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“Just fuckin’ stop. I don’t need you fussin’.”
Bright blue eyes scowled at Ladybug as the other man bustled around the tiny kitchenette, fetching supplies and pointedly ignoring Tangerine’s demands. Without a word, Ladybug held out a tea towel filled with ice. A pair of handcuffs dangled from his wrist, one secured tightly around the sun-kissed skin, the other dangling, open and taunting.
Tangerine snatched the faded maroon and blue fabric from him without so much as a word of thanks. It’s his bloody fault in the first place, Tangerine thought sourly as he pressed the chilled fabric against the sluggishly bleeding wound on his head.
He allowed his eyes to slip shut for just a moment, embarrassment burning in his cheeks. He couldn’t believe how spectacularly his plan had gone wrong. He was just thankful that Lemon wasn’t there to see events unfold, or he would never live it down.
“What the fuck is that?” Tangerine asked. He could feel the vein in his neck pulsing as Ladybug placed a chipped maroon mug in front of him, steam slowly rising from the battered rim. Ladybug raised an eyebrow in response, lips pressed together. Tangerine could feel his ire rising. “I don’t see why you’re soddin’ pouting at me! You’re not the one with a head injury!”
Ladybug opened his mouth as if to respond before promptly closing it again. He shook his head, walking away without a word. Tangerine could feel the anger in his chest faltering for a moment. He wasn’t the one in the wrong. Ladybug wasn’t the one with a bleeding forehead and a split lip. Ladybug wasn’t the one whose plans for a romantic albeit kinky night of passion after almost three months apart had gone up in flames. Ladybug wasn’t the one who felt like a right bellend, all things considered.
Tangerine picked the chipped mug up with one hand, wincing at the bitter tang that coated his tongue. Despite his love of the stuff, he had forgotten just how bad Ladybug was at brewing a proper cuppa.
Shouldn’t even be soddin’ having tea right now. What the hell is his problem?
Lowering the ice to rest on the table, Tangerine looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. They were still littered with marks from his and Lemon’s last job, Tangerine’s knuckles split and purpling. He had lost his brass knuckles early on and had to improvise. He knew he should have taken a second set, but he hadn’t remembered to pack them. It was his own fault. Much like their ruined evening together was turning out to be his fault, too, judging by Ladybug’s reaction.
Why hasn’t he said a single word? He’s not really mad, is he?
“I thought it’d be a nice surprise,” Tangerine groused, eyes darting away then back to Ladybug to judge his reaction. Ladybug leaned back against the tiny, peeling kitchen counter opposite him, as far away as he could physically get from Tangerine without leaving the room completely.
The blonde crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at Tangerine over the dark rim of his glasses. His sleep pants hung low on his hips, showing a tantalising glimpse of the dark script tattooed across him from the curve of his hip dipping down to below his belly button. Tangerine struggled not to allow his gaze to linger.
“My eyes are up here.”
They were the first words Ladybug had said to him in almost three months. Well, other than ‘What the fuck’, but Tangerine wasn’t sure if the expletive entirely counted, as Ladybug had been half asleep at the time.
Tangerine pressed his palms flat against the table, rolled-up shirtsleeves bulging around his forearms. He had already foregone his vest and suit jacket, leaving both on the worn couch in the living room, along with his socks and shoes. Bare feet flexed against the cracked linoleum. As far as safehouses went, it was a bit of a shithole — Tangerine would be the first one to admit that — but it was his shithole. And Ladybug had been waiting for him to get back there for going on two weeks.
“Look. The job overran. There wasn’t anything we could do about that. You can’t be mad I didn’t call you on the soddin’ burner, you’re the first one to lecture me about that shit normally,” Tangerine said defensively, the scowl twisted on his brow slowly smoothing out into something closer resembling concern.
Ladybug let out an unimpressed huff beneath his breath, eyebrows creeping incredulously up his forehead. “You aren’t dumb, Tangerine. You know why I’m upset.”
“It’s hardly my fault it overran. I can’t control—” His mouth snapped shut as Ladybug shook his head slowly. Tangerine let out a slow, steadying breath, trying to keep his temper in check. He was starting to think that he should have taken Lemon’s advice and spent the night in a shitty Premier Inn down the road and waited until first thing to go and meet up with Ladybug.
“Try again.”
“I thought it would be romantic! You said you always wanted to try wakin’ up to a good, hard fuckin’!”
“When I know my partner is in the same country, Tangerine! For the love of — I’ve spent two weeks wondering if you are out there somewhere dead, in more pieces than I’m ever going to be able to track down, with no clue of what continent you’re on let alone which country you’ve been working in.”
Tangerine had never heard Ladybug sound so furious. His eyes slid down to the mug clutched tightly between his hands as Ladybug gestured sharply, hands moving as he spoke. He sounded so hurt, almost… disappointed.
“Sex had been the absolute last thing on my mind. Why on earth would you think that waking up with someone trying to handcuff me to the bed while I was unconscious in my missing partner’s safehouse was a good fucking idea?” Hands ran through sleep-mussed blonde hair, pushing it back and away from his face. LAdybug pulled his glasses off to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “I know you don’t think I can hold my own when it comes down to things, but I’ve clearly shown you time and time again that of the two of us, I’m the one who is more likely to get the upper hand. What were you expecting?”
Tangerine swallowed, discomfort rising in his chest. He hadn’t thought about it that way. He had been too caught up in the idea of getting to wrap himself around the other man. How it would feel to blanket Ladybug’s body with his own. The way that Ladybug would gasp and writhe against him, desperate to be closer to Tangerine, yet never trying to hurry him along. It felt like he had been dreaming about how Ladybug would hold him once he got back since he had set off on the job weeks earlier.
He couldn’t meet Ladybug’s eyes. Now that he was thinking about it… Christ, what a stupid fuckin’ idea. I’m lucky he doesn’t like guns, otherwise, I’d have a lot more than a sore head and a split lip to deal with.
The sound of wood scraping on linoleum echoed through the silence. Tangerine kept his gaze averted as he stood, pushing his chair back under before turning to leave.
“I should just go,” Tangerine said, taking a step towards the door. Something grabbed his arm. He took half a step back, heart racing. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” he swore, as Ladybug laid a steadying hand on his forearm.
A small smirk twitched at Ladybug’s lips before settling into a more familiar, congenial smile. “I don’t want you to go.”
Tangerine could breathe again. He hadn’t even been aware of how tight his chest felt, how fast his heart was beating, or how wound tight he was, until that very moment. His shoulders began to lower, hope settling, tentative but bright.
Ladybug sighed. “Any other time and I would have loved a surprise like that, baby. But you can’t spring something like that on me without us talking about it first.”
“We did talk about it,” came Tangerine’s petulant reply. A frown flickered across Ladybug’s face before understanding slowly began to dawn.
“Baby. Talking about it when we were discussing bucket list kinks to try does not count as a proper conversation. There are whole checklists and proper, in-depth conversations we should have before trying anything quite that advanced.” Ladybug eyed him thoughtfully. “Oh. You… haven’t tried anything like that with someone before, have you?”
Tangerine forced himself to swallow down the instinctive denial that rose to his lips. Admitting a lack of knowledge was a weakness that could be too easily exploited in their line of work. Not about work though, is it? Tangerine reminded himself harshly. He couldn’t keep thinking with that kind of mindset if things were going to work with Ladybug. He knew that. The last thing that he wanted to do was risk losing him.
Ladybug’s hand began to retreat. A soft, punched-out sound fell from Tangerine’s lips.
“Tan?” Ladybug’s concern was enough to finally push Tangerine over the edge.
He shook his head jerkily, dark curls — the gel having long since washed out, thanks to rain and sweat — falling around his face. “I haven’t ever. Before…” He took a steadying breath.
Ladybug’s hand returned, thumb rubbing soothing circles against his forearm. “Hey. You don’t have to—”
“I haven’t done this before.”
“Kinky things? Everyone starts somewhere, baby. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You were just a little bit overenthusiastic.”
Tangerine shook his head again. “Not. Not just that,” he said, voice halting. It felt humiliating to admit. “Never really done the whole relationship thing before either. I’m more of a love ‘em and get left by ‘em type.” Tangerine forced a smile onto his face. It looked more like a grimace. “Nobody takes more than one look at me and thinks ‘that’s the kind of bloke I’d take home to meet the family’. And it’s not as if kinky shit comes up with one-night stands. Not if you’re being halfway safe about it,” he added as Ladybug opened his mouth to argue.
“Baby. Are you saying that I’m your first?”
Tangerine reached up to scrub roughly at his face. “See? This is why I didn’t say anything. I knew you’d be fuckin’ weird about it. It’s not like I was some kind of virgin before we started fuckin’.”
“I’m not saying that. But you hadn’t been in any relationships before? No serious ones? At all?” Ladybug pressed, voice soft but persistent.
Tangerine shook his head, cheeks burning.
Strong arms wrapped around his neck. Tangerine resisted, body rigid beneath Ladybug’s touch. Slowly, he felt himself melting against Ladybug as the other man drew him in closer, hand reaching up to press the back of Tangerine’s neck, urging him to burrow his face between Ladybug’s neck and collar.
“Okay. That’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Of course I bloody know that. Not ashamed,” Tangerine grumbled, pressing his face more closely against Ladybug. He could feel his cheeks burning. He just knew that he would never live this down.
“Embarrassed then,” Ladybug said, taking Tangerine’s gruff words in his stride. “It’s something we would have gotten around to discussing sooner or later. We’ll just get to it a bit sooner.” Broad hands gently carded through Tangerine’s hair soothingly, keeping his face pressed against the warm, comforting line of Ladybug. The scent of green tea and old paperbacks soothed his nerves more than he would have expected.
“Nothing to get back to. Was a stupid idea.”
“It really wasn’t. Your intentions were good, even if your execution could have been a little better. There’s no reason to write off an entirely new experience after a little bad luck. If I did that, I’d never get anything done,” Ladybug pointed out, voice light and teasing. Tangerine let out a wet laugh. It seemed to surprise them both. Ladybug pulled back enough to see Tangerine’s face, concern rising as he took in the wetness around Tangerine’s eyes and the tightness around his mouth. “Baby?”
His throat hurt, pressure behind his eyes building into a constant, low throb. He shook his head, words failing him. A low whine escaped. Shame burned his cheeks.
“When was the last time you got a good night’s sleep?”
The question surprised him more than it probably should. He tried to think back. He hadn’t been able to catch more than a handful of broken minutes on the plane, his brain still too wired until he knew that he and Lemon were both back on the relative safety of their home grounds.
Before that, there had been a seventy-two-hour period that was more of a blur than true memory; a rush to conceal evidence as best they could. A burning car. A series of 200-litre blue drums, too heavy to move with body parts enough for two apiece crammed inside. The overwhelming sticky, pungent, sweet scent of decomposing meat clinging to his hair and skin. A flash of rage — of panic — of nothingness, when he had seen Lemon fall. The lingering hollowness that refused to dissipate, even with Lemon’s arm slung around his shoulders and the other man’s soft reassurances that he was fine.
“Did something happen to Lemon? Are you hurt?” Ladybug’s voice sounded sharper, Tangerine realised. It was hard to focus, the world growing fuzzy around the edges. “Tangerine?”
He shook his head. The world around him felt like it had slowed down, his head stuffed full of cotton wool.
“Did you come straight here?”
He nodded sluggishly. He hadn’t wanted to waste a single moment more without the other man. “Already running late. Didn’t wanna make you wait.”
“Oh, baby.”
Everything felt like a blur once more. Strong arms wrapped around him, guiding him back towards the bedroom. He struggled weakly beneath them for a moment, confusion setting in until the low, familiar sound of Ladybug talking filtered through his mind. He couldn’t focus enough to make out any of the words, but he knew that he was safe, as long as Ladybug was there.
Hands pressed him into still-warm sheets. When had the remnants of his suit been removed? His bare skin felt overly sensitive against the cheap cotton worn soft from use. A bottle was pressed to his lips. He drank without thought, trusting Ladybug to know what was best for him.
“You’re doing so well for me. I’ve got you.”
Tangerine blinked slowly. His head lay against something warm and soft — a thigh, he realised dimly — his arms wrapped securely around the same limb like a koala hugging onto a tree. If he were in the right state of mind, he would feel embarrassed for such a thing. All he could do was let out a low whimper, holding on more tightly.
“‘m sorry,” he slurred, pressing his face more firmly against Ladybug’s bare skin. The hand in his hair never paused, brushing out greasy curls as though what was happening was the more natural thing in the world.
“You’ve already apologised, baby. And I’ve already forgiven you. I think you’re dropping right now. You’ve had a hard few months, and I think tonight has tipped you over the edge.”
“‘m sorry. You shouldn’t have’ta—” Tangerine tried to push himself up, limbs heavy and uncoordinated. A hand rose to rest on the back of his neck, anchoring him firmly in place.
“There is no have-to’s or should’s about it. I want to be here. I want to be with you. One little mistake isn’t going to change that. Have you changed your mind about me, because I accidentally hit you in the face? Twice?”
Tangerine shook his head. He’d deserved that, hadn’t he? He’d been doing something… The thing with the handcuffs. Fuck.
“We’re going to talk about this more when you’re not exhausted and half out of your mind from the lack of sleep and adrenaline,” Ladybug said, hand squeezing the back of Tangerine’s neck one final time before shifting the other man off of his leg. Tangerine let out a low, broken sound.
“Please don’t leave me.”
The words hung heavily in the air between them. Shame rose in his chest. He should know better than to think that he could have nice things, let alone to have the cheek to actually ask Ladybug something like that. If life had taught him one thing, it was that he wasn’t worth sticking around for. First his dad, then his mam, then more foster homes than he could count, bouncing from one to the next to the next until, at last, he and Lemon had aged out. Lemon really was the only one who had ever stuck around.
So fuckin’ selfish. Already draggin’ Lemon down. Almost got him soddin’ killed, being too slow. Why the fuck would I wanna try and drag someone else down?
Of course Ladybug was going to leave, now that he knew what kind of person Tangerine was — that it wasn’t just work where he was an objectively terrible person. That there really was nothing redeemable about him. That—
“Never.”
Broad hands tugged at Tangerine’s limp form, repositioning him so that his cheek rested against Ladybug’s chest. The tension bled out of his shoulders, his lover's heartbeat resounding through him, giving him a single point of focus through his overwhelm.
“Sleep. I’ll be waiting for you when you wake up.”
“Promise?”
“Always.”