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Armed and Dangerous (in Bed, Naked)

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"All right," Jensen said, "I'm sorry, but I have to ask: is that a knife, or are you just really happy to see me? Because it kind of feels like the first, but, you know, naked and eager over here, so maybe I'm just imagining things?"

Roque sighed in that way he had of sighing. Jensen liked to think of it as 'world-weary', in defiance of Certain People claiming that in fact, it meant Roque was 'Jensen-weary'. "It's a knife."

"You bring a knife to bed," Jensen said. All right, not new, as such, but it had been only the one time, and they'd agreed on safe-words and Jensen 'just shrieking like a little girl' if he got scared of the big bad knife, which - well, he knew Roque was only ever making hurtful comments like that to cover up for the fact that he was a big teddy-bear on the inside, all cute and cuddly.

Really, really deep on the inside.

"I brought a gun," Cougar said. For all that he was supposed to be a sniper, Jensen felt their were some ninja-like qualities to Cougar. Silent, stealthy and deadly, that was Cougar.

Cougar could also do some incredible things with his mouth, which Jensen figured was the trade-off for only barely being able to hold up his end of a sparkling conversation.

"That's normal. Bringing a gun to bed is normal." Jensen considered. "Well, for people like us, I mean."

"Are we going to have another conversation about not playing favorites?" Roque asked. His body language was sending some mixed signals to Jensen's brains.

On the one hand: big, tall, well-muscled and intimidating.

On the other hand: big, tall, well-muscled and naked. It really was a very subtle difference.

"I don't know, are we?" Jensen knew what his vote would be, except that he never seemed to get one. Funny how that worked. He was fairly sure that both Roque and Cougar liked him more than they liked each other. Fair enough, really: Jensen was a very charming, deeply funny guy.

"He's not playing," Cougar said. Jensen wished there was some signal he could send by way of saying that sounding smug in the face of Roque-shaped disapproval? Not a great plan.

"Is that how it is, then." Roque didn't make it sound like a question.

Roque seemed to greatly enjoy cutting people up. Granted, they'd been bad, no-good people, one of whom had shot at Jensen - and granted, Cougar'd shot several of them in the head, too. In fact, Jensen was pretty sure at least one of Roque's victims had already been dead by the time Roque got to him.

All of which was to say that generally speaking, it was not a good idea to mess with Roque.

"That is not how it is," Jensen said quickly, before Cougar could do even more damage. "At all. Just ... maybe go easy on the sharp and pointy stuff where people might accidentally get hurt?"

Roque grunted. "It's sheathed."

"Great," Jensen said brightly. "Super. I feel much better now. Cougar, aren't you feeling so much better now?" He wondered how to ask Roque if he ever did stuff in his sleep. Like, the sort of stuff that involved knives. " 'cause I'm just peachy."

Cougar kissed the back of his neck, which wasn't helping, even if it did feel nice.

"If everyone is done talking," Roque said.

"Talking's good." Talking was what had gotten the three of them in one bed, the first time. Well, maybe not really a bed, but that was how Jensen was going to be telling the story later. Beds were romantic.

Shooting people in the head or cutting their throats for shooting at the object of your affection was sort of romantic, too, Jensen supposed, but it was like it was with the 'bring your gun to bed' thing. Context was everything.

Cougar murmured something in Spanish. His breath tickled Jensen's ear.

"I think you should keep your gun in a logical place. Like on the nightstand, or under the pillow or something," Jensen said.

"My knife's already under the pillow. I need to get to it, I better not need to throw away a gun first."

"See?" Jensen said. "Aren't you glad we had this talk now?"

"Jensen." Roque did a great 'world-weary soldier of many battlefields, over-exposed to the horrors and cruelties of the world'. Cougar kept it all bottled up inside, Jensen thought - even when you got him drunk, the most you'd get out of him was some mumbled Spanish about how your heart was sweet and sticky like honey (Jensen suspected the phrase had lost something in translation). "Shut up."

"Is that my cue to say 'make me'?" Clay sometimes said Jensen had to be some sort of masochist. Roque said he was just 'a little shit'. (Well, compared to Roque, everyone was under-sized.)

Cougar hadn't yet weighed in on the question of 'what is Jensen's problem anyway?'.

Jensen liked to think he was just a little kinky. It felt good to piss Roque off, to know that if he wanted someone to just hold him down and fuck him, Roque was his guy. Cougar was bit more slippery - nicer on the outside, but sort of distant and aloof on the inside. Less emotionally available.

"No. That is your cue to shut up."

Cougar chuckled, but softly. Like a ninja.

"Say I do, then what - " Jensen managed, before Roque took him up on the invitation he hadn't even gotten around to making.