brandi. (zombiephile) wrote in daiquiri, @ 2009-02-14 19:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | 100 prompts, char: anya grigorev (phoenix), game: agents of war |
100 Prompts: #6, Accusation (Anya Grigorev)
Title: Pig
Characters: Antonio Charles Ramirez ("Bullet") and Anya Grigorev ("Phoenix")
Setting: Their place
Word Count: 536
Summary: Phoenix is peeved at Bullet when he comes home from a mission.
Rating: PG-13.
Author's Note: For the 100 Prompts #6: Accusation. I was inspired to write this one after filling out a meme, which got me thinking back to Phoenix and Bullet.
"Are you coming to bed?" Without moving his head or pausing in his cleaning of the gun in front of him, Bullet flicked his eyes up to the figure lounging against the doorframe. "Later," he muttered, dropping his eyes back down to his work. Phoenix frowned and flounced off to her own workroom, slamming the door behind her with a bang. Bullet finished cleaning his gun, put it all back together, loaded it, chambered a round, clicked the safety on, and then slid it into the holster at the small of his back. He paused, however, at the door to his workroom. It might be smarter to leave the gun behind. He locked the gun in the safe, then ventured down the hall to where Phoenix had holed herself up. He inched the door open slowly and carefully poked his head in. The room was mostly dark, lit only by the computer monitors. He could clearly see Phoenix's face lit up as she sat typing away at her computers, and he could also clearly see the vodka bottle that sat within her reach. "Babe." "I'm not going to throw it at you. I don't waste good vodka like that." Her voice was flat and she wasn't looking at him. Not a good sign. "You know that if I get my gun wet, I have to clean it thoroughly. And that's my favorite one. Querida, por favor." Phoenix turned and grabbed the vase behind her. Bullet ducked as it came whizzing at his head, and it shattered against the door. "It wasn't my fault!" he yelled. Phoenix yelled back at him, mostly Russian profanities. He had been living with her long enough, though, to have picked up enough Russian to understand what she was really upset about. "The car broke down! My cell was dead! I had to go in to call for a tow!" The lamp that used to be on the desk next to Phoenix's computers was the next casualty, smashing into the wall just to the left of the door. When Bullet looked up again, Phoenix had stood up and was making her way over computer cables and parts, anger and hatred clear in her face. "AND YOU JUST HAD TO GET A LAP DANCE, TOO, RIGHT?" Phoenix slapped Bullet hard across the cheek. "I MEAN, YOU WERE RIGHT THERE." She slapped his other cheek. "You stink of it." She turned to reach for something else to throw at him, but he grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. "An-" he started, but he was interrupted by her lips covering his. He released her arm and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tight to him. Her arms went up around his neck and she buried her fingers in his hair. "You're better than they could ever be, anyway," Bullet murmured. With reflexes faster than he'd seen on anyone but Hunter, she broke the kiss, hauled back, and punched him square in the eye. The word she spoke was clear, and though it was in Russian, he still knew exactly what she'd said. He grinned down at her and winked his good eye. "Oink oink," he said, then kissed her again. |