Burn Notice Fic: Friends, Lovers and Other Enemies
Written for varietypack100 Multi-Fandom Challenge
Emma DeMarais VarietyPack100 Prompt Table
Crossposted to burnnotice
Title: Friends, Lovers and Other Enemies
Pairing/Characters: Michael/Fiona
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Pilot
Summary: Prompt - Enemies
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.'
Everyone in the business knows Sun Tzu (along with Machiavelli and for some strange reason Peter Drucker) and this quote? Pretty much sums up our business. You don't get intel at a safe distance. Although safe distance is usually measured in feet at least, not by the rapidly disappearing millimeters between your lap and a fascinatingly hot yet possibly insane IRA operative. The problem with the quote is that everyone in the business - on both sides - knows it and knows how to use it to their advantage.
Fiona settles on Michael's lap with all the power and finesse of a private jet coming into land. There's a thrum under her skin; so much energy there yet with what he hopes is more than an illusion of control.
Fiona is a true force of nature, like nothing he's ever known before. Wild, yet directed. Violent, yet skilled. Voracious, yet so very picky. She's the Persian who struts her way past every alleycat, getting them all riled up, before turning up her perfect nose and dismissing them all with one careless gesture.
"Looks like we've got a few hours to kill..." The sensual rumble of her Irish brogue does things to his body that are entirely unprofessional and Michael is grateful that he's not under surveillance. He's under deep on this op, so deep his handler will only find out what happened months later during a long boring debrief.
The problem is, it's clear that Fiona's got her own agenda and since he doesn't know what that is yet, Michael's not quite ready to be caught with his pants down - literally.
"Or to get killed," Michael reminds her cooly, doing his best to pretend he's unaffected by her, which really takes all of his acting ability and even some of his torture survival skills. "Did you forget that our 'friends' are out there looking for us?"
Fiona scoots up on his lap and Michael almost has to bite his lip to maintain his control.
"Let... them... look..." Each syllable is a hot breath on his skin. "In fact..." Her tongue circles his ear before she nips at the lobe. "Let them watch. I don't mind an audience. Could be fun..."
Michael has no chance to respond before the rat-a-tat of bullets shooting the lock off the warehouse door snaps them both to attention and gets them up on their feet in a millisecond.
"Thought you didn't mind an audience," Michael taunts, drawing and cocking his gun.
"I prefer them unarmed." Fiona pulls a submachine gun from a nearby crate and loads in the ammunition with a practiced hand so swift Michael finds himself turned on by her deft movements. "And even better, tied to a chair." She hefts the massive gun to her side, the hem of her form fitting dress up so high on her thighs as to leave almost nothing to the imagination. To Michael she looks like what every video game tries to make their heroine look like and fails. This is the kick ass take no prisoners smoking hot and fully capable of taking on a small army prototype. But with Fiona, she broke her own mold - probably with C4 explosives.
"What? No handcuffs?" is all Michael can manage when faced with both the possibility of impending death and the lost chance to let Fiona have her way with him.
She winks, a playful smirk crossing her lips as she readies her weapon to head out of the office area and into the warehouse proper.
"Oh, those I save for my special friends."
-|-
Emma DeMarais VarietyPack100 Prompt Table
Crossposted to burnnotice
Title: Friends, Lovers and Other Enemies
Pairing/Characters: Michael/Fiona
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Pilot
Summary: Prompt - Enemies
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.'
Everyone in the business knows Sun Tzu (along with Machiavelli and for some strange reason Peter Drucker) and this quote? Pretty much sums up our business. You don't get intel at a safe distance. Although safe distance is usually measured in feet at least, not by the rapidly disappearing millimeters between your lap and a fascinatingly hot yet possibly insane IRA operative. The problem with the quote is that everyone in the business - on both sides - knows it and knows how to use it to their advantage.
Fiona settles on Michael's lap with all the power and finesse of a private jet coming into land. There's a thrum under her skin; so much energy there yet with what he hopes is more than an illusion of control.
Fiona is a true force of nature, like nothing he's ever known before. Wild, yet directed. Violent, yet skilled. Voracious, yet so very picky. She's the Persian who struts her way past every alleycat, getting them all riled up, before turning up her perfect nose and dismissing them all with one careless gesture.
"Looks like we've got a few hours to kill..." The sensual rumble of her Irish brogue does things to his body that are entirely unprofessional and Michael is grateful that he's not under surveillance. He's under deep on this op, so deep his handler will only find out what happened months later during a long boring debrief.
The problem is, it's clear that Fiona's got her own agenda and since he doesn't know what that is yet, Michael's not quite ready to be caught with his pants down - literally.
"Or to get killed," Michael reminds her cooly, doing his best to pretend he's unaffected by her, which really takes all of his acting ability and even some of his torture survival skills. "Did you forget that our 'friends' are out there looking for us?"
Fiona scoots up on his lap and Michael almost has to bite his lip to maintain his control.
"Let... them... look..." Each syllable is a hot breath on his skin. "In fact..." Her tongue circles his ear before she nips at the lobe. "Let them watch. I don't mind an audience. Could be fun..."
Michael has no chance to respond before the rat-a-tat of bullets shooting the lock off the warehouse door snaps them both to attention and gets them up on their feet in a millisecond.
"Thought you didn't mind an audience," Michael taunts, drawing and cocking his gun.
"I prefer them unarmed." Fiona pulls a submachine gun from a nearby crate and loads in the ammunition with a practiced hand so swift Michael finds himself turned on by her deft movements. "And even better, tied to a chair." She hefts the massive gun to her side, the hem of her form fitting dress up so high on her thighs as to leave almost nothing to the imagination. To Michael she looks like what every video game tries to make their heroine look like and fails. This is the kick ass take no prisoners smoking hot and fully capable of taking on a small army prototype. But with Fiona, she broke her own mold - probably with C4 explosives.
"What? No handcuffs?" is all Michael can manage when faced with both the possibility of impending death and the lost chance to let Fiona have her way with him.
She winks, a playful smirk crossing her lips as she readies her weapon to head out of the office area and into the warehouse proper.
"Oh, those I save for my special friends."
-|-