Summary: AU. There's definitely something in a name, he thinks. Ryan/Claudia
Spoilers: Most of Season 1.
A\N: Betaread by fififolle, who also inspired this little bit of fluff. This is a quite tame Mature fic, but it was a bit too blunt in a few places to be Teen I rated think as it has fair bit of language and a sexual theme.
She stands in the doorway across the room, exactly opposite him, imposing in her stance even at this distance. They call her Ms. Brown or maybe Ma'am, him the latter more than the other men perhaps.
The Special Ops guys - he's their boss and their friend, the team closer than family and he'll kick their arses if needs be but he knows by now there is no need. They do their best and if that's not good enough then maybe no one is good enough. The anomalies throw a lot of shit at them and one day it'll be too much for their puny guns, no matter how much planning and strategising they do. He just wishes Lester would authorise a tank to take through sometimes...
But her, Claudia. He had wished he could call her that, let the professionalism slip for a split-second, but she was as good as his boss and not his friend, and so he followed her lead. He was “Captain”, or “Captain Ryan” if he was lucky. A Tom might have occurred when he was injured once, and she ironically was the one to figuratively rescue him, forcing him up after a nasty head injury had him down for the count. Apart from that, he had been mostly a nameless soldier to her. She'd cared about him, about all the guys, but it'd been meaningless compared to how she looked at Cutter. Of course, there Cutter was mooning over his wife after eight years, the realisation that the woman was a cut-throat bitch not quite having sunk in yet. He'd watched Cutter and Claudia dance around the issue for months, a misstep every now and then that had upset the balance and prevented anything from becoming more.
"Ma'am." He addresses her, waiting for the order to come. Standing straight and still as if at his post, not that he's currently got one - thankfully for once the situation isn't as dire as usual - the owners of the mansion are away, with only a small contingent of staff as witnesses - and now it is completely contained.
"Ma'am?" she queries, one eyebrow raised. She closes the door and slides the bolt across, before walking across the immaculate parquet floor of the private study.
"About time you got over the formalities," she says, as she walks toward him and undoes the top two buttons of her blouse.
How it got to this, a barely off-the-clock rendezvouz, he doesn't quite know. She started it though, definitely. With a drink and a kiss in a hotel bar, like coincidentally most of her relationships have begun, he suspects. But New Years Eve seems a long way off now, and they're still going at it, more now than ever before. Problem is he can't quite get out of the habit of not calling her Claudia...
He peers down at the uncovered neckline that sweeps into soft plush breasts, more than just visible over her half-cup bra. "I rather like formalities actually, Ms. Brown. I like to know the order of the world, how things stand," he leans across and kisses her neck just once, "my place in," and then taking advantage of the exposure, places another further down, "everything."
"Now, now. Is this really the time to get philosophical?"
"You tell me, Ma'am,” he says, in a low voice. Unable to resist the temptation teasing distance brings, he abruptly pulls her body closer to his and is rewarded with a glorious grin that says she approves. Of course, her words beg to differ.
"I think you need showing your place in the world, Captain."
"Got a mission for me then?" Tom smirks as she undoes his fatigues. He doubts there's anything she'd ask him to do that he wouldn't enjoy.
"Oh yes. I'm fairly sure I'm never likely to run out of tasks for you."
Outside there's a thud of a car door - a normal car, not one of their SUVs. Lester? It would be just like him to have such atrocious timing. Claudia is either unflustered by it or hasn't heard.
"Okay, can we drop this, Claudia? I like my fun and games but come on, enough. This is me, and you," he says, running his hand up the inside of her thigh. She must have felt his cock twitch against her hip and she skips a breath unexpectedly, "and we've not got time."
"We've just enough I hope," she says in a determined manner.
God, he loves that, she barely ever gives up. But he's more than glad that there's one man she has given up on or else he'd never hear that fantastic sound, the huskily whispered, "Tom" as she comes, obviously trying to restrain herself in case anyone is around outside. It sends him over the edge every time, but honestly he can't wait to stop doing it hurriedly in a back room or on out of the way trails. Maybe then she'd let herself go...the thought sends an electric chill of anticipation down his spine.
Her mobile rings, and with one casual flip she's back to business, despite still being very much entangled around him.
"Yes, Sir James, everything is fine."
Apparently not, according to the man on the other end.
Not two seconds after her panic-stricken exclamation there is a shrill scream that sounds too close for comfort. Tom quickly extracts himself, and buckles up, getting his gear back on, gun at the ready. He had been a bit sad at the lack of excitement today, and naturally he now has more than he'd wished for. He glances back at Claudia, who is composing herself, flattening the crumpled blouse. She winces as she struggles to straighten her skirt.
"I think I pulled a muscle. Next time we should find a bed," she calls out.
"Make it yours," he says with a wink, quickly turning to face the exit, hoping she won't chide him for the suggestion. Sometimes he's not sure if she wants to make this more, something substantial, a relationship instead of a simple quickie every now and then.
"It'd be my pleasure."
A further glance back shows him the answer he was hoping for - a smile tells him he didn't overstep his mark and suddenly the order of his world shifts a little, all for the better. It's only ruined a tad by the very real tremor that shakes the residence. Followed closely by another. He should have learned to expect this sort of drama by now. Of course, he's often a little glad to have a few surprises, but please, don't let it be a bloody T-Rex again.