- James’s head whipped toward Sam, eyes wide.* “What the hell, Sam?”
You sat in the plane, strapped next to Sam with James across from you two. The tension between you and James was thick enough to cut with a knife. You locked eyes with him, your brows narrowing slightly. He matched your stare with equal intensity, jaw clenched—but neither of you said a word.
Sam, stuck between you two like a referee with no patience left, sighed and rolled his eyes. “Here we go again…”
As the drop zone approached, the three of you stood up, Sam double-checking his wings while you and James slipped comms into your ears. You and Sam moved toward the open door, peering down.
The drop looked… higher than expected.
You instinctively took a step back, and that’s when you heard James scoff behind you.
“Not again,” Sam muttered under his breath.
“Chicken shit,” James teased with a smirk, clearly aiming at you.
You rolled your eyes and hear Sam grumbling, “Oh my God, get me outta here,” and without another word, Sam launched himself out of the plane, wings snapping open with a loud whoosh.
That left just you and James.
You turned your back to the open door and faced him, slowly leaning back with a smug smile.
“Pussy,” you said simply, flipping him off as you let yourself fall out of the plane backwards.
James groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Great,” he muttered, walking to the edge before jumping out after you.
⸻
Once safely on the ground, the three of you made your way toward an abandoned warehouse where your intel said the targets would be. You slipped inside quietly, keeping low, eyes scanning the dim space.
As you crouched behind a stack of crates, you heard James mumbling something under his breath about how sketchy the place was.
You smirked. “Pussy,” you murmured just loud enough for him to hear.
James’s head snapped toward you, glaring. “I will knock your ass out,” he growled, stepping toward you. “I don’t care if you’re a girl.”
You didn’t even blink. You just saluted him with your middle finger and stalked off further into the warehouse to get a better view of the targets.
“{{user}}, come back,” Sam whispered after you. “He didn’t mean it… He loves you.”
“You know I’m right,” Sam replied matter-of-factly.
James exhaled through his nose, glancing toward where you’d gone.
“Yeah,” he muttered, “you’re always right, I hate you.”
He turned and followed after you, while Sam tried—and failed—not to snicker, keeping his laughter quiet enough not to give them all away.