Detonation
Title: Detonation
Author: domfangirl
Fandom: Burn Notice
Characters/Pairing: Fiona POV, Michael/Fiona
Rating: R
Warnings: Spoilery for all seasons, up through 3x11, Friendly Fire
Summary: Fiona has loved Michael for far longer than she has wanted to, or would admit to, or even acknowledges.
Author's Notes: I've wanted to try writing Fiona for a while, and tonight I had few spare minutes before the new episode airs, so I took a chance.
Fiona has loved Michael for far longer than she has wanted to, or would admit to, or even acknowledges. Nothing has been easy between them, and really, it's like they've been in a fight for five years because the tension is always there. Its origin changes periodically, shifting from the lies they'd told each other when they first met to the lies they tell each other now.
They make love in a pristine hotel room, madly and more passionately than ever before, and the fuse between them has always been mind-blowingly explosive.
Fi can't help it, everything in life, when it's possible, should be compared to C-4. It only makes sense that way. When you've seen enough explosions, the kind that go a hundred feet in the air and flip one ton pick up trucks over like pancakes in a frying pan, your awareness of the vastness of the sky above and the breadth of carnage outward can never been unlearned.
She arches beneath him with hunger, her need far more consuming than ever before. How many times have they done this for the last time only to come back together like magnets with a ferocity and speed that surprises everyone, especially them? How long can it go on, really, until Michael finally stumbles across the person who isn't stupid enough to let him walk away, or dodge his way out of a bullet's trajectory?
She doesn't know; she only guesses it can't be much longer, and the only thing that has proven true despite all her threats and ultimatums and tears is that she will be there when it happens.
No doubt she'll watch him die, and then she'll pick up the gun that lies in the shadow of his body and go out in a blaze of glory with him.
Other women find a way to tame their men, to have their babies, and force them into some kind of expectation, but not Fiona Glenanne. She had to pick the one who was just like herself, the one who wouldn't ever do anything traditionally, not even apologize with two simple words.
Instead he brings her to a swanky hotel room, treats her like a high-priced hooker (minus the money on the bedside table), and makes her come so intensely even the muscles in her feet tremble in the aftermath.
She takes some time to recover, and then she pushes him over, climbing on top of him with only one thought.
If this is it, if this is all it will ever be, she will embrace it. She will love him on his terms, because it's no less than loving him on her terms. If she could escape it, she would have done so a long time ago.
As it stands now, the wide spread damage cannot be properly catalogued. It's her, and it's him, and it's them and they are.
They have been, they will be, and they are. And she always detonates with purpose.
Author: domfangirl
Fandom: Burn Notice
Characters/Pairing: Fiona POV, Michael/Fiona
Rating: R
Warnings: Spoilery for all seasons, up through 3x11, Friendly Fire
Summary: Fiona has loved Michael for far longer than she has wanted to, or would admit to, or even acknowledges.
Author's Notes: I've wanted to try writing Fiona for a while, and tonight I had few spare minutes before the new episode airs, so I took a chance.
Fiona has loved Michael for far longer than she has wanted to, or would admit to, or even acknowledges. Nothing has been easy between them, and really, it's like they've been in a fight for five years because the tension is always there. Its origin changes periodically, shifting from the lies they'd told each other when they first met to the lies they tell each other now.
They make love in a pristine hotel room, madly and more passionately than ever before, and the fuse between them has always been mind-blowingly explosive.
Fi can't help it, everything in life, when it's possible, should be compared to C-4. It only makes sense that way. When you've seen enough explosions, the kind that go a hundred feet in the air and flip one ton pick up trucks over like pancakes in a frying pan, your awareness of the vastness of the sky above and the breadth of carnage outward can never been unlearned.
She arches beneath him with hunger, her need far more consuming than ever before. How many times have they done this for the last time only to come back together like magnets with a ferocity and speed that surprises everyone, especially them? How long can it go on, really, until Michael finally stumbles across the person who isn't stupid enough to let him walk away, or dodge his way out of a bullet's trajectory?
She doesn't know; she only guesses it can't be much longer, and the only thing that has proven true despite all her threats and ultimatums and tears is that she will be there when it happens.
No doubt she'll watch him die, and then she'll pick up the gun that lies in the shadow of his body and go out in a blaze of glory with him.
Other women find a way to tame their men, to have their babies, and force them into some kind of expectation, but not Fiona Glenanne. She had to pick the one who was just like herself, the one who wouldn't ever do anything traditionally, not even apologize with two simple words.
Instead he brings her to a swanky hotel room, treats her like a high-priced hooker (minus the money on the bedside table), and makes her come so intensely even the muscles in her feet tremble in the aftermath.
She takes some time to recover, and then she pushes him over, climbing on top of him with only one thought.
If this is it, if this is all it will ever be, she will embrace it. She will love him on his terms, because it's no less than loving him on her terms. If she could escape it, she would have done so a long time ago.
As it stands now, the wide spread damage cannot be properly catalogued. It's her, and it's him, and it's them and they are.
They have been, they will be, and they are. And she always detonates with purpose.