Apartment Complex - Fairfax County, Virginia

He relaxed there a moment, enjoying the simple comfort of a large bed.  His own quarters back on base were relatively spartan in comparison, his bed only a full sized compared to this monster.  Suddenly, he rose from the bed as Eleanor began dressing and made for the blackout curtains.  Throwing them open, natural light flooded the room as the sun began to break through the horizon.  That was more like it.  Enjoying the glow for a moment, the archer turned and headed back to the bed, returning to the bed just as Harkness reclined, now lying on his stomach.  He didn't answer her at first, no interest in quick draw replies for the moment.  Instead, he turned his head to face her (roughly in line with her stomach) and pulled up on that oversized sweater of hers to reveal her stomach and the underside of her chest.  Almost absentmindedly, he trailed the tip of his index finger across her bare skin.  Up and down, back and forth, tracing patterns that weren't their as if she were a canvas.  

"Funny, I'm brilliant at it.  Pity I'm saddled with a nasty case of not caring," he sent a shrug right back at her.

She had watched him from the corner of her eye, and it was yet another surprise when he opened the curtains, just to stand in the glow for a moment, obviously enjoying it. When he returned to the bed, she was about to mention the rarity of those curtains being open when he pulled her shirt up. Looking down at him, she takes in his face as he begins to draw slow patterns on her exposed body. She couldn't help the response; goosebumps appeared as he continued his play, making her suppress a shiver before he speaks.

Saddled with not caring.

Reaching down, she runs her fingers through his hair for a moment before replying.

"Pfft. You make it sound like you don't have a choice."

The spy removes her hand and places it behind her head as well.

"So why would you choose not to care?"

She hadn't really meant to ask it, but her nature got the better of her. Thinking he would retreat and maybe even leave, she huffed at her own inability to just keep quiet when she wasn't on a mission.

He continued with his "painting" across her stomach, sometimes sending his had a bit high, sometimes lower. The appearance of goosebumps on her body only encouraged him, adding and withdrawing pressure at random. His brow furrowed as she toyed with his hair but after a moment he'd relaxed once more. She was sharp, but she was barking up the wrong tree with this line of questioning. "It's pretty much what it sounds like. It's not that I simply choose to not care, it's that I can't find a reason to bother with it," he said, flipping over onto his back and propping himself up on his elbows. Not quite satisfied with letting her off that easy, he drew his right hand across her outer thigh, tracing similar patterns as he had before. "Not all that complex really."

Huh. She wondered just how long that notion had been running around in his head. Can't find a reason to bother with it. The spy would file that away for future reference, not knowing if it would come in handy at a later date. She chooses not to answer him immediately, instead focusing on the trails his finger was making on her thigh. She raises it, bending the leg at the knee, much as the other one was, her eyes closed.

It felt good. Why not give him encouragement?

Of course, she couldn't help the half-sigh, half moan as he continued; she liked to be touched, and he was doing it unprompted. The blonde was going to get as much of this as she could, before he drew away again.

"A simple man. How rare."

The lilt to her voice at the end of the statement brought out her more sarcastic side, not really caring if he took offense to it; she highly doubted he would.

Her invitation to continue his absent-minded finger exercises did not go unnoticed. The archer's fingers continued to dance over her skin, working their way to the underside of her leg before long. Crossing one leg over the other at the ankle, Brandon looked the spy over once more, taking note of how much her features softened when her eyes were closed. Eyes were odd that way. Without descending too deeply into the cliche "windows to the soul" bullshit, Cole readily acknowledged that they did reveal quite a bit about the person be it the simmering anger in Steeler, Russo's barely restrained hysteria, or even the void that he saw in the mirror. He flashed a smile at the sarcasm, falling into step with one of his most used forms of communication, before it quickly faded. Free of the effects of alcohol and the heated intimacy of the workout room, it was getting easier for him to find his more natural stoicism. That being said, his fingers were still strumming the woman's leg like the world's softest guitar. "Can't quite say the same for a sarcastic woman."

She grins again, sliding one hand down to her stomach, the other mussing her hair in a manner reminiscent of a cat too long without a good grooming. His fingers had remained on her skin, dancing away, and she was enjoying every minute of it; for all his "no attachments", he seemed in no hurry to leave. Her own fingers caressed the smooth plane of her stomach, finding it difficult to simply remain still while he was playing.

"True, but sarcastic, stunning blondes who can coordinate an illegal arms deal between Syria and Israel are quite rare."

Her eyebrow raises, and a self-satisfied half-smile alights on her lips.

"In fact, I would say there is only a couple of us around."

Humble too, he quipped to himself in response to Eleanor's light-hearted ego stroking. Seeing how well she was responding to this game, Brandon decided to push the envelope a bit further. Working his fingers to her inner thigh, he moved them steadily up her leg. Wondering how long it would take to incite an audible reaction using all this, the archer would eventually sit up in bed, eyes on the woman lying next to him. Finally moving his hand away from her leg, he would trail it up her figure from her stomach up to the point of her chin before standing up once more. "And I've slept with every one of them," Cole said without looking back. Giving it a few seconds, he gave a half turn back to smirk at her over his shoulder. "That was a joke," he exclaimed, raising a brow ever so slightly. With that, he dropped to a kneeling position and recovered the jeans he'd discarded the night before.

He was teasing her, and she was more than willing to let him. Her body couldn't resist the shiver at his touch, and her eyes fluttered when a moan whispered from between parted lips at the trail his fingers were taking. When his hand reached her chin, she opens her eyes and takes him in before rolling them in reaction to his joke.

"Well, you sleep with one, you've slept with them all. We don't branch out much."

As he turned to find his pants, however, she was greeted with the sight of more than a few lines marring his back. Smirking, She rolls onto her side to study him, one hand propping up her head while the other traced lines on her hip.

"I hope you like wearing stripes."

Stepping into his jeans one pant leg at a time a time, Brandon did up the fly only to pause at Eleanor's latest quip. Reaching back over his shoulder, he searched for whatever had caused her comment. There they were, the slight creases in the top layer of skin; scratch marks. Touching them sent a slight tingle running across his back. Though parts of his memory were a bit fuzzy, it was good to see that one of them had certainly gotten into it last night. Come to think of it, the tingle of those scratches had jarred his memory a bit. Eleanor wasn't the only one that had gotten excited. Reaching down to pick up his belt, Brandon made a move to thread it through his belt loops only to snap it outward like a makeshift whip. The end of the leather belt smacked against Eleanor's backside, a spot that Brandon would bet dollars to donuts was still carrying a red silhouette of his hand on it. The hit was more playful than anything. Crisp enough to set a bit of fire to a tender area but nowhere near to cause any real injury. "I like to think I pull them off. Not sure you'll be able to sit comfortably on that bike of yours for a while though."

Watching him go through the evening in his head, she smiles at him as she sees recognition – though a trace amount – flash over his face. Glad we remember. It would have been a shame for her to have had so much fun, only for the partner to have gotten so little from it. She liked being generous, after all.

Before she can think – too wrapped up in watching his face and not his hands – the belt comes out of nowhere and lands with an almost audible snap on her rear, where there was, indeed, still a perfect handprint residing. Hissing slightly at the small mixture of pain and pleasure, she gets to her knees, now almost full height to him. Reaching out, she snags one of his belt loops, jerking it slightly to bring him closer.

“It’s going to take more than that to make my ride uncomfortable.”

Her eyes were slightly darker, even in the dawn light; her pupils had dilated, and there was a smirk on her lips that told him she was issuing a dare.

He didn't try to evade her lunging after his belt loops. He simply allowed it to happen and flowed with the momentum, coming to a halt still standing with his knees touching the edge of bed. Finding himself chest to chest with the spy, Brandon was at the zero point again. It had been this proximity that had sealed the deal last night, this territory that awake a certain longing in him. He'd be a liar if he said their wasn't a natural attraction by now. Her eyes darkened and she laid down her little challenge. In response, the belt came up again, sliding up her back held with both hands before abruptly being wrapped around her at chest level to bind her arms to her sides just above the elbow. Strong hands held the leather band firmly, keeping her bound just tight enough to really feel it in her core. All the while he kept up his expressionless mask until finally, a spark of blue lightning came to life in his eyes. "I could arrange that very easily," he said, pulling her in and up against the force of gravity until their lips came together again. "But I prefer you in one piece."

He wasn’t resisting her, which could be bother good and bad. He was emotionless at the moment, but she could see past that mask to some extent, and she knew there was something behind it that was urging him on, bringing him past that point where stopping is an option. She knew she’d passed that a while ago with him. It wasn’t that she was “falling” for him; there was simply something terribly attractive about the man, and his presence seemed to bring out the worst in her.

As the belt is jerked around her body, she can’t help the sudden escape of air that rushes from her lungs at the act; it didn’t help that the act was also incredibly arousing. Hauled up to his level, she smirks at his words as their lips met, leaning into him slightly. Her fingers, however, were not idle. As her arms were free below her elbow, her hands reached out for his pants, finding the button to his fly and unfastening it. Against his lips, she smiles again before pulling away just enough to speak.

“You’ll find I’m very difficult to take apart.”

As she pulled away to speak he was on her again in an instant. Just like in combat, space was breathing room, grace periods to recover and recenter. Brandon wasn't about to give her any. The spark that had flashed in his eyes earlier grew in intensity as she reached for his button, a bit of color and sharpness returning to his eyes as he pressed his forehead against hers to ensure that his own eyes would take up all but the entirety of her view. Leaning forward, he finally pushed past the balance point and sent the both of them falling back onto the bed. Not releasing his hold on the belt wrapped around her, Brandon kept the spy pinned underneath him and betrayed the ghost of a smile. "Let's test that," he said, echoing his words on the basketball court just moments after physically besting her for the first time.

-Another fade to black I would assume-

He was on her in the split second it took her to speak, and she fell back without resistance, enjoying the look in his eyes. They were usually flat, "uncaring", but now, now there was a burning in them that she felt mirrored in her own. She laughed darkly at his words, ready for him to test out just how...resilient she really was.

-Well, hello, another "fade to black". We will return to the story momentarily. -

The second time around had been just as enjoyable as the first – moreso now that he was clearheaded and putting her to the test – and she was left thinking only that this was a fantastic way to start a day. Rolling away from him, feeling the slick of sweat still clinging to her, she stretches long and slow, every inch of her protesting in some small way.

There was a bruise forming on her arms, and she was fairly certain there was one on her rear and her neck, battle marks from a session a little less kosher than most would have enjoyed. She liked the athletic side of things in anything she did, and this was no exception. He had been willing – excited – to play around with her, and that was something she’d been hard pressed to find as of late. Most bed partners were either too scared, or too abusive; the latter didn’t know how to walk the line between pain and pleasure. Sitting up, she turns to face him, slapping him lightly on the abs and grinning.

“Well done.”

Smirking at him, she slips out of the bed and brings her hands over her head, arching them up high before sweeping them down low, touching her feet and releasing a happy groan of satisfaction. She was going to need a shower after all this – besides the fact that she needed to get up anyway – but she was waiting for him to commit to either getting out of bed or lounging there for the rest of the day.

Not that she would mind.

Though he lacked the pleasant bruises Eleanor was currently sporting, Cole was nursing a few trophies of his own. Bite marks were visible on the nape of his neck and forearm, bright red scratch marks decorated the whole of his back and a certain spy's canine tooth had drawn a little blood from his lower lip. It certainly hadn't been boring. Smirking as she got up after smacking him, the archer raised a blue tinged brow. "As if you were expecting anything less," Cole said, finally rising from the bed he procured a nearby towel and wiped himself down to at least get himself clean enough to get back to base for a proper shower before checking in on the latest marching orders. When he was satisfied with his level of cleanliness for the time being, Brandon quickly hopped and shrugged his way back into his clothes. Much like his female companion, he reached back to stretch out his shoulders a bit. Tilting his head to the side ever so slightly, he sent a subtle smile her way, not showing any teeth. "It's been fun but duty calls. You showing me out or am I doing the walk of shame solo?"

Raising out of her bend, she smiles at him while rolling her eyes, ambling through the open bathroom door and turning on the water in a standing, grey slate tiled shower. Immediately, steam began to fill the space as she wanders back out at his last words.

“You can either wait for ten and ride back with me, or call a cab.”

She sinks a hand to her hip, the other ruffling through her wild blonde mane.

“So ten minutes or the $34 and change it will take you to get back to base.”

The spy shrugs and heads back to the bathroom, leaving the door open.

“Coffee should already be made. And if you leave, you already know the way out.”

The last bit was said with a grin and a lilt, and as she stepped into the open air shower, she allows a small sigh to escape her. I really don’t want to go to work today.

That's right, forgot the bathroom was right there. the archer thought as Eleanor prepared her shower. Hooking a thumb into one of his pockets and smirked at her suggestion. "Well when you put it like that, I suppose I can suffer through a bit of coffee," he said, following her to the bathroom with towel in hand. Rather than hop in with her, though the idea was tempting, he simply held the towel under the warm water for a moment before stepping out of her way. He'd made due with a dry towel earlier out of an assumed necessity. Scrubbing down his upper body with a damn one would be much better. As he passed out of the bathroom, he couldn't resist cracking the wet towel behind him, catching Eleanor in the same lovingly abused spot on her backside as before. Not looking back, he acted as if he'd done nothing, whistling a note or two as he moved into the kitchen and tossed his shirt onto the nearest chair. Using the damn clothe to further clean his upper body, Brandon poured himself a cup of coffee and took a sip, ruffling his short cut hair with the towel before hanging it over the edge of the sink and putting his shirt and wind breaker back on. His shoes he didn't bother to tie, simply sliding into them for the time being.

She smirks at his words before sticking her face completely under the hot water, exhaling in happiness as it washes away the previous night’s sweat, though it cascades over some fairly interesting bruises that tingle a bit when the warmth hits them. The blonde misses his intent as he wanders by with the towel, only catching it at the last second, shifting to the side just enough to make the hard snap whip past her skin with an audible pop. Laughing to herself as he leaves, she thinks that maybe today won’t be so boring.

Scrubbing herself down – using men’s bodywash for her hair and bruised body – she exits the glorious shower and towels off with a large, white fluffy rectangle of cloth she’d purchased solely for the fact that it was soft enough to be considered heaven. Mussing up her hair as she meanders out of the bathroom, she makes her way to the dresser and boudoir in order, pulling out the clothing for the day. Dropping the towel finally in a clothes basket, she wiggles into her underwear and sports bra, then into a pair of skin-tight jeans and two tank tops, orange and black layered to create just a little colour.

It takes her only a few moments, but she re-packs her bag as well.

Snagging her biker leathers off the floor, she ambles back into the kitchen, tossing her bag on the counter and her pants on a bar stool. She grabs a red coffee mug and pours herself a cup, leaning against the island, watching the sun as it finally rises from the vast windows in her living room.

Having nursed his coffee while Eleanor dressed, Brandon was nearly finished with his mug by the time the spy finally entered the kitchen. Following her gaze, he joined in on her admiration of the view through the window. Funny how often people who relied so heavily on the dark to be successful adored the warmth of the sun. He mused a moment on the terrible loss that becoming a vampire would bring in never being able to properly enjoy the sun again. However, before those thoughts could go on for too long, the cellphone in his jeans pocket range once and the archer brought it to his ear without checking the caller id. "This is Cole," he said automatically, assuming that anyone who both had his number and cared enough to call had something to say that was worth his time. Listening in silence, Cole eventually flipped his phone closed and returned it to his pocket before taking a final sip of coffee. "Call just came in and I'm shipping out this evening. I need to head back."

He seemed to be enjoying the view as well. They both lived in the dark, and it seemed he longed for the sunlight as much as she did, a fact he’d made known earlier when the black-out curtains were ripped open without any sort of warning. The night had made her happy again, the physical activity being of a different sort than usual, and that always brought back a smile to her lips. She didn’t like routine, not anymore; there were too many years where routine was all she had. Track down a target, follow him for days, weeks, find his patterns, mimic those patterns. Routine after routine. Now, however, she wasn’t in the field to find a terrorist or a president throwing around his power; now she went on missions that didn’t always require her to stay on a target for days on end.

Mostly, it was only a night.

As he answers his phone, her own rang. Snatching it off the island, she sighs once before answering.

“Harkness.”

There was silence for a moment as she listens, then a frown creases her face and she sets down her cup.

“Details?” The frown turned into an exasperated look. “You know better than that. Details.” Her eyes closed, and suddenly a fake, sweet smile was on her lips. “Listen, Stiles, you know you want to tell me what’s going on. I promise I won’t tell a soul you told me. And you know, you owe me for that thing I did for you.”

It was ridiculous that a man who made calls to operatives would fall for something so incredibly obvious, but unfortunately for this particular man, he was an idiot when it came to sweet-talking women. Rolling her eyes, she listens for a moment more before hanging up, walking around the counter to snag her leathers.

“I’m called in, too. Something about vampires and a magic man.”

She shrugs and bends down to grab her boots, putting them on with a far-away look in her eyes. She never liked to go anywhere without information first, even back to base; consider it a carry-over from her previous job. She liked to know ahead of time what she was getting into, so the higher-ups don’t spring something on her that she hasn’t prepared for. She needed that sort of elasticity in the field, not at home base.

Exit => TO NEW ORLEANS!

Exit ---> To New Orleans