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Philippe tapped his foot against the sun-warmed pavement, his arms crossed across his chest as he looked up, a hand raised to block out the sun, the reporter trying to figure out the route the Vampire they were chasing down might have taken after their recent heist. Mazamette was standing nearby, his job to scan the bustling crowd that was traversing the streets, looking for anything suspicious.
"Mazamette, do you think-" Philippe began, before he was cut off by his friend making a strangled noise.
"Philippe," Mazamette's gaze was fixed on something over the younger reporter's shoulder, a slight hint of fear in his voice, "don't look, but there is a group of Vampires heading our way. I believe they haven't noticed us yet, but there's no way they won't recognize us when they pass..."
"There's no good shelter nearby..." Philippe subtly glanced to his left and right, quickly finding that there was nowhere to hide. They were standing at the entrance of an alley, but a tall fence blocked them from retreating into the safety of its shadowy depths. "They'll definitely recognize us standing here, who just stands around in an alley..."
"Philippe..." Mazamette's voice rose in tone as he began to visibly panic, his eyes darting from the approaching pack of Vampires and Philippe, whose mind was racing to find some way to avoid detection.
Well, Philippe had one idea.
A very bad idea.
Philippe was definitely going to regret going with this idea.
"Smack me when they're gone, alright?" Philippe looked over at Mazamette, giving himself a moment to prepare for what he was about to do with the man he called friend.
"Smack you?" Mazamette tilted his head, puzzled, "Why would I-"
Philippe reached up, placing his hands on either side of Mazamette's head, closed his eyes, and pulled the man closer, their lips crashing together as Philippe drug him into a deep kiss.
Mazamette made a surprised sound, pulling back out of instinct, before falling into the kiss, a strangled noise escaping him as he leaned into Philippe. Philippe pushed him back, Mazamette's back hitting the fence in the alley and Philippe pressing up against him, hopefully giving the Vampires the impression that the two were just a pair of passionate lovers that couldn't contain themselves.
Philippe would be lying if he said this moment wasn't one he hadn't dreamed of before. Well, minus the threat of being captured and murdered by the Vampires hanging over their heads. Mazamette was an attractive man, and despite his faults, he was very passionate about catching the Vampires. He was also a very loving man, the way he spoke of his children very telling about how big his heart was. Ever since they had been paired to work together for the newspaper, Philippe had found himself gazing at the man with thoughts that weren't those of just a friend.
Of course, there was no reality where Mazamette would return his feelings, but Philippe was content to enjoy his daydreams.
...and the current make-out session that they were having. That would probably never occur again.
Mazamette let out a strangled moan - Philippe promptly stomped down any feelings that brought up in him - as Philippe gently bit the shorter man's lip, Philippe's hand falling from the stubble on his cheeks to land on his waist, pulling him as close as possible.
Mazamette's hands rose from where they had been frozen at his side to wrap around Philippe's head, entangling in his hair and pressing hard enough to force Philippe to fully lean into the kiss, making it his turn to let out a moan that caused his cheeks to flush with warmth.
It seemed like hours before Mazamette's hand tentatively tapped Philippe's shoulder, Philippe opening his eyes and releasing Mazamette from the kiss.
"Well," Philippe panted, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, "that... worked." It took everything Philippe had to not seek Mazamette's warmth again, his lips already yearning for Mazamette's.
Mazamette stared at him like a goldfish out of water, his mouth moving but no words escaping.
"You..." Mazamette blinked, "you kissed me!"
"What?!" Philippe threw his hands in the air, "It was the only thing I could think of that wouldn't end up with us being caught!"
"Kissing me?" Mazamette stammered, "That- that was the best option you had?!"
"I didn't see you offering any other ideas!" Philippe crossed his arms, "Sorry I saved us from the Vampires, I'll just let us get gruesomely murdered next time!"
"Alright! Alright," Mazamette threw his hands up in a sign of surrender, "I'm sorry. It was just... Unexpected."
"I'm sorry too," Philippe nodded, his heart pounding as he hoped he hadn't made a grave mistake, "if anything is weird now... I get it."
Honestly, who wouldn't find it a little awkward to be around your friend after they pulled you into an intimate make-out session that you were not expecting?
"It's fine Philippe, honest." Mazamette sighed, "I just wasn't prepared."
"Well, ah," Philippe raised a hand to awkwardly run through his hair - smoothing down the mess that had been caused by Mazamette's fingers dragging through it - with a chuckle, "I don't think we'll get much more productive work done out here. What do you say we head back?"
"I agree, don't think there's much else we can do here, it's getting crowded."
"I'm going to swing by my place to grab something before we write our report, meet up at the office?" Philippe straightened his jacket, which had been knocked askew in the... encounter. He certainly needed a moment to collect himself in private before he could return back to working with Mazamette like usual.
"That's a plan," Mazamette nodded, "I'll get started on the report when I get back."
"Alright, keep an eye out on your way back, Mazamette." Philippe knew the Vampires could be at any turn, it was getting harder and harder to track them without being seen these days.
"Will do," Mazamette raised his hand in a mock salute as they did their goodbyes, "oh, and Philippe?"
"Yes?"
"Well, let's just say... if you would ever want to do that again, without the threat of being caught and being violently murdered..." Mazamette winked with a grin, turning to walk away and throwing one last comment over his shoulder, "I can't say I'd mind."
Philippe blushed redder than a tomato, his mind blanker than a fresh sheet of paper.
Mazamette chuckled and walked off towards the direction of the office, whistling a cheery tune as Philippe tried - and failed - to collect himself.