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sentientcave · 17 days ago

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Sparrow

Chapter 2 - Long Time Gone

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Contains: Alcohol, flirting, John Price

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Morgan set her pen down and closed her notebook as the bartender, Janie, approached her, a glass of amber liquid in hand that Morgan definitely had not ordered. She was still nursing a cider of some kind, not apple but some stone fruit combination— Too sweet, but fine. It wasn’t like she was much of a drinker, she just needed something to do other than pace the small motel room and think about the funeral tomorrow.

“The fellow at the other end of the bar sent this over,” Janie said, sliding the glass down beside Morgan’s cider and nodding her head toward the other end of the bar. “It’s good, too. Best whisky we’ve got on hand. The bottle was dusty.”

Morgan glanced over the way Janie had indicated. She’d clocked him as a moderate threat when he first walked in, just by his size and the upright, military spine, but she reassessed him from a more civilian perspective. He was a handsome man, a little older, and he raised his own glass when he caught her eye, offering a cheeky sort of smile. Muttonchops, short brown hair, t-shirt stretched over wide shoulders and thick arms.

“He’s English too,” Janie offered, grinning. “Kind of sexy, if you ask me.”

Morgan picked up the glass and lifted it, watching the man over the rim as she took a scant sip. It burned, the way all strong alcohols did, but it wasn’t bad. “Can you let him know I appreciate the gesture, but I’m not really looking for…” She trailed off. The man was already on his feet, taking the eye contact as invitation to join her. “Oh. Never mind. I guess I’ll tell him myself.”

Janie cackled. “Good luck.”

The man slid into the space beside Morgan. “John Price,” he said, offering her a hand. “Sorry to bother you, I just hate to see a beautiful woman drinking alone.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand. Her hand felt tiny in his— She didn’t usually think of herself as a small person, but John Price was a big man. Tall, broad, with the sort of well-defined muscle that came from working hard, and not just from the gym. The callouses on his palm spoke to that too.

“What’s your name?” he asked, sitting down on the stool next to her.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Morgan pulled her hand back. There was some resistance, like he didn’t want to let go of her fingers.

He grinned. His eyes nearly disappeared with the creases around his eyes when he did. “I would.”

Morgan shrugged lightly, sliding the glass of whisky toward him. “Life is full of little disappointments.”

“And pleasant surprises, too,” he said. “For one, I wasn’t expectin’ to meet a gorgeous woman that I’d like to get to know better out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Well, you’d be hard pressed to meet me anywhere else.”

“Don’t do much travellin’, then?”

“Wouldn’t say that.”

John leaned in a little closer, bracing an arm on the back of her stool. He smelled good, some cedary cologne and tobacco smoke and a little sweat underneath that. It had been a hot, humid kind of day, and judging by his accent, he’d probably been travelling. “Seems you don’t say much at all,” he pointed out. “I can bugger off, if you don’t want company, I’d just kick myself forever if I didn’t at least introduce myself.”

Morgan couldn’t help but soften a little at the look in his eyes. Blue eyes, but dark in the low, warm light of the bar, like the north sea, or the edge of night where it bleeds into morning. Guileless, earnest, honest. He’d leave if she asked him to, but… “No, no, I’m sorry, I’m just— I wasn’t prepared to be social. Which probably seems a bit contrary, since I’m at a bar.” She pushed her loose hair over her shoulder and out of the way, and pretended not to feel the slightest tug as one of John’s fingers wrapped a curl around itself idly. “I just couldn’t sit around my motel room for another minute. And I already ran and hiked today, so I can’t even do that.”

“No?” he asked.

“I could. But I think six hours of hiking is enough for one day, since I have plenty to do tomorrow.”

His eyebrows raised slightly. “Six hours?”

“Well, four, maybe five hours. Took a break halfway and did a bit of swimming.” Morgan picked up her cider and took a sip. “Would’ve gone further but my dog can’t handle the longer runs. She’s not built for speed or distance.”

“What kind of dog?”

“Rottweiler. She’s staying with friends tonight so I wanted to make sure she was tired out.” Morgan propped one elbow on the bar and leaned into her palm, the slight resistance of the lock of hair wrapped around his finger sending a little thrill down her spine. It was presumptuous of him to touch her at all, but… “Where are you from, then? London?”

“Grew up there, yeah.” He gave her a searching glance. “You just guess London ‘cause I’m English?”

“No. Guessed London because you’ve got that accent. It’s… hm, almost cockney. My ear for regional dialects is not what it once was, mind.”

His eyes sparked with interest, and he shifted a little closer, his knee bumping against hers. “Good ear then. I can ‘ardly tell your accent from an American one.”

“Not that different. Bit more nasal, maybe, depending on the region. You can probably hear an East Coast accent no problem. Bit more influence from your side of the pond.” She let her other hand rest on her knee, pinkie finger just touching him. “What are you doing in this neck of the woods?”

He didn’t look at her hand, but he was clearly aware of her touch. His energy shifted, like a torch flame narrowing, turning hot and blue. “Meetin’ with a friend. Got ‘ere a couple days early so I could do some fishin’.”

She let her touch slide over a little more. “Oh? Caught anything good?”

“Not yet. Think I might be close to catchin’ somethin’ a lot better than a fish, though.”

“So presumptuous,” Morgan teased.

“Says the woman with her hand on my knee.”

“Want me to move it?”

H moved his own hand from the back of her chair to lay it on top of hers, holding it in place. “Yeah, but not away, and not ‘ere either, or I’m going to something indecent.”

Something indecent promised to be a fun distraction. Morgan didn’t really want to think about tomorrow, and it had been a really long time since she’d let anyone get between her legs, let alone someone with a hot accent and thick, calloused fingers. And even better than that, he wasn’t sticking around. She could have her fun and they could both move on. A little vacation fling for him, and a little no-strings attached fun for her. A perfect storm.

“Where are you staying?” she asked. There weren’t that many places to stay in a town like this. There was a one in three chance they were staying at the same motel.

His fingers traced over hers. “Impatient. Haven’t even finished your drink.”

“Oh fine.” Morgan picked up her cider again.

John picked up his own glass and emptied it, sliding it back toward Janie’s side of the bar and sliding the drink he’d sent over for Morgan into it’s place. “What do you do for work?” he asked.

“Shipping and logistics.” A half truth.

“Yeah? Sounds…”

“Sounds boring as shit,” Morgan said with a laugh. That was by design. If she mentioned that she was a pilot, it opened up a whole lot of questions. But shipping and logistics sounded like paperwork, inventories, clearances. Nothing that anyone really wanted to hear more about. “It’s not exciting. Not like what you do.”

His moustache twitched. “And what do I do, sweetheart?”

“Military, by the boots, the silver chain, and the scars on your arms. Spec Ops by the chops.”

“Good eye too.” He straightened up slightly, giving her another once over, eyes narrowing like he had missed something on his first inspection and didn’t want to risk missing it again.

“Military family,” she explained quickly. Her long sleeves hid her own scars, but she didn’t exactly want to encourage an in depth study. “My mum was RAF and my dad and brother were Canadian Forces. I recognize the look.”

He exhaled, eyes softening. “I take it—”

“We don’t need to get into my sad little story, John. We’re not going to see each other after tonight, so there’s no sense getting personal.”

“Might like gettin’ personal with you, sweetheart.”

“No you wouldn’t. I don’t want that either, so don’t worry. You’re on leave, eh? Pretty sure you have a prerogative as a military man to fuck strangers when you’re on leave. Unless you’re married or something, in which case you gotta ask your wife first.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “No, I’m not married. Are you?”

“Not anymore.”

“Someone let you go? Must’ve been a right tosser.”

“He was.” Morgan finished the cider and flagged the bartender down. “Both our bills, if you don’t mind, Janie.”

She grinned. “Thought you weren’t looking for company, Morgan.”

“Company found me anyway.”

John finished his drink too. “Morgan, eh? First or last name?”

Morgan thought about continuing to be difficult, but she wanted to hear that growly voice say her name again. “First,” she said, pulling her purse open on the counter and sliding her notebook in and her wallet out.

He hummed, filing that away, probably to see if he could look her up later. Good luck to him, really. There were four other Morgans in this town, and she actually lived two over anyway. Her social media presence was non-existent, except for a private instapic profile with Laika as her only public facing picture. If he found that, she'd be pretty impressed.

Morgan glanced at the bills and threw cash down, covering both and a generous tip. "Hey, I was tryin' to buy you a drink," John protested.

"Guess you'll have to make it up to me."

He snagged her around the waist and winked at Janie as he escorted Morgan out of the bar. "Guess I can manage that."

"Good. So, where are you staying?"

"The Super 8. Not exactly super, in my opinion, but it’s clean."

“Did you walk over? It’s not far.”

He nodded. “I did. But it feels a lot further than it actually is. Not the most pleasant walk.”

They stepped out of the bar to the sidewalk that ran alongside the four lane highway through town. Orange streetlights lit up the night, obscuring the brilliant belt of stars that Morgan knew lay just beyond, and illuminating the insects that encircled the pools of light, drawn there to beat themselves senseless against the bulbs. It was quiet, save for the steady stream of traffic just passing through— Most of the businesses were closed this time of night, and a few were just closed, evidence of a community in slow decline. If it weren’t for the highway cutting through the centre of town like a river, it might have faded into nothing by now.

“Yeah, it’s like that here. Europe’s nicer for walking around. Built for people and not for cars.” Morgan matched her pace to his as best she could, but his long legs could stride along at a pace that was just under a jog for her. She hadn’t realized just how tall he was when they were both sitting, but he was a few inches above six feet, and she was five foot seven on a good day with thick soled boots on. “Slow down a bit, please. You’re really tall.”

He slowed. “Sorry, sweetheart. Guess I’m a bit over eager. I like that you’re direct.”

“Don’t see any point in being coy. I wasn’t looking for this tonight, but I can’t say it’s an unwelcome turn of events. You’re pretty easy on the eyes.”

"Could say the same about you. It'd be a bit of an understatement, but I could say it."

Already, she kind of wished that he would be sticking around. It was an unreasonable thing to want, but she still wanted, although she did her best to shut that down before it grew roots or made her say something stupid. Something like, "I don't usually do this kind of thing."

"No? Me neither."

"Oh don't patronize me."

He laughed, stopping in his tracks and pulling her into him, big hands settling on her ribs. "I'm not. I work too much. Don't usually have time. And I've always dated for keeps, haven't had an ill-advised clandestine affair in years."

“It’s probably good for you, then,” Morgan said playfully. “I think there’s something to be said for nights like this. They remain unspoiled by complications.” She twined her arms around his neck, pitching up on her toes, pulling him down to her level as she rose up. “Don’t you agree?”

One of his hands slid up to cup the back of her head, and he made a sound that might have been agreement, before they crashed together. His lips tasted like whisky, warm and pleasant. He pulled back enough to look at her, his eyes dark. Morgan tried to retreat, suddenly self-conscious, worried that somehow he could see right through her, right into her, able to parse through her secrets at his leisure. This was a bad idea. It was one thing to go home with a stranger, and quite another to go anywhere with a man that would arrest her as a best case scenario, should they ever meet in the field. It was a good thing that she was planning on retiring— She would hate to come up against someone like him. Not just because he was huge, but because there was an inherent danger to him, something she could sense coiled under his skin.

She suspected that he was very good at his job.

He didn’t let her retreat far, just a couple of inches as she lowered her heels back to the ground. “You’re beautiful,” he told her, deep voice rumbling around the edges. “And there’s something about you… Feels like I know you already.”

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” she said, mentally sliding through every British operative she’d ever run into. Not very many, and she knew better than to work with her face exposed. “I think I’d remember you.”

He chuckled, giving her another fleeting, whisky flavoured kiss. “No, I don’t think we have either. It’s more… Something in the way you look at things. The way you narrow your eyes when you’re thinking. It reminds me of someone.”

“My brother served in the middle east during the early aughts,” Morgan suggested. “Maybe you met him.”

“Maybe. Unless you give me that last name I’m going to have a hard time figuring it out.”

Morgan left one arm around his shoulders for balance, and cupped his jaw with the other hand. “A little mystery could be good for you, hm?” She stretched up for another kiss, this time holding him close, running her tongue along his bottom lip, prompting him to open up and meet her with the same intensity.

The hand on her hip slid a little lower, slipping into her back pocket, not so subtly pawing at her ass through her jeans. She squeaked against his mouth, trying to convey her displeasure with being groped openly at the side of a busy road. It was bad enough that she was making out with some stranger in public—anyone who knew her might recognize her by the mass of dark curls spilling down her back. He didn’t seem to get the message however, forcing her to pull away again. “John, stop that.”

His laugh came from his chest, a deep, dark sound that shook through her body everywhere she pressed against him. Perhaps he was less a man and more an earthquake, a force of nature. It would be unwise to ignore the danger of a man that couldn’t be moved until he wanted to, but Morgan found it difficult to resist his pull. He rested his forehead against hers, the boyish smile almost enough to quell her annoyance. “Sorry. Been thinking about getting a handful of you since I walked into that bar.”

“Who’s impatient now?” she asked, stepping back when his hold on her loosened.

“S’pose it might be me,” he said affably. “But I don’t think anyone’s gonna blame me for it. You ever seen how your arse looks in those jeans?”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “I have, actually. That’s why I bought them. Now come on. If you don’t hurry up I’m going to find someone else to have a an ill-advised one night stand with.”

“Like hell you will!” John lunged forward, hitting low and scooping her up and over one broad shoulder. She shrieked, the sound dissolving into giggles, glad she’d thought to zip her purse shut when she put her wallet away as she caught it slipping down her arm.

“Asshole!” she said, but her heart wasn’t really in it. She probably should have been more worried than she was, all considered. He was still a stranger, and a nosy one at that, but she didn’t feel unsafe. She wasn’t sure she would mind feeling a little unsafe anyway. It was more like he was showing off how easily he could throw her around, a display of what was to come, what she’d miss out on if she followed through on her empty threat to find someone else to fool around with.

Empty, because she had no real intention of going anywhere, and because if she did leave, it would be to go back to her own motel room alone.

It would be the sensible thing to do, but she didn’t feel like being sensible. She didn’t even really feel like being herself.

He set her down outside the hotel and led her inside by the hand, rumbling a greeting to the bored looking young man at the front desk, and tugged her close for another kiss while they waited for the elevator. As soon as the elevator doors slid shut, he was on her again, pressing her up against the wall, hand tucked behind her head to ensure that she didn’t bump against it. She nipped at his lip, encouraging rougher treatment.

“Careful,” he warned her, ushering her down the hallway with a hand on her lower back. “You keep doin’ that and I’m gonna get ideas.”

“I hope you do.” Morgan leaned against the wall while he pulled the keycard out of his pocket and unlocked it. “I might even like some of those ideas.”

“Yeah?” He pushed her against the door as soon as it closed behind them, forearms braced on either side of her head. His eyes bored into hers, a little too intense. “You tryin’ to make me fall in love?”

Morgan laughed at that, hooking her fingers through his belt loops and tugging him in closer. “No. Stop being ridiculous.”

“Stop bein’ so bloody gorgeous, and I’ll consider it.”

It was a little too easy to silence the alarm bells going off in her head. He was just being playful, he was too good looking to be hard up enough to get fixated on her of all people. It was just the heat of the moment making him say stupid things. In the morning, he’d wake up to an empty bed and be glad that he hadn’t had to make awkward goodbyes. He wasn’t going to think about her at all, once he went off back home.

"Oh shut up," she said, biting back another laugh. "Come here." She gave his belt loops another tug-- The mismatch in their heights meant she couldn't grind against him the way she might have liked to, but the press of his erection against her was flattering, to say the least. He was hard just from a few kisses, and by the feel of him through the layers of their clothes, he was big.

John leaned down some to kiss her again, sliding his hands under her ass to haul her up into his arms. She held on tight, legs wrapping around his waist as his kisses trailed down her throat. It really was fun that he could haul her around so easily— She bounced slightly as he threw her down on the bed, coming down beside her a moment later. His hands were on her again in moments, pulling her in against him, hooking one of her legs over his hip. “Where’d you come from, eh?” he asked, although it didn’t really sound like he meant for her to answer. “Where’ve you been?” He tucked a curl behind her ear, his fingers trailing down, following the path of his earlier kisses.

“Here,” Morgan said, answering both questions anyway. “You need to stop talking like that.”

“Like what?” His big hand rubbed down her back, finding the edge of her shirt and pulling it up slightly, so he could finally touch bare skin. He was so warm, and it might have been unbearable if not for the chill of the A/C.

She suspected that might be a hallmark of John Price. That he was a man who toed the line, always just falling short of too much. “Like this matters. Because it doesn’t. We’re going to go our separate ways and never see each other again. I mean it.”

The soft, starry look in his eyes didn’t fade. “Was the divorce recent?” he asked.

Morgan tried to sit up, but he resisted her efforts, keeping her tucked in close against his chest, his hand splayed across her back, fingertips toying with the fasteners on the back of her bra. “No. It was six, maybe seven years ago.”

“You married young.”

“Stop it. I didn’t come here to talk.”

"I know. We can talk in the morning."

Couldn't she just once meet someone who wanted to rail her and never see her again? "Listen to me," she said firmly. "I am not looking for something serious. This isn't going anywhere. Can you handle that?"

"Don't you think there's something here?" He asked.

"No! We've exchanged a few dozen words and we're attracted to each other. That's all that's here." Morgan shoved his arm away and rolled to the edge of the bed so she could stand. "I'm leaving. This was a bad idea."

"Wait-- Morgan hold on," John was up and after her in seconds, quickly getting in her path to the door. "You're right, I'm sorry. You made yourself clear. I'm just an old romantic, I can't help but see potential here."

Morgan grabbed her purse off the floor. "I wouldn't give a damn if we were soulmates pre-ordained by fate! I'm not about to let some man I don't know a thing about into my life! Especially one that has as much trouble listening as you do." She cursed herself for not listening to the rational part of herself earlier. "Now get out of my way. I am leaving."

John frowned, meeting her outburst of anger with his own frustration. "Morgan, just stop, please. I won't try to stop you, I just want to talk first." He didn't budge from his position in front of the door. "Please."

"There is nothing to talk about. Move."

"I think there's a lot to talk about."

"Fine. What?"

"Why don't you sit down for a moment--"

"No." Morgan could feel the instinct to fight clawing it's way up her spine, her muscles tensing at the prospect. He was not going to keep her here. She wasn't going to let him placate her with false understanding. He'd made himself clear. "John, I am not kidding. You need to get out of my way."

He must have seen the murder in her eyes, because he stepped out of the way. "Can I walk you back to your motel?"

"No." Morgan yanked the door open and stalked down the hallway, headed for the stairs rather than the elevator. She wasn’t about to give him a chance to talk her around, and muscle his way into her room. It would be impossible to dislodge him— She’d at least had the good sense to insist on going to his so she could walk away if she needed to. Her instincts hadn’t totally failed her.

It was so fucking typical. The one time she gave herself a chance to let go and relax the strict rules that she operated under, circumstance only highlighted the need for those rules.

She was out the doors before the young man at the desk even looked up, and out to the street before she looked back. And there John was at his window, watching her go, arms folded across his chest. At least he hadn’t run after her, a point in his favour both too little and too late to make a difference in the equation.

“Stupid,” she chided herself under her breath, quickly turning a corner to put herself out of view.

The worst part was that he couldn’t even wait until after they’d had sex to get weird about it. She was pretty sure he would have been a really good fuck.

#cave writing #Sparrow #OC: Morgan Renard #John Price #John Price x OC #cod mw fanfiction

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