that episode made my slasher heart so happy I actually went and wrote a burn notice fic. ENJOY. ***
“Have I ever told you I like you?” Viktor laughs again as Michael dusts off his hands, the car in the rear-view mirror still rolling to a stop. Michael turns to him and smirks.
“You're batshit insane, Viktor, but I think I like you, too.”
When they get to the parking garage, Viktor watches Carla's men set up the spike strip. Michael walks up and leans close to watch them through the mirror Viktor holds. He smells like Miami sun and half-dried sweat, and Viktor can't remember being this close to anyone he hadn't then viciously murdered. The way Michael is leaning to look in the mirror, his chest is pressing across Viktor's shoulder, all muscle, all spy. Viktor turns to say something about the perimeter and finds Michael's face inches from his, Michael's hot breath ghosting across Viktor's lips, and swallows his words. Viktor sets the mirror down.
Michael inhales, a little bit, his face giving nothing away. Then, there, a little twitch of the lip, a tell. Viktor puts his hand on Michael's hip and it's like time freezes for a split second before they lunge at each other, a half-fight with lips and teeth. Viktor bites Michael's lip hard enough it bleeds, and Michael practically throws him into a pillar. He gasps in pain and Michael uses his disorientation to scrape his teeth along Viktor's jaw, hands unbuckling his pants. Viktor growls, low in the back of his throat and tugs, spinning them so Michael's the one with his back to hard concrete, Viktor's hands pushing up his shirt.
Michael makes a low sound and grinds his hips against Viktor's. Viktor answers with a thrust of his own, and for a few seconds they press so close and so good, rutting up against one another's body heat and friction, that Viktor's quite sure they'll combust, like motor oil and sodium chloride, a fierce bright explosion that will turn everything to dust, and then Michael undoes his own belt and Viktor thinks of nothing at all.
Until, “Perimeter,” Michael grunts and bites Viktor's shoulder. Viktor ignores him, hands full. “Viktor,” Michael insists, drawing out his name in a deep rough wrecked whine and makes Viktor want to ignore him even more. God, it feels so damn good, the sweet slick slide of both of them in his palm, rough around the edges but so good, like bruises after a bar fight, like the kick of a rifle.
But then Michael shoves him back reluctantly and picks up the mirror to check on what Carla's guys are doing, and Viktor would kill him if he had a gun. Instead, he settles for attempting to finish what Michael refuses to pay attention to.
“We have to make our move now, before they get curious about the time and get enough reinforcements to make a foray into-Hey,” Michael turns to Viktor to find him helping himself. He reaches out and places a hand over Viktor's, stilling his movement. “Now's not the time.”
“Fuck you.”
“Viktor, they'll be plenty of time for that later, when we're in a safe place alive,” and goddamnit he's right. But Viktor's so damn close, if Michael would just move his hand- “Viktor.”
And Michael kisses him with none of the earlier voracity, just grabs the back of his head and kisses him properly, with tongue and lips and promise, and then ends it abruptly. “Get in the car.”
When they get to the boat, and Viktor's bleeding out on the floor, there's a moment where he looks Michael in the eye, angry and frustrated and conveys without saying anything, We never even had sex, asshole, and now I'm gonna fucking die and Michael has never wanted Carla dead more than right now.
“You know I'm not going to make it, Michael. This is the only way,” and he's right, he's right, and Michael hates it, hates the whole damn world and its logic and this bloody mess. He wants to grab Viktor by the collar and climb inside his skin, fuck the living daylights out of him but he can't because Viktor is dead either way and this is the only way out of it.
So he puts the gun to Viktor's chest, tells him with his eyes in the way only spies can, I could have loved you, batshit-crazy and all, and pulls the trigger.
no subject
***
“Have I ever told you I like you?” Viktor laughs again as Michael dusts off his hands, the car in the rear-view mirror still rolling to a stop. Michael turns to him and smirks.
“You're batshit insane, Viktor, but I think I like you, too.”
When they get to the parking garage, Viktor watches Carla's men set up the spike strip. Michael walks up and leans close to watch them through the mirror Viktor holds. He smells like Miami sun and half-dried sweat, and Viktor can't remember being this close to anyone he hadn't then viciously murdered. The way Michael is leaning to look in the mirror, his chest is pressing across Viktor's shoulder, all muscle, all spy. Viktor turns to say something about the perimeter and finds Michael's face inches from his, Michael's hot breath ghosting across Viktor's lips, and swallows his words. Viktor sets the mirror down.
Michael inhales, a little bit, his face giving nothing away. Then, there, a little twitch of the lip, a tell. Viktor puts his hand on Michael's hip and it's like time freezes for a split second before they lunge at each other, a half-fight with lips and teeth. Viktor bites Michael's lip hard enough it bleeds, and Michael practically throws him into a pillar. He gasps in pain and Michael uses his disorientation to scrape his teeth along Viktor's jaw, hands unbuckling his pants. Viktor growls, low in the back of his throat and tugs, spinning them so Michael's the one with his back to hard concrete, Viktor's hands pushing up his shirt.
Michael makes a low sound and grinds his hips against Viktor's. Viktor answers with a thrust of his own, and for a few seconds they press so close and so good, rutting up against one another's body heat and friction, that Viktor's quite sure they'll combust, like motor oil and sodium chloride, a fierce bright explosion that will turn everything to dust, and then Michael undoes his own belt and Viktor thinks of nothing at all.
Until, “Perimeter,” Michael grunts and bites Viktor's shoulder. Viktor ignores him, hands full. “Viktor,” Michael insists, drawing out his name in a deep rough wrecked whine and makes Viktor want to ignore him even more. God, it feels so damn good, the sweet slick slide of both of them in his palm, rough around the edges but so good, like bruises after a bar fight, like the kick of a rifle.
But then Michael shoves him back reluctantly and picks up the mirror to check on what Carla's guys are doing, and Viktor would kill him if he had a gun. Instead, he settles for attempting to finish what Michael refuses to pay attention to.
“We have to make our move now, before they get curious about the time and get enough reinforcements to make a foray into-Hey,” Michael turns to Viktor to find him helping himself. He reaches out and places a hand over Viktor's, stilling his movement. “Now's not the time.”
“Fuck you.”
“Viktor, they'll be plenty of time for that later, when we're in a safe place alive,” and goddamnit he's right. But Viktor's so damn close, if Michael would just move his hand- “Viktor.”
And Michael kisses him with none of the earlier voracity, just grabs the back of his head and kisses him properly, with tongue and lips and promise, and then ends it abruptly. “Get in the car.”
When they get to the boat, and Viktor's bleeding out on the floor, there's a moment where he looks Michael in the eye, angry and frustrated and conveys without saying anything, We never even had sex, asshole, and now I'm gonna fucking die and Michael has never wanted Carla dead more than right now.
“You know I'm not going to make it, Michael. This is the only way,” and he's right, he's right, and Michael hates it, hates the whole damn world and its logic and this bloody mess. He wants to grab Viktor by the collar and climb inside his skin, fuck the living daylights out of him but he can't because Viktor is dead either way and this is the only way out of it.
So he puts the gun to Viktor's chest, tells him with his eyes in the way only spies can, I could have loved you, batshit-crazy and all, and pulls the trigger.