Yankee [Sam Adams] (yankeedoodle) wrote in safeasthreads, @ 2009-10-07 21:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | foxtrot, yankee |
WHO: Yankee and Foxtrot.
WHAT: Fighting. Then...not fighting.
WHEN: During the West Side Story debacle.
WHERE: Some hallway.
Yankee was walking around the dollhouse, casually flipping a knife in his hand. He'd managed to get his hands on some, in addition to the scalpels that they'd used as a quick fix. He could have gone for guns, sure, but knives just seemed more appropriate for some reason. He stopped suddenly, as he saw Foxtrot, feeling that same uncomfortable feeling in his chest. Damn it! She was Victor's girl, and she was fucking crazy. What was wrong with him? "What the hell are you doing out here?" he said irritably.
Goddamn it. Here she was, minding her own fucking business for once, when who shows up but Yankee. Crazy Yankee, Jet Yankee, kind of made her feel sick in the bottom of her stomach Yankee. She ignored that last part. Casually, she leaned against the wall, using the opportunity as a chance to check the knife she always carried. It was just an old steak knife, nicked off of Quebec who'd in turn stolen it from the kitchen staff, but it'd do in a pinch. "What the hell do you think I'm doing, dumbass?" she retorted, "Baking a fucking cake? I'm walking here." This was going to be trouble.
Yankee had no idea why he suddenly felt a sort of urge to dance and snap his fingers while fighting. Or to sing about being a jet. He thankfully ignored it. "Well isn't that fucking fantastic for you," he said. "Now go and walk somewhere else before I cut you. I'm not scared of your bitchass boyfriend." Okay, she looked kind of hot with a knife, but that wasn't the point. Goddamn it, he hated her.
What a fucking douche, standing there, looking all sexy with his knife. How dare he, huh? Totally not okay. And threatening to cut her, as if that scared Foxtrot at all. It was kind of the opposite, actually. She had no idea what was going on with Alpha and Whiskey, so all this crazy gang activity just felt normal and mundane. This? Now this was exciting. "My boyfriend?" she snorted, "Oh please." And then she lunged.
Goddamn it! Where did she get off being hot when she was an enemy. The Sharks had killed his dad! Well, he didn't actually remember his dad...but he was pretty sure the Sharks would have killed him if he'd ever been around. There had to be some reason he hated them, besides just the fact that they were pricks. But that was a big part of it. "Yeah, your boyfriend," he said. "Victor. Head dickhead of the Sharks?" And then she was lunging at him, and he caught her arm, and he totally should have just stabbed her and been done with that, but he didn't really want to for some reason. "Fuck!" He shoved her back. "God fucking damn it!"
"Hey," she warned, "you don't talk about him." No one sassed her her boyfriend and absolutely no one ever gave her shit about the Sharks. They'd always been good to her, had taken her in back when she was real small. Unlike those fucking Jets. Every Jet could go die for all she cared, and she'd just sit back and laugh. Except...
She pushed him back, hard, ignoring the fact that her knife was still in her hand. Yeah, she should shank him, or she could have a little fun. Switching hands, she reached out to punch Yankee in the face. Knife fights were boring, anyway.
"I'll talk about him whenever the fuck I want, bitch!" He didn't have to listen to her. The Jets were his family, and the Sharks were fucking with that. They could all go burn in hell for all he cared. He'd happily send as many of them on their way as he could. That's why he was the leader.
"Fucking hell!" That fucking hurt. She'd fucking punched him! Uniform never did shit like that. That's why she was his girlfriend, and not this Shark whore. Except...goddamnit. He threw her up against the wall and held her there. "What the fuck is your problem?"
"My problem?" What the hell? "You were the one who came and me with a motherfucking knife!" Besides, he'd looked at her funny. And ow, goddamn it, that hurt like a fucking bitch. Yankee was tall, way taller that Foxtrot was, and her she had to crane her neck to look up in his face. She debated hitting him again; she could probably knee him between the legs. Her arm twitched as she began to swing, then held it back. She bit her lip, breathing heavily for a few moments.
"Actually, you came at me first, genius," Yankee snapped. Because he hadn't actually attacked her until she ran at him. He'd just called her a bitch and stuff. then she had to go and try to stab him, and that was just hot fucking cool. And he could tell she was considering kicking him between the legs, even if he was distracted by the way she was biting her lip. And that was not gonna fly. So he did the classy thing and backhanded her. "Oh hell no! Don't even think about it!"
He hit her. He'd actually hit her. And granted, she was a little on the slow side today, seriously? Foxtrot's jaw literally dropped as she prodded her cheekbone experimentally. That was definitely going to bruise. So she did the only reasonable thing in that situation. She grabbed his shirt in her fists and angrily pressed her mouth to his.
He definitely wasn't expecting that. He'd expected more violence, but he hadn't expected this. And, okay, maybe this was just a different kind of fighting, because Foxtrot definitely didn't kiss like Uniform. This was...god...he hadn't even known he'd needed this. Uniform was sweet, but there wasn't this anger and this passion. Who the fuck cared if Foxtrot was a Shark. His hands moved down to her hips and he pushed her back against the wall harder, kissing back with just as much force.
Foxtrot moaned as she smacked the wall with the thump that resonated down the hall. She wasn't sure what she was doing anymore, but to be completely honest, she didn't even care. Victor flashed through her mind, but she quickly shoved the imagine aside. He was nice and all, but wasn't like the two of them were ever, well, like this. Intimate, passionate. The knife in her hand fell to the floor as she scrabbled at Yankee's buttons.
Goddamn it, why hadn't they ever done this before? Okay...the whole Jets and Sharks hatred was probably why, but this so trumped all that bullshit. And that probably made him a pretty bad leader, but he didn't care. He felt like this had been building for a while now. He lifted her up, encouraging her legs to wrap around his hips as they kissed, his own hands sliding under her t-shirt. Oh yeah, this was definitely the best idea either of them had ever had.