[SEQUEL TO GUN FOR HIRE]
Chapter 15: One Breath, One Step, One Day

Piper stroked the unkempt head sleeping away on her lap, trying to ignore the way her legs were screaming and begging to be unfolded out from beneath her. She was surprised that Garrett even fell asleep like this, and she tugged on the bed sheets to sling across his lower rump, not surprised that there was still no show of modesty from him. In all fairness, she wasn't clothed either - and god was it ever fucking uncomfortable to just hang out, literally hang out, like this. The bed's metal frame against her back took it's sweet time being warmed by her skin.

Sleep would be nowhere for her tonight, and her brain wouldn't stop racing. She struggled to stay together, though she hung on but a thread and desperately prayed to find strength in Garrett, only to find that he was trapped in the same predicament. It was agony just to watch and hear him suffer this way, and she couldn't imagine what it was like to be in his shoes. Her head lulled back against the frame and she closed her eyes, cheeks puffing as she blew out a harsh breath.

All of this was her fault, and yet Garrett still blamed himself solely for it all. Didn't he see that they wouldn't be here if she wouldn't have put herself - and consequently everybody close to her - on the radar?

What was most terrifying was that she was utterly powerless and couldn't help him. She couldn't convince him she was real, and she couldn't imagine what it must be like to still feel those feelings and be this paranoid whether or not the face was real or orchestrated; and at this point even she was beginning to doubt herself.

Part of her wanted to defend that: did it matter? But it did if her life wasn't truly hers, and now she was also beginning to understand why Nick suffered the way he did. He was stuck with memories not exactly his, but still felt all the feelings of them. It was a vicious cycle he couldn't break free from. It was a vicious cycle that now she couldn't break free from. She just wanted the truth, and she learned a long time ago that most times the hunt to actually find out was a lot more painful than the truth itself.

Garrett shifted in her lap, and her heart melted when his hand came across and curled under her thigh, holding her for dear life. She leaned forward as much as she could and tugged on the sheets a little more, unsure if the Institute could see them from cameras beyond from his eyes. It still seemed so strange that the Director would grant such a request and give up an advantage she had yet to even discover.

Maybe Shaun was sincere?

Regardless, they weren't going to get an eyeful of Garrett's rump. Even if he didn't care, she did. He deserved to hold consideration and respect for himself as she did for him.

Every time she wondered why he had such low self-esteem - surprisingly enough, with what smug things came out of his mouth sometimes - her cynical voice delivered the cold harsh truth every time. His father. She tried so hard not to think about it every time it came up, and it drove the point home when he confessed what he felt now was worse than that torture. She chewed on her lip as she studied his features, brushing her knuckles down the length of his face before she traced his scruffy jawline. He looked so peaceful now, and it was an expression she was convinced she'd never catch him awake with.

Piper sighed dejectedly, trying to derail her train of thought before she depressed herself out of her mind. On his cheek, she drew the letters that 3-0 sketched on her palm, but came up shorthanded in the well of ideas. "Huh, 0-3-Г?" Piper mumbled, wondering why the mechanical man offered up what she assumed was his name - in reverse - on her hand. At least it coincided with what she heard; maybe he thought they wouldn't say it? Was it the beginning of a machine exercising it's free will and intelligence?

Why her?

Whatever the case may be, she hoped she would never face him again. She tenderly prodded where he gripped her and winced at the dull throb. Mild discoloration, but no heavy bruise. Not yet. It seemed that was the only kind of bruise she was going to get in this wretched place - just hand prints all over her body. Her cheeks flushed hot when her mind immediately took that wrong, especially when her gaze snapped to the hand on her thigh.

Hopefully there weren't any cameras in the bathroom, because she was curious - and not looking forward to getting caught - to check her hamstrings for when Garrett... Helped keep her balanced in the shower. A little buzz fluttered in the pits of her belly at the memory, and she came down stern so as not to squirm.

Seriously. What happened to priorities?

"I don't know the truth, and it still isn't enough to stop me. I just miss her so much..."

Instead of snapping them out of it, she fell victim to the same desire and went on a wild ride that she knew she should have regretted, but didn't. She missed him just as much; and part of her - the old part of her - was mortified that she needed to feel him physically, rather than verbally, or emotionally, or just anything that didn't involve a random romp in the very place she despised from the depths of her soul. Sure, passion, yay passion... But what the hell happened to the time and place of these things? Then again, Garrett always sucked at being the judge of those - and she didn't particularly protest.

Why the hell was she still so caught up on this rather than the million other far more fucking dire things that should seize immediate attention?

"I blame this on you," she whispered softly, smiling when she mussed up his eyebrow in revenge.

"There we go! Knew y'were hidin' in there. Handyman, I am; fixed ya right up, was worried I fried yer brain there."

"Why do you always have to ruin it? We were having a moment, Garrett!"

"Haven't ya figured it out yet? I taint everything I touch, luv. And I know I can be a man of my word with this vow too: I'm going to ruin you in the most beautiful way possible."

"I think about you a lot too, Garrett." She brushed her hair behind her ears and held them there when she leaned down as far as she could, pressing a kiss to his temple as a devilish smirk itched to twitch her lips. Once again temptation won - another thing that was totally wholly his fault - and she trailed feather-light kisses to his ear, murmuring the same words he vowed to her so long ago.

"And not every thought is innocent."

"Was a matter of time," he mumbled sleepily, catching her off guard. Her face flamed and she sat up straight, watching him as she wondered if her ears were playing tricks on her. He still looked as peaceful as ever, nuzzling into her lap even more if anything. If he was truly awake, he'd probably be diving away while screaming 'synth' or something to that effect. She was sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her when his lips moved. "You smell like her."

God... How much more could anyone take before it would be okay to fall apart?

"Because I am her," Piper whispered with the utmost tenderness as she could muster, even when she felt like her very core was fraying at the seams, throwing her into chaos as to who she even truly was anymore. Why couldn't Garrett see her? What could she do to make him at least hear her? She shivered when his head turned and he pressed his lips against skin, his beard grazing along her inner thigh.

"You taste like her, too."

Was he even hearing anything at all, anymore?

"Garrett..."

"It's scary, luv," he hushed ever so frailly, pressing chaste kisses up and down before his entire body worked like a well-oiled machine and seamlessly slithered up her body, leaving goosebumps in his wake when the chilly air attacked the moist patches of skin he marked her with. Her head lulled back and a breath shuddered out of her when he gently bit beside her navel, continuing his trek up her ribs. "Because I feel like I belong, but..."

Hope flared and sank it's talons into it, even if it was the smallest scrap. She held on to it and refused to let go. "But?"

"But..." More kisses, trailing under the curve of her breast and up along the side. He thankfully kept his eyes closed the entire time, opening them only around the more safer parts of her body - but he never met her eyes. "But I don't have the right to, anymore. Why aren't any of you mad at me? You'd think the Institute would get it right and fuck with my head for fuckin' you over, and still being a selfish arsehole doin' this to you, right now. I don't get it. Not even my sis is pissed with me." He worked his way to her neck, enunciating every word with the faintest of kisses that left her starving for more. "Barmy birds, the lot of you."

"Because it's not your fault, Garrett. It's theirs. We're the victims." Her hands framed under his jaw, guiding him to look up even when he resisted her. She rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes, praying it would encourage him to stop this insanity and just take a moment to really look at her, to see her and not his guilt. "And I'm being selfish too, you know. I haven't been stopping you, now have I?"

"Why? You should be."

"Mm, I suppose I should." She smiled when she pulled away and met the gunmetal orbs, flared with annoyance. His mussed up eyebrow arched as he shot a deadpan 'really?' look.

"And why not? The Piper I know would be raisin' hell that I'm gettin' all touchy at the worst time and place ever. She's always selfless too, lookin' out for number two instead'uv one."

"Well, the real Piper isn't because I've really, really missed you too. And not just the time we've been forced apart here." It was clear he wasn't going to buy it, which was ironic, because he may as well have been the master of 'short and sweet' and this should have delighted him. She never really had to think with him though, because every word always automatically poured from her without thought. It was one of the things she adored about him - because despite all the hardships, at least this was effortless.

"When I realized you left me in Diamond City... The world felt like it just stopped. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. Then I found out the Institute took you away from me, and I was pissed the hell off enough to commit murder with a rusty bar, okay? Luki and... Leo... They stopped me. But I still did it later, anyways." She squeezed his jaw to silence his protest before he began, knowing fully well why his eyes hardened.

"And I haven't blamed you at all this entire time - not once - because when I figured out why you were really there in Goodneighbor, I could understand. I promise you I would have done the exact same thing; and I would be just as confused, and conflicted, and heartbroken, and hate myself so, so much. And even then, I still can't imagine all that you're going through right now - but I promise you I understand, Garrett. All I'm really asking for right now is for you to give me a chance, but I'll get it and won't blame you if you don't."

Silence draped over them, and Garrett slithered back down - thankfully with his eyes closed - until he settled back in her lap. He was the one to adjust the sheets this time, but he pulled it all the way over his head to cover her lap, and consequently exposed his rump. She rolled her eyes and made it a point to tug it back, and soon found herself in a mini tug-o-war until she groaned. "If they can see, then they see my bloatfly tits, Garrett. I really don't care if they see my legs at this point, especially because they likely saw it all when they stuffed me in that pod."

There was a sharp inhale, though muffled. She nibbled on the flesh of her cheek when he blew a wet raspberry against her thigh, still hiding under the sheets. "You're more important than my arse, luv." Okay... But the boobs? Were they just going to ignore that part? "All this shite with me ain't nothin' they ain't seen before. Definitely." And she definitely wouldn't question that. "Wouldn't be surprised if they installed some sorta fuckin' chip in King Arthur to - who the fuck knows, collect data about many times I wizz versus jizz."

Flames consumed Piper's face, and she mumbled, dazed. "Once again you have not failed to surprise me at just how much soap we need to clean your mouth."

Really, she should have known better than to blurt that. The sheets were kicked right off the bed - modesty damned for all, apparently - and Garrett shimmied over on his back, staring up at her from her lap. Self-consciousness kicked into gear and she draped an arm across her chest as she glared at him, but he just smirked away with that sinful glint in his eyes. "You love it."

This part? Not thrilling. But somehow, she still missed it. She huffed and slipped a hand over his eyes. "You're on the fast track to making sure Queen Guinevere seeks out Sir Lancelot."

Raw laughter exploded and she beamed with immeasurable pride. Just, what, maybe ten or fifteen minutes ago, she was resigned to the fact that Garrett wouldn't really genuinely smile anymore. Now here he was, noisy and naughty as if nothing ever changed. She lifted her hand away, but not her arm. The silence between them fell again, and she teetered the longer he stared. "Garrett...?"

He closed his eyes, lips twitching, voice cracking. "I... Wager it hurts to hear, but... I dunno, luv. I'm not good with words like you, yeah? I dunno how to talk like you do."

"I'm not expecting you to. I'm not dating me, I'm dating you." She cracked a small smile at her own horribly-timed joke. "Even if whether or not we're boyfriend or girlfriend is a bigger question than ever before. Man of your word and context, remember? I don't need vows or promises right this minute, but... I guess... Well we have this big, scary monster in front of us, and I really don't think I can do this without knowing if you're behind me. I need to find the truth out about this place, and I think it's the only way we'll both get peace of mind about pretty much everything at this point."

Garrett drew in an agonizingly long breath, and cold air swept over her lap when he pushed himself up into sitting. "I... Don't know. I just feel stuck. I want to try, believe me I really fucking want to, luv, but I'm just... Stuck. I dunno how to explain it. I dunno how to change it. It ain't like a switch. I wanna be there, and I think I'm... Kind of there? I just don't know." He sighed and raked his hands through his hair, posture caving over in defeat. Her gaze soldered to the long thick scar cutting down his spine, with little dots running down both sides of it. It was as if he was stapled shut, and it nauseated her just to imagine that freakish scientist going trigger happy with his scalpels and god knew what other fucked up things he had at his disposal.

All of this torture, and Garrett probably didn't even recognize and regard it as such. He never complained about it - instead he was worried about what she'd think of him. Just like in the very beginning, when they were first both kidnapped together, he dismissed himself and focused only on her. He was always the first to call him a selfish arsehole, and the last to believe that he was - ironically enough - debatably worse than her in the self-preservation and selflessness department, if he offered himself up in her place at every opportunity he sought to plea and negotiate.

One point after another fell into place as her brain slotted the puzzle pieces in. She reached out to him and squeezed his shoulder, feeling rock hard muscles tense beneath her fingertips. She wavered inside and her throat closed in on her when Garrett sucked a harsher breath in, his palm slipping over his eyes, his shoulders quivering. She rose on her knees and enveloped him in a crushing embrace from behind, burying her mouth into the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry," he whispered feebly, "I'm so fucking sorry..."

"It's not your fault," she urged, and in the back of her mind, realized that this right here kept repeating like a broken record. She wondered at all if it was anything akin to this 'PTSD' thing she read about long ago; if Garrett just kept reliving everything, then maybe that's why he was still stuck. There was no way of truly knowing if he couldn't verbalize - or maybe even be aware - of what emotions and memories were tormenting him. She prayed that wasn't the case - that time was all that was needed.

"Breathe with me, Garrett. In..." She felt his back expand into her chest. "And out..." And blew out with him, repeating it over and over again until the trembling in both of them stopped. They should have been laughing at this, at how they were being big crybabies and how pointless it was to worry over something that was beyond their control; yet there was something so humbling and horrifying about it all to be constantly faced with the question behind the definition of humanity.

"One breath at a time," she absentmindedly murmured in between their orchestrated breaths, falling out of sync momentarily. "One step at a time... Then one day at a time."

"One breath," he echoed as his hands ran along the sides of her thighs, gently cupping her knees. "One step, one day." He sucked in a breath of his own, the tension from his body gradually trickling away. "Thanks for the hug, 'specially like this, luv, even if you're uncomfy as all bloody hell for it. Won't lie, kinda messin' with my head that yer still naked. I've been askin' myself whether it's somethin' that the real Piper would do."

Piper bit her tongue before she screamed she would. And then she smiled when he squeezed her knees.

"But you would. You're barmy and daft enough to suck it up just to make this big baby feel better. And on top of all that, yer still beautiful - inside and out - even while I'm bratty an' snotty."

"I'll let the daft thing slide only because we can both definitely agree with absolutely no doubt whatsoever within our minds that you're a big baby." A beat. "Institute nailed that part."

Garrett laughed. He twisted, the gunmetal orbs finally dancing with life once again. "It's a bloody shame they haven't changed yer name to Copy Wright. Missed opportunity."

"Ooh~ I can tell you've been waiting to use that one, haven't you?" She beamed when he chuckled and nodded earnestly without a speck of shame. She rolled her eyes, shooting off a lighthearted jab of her own. "They missed out on changing your name to Mr. Handy. Maybe you've secretly been a robot all this time?" The way his cheek dimpled with a grin when they began firing with their mouths - instead of their guns - captivated her in a way she desperately wished would never fade ever again.

"Mm hm, y'caught me, luv. Called me out right in the beginning, y'did. They've upgraded me since then though, so now I'm Mr. Gutsy."

"With the things that come out of that mouth most times, I believe it."

"Still love it."

"That still remains to be actually seen."

Jokes. Bad jokes. Horribly timed jokes in the worst place ever. Or maybe it was the best place to joke in order to keep their sanity? Thirty minutes ago, she was resigned that he wouldn't smile. Fifteen minutes ago, he laughed. Now he was opening up a little, and even cracking his own jokes. Baby steps. But that wasn't the best part of this all.

"I've been askin' myself whether it's somethin' that the real Piper would do."

Lips brushed over hers with the utmost of tenderness and adoration that she swore she would fall apart right then and there. She pushed back passionately, hand instinctively wrapping around his shoulder and searching his chest until she grabbed hold of a certain bullet on a necklace. Relief overwhelmed her and slammed her like a tidal wave when she realized what Garrett was really trying to say - even if he may not necessarily have meant to, or been aware of it.

"But you would."

Words were never his thing. Action was.

And he made sure she heard his message loud and clear when he carried her back to the shower, giggling like a madwoman.

x - x - x

Leo burned holes in the back of Adam's head as they strode through the cylindrical hallway, and Leo looked out the glass to peer down at the facility. His legs actually listened to him when he wanted to stop and study, and he came up as palmed the glass, curious to feel the sensation of it. It was cool and... Clean. It didn't feel grimy at all, and he took his hand off at a sharp: "tsk. Now I'll have to be the one to file a report in to maintenance services for that."

Adam came up to his side and tried to wipe the hand print away with the sleeve of his coat, but only ended up smearing it even more. He sighed, but was remarkably quiet for someone - that Leo expected from the deepest recesses of his gut - that should have regaled some sort of tale or dramatically lamented how his time was worth so much more, and then insert more crazy ass science bullshit.

Instead Adam stared out the window, and he reached up to the glass to leave a hand print beside Leo's.

"I used to do this when I was young. So many people to compete against. So many fake people, too. It was easy to get lost in the tide, to never be noticed - even by my own parents. Work was always more important." He left another hand print. "So I did this." Another. "I'd leave a trail." Another. "I'd mark up this entire glass, because then, maybe, just maybe, I would be noticed for at least a second."

Honestly, Leo didn't care. He couldn't. He had zero fucks left to give especially for this man, and he hadn't felt the remotest of sympathy. If only he had a voice to declare as such so that this freak would stop having fucked up ideas about him.

"But then I was punished for being noticed, and then I was forced to file a report. Every time I did it thereafter, the only ones that noticed me were the fucking robots to clean this. I was mocked by other kids, and you know what my parents had to say about it all? Nothing, because I was raised by a synth. Any time the teacher made me stand in front of father to present something, he'd just stare, questioning and ripping apart my ideas instead of supporting them."

Boo fucking hoo.

"I'd just get that look, you know? That 'do better' look. It was the only look I ever got, growing up. But now..." He turned to Leo, and there was that terrifying glint in his eyes again. "Now he told me he's proud of me. 30 years late, but he said it. I knew he would, of course - you can only deny the truth for so long. But for once, all my sacrifices, all my theories, all my work... He didn't rip it apart nor belittle it. He saw the truth, the evidence. He saw just how much more superior you are than those defected robots, and how efficient and powerful you'll be with half the time in training than the coursers. He saw that I'm better than him, that I've finally surpassed him and his contributions; and I did it with my brain and my hands, not just donate some DNA and cater to peoples' poor hurt feelings, compromising instead of advancing. Soon Cybernetics will be revived again, and I'll have even more tools at my disposal to help you."

Help? Was that how he viewed all the shit he's done to Leo? Seriously? Just how delusional could someone be? How fucked up was the dad to not see it? Maybe that's why his dad didn't want nothing to do with him. This freak was lucky he wasn't just shipped off to the surface to fend for himself.

He should've been.

Adam took out some sort of panel from his lab coat and turned Leo's metal arm up, pressing on the wrist until a lid popped open, exposing two little holes. A wire was pulled from the panel and connected to the arm, igniting the screen up to life. Adam began typing at rapid-fire speed then turned it over. Bright letters glared at Leo, all a jumbled mess. He looked away even when Adam tapped the screen. "Read this."

Leo shook his head.

"It's not a request. Read it."

A sigh, and he looked over, for what little good it would do. He tried to concentrate to at least pick out something familiar, but everything was upside down and in reverse. The brightness didn't help make sense of anything. He stared and counted to ten, then shrugged his shoulders, trying to focus on wiggling his metal fingers instead.

Adam scrutinized him with the most uncharacteristic expression: sincerity. He turned off the screen with a look in his gaze that convinced Leo his eyes were malfunctioning. Sympathy. "As I suspected. You would give me that look like you want to kill me if you could actually read what was on the screen. You appeared to write something on that reporter's hand, though. Are you dyslexic?"

Leo shrugged. How the hell was he supposed to answer this asshole otherwise? And what did dyslexic even mean?

"And what did you write on her hand?" Adam flipped the panel towards him, playing with it before he offered a blank screen to Leo. "Draw it on here."

Don't do it. That was all his mind screamed, but for some reason he was compelled to listen. He reached over and drew the letters.

"Hm... Oh-three-R," Adam mused quietly. "Ah, I see what you were trying to do." A small smile curled the corner of his mouth, and it was enough to get Leo's heart racing as he sweat and panicked as to what in the hell this freak was going to do to him now as punishment. The screen shut off and the panel was disconnected, slipping back into the lab coat's pocket - the right one, immediately engraved to memory. Adam folded his arms behind him and strode down the hallway, but not before leaving one more hand print on the glass.

Leo wanted to scream.

"You were just trying to be noticed."

x - x - x

Luki spread his belongings on the bed, inspecting every single one that had been 'graciously' returned to him as what he regarded as a superficial gesture of faith. He glanced over at the duffel bag they gave him and pulled it closer, running his hands along the canvas fabric to see if he could somehow feel that something was off.

Everything was as it was should be, and it only amplified his doubt.

Every movement brought with it an inordinate amount of clanking from the two holotags he wore, and he glanced down, untangling them so that he could bring the cross to his lips and kiss it. The road before him was shrouded in darkness, but he had faith that it would all become clear when it was meant to be. He had to have faith, because the alternative was terrifying. The Brotherhood's survival and the Institute's destruction rode on his shoulders - if that was even possible.

Faith. It wavered, and so he fell back on his trust in Sarah. He couldn't help but wonder if he was just putting her on a pedestal though, shoving all the responsibility in her hands to find answers where none may necessarily have been found... But no matter how dire the circumstance, she always came back with a plan for him, and a plan was all he wanted.

Lord knew he couldn't grab hold and command his fate the way she could.

Beeps alerted him, and he began to fold his clothes to stuff in his duffel bag just in case if they watched from the cameras and wondered what in the world was taking so long. He glanced over at the sound of knocks, instantaneously smiling at the sight of Sarah. It ranked up top to be just about one of the hardest struggles of his life to not jump her and kiss her senseless for her subtle gesture with the holotags.

"Getting ready for your mission, huh? Need some help?"

Whether he'd answer or not was clearly not her priority as she came over and actually began to fold. She never folded. Her definition of folding was to bunch it up in a ball and throw it in - ironic that such a messy habit came from one of the most disciplined persons he'd ever come to know; but he had conceded that it was the faster way, during their playful debate - that she won - when she declared mutants wouldn't care if her shirt was wrinkled.

If they did, then she'd just shoot at them some more.

"Nervous, Paladin?"

Luki tried not to stare and analyze so much, playing it casual as he paid particular attention as to where her eyes were going. Now, he wasn't as precise and intuitive as her, but even the most obtuse would be able to spot the inordinate amount of attempts taken at his chest - where, conveniently and suspiciously enough, his holotags resided.

Uh huh. He was beginning to sense a pattern here.

"I am," he confessed. "Not so much about the mission, but about who I might see again. It's been a long time."

"Too long," she hummed, pressing her palm down on a sleeve as she creased it outwards to be nice and flat, ridding the wrinkles. "You're not nervous about lying to them?"

"Well, when you put it that way... That too. I'm hoping I won't have to if they don't ask too many questions."

Another shot at his holotags, and he sucked in the flesh of his cheek as he bit down - hard - to stifle his smile. Her innocent tone didn't fool him. "What sorts of questions?"

"Oh, you know..." He left it up in the air, pretending to hide behind the guise that they had to mind their words. When he looked up at her, his resolve was nearly shattered by the way her eyebrow was hiked up, screaming 'really?' all over her face. The deathly glower brought it home, and he chuckled when he propped a hand on the corner of the bed and leaned as far as he could to reach her, lips puckered.

"Nope."

"Don't be like that," he sniggered, exaggerating the way he puckered his lips even more. She rolled her eyes with a sigh.

"I'm not enabling this behavior, Paladin."

"Yeah, but I know you want to."

"You're about to be sucker-punched in the kisser. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Fine. He'd just take matters into his own hands, then. He walked over and framed her jaw, capturing her lips - and the smile that grew in their kiss - as he turned them, muscling her back until her legs hit the edge of the bed. He hooked his foot behind her ankle and swiped up, holding on to her hips to soften the fall - only she had balanced and bent back even on one leg, loosely hooking her arms around his shoulders as she broke the kiss with a smug smirk.

"Just fall on the damn bed," he grumbled as he pushed into her hips with his, trying to hook his foot on her other ankle. Even when he swiped that leg, the other had ample time to plant back down on the ground. "Why do you always have to make everything so difficult?" He whined against her lips, smiling when her chuckles reverberated deep in her chest.

He fell apart when her finger hooked on their holotags.

"Nothing less than what you deserve for playing stupid with me," she rasped in between kisses. "Do you honestly think I came here to help fold?"

"Well, that, and because you missed my charming company." Luki laughed when knuckles drilled into his ribs - his burned side, and he hadn't minded his weight, effectively pushing her and making them fall on the bed. He hissed when teeth latched on his ear lobe, and a tiny hand squished in between their hips. Hope flared when he could feel his zipper wiggled down. He shuddered when her voice dropped deliciously low and gritty, husking by his ear.

"The only kind of cockiness I'll allow, Paladin, is the kind that involves our birthday suits. But since we're not in them..."

Then she was going to fix that by undressing them, right? It was the next logical step, after all, and she must have seen the value in that.

She somehow bizarrely saw merit in zipping his pants back up instead.

Sarah wriggled out from beneath him, and he buried his face - when he should have been buried in her - into the bed as he tried to choke down the urge to scream. Once again he had intel wedged inside, and he could feel the mattress dip beside him. He lifted his head just enough to glance out to the side, coming face to face with the devil as she propped herself up on her elbow. She patted his back with the most deceivingly sweet smile ever to behold. Lies. All lies. He was fully convinced she didn't possess the capability to sincerely make that smile, even if the fate of the world depended on it.

"Good luck on your mission, Paladin Lyons."

And she disappeared.

She fucking...

"Fuck." Luki flopped miserably on the bed. "Somebody save me..."

He was beginning to sense a pattern here.