Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
You released an exasperated sigh as you examined your swollen face in the bathroom mirror. The bright red cuts and distinct purple bruises lining your face were begging for your attention — a particularly nasty cut above your eyebrow screaming louder than the rest of your wounds. After getting some soap on your hand, you cleaned the cut under warm water, wincing reflexively.
Things were tense between you and Mitch at the moment, seeing as your recent mission didn't go according to plan.
Being Mitch's partner for so long, you had grown used to his improvisations and impulsivity — it was just part of who he was. He'd become irritable and his palms would grow itchy if he didn't follow his gut, so you went with the flow while also restraining him as best as you could. It's what made you an effective pair. But things were different this time.
Stan had painfully precise instructions to maintain your cover no matter what. Usually you were both able to get away with slightly veering off course if it meant he obtained valuable information, but there was no pushing it on this one. Mitch was supposed to sneak into the CEO's office and gather files off of her computer while you served as a distraction; nothing more, nothing less. Of course, he never got to the office.
Somehow, she had found out what you were up to and as Mitch was sneaking past you both, he paused abruptly upon seeing a gun held up to your head. In a split second decision, he charged at the lady, earning a shot to the shoulder. The rest seemed to escalate from there.
Needless to say, you were both repositioned to "back-up" despite incessant reassurance that it wouldn't happen again. So Stan stuck you in a dingy hotel room for the time being.
"Do you need any help with that?" Your eyes flew open and you turned your head to see Mitch approaching the bathroom. After adjusting the sleeves to cover the gauze on his left shoulder, his right side leaned against the doorway as he watched you assess your wounds.
"It's just a cut, I think I'll be fine." You retorted while lightly applying antiseptic to the area in question before prepping a small gauze pad.
"You sure? It looks like you've been bleeding a lot." Mitch knew you were perfectly fine. You were able to take care of him and yourself as if they were everyday scratches and paper cuts. He just wanted an excuse to check on you.
"You do realize how weird it is that you're worried about a cut on my forehead when you had a bullet lodged in your shoulder not even an hour ago, right?
He scoffed and subconsciously reached to brush over the gauze you'd secured on his arm earlier. After waiting a beat, he walked over the wall across from the bathroom door and slid down to sit on the floor with a soft grunt. "Yeah, well," he started quietly, "it was to make sure the bullet didn't hit you. Or do you not remember having a gun pointed to your head?" The question shocked you and you turned to glare at him.
"I had it covered, Mitch—"
"It didn't look like it. I thought you were gonna—I couldn't just stand there and let you—"
Your shoulders sagged defeatedly as you watched him drag a heavy hand down his face. You made your way over to the wall and let yourself slump down quietly beside him while he gathered his thoughts.
It felt like heavyweight chains were relentlessly wrapping themselves across his chest until he could barely even breathe. He tried his best to navigate through the fog in his mind, but ultimately failed. You left Mitch Rapp feeling disoriented and he wasn't sure what it meant. Or he didn't want to come to terms with it.
Barbed wire tightly encompassed his heart like a prisoner for so many years that he'd just grown used to the lack of affection. Yet, you managed to get through unscathed and slowly mended the broken pieces, all without even trying. It was nauseating, really — to care for someone and to feel like putty in their hands after a long period of emotional isolation.
"I'm just glad you're okay." He finally blurted out. You turned to him, completely taken aback at the soft expression on his face.
"I'm glad you're okay, too." You responded gently before letting your head rest on his uninjured shoulder. Your fingers nervously fumbled with one another before you let them intertwine. He softly drew circles with his thumb on the back of your hand as a silent show of appreciation. Truthfully, both your hands were quite clammy, but neither of you pulled away.
He moved slightly to look down at you which had caused you to look up at him. His eyes glistened with adoration and nervousness once he realized how close you were. The scent of your steadily fading perfume invaded his senses and the feeling of your breath mingling with his own sent his mind into a frenzy.
His heart was erratically pounding against his ribs and he was sure you could hear it due to the close proximity. But your heart was beating as quickly and loudly as his. You could feel a wildfire burn painfully within the depths of your chest, causing heat to rise up your neck to your face.
He slowly inched closer until you could feel his soft lips brush against your own. It was a feather-light touch, but it still sent goosebumps down his arms and released a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
Then suddenly, the blaring tone of Mitch's cell.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
