Work Text:
Michael Holt looked good when he was focused—really good. Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, fingers flying across a sleek holographic interface like he was defusing a bomb and building a quantum battery at the same time. Because he probably was.
Guy sat sideways on the long couch in HQ’s command room, one arm flung over the back, trying to look casual.
Which was hard, when all he could think about was what it would feel like to straddle the man currently reprogramming satellite telemetry.
Michael tapped something on the console.
Guy’s brain short-circuited. He got up. Walked right over. Leaned a hip against the console like he belonged there. Like it was no big deal.
“Need help?” Guy asked.
Michael didn’t look up. “With orbital targeting? No.”
“I meant stress relief,” Guy said, leaning in. “I offer very good rates.”
Michael looked up then. Calm. Calculating. And pulled him in by the front of his jacket.
The kiss was hot. Focused. Strategic. Like Michael did everything—planned, precise, intense. But there was a hand in his hair and a low sound in the back of Michael’s throat that definitely wasn’t professional.
Guy pressed closer, half-lifting himself onto the console, legs bracketing Michael’s hips.
“Shouldn’t we be working?” Michael murmured, lips brushing against Guy’s jaw.
“I am working,” Guy said. “This is a team-building exercise.”
Michael huffed a laugh. Then kissed him again. Harder. Deeper.
“Are you drooling?” Kendra’s voice cut through the moment like a buzzsaw through silk.
Guy blinked.
The fantasy snapped like a soap bubble.
Reality came rushing back: HQ. Midday. Lights bright. Michael still at the console, very much not kissing him senseless.
Kendra sat across the room on a different couch, sipping a protein shake, eyebrows raised.
“You’ve been staring at Holt for like seven minutes straight,” she said. “Your mouth’s been slightly open for at least five of those.”
“I have not,” Guy said automatically.
“You definitely have,” Michael said, not even looking up from his work.
Guy flushed. “I was… zoning out.”
“You were zoning in,” Kendra said. “With laser intensity.”
“I was thinking about…” Guy waved a hand. “Strategy. Missions. World peace.”
Michael finally turned his head, expression deadpan. “You were thinking about kissing me on the satellite controls again, weren’t you?”
Guy’s mouth opened. Closed.
Kendra made a strangled sound. “Again?”
Michael returned to the console. “He does this at least once a week.”
“I don’t—”
“Yes, you do.”
Guy groaned and slumped deeper into the couch. “You can’t prove that.”
Michael tapped a button. “We’ve got footage.”
Kendra snorted so hard her drink almost went down the wrong pipe.
Later, when Kendra left and Michael started shutting things down for the evening, Guy wandered over with hands in his pockets and a sheepish little grin.
Michael didn’t look up.
“You’re mad,” Guy said.
“I’m not.”
“You’re annoyed.”
“Also incorrect.”
Guy hopped up to sit on the console edge. “You’re gonna pretend this isn’t the highlight of your day?”
Michael side-eyed him. “You fantasizing about groping me mid-mission?”
Guy waggled his eyebrows. “Admit it. It’s flattering.”
Michael set down his tablet. Walked over slowly.
Guy blinked.
Then Michael leaned in, real close, like he was going to whisper something.
And for a second Guy’s brain flickered back to the daydream—the weight of Michael’s hand in his hair, the kiss that knocked him breathless—
Michael’s voice cut in, low and clear, “In your dreams, Gardner.”
Then he stepped back.
Guy made a strangled noise. “You’re evil.”
“I’m patient.”
“You’re cruel.”
“You’re predictable.”
Guy hopped off the table. “You know, one of these days—”
“You’ll finally short-circuit from your own hormones?” Michael offered.
Guy paused. “That’s fair.”
Michael smiled.
Just a little.
The next morning, Kendra walked into HQ to find Michael at the console and Guy… sitting on the couch again.
But this time, Guy was wearing sunglasses indoors.
Kendra raised an eyebrow. “Rough night, Romeo?”
Guy just groaned.
Michael, not looking up, said, “He tried to re-enact the daydream.”
“He what?”
Michael’s mouth twitched. “In the middle of my diagnostics run.”
Kendra looked at Guy. “Did it work?”
Guy muttered into his jacket, “Define ‘work.’”
“He kissed my cheek and fell off the console.”
“The edge is weirdly slanted!”
Kendra laughed so hard she had to sit down.