in a half spiral up from his elbow to his wrist, hearing the playful but condescending tone as Clemson stated softly. "Well I certainly didn't expect to see you back here so soon!"
A certain girl she took her hand and put it in my lap,
it's way to full she said.
Once you've had me you'll always come back.
Skipper instantly jerked his arm away, glaring up at the villain as he stood leaning against the bar, neck titled so the light could catch the dark patches of skin dotting his throat. There was a clear air of innocence in his burning eyes, a smirk coiling at the corner of his lips.
"I can't say I wanted too." He shot back, eyes involuntarily fluttering from his eyes to the blood-bruises on his neck.
Clemson's eyes flickered and he ran a hand over his neck, fingers hesitating on the bruised skin as he chuckled. "Yeah, I have a fair few as well." He smiled, pulling up a bar stool, amused by the team leaders almost disgusted look.
It was then the music suddenly screeched, spiking up weirdly and scraping across skippers eardrums forcing him to turn sharply in his chair. It cut of just as sharply as it had started and he was met only by the sight of disgruntled dancers and a blushing DJ as the girl attempted to get the music working again.
He turned slowly back to his bottle and lifted it up to him lips and swallowed it back, drinking deeply. A faintly pleasurable taste washed over his tongue. He pulled back and blinked at the bottle before he shrugged and ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth, the taste almost gone completely. He tilted it back again, surprised as he realized the liquid was all gone.
Clemson had a faintly impressed look on his face. "Woah, I had no Idea you wanted that much to forget my existence."
Skipper shook his head sharply. "Cut the smart talk." He snapped, attempting to turn to face him totally only to jerk back as he realized the con-artist was only an inch from his face.
He reached out and rested his hand against his cheek and chuckled menacingly. "Can't say I blame you for coming back however."
It was then, as the other males mind was still blank he lent in and pressed his lips fiercely against Skippers.
She can't behave.
Skipper instantly threw his arms up to smack the con-artist senseless, only to feel them being snatched at in mid-air and forced down behind him. He let out a panicked and confused noise, this was not normal. Clemson wasn't a strong guy, he didn't use violence to get things, and he shouldn't be stronger than a trained officer even if he did! Struggling he attempted to rip his lips from the gingers luring and heated pair.
A low growling noise vibrated the back of Clemson's throat as without warning the villain swung his arms right over his head and forced his back onto the bar, pinning his wrists down forcefully and pulled away, eyes burning with an undisguised shot of lust.
Not that he could really focus on it, the lights above him starting to ache and burn his eyes.
And I'm just a slave.
"Seriously? Again? I must be getting away with murder." Clemson hissed, the sound battering his ears, eyes screwed shut as the uncomfortable pressure mounted on the back of his eyes.
"What did you do." He groaned, voice echoingly clear, now daring to let his eyes slit open slightly.
Clemson smirked viciously. "I drugged you. What else?" He crooned, leaning down on top of him and letting his lips brush against Skippers with every word he spoke. "Because, hah, I lied when I said you didn't sleep with me last night. You did, and I'll tell you something now Skippy, you weren't exactly complaining."
"Bastard." He hissed.
Don't worry I'll be gone when the morning comes.
"You're tune will change in just a moment." He mocked. "And the absolutely beautiful thing?"
He lent back slightly, eyes fluttering with violent clashes of emotion as he stated. "In the morning you won't even remember this conversation. So I can do it again."
But by this time skipper didn't even know who he was talking to anymore.
Darling,
what is going on?"Kowalski."
The scientist jumped to attention, handily dropping a large stack of papers as he did. Sighing at the ground and rubbing his forehead he mumbled. "Yes Skipper."
The Team leader walked into the scientists lab and swung out a chair, leaning on the back of it as he stated loudly. "I need you to test a sample of my blood."
This caused the scientist to freeze, hands stopping as he jerked his gaze upwards, eye-brows quirked incredulously as he slowly spoke. "You want me, to stick a needle in you and run a diagnostic on your DNA?"
Skipper nodded. "Yes, I suppose that's what I want."
"Let me rephrase that. You want me to stick you, With a needle." He stressed, throwing his arms down. "Skipper you hate needles!"
The team leader let his expression fall. "No Medal for pointing out the obvious Kowalski." He rebuffed.
The scientist groaned and slammed his head into his hand. "So you have sold me many times. But what I am trying to ask is why if you hate needles so much make me take a sample and test it?"
Skipper looked away, letting a simple 'classified soldier' roll off his tongue.
There really was no point in telling Kowalski about the fragmented memories and strange assurance that he was sure Clemson had been laying straight aces the day before, or about his encounter with the con-artist last night. While he had failed to track the night as it progressed to him waking up alone this morning with a wickedly throbbing skull, he had been able to hold on to one word.
Drugged.
Honestly that never happened;
lying is your favourite passion.
Skipper squirmed and yelped occasionally, eyes not leaving the tiny silver blade imbedded deep in his skin, slowly being filled with a sluggish red liquid.
Kowalski was watching him blankly. "You have enough numbing cream on that area to knock out a baby hippo. You shouldn't be able to feel it Skipper."
"I can't!" He yapped, still shifting anxiously about. "But I can still see it!"
"For the love of – Then look away!" He snapped angrily, now yanking the needle harshly from his skin and slapping a plaster over the area with a little more force that necessary. Grumbling under his breath the scientist turned to a small but complex looking device as he emptied the contents of the syringe into a small cylindrical pipe at the top of the machine. "What exactly am I looking for Skipper?" he finally queried as the small screen flashed blue.
Poking the numb area of skin the leader looked up. "Anything that shouldn't be there."
Kowalski rolled his pale eyes. "Can you be any more, I don't know, Specific?"
Skipper stood up and met the taller males gaze sharply. "Narcotics." He stated finally, turning away as the Scientists face became a mask of shock and horror.
Leave me,
go where you belong.Rico was sitting on the ground, lovingly stroking the pile of ginger and white fur in his lap as it purred pleasantly. The cat arched its neck as he scratched the underside of its ear, eyes closed as her flanks rose and fell.
Skipper still sat on the couch pretending to be watching project runway with private as instead his mind drifted back towards the lab. What the heck was Kowalski going to find, if he found anything at all!
Had the villain really drugged him or had it all been a crazy drunken scenario his brain had been stringing him along to. He suppressed a shudder. Really he couldn't pick witch was worse.
It was then a loud crashing sound erupted as Kowalski shot from the hallway like a rabbit with its tail on fire, fist clenched around a sheet of plain computer paper with a series of highlighted code on it and a triumphant smile.
"Skipper! I got it! I know what was in your blood! It was a drug!" He shouted, almost as if he was excited by this fact.
Rico had stopped stroking his cat for a moment and had one eye narrowed in confusion. "ay- wah?" He stated, letting his eyes follow a path between the scientist and his commanding officer.
Mrs Perky's neck fur was bristling, green eyes silted with 'black pools of pure evil.' As Kowalski would describe it, but today the cat scratching his face off didn't seem to be one of his major worries as he completely ignored the agitated feline. "it was a relatively simple drug witch-"
Skipper cut him off. "I don't need to know what it does Kowalski, what I need is a preventative."
The scientist let his head tilt to the side slightly. "Like a preventer inhaler for asthma?" He asked.
Skipper nodded his head sharply. "Exactly like that." He paused. "Can you do it?"
"Upside-down, in my sleep and with twenty Mrs. Perkys attacking my face." He stated confidently.
Higher heels and lipstick napkins,
dying is your latest fashion.
I know you love to assist,
and all it takes is a kiss,
and you just love to hate me.When you go fishing for sharks you never go to them.
You wait for them to come to you.
The cherry and almost musical voice sounded loudly against his ears, a pair of hands handing on his shoulders. "Skipper? Again?" Clemson laughed. "I think I may have to sign you up for alcoholics anonymous at this rate."
Skipper smirked. "Says the one I always run into here. Perhaps I should buy you the book on the 12 steps to recovering from an addiction?" He asked, letting his gaze follow the ginger as he slipped into the nearest bar-stool, crossing his legs and knotting his hands together on his knee.
"But when I get to the top you're just going to knock me back down again aren't you?" He fired back, eyes glinting sharply.
"Perhaps." Skipper stated finally, watching him out of the corner of his eyes as he gestured the bar attendant over.
All in all it really wasn't fair. It was like pitting a garden snake against a python in a mouse suit. The smaller predator may think it's the hunter, when in fact in a matter of a few seconds the tables could tilt and crush them under its weight.
But maybe it was for the best. After all what was the better way to stir up a serving of revenge then though the very deception that caused the need for it in the first place?
The pair of drinks slid across the counter towards the pair and Clemson let his eyes narrow fractionally. "Skipper, care to explain?" He asked.
The team leader placed a look of confused anguish on his face. "In all honesty? I don't know it's just… I've got the weirdest feeling that I should trust you. And I trust my gut so…" He paused before lifting the glass to his lips and stating, "Cheers" before drinking back a mouth-full.
The con Artist smiled like the Cheshire cat of wonder-land. Behind his back Skipper held onto the empty container the small pill had come in as he crumpled it up and let it fall absently to the floor.
Yep. He'd just caught a shark. Hook, line and sinker. You know you love all the lies,
so don't act surprised,
that I just love to hate you.
It didn't take a lot to act like the drug was working, Kowalski had been pretty clear in explaining what it did and when depending on the dosage so Skipper had played it by ear, waiting for a question about his eyes before tossing the time-line into motion. Less than 5 minutes he was pressed against a wall with his bottom lip clamped between the gingers teeth.
It took all of his strength to not shove the villain away, knowing that the victory would be all the more sweet when he was sure he had landed the kill. Until then he had to live with the admittedly fantastic assault on his lips and mouth.
I kissed your lips,Skipper stood slumped against the wall whimpering and whining as Clemson started to jiggle the key in the lock while he chuckled. Internally he had to hope that Kowalski, Rico and Private had actually attempted the assignment he had left, otherwise he was well and truly screwed.
The door swung open.
The lights were off and as they were flicked on the familiar scrawl of Kowalski's writing was plastered over the white-board on the far end of the room.
Be barely caught the words 'Assignment' and '11 o'clock' before Clemson dragged him back towards him, drowning him in harsh and needing kisses. you pulled my hair, it was the craziest thing.
And perhaps that was for the best. I love the girls who love to hate,
"Clem…" He droned.
"mm?" Was the only response. Whoo Ahhh Whooo Ahhh Whoo ahhh Whooo WOAH!
Skipper let his stupid and innocent sheet fall, body sharpening from the mess he had let it flow into, eyes snapping open and breathing regulating.
The con-artist lent backwards, a high level of confusion in his eyes. "what the-"
With his teeth ground together the team-leader lashed out, palm smashing against the villains face.
Darling,
what is going on?
Honestly that never happened;
lying is your favourite passion.
He took a step forward as the ginger cried out, staggering to the ground and kneeling there, nursing his cheek with one hand .
Skipper smirked, ready to lash out with a kick when two words distracted him.
Clemson was looking upwards, eyes dark with respect and defiance, one side of his face a steadily growing red as he laughed. "Well played."
Skipper narrowed his eyes, grinding his teeth together as the smirk fell from his face. Slowly, but steadily the con-artist rose from the ground, moving his jaw about and looking thoughtfully off to the side as if he was trying to decide whether it was broken or not. Seemingly pleased with what he realised the focus switched back to the team-leader a mocking grin on his face.
"I mean that. It was really nicely executed Skipper. Make me think that I've done it again, only to turn and shove it back in my face?" he laughed. "It was brilliant. You even went to the trouble of getting your team out of the apartment. Do they not know your gay?"
He swiftly side-stepped the violent blow, eye's sparkling with interest. "Oh? So they don't?" He stated.
Skipper balled his hands into fists and snarled. "So what?"
Leave me,
go where you belong.
Higher heels and lipstick napkins,
dying is your latest fashion.
The villain shrugged his shoulders ineffectually, like he really couldn't be bothered doing anything else. "Nothing. I have no reason of outing you to them. I mean, really what good does that do me?" His uncaring look suddenly twisted into a dark leer. "They didn't know and I got what I wanted."
Again he dodged the blow, swerving backwards to avoid the powerful hook, laughing as he did so. "Hit a raw nerve there skippy?"
"Shut up." He growled viciously.
Clemson seemed to miss the threat. "The thing is Skipper, while you may not remember it. Your body will. One day it's just going to drive you over the edge." He took a step forward until he was only half and inch from the shorter male. "And that will be the day you'll come find me." He purred.
Skipper swung out a leg and knocked the villain to the ground again, standing with tensed muscled over the groaning form as he picked himself up off the floor again. "I said, Shut up." He snarled.
Darling,
what is going on?
Honestly that never happened;
lying is your favourite passion.
Clemson looked up, a defiant fire in his blazing blue eyes. "Or what?" He demanded. "Are you going to beat me up? Hurt me? Turn me in?"
Skipper held his gaze for a moment, two different shades of blue clashing against one another. And then he looked away, body quivering as he growled. "Just, get out."
Leave me,
go where you belong.
Higher heels and lipstick napkins,
dying is your latest fashion.
The ginger smiled faintly standing up and sweeping towards the door, seemingly without the faintest intention of looking back.
Then he stopped, hand hovering only a hairs-breadth from the door handle. Slowly it coiled around the polished metal and applied just the faintest amount of pressure.
"I just thought it would be fair to warn you to tell Kowalski to watch his drinks."
And with that he was gone.
Lol. Can I get away with that? XD
Cipper. Seriously? I recommend you all try some. It's creepily fun to write.
And I just realized this is 16 pages long on word. Holy Firetruck. O.O
Meh. Thankies for all the lovely reviews! It's really cool knowing people are reading these and enjoying them too! X)
UUUUUUUUUUUUP NEXT: cyber-punk skans to a song called the guillotine! Futuristic battle against machines that want to kill us all? Good times!
then… possibly someone's story? Maybe some ClemsonXSavio? I donno ;P
Bye you awesome Person of the world! I LUFFS YOU SO MUCHIES! XD