(FIC) (Burn Notice) "Zen and the Art of Maintaining Fiona Glennane" (1/1) (PG) (Sam/Mike/Fi)
Title: Zen and the Art of Maintaining Fiona Glenanne
Parts: 1 of 1
Author: Missy AKA rise_your_dead
Fandom: Burn Notice
Pairing/Characters: Michael Westen, Sam Axe, Fiona Glenanne; Sam/Fi/Mike
Rating/Category: PG; language and inferred sexual situations; romance/humor
Spoilers: No particular canon point; general series spoilers.
Summary: Mike and Sam treat Fiona’s injuries, which is, as always, an adventure.
Notes/Warnings: Written (Rather belatedly) for the Sex is not the Enemy ficathon, with this picture as a prompt. Thank you to Amber for betaing this!
Fiona hated being pampered by others. She was raised with her hackles up and she’d die that way, on her feet and fighting. So whenever Michael and Sam tried to soothe her she would end up in a combative state. It was dangerous for everyone involved, especially when she had a gunshot wound festering on her shoulder.
“Would you please stop squirming?” Michael demanded. She had an iron grip on the front of Sam’s shirt as he pulled the dressing off the wound.
“I’m not squirming!” Fiona protested. “Sam’s holding me hostage.”
“And if I don’t,” Sam pointed out rationally, “you’re gonna punch Mike in the head.”
“If he deserves it,” she pointed out as Michael examined her. That was also the moment that Michael chose to empty a dollop of weapons-grade strength antibiotic gel on the partially healed wound. Fiona cursed aloud in Gaelic and her nails raked across Sam’s chest through his teeshirt. Sam hissed - not in pain but in pleasure. She leaned forward against his chest and mumbled another curse.
Michael kissed the back of Fiona’s neck - he felt the promise of danger in her, and also of passion, in her small, thin, strong body. Sweat had plastered her red-brown hair to the nape of her neck, and he traced the curvature of her spine. “I’m not a horse’s ass,” he whispered, and kissed the point where neck met spine.
“Sometimes, Mike,” Sam replied lightly, “you kind of are.” He caressed Fiona’s forehead with his lips. She hummed, relaxed her shoulders, and dug her nails into Sam’s neck. He pecked her forehead.
“If you sit still like a good girl, I’ll give you a kiss.”
“You’ll need to promise me more than that,” she said, deliberately pinching his nipple through the white cotton covering.
“Hey, watch it,” he demanded, prying Fi’s fingers away.
“What’s wrong, Sam, don’t you like it when I scratch?” she replied.
“Only when I’m balls-deep in something warm and wet,” he replied, looking Michael in the eyes, his own twinkling. He could mean anything by that one; Michael’s mouth, Fiona’s sex. Michael felt himself sweat at the implication.
Fiona gave him a raised eyebrow and a kittenish smirk. She rested her head on Sam’s chest as Michael rebandaged the wound. “You have the tiniest nipples I’ve ever seen,” she observed peacefully. It took Michael a moment to realize she was addressing Sam.
Sam paused in mid-gesture to stare at Fiona. “I what?”
“They’re tiny, Sam. Little teeny.” The wordplay amused her, and she rubbed her face against Sam’s chest before leaning back into Michael’s. “You’re soft as a pillow, and Michael’s hard as a board. Between the three of us, we have the makings of a fine bed.”
The two men exchanged a confused look. “I think the Vicodin’s kicking in,” Sam observed.
“Mmm hmm,” Fiona declared peacefully, resting against Michael’s collarbone. She was starting to go back to sleep in his grip.
“Ohh…kay.” Sam took Fiona’s other arm, tugged carefully, and then gently placed her on the mattress. He looked at Michael and shrugged, climbing into bed beside her. It was high noon, but the opportunity to rest was an irresistible one; Michael took his spot beside Fiona. She rested her head against his shoulder, and Sam rested his face against her breasts, in their customary way of touching. Michael took Sam’s hand. Fi yanked the blankets upward.
They slept there together, anchored in love, until the moon and their appetites woke them.
Parts: 1 of 1
Author: Missy AKA rise_your_dead
Fandom: Burn Notice
Pairing/Characters: Michael Westen, Sam Axe, Fiona Glenanne; Sam/Fi/Mike
Rating/Category: PG; language and inferred sexual situations; romance/humor
Spoilers: No particular canon point; general series spoilers.
Summary: Mike and Sam treat Fiona’s injuries, which is, as always, an adventure.
Notes/Warnings: Written (Rather belatedly) for the Sex is not the Enemy ficathon, with this picture as a prompt. Thank you to Amber for betaing this!
Fiona hated being pampered by others. She was raised with her hackles up and she’d die that way, on her feet and fighting. So whenever Michael and Sam tried to soothe her she would end up in a combative state. It was dangerous for everyone involved, especially when she had a gunshot wound festering on her shoulder.
“Would you please stop squirming?” Michael demanded. She had an iron grip on the front of Sam’s shirt as he pulled the dressing off the wound.
“I’m not squirming!” Fiona protested. “Sam’s holding me hostage.”
“And if I don’t,” Sam pointed out rationally, “you’re gonna punch Mike in the head.”
“If he deserves it,” she pointed out as Michael examined her. That was also the moment that Michael chose to empty a dollop of weapons-grade strength antibiotic gel on the partially healed wound. Fiona cursed aloud in Gaelic and her nails raked across Sam’s chest through his teeshirt. Sam hissed - not in pain but in pleasure. She leaned forward against his chest and mumbled another curse.
Michael kissed the back of Fiona’s neck - he felt the promise of danger in her, and also of passion, in her small, thin, strong body. Sweat had plastered her red-brown hair to the nape of her neck, and he traced the curvature of her spine. “I’m not a horse’s ass,” he whispered, and kissed the point where neck met spine.
“Sometimes, Mike,” Sam replied lightly, “you kind of are.” He caressed Fiona’s forehead with his lips. She hummed, relaxed her shoulders, and dug her nails into Sam’s neck. He pecked her forehead.
“If you sit still like a good girl, I’ll give you a kiss.”
“You’ll need to promise me more than that,” she said, deliberately pinching his nipple through the white cotton covering.
“Hey, watch it,” he demanded, prying Fi’s fingers away.
“What’s wrong, Sam, don’t you like it when I scratch?” she replied.
“Only when I’m balls-deep in something warm and wet,” he replied, looking Michael in the eyes, his own twinkling. He could mean anything by that one; Michael’s mouth, Fiona’s sex. Michael felt himself sweat at the implication.
Fiona gave him a raised eyebrow and a kittenish smirk. She rested her head on Sam’s chest as Michael rebandaged the wound. “You have the tiniest nipples I’ve ever seen,” she observed peacefully. It took Michael a moment to realize she was addressing Sam.
Sam paused in mid-gesture to stare at Fiona. “I what?”
“They’re tiny, Sam. Little teeny.” The wordplay amused her, and she rubbed her face against Sam’s chest before leaning back into Michael’s. “You’re soft as a pillow, and Michael’s hard as a board. Between the three of us, we have the makings of a fine bed.”
The two men exchanged a confused look. “I think the Vicodin’s kicking in,” Sam observed.
“Mmm hmm,” Fiona declared peacefully, resting against Michael’s collarbone. She was starting to go back to sleep in his grip.
“Ohh…kay.” Sam took Fiona’s other arm, tugged carefully, and then gently placed her on the mattress. He looked at Michael and shrugged, climbing into bed beside her. It was high noon, but the opportunity to rest was an irresistible one; Michael took his spot beside Fiona. She rested her head against his shoulder, and Sam rested his face against her breasts, in their customary way of touching. Michael took Sam’s hand. Fi yanked the blankets upward.
They slept there together, anchored in love, until the moon and their appetites woke them.