a fic about two rival spies with unbelievable sexual/romantic tension. 22k words. if you find yourself wondering, "hey, sarah, have your fingers broken off yet?", let me answer that for you: yes ma'am.
before we get into it, i wanted to put up a little warning: this fic includes the usage of weapons such as guns, knives, and (although a little on the tame side) tranquilizer guns. it also has mention of kidnapping, mention of death, violence and lots of blood, so please read with caution if any of these things trigger you.
that is all! let's go!
***
Monday
Loud music blasts in Harry's ears, something that his fellow peers have told him not to do as his hearing is already affected by astounding noise of bullets, and he really doesn't need this extra wave of trauma on his ears. His music is so loud, he doesn't hear the man enter his gym, yelling at him, finally deciding to just cut the plug on his treadmill.
Harry takes one earbud out and catches his breath, sliding off the treadmill. "What is it?"
"Uh," the man says, looking uneasy, "Miss Fleur is here to see you."
"Ah," Harry hums, placing his hand on his heaving chest. "Tell her to wait in my office and I'll get to her after a shower."
The man shifts his weight. "Um, well, she's already in your office and demands to see you at once."
"Of course she is. Alright, tell her I'll be there in five."
The man turns away, but not before adding in hesitantly, "If you don't mind me rushing you, could you not...take your time? She's very impatient today."
Harry laughs, "She's always impatient. She won't do anything."
"She flashed her gun at us twice without the safety on, H. She's more impatient than usual today."
He's still laughing. "I see. I'll be quick, don't worry. Stay clear of my office if it bothers you. I'll handle her."
The shower he takes is quicker than he intended. It's only seven in the morning and the abrupt pause on his workout makes him upset about not being able to wake up properly, however he knows the woman in his office is anything but willing to wait for him to finish his morning routine. He dresses himself in a loose shirt and tight jeans, pushing his curls back slicked against his head, positive she won't wait for his hair to dry either.
He enters his office with a knock and clears his throat. She's standing against his window, gazing out. He smirks when he notices her gun tucked into her holster, clearly an attempt to be intimidating. "Hi, beautiful," he says, shutting the door behind him. "It's always such a pleasure to see you this early in the morning, love."
Fleur's jaw clenches and she turns around to see Harry, hands on her hips. She's wearing a shirt tucked into her jeans, and a pretty necklace. "Styles," she says.
"How many times have I told you to call me Harry?"
"I'll start calling you Harry once I start liking you."
He rubs his jaw, chuckling quietly. "Of course. What can I help you with?"
"Why do you think I'm here for help? When have I ever come here groveling for your help?"
He's taken aback by her tone, but it helps him assess the situation. She's not in the mood to joke around with him.
He tries one more time anyway, "I wouldn't ever make you grovel, sweetheart. You can have me whenever you'd like, for whatever reason."
