#ik there arent as many economos baddies out there but would anyone wanna join an economos taglist lmao

[lunaticsandidiots]

come back in one piece

read on ao3

synopsis: Economos was finally sent out into the field on his own for the first time, and possibly the last. You had to do something.

pairing: john economos x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: explicit language, fluff, mutual pining, first kiss

a/n: ok reader and economos have the exact same dynamic as they do in old blue flannel but also it’s like my favourite trope and i love economos so much and i will write a million more. credit to @libellule2001 for the prompt <3

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“Fuck, fine!” John grumbled, snatching the rest of the uniform from Emilia’s hands and beginning to unbuckle his belt. You could feel your throat involuntarily beginning to tighten at the suggestive jingle and swallowed deeply.

“Would you look away?” he whined.

“Happily” Leota snapped, followed by the grassy shuffle of everyone turning around. Except you. You were frozen in place for a moment, held still by an uncomfortable combination of bashfulness and anxiety. John’s fearful eyes met yours, prompting yours to widen as you realised you’d been staring at him beginning to undress, and you quickly spun around on the spot to face the dark, seemingly never-ending woods.

The rumpling sound that John’s clothes made as they were presumably being removed continued to elevate your heart rate, something that was already sky high due to the other circumstances that surrounded you. You were almost tempted to turn around and sneak a peek, your conscience tempting you with the promise that a quick glance at his chest may bring you solace, but you admonished the idea as soon as you realised how selfish and stupid it would be to choose then of all moments to pursue your little work crush.

Well, ‘little’ was a vast understatement. You’d been pining over your altitudinous, wisecracking coworker since you laid eyes on him. You couldn’t quite place your finger on what drew you toward John in the first place, but from his Dahmer-esque glasses, to his multi-coloured beard, all the way down to his wolf-print t-shirts, you were absolutely smitten. It didn’t help one bit that the two of you had developed a coquettish camaraderie over the course of your employment.

To begin with, the two of you merely exchanged pleasantries in between work related conversations - the two of you were the desk jockeys of the team, and you felt that it was important to develop a good rapport with your colleague. It didn’t take long at all though, for the small talk to grow deeper and your lunch breaks to be taken in tandem, and right up until that harrowing night, you’d considered John one of, if not your only best friend.

You felt sheepish at the realisation of how sad it might sound to say that your best friend, your favourite person in the world, was a colleague you met on a job that both of you were forced to do. If you ever did say something to the contrary, however, you’d be nothing short of a straight up liar.

All of these thoughts were tumbling around in your mind like a washer on spin cycle, and your head began to ache as it was hit with a whole new cognisance.

This could be it for him. This could be the end for your endearing, bearded consort.

You raised your chin up high, focussing all your might onto willing your tears to retreat back into your head. You didn’t want to distress anyone further with your anguish, and it was a hell of a lot more pleasant to focus on performing an impossible physical feat, rather than John’s possibly fatal demise.

“You done gettin’ pretty yet, dye-beard?” Chris sneered next to you, the crude nickname prompting you to angrily dig your nails into your palms. John hated that nickname. He’d never gone into detail about it, but you always caught the way he lowered his eyes to the floor in dejection at the epithet, and he’d ‘casually’ brought it up in conversation a few times, offhandedly mentioning how much he hated it. You never cared whether he dyed it or not, it was absolutely nobody’s business but his own.

How badly you wished in that moment that you’d bitten the bullet and told John that. Told him that it didn’t matter, told him that he always looked nice, told him not to listen to Chris’ baseless, juvenile libel.

“Oh go fuck yourself, you Royal Rumble reject piece of shit,” John snarled, “Yeah, I’m done.”

You turned around to see John dressed head to toe in the lifeless shades of brown donned by the local sheriff’s department, shiny gold badge of corruption and all. Even in the drab uniform with his beard speckled with droplets of nervous sweat, John still looked entirely perfect to you.

“Okay. You need to take this into the barn,” Harcourt instructed, handing John a red, medical-looking bag that was no doubt holding Chris’ sonic boom helmet, “And you need to bury it as deep inside as you possibly can-”

“Title of your sex tape…”

“Adrian, I will strangle you to death.”

“Sorry.”

Your blood was rumbling in your ears far too loud to process Adrian’s childish comeback, all your focuses were honed in on the 6’5 man in front of you and praying to whoever the hell was listening up above to bring him back breathing and in one piece.

“Once you’ve dropped it, make your way back here as quickly as you can and Ads will set off the helmet as soon as we can see that you’re a safe distance away. Even when it starts, don’t look back. Just keep walking.”

John nodded, swallowing so loudly you could almost hear it from across the way. He broke his gaze with Harcourt to take one, possibly last, look at you.

Economos had never found it so hard to walk away from something before. Sure, a lot of his apprehension was due to the obviously high-stakes of what he was about to do, but a sizable portion was all down to the fact that on the other end of your pining, he adored you just as much. He didn’t want this to be the end of your coffee breaks, he didn’t want this to be the end of your messily-written good-morning sticky notes, he didn’t want this to be the end before he’d even had a chance to kiss you. John’s chest was heaving up and down as he lingered on that last note, tucking it away in his front pocket to keep it close to his chest as motivation to stay alive.

“You’ve got this.” Harcourt nodded reassuringly, bringing John’s focus back to her intense gaze to give him one last look of credence.

Economos nodded back at her, took one last sweeping look at his colleagues, the ones that, in that moment, he decided were his friends, drank in your perturbed frame for a moment longer, then finally turned around to start his suicide run.

That one, last look he gave you, so full of fear and self-doubt and desire and longing, tipped you over the edge. Your blood was so saturated with epinephrine that you started to march forward with hardly a thought as to why.

“John!” you cried out, grabbing his attention just before his hand could grasp the fence to climb over it. He looked at you with pure bewilderment, he was never given the time to wonder what on earth it was you were doing before you seized his face in your hands and desperately pressed your lips against him. You couldn’t hear Leota’s gasp of wonder, you couldn’t hear Chris’ scoff of disbelief, all you could hear was your own heavy breathing, and John’s.

Through the shock, John’s hands managed to pull you close by the waist, ears turning red as he felt you tilt your head to weave your lips in between his. Your closed eyelids fluttered as he huffed with longing, and your heart continued beating at a million miles per minute as the tickle of his beard titillated your senses. You knew you didn’t have long, but if this was the first and last kiss the two of you would ever share, you wanted to milk every last second of it. You quietly fussed in ardour as the tip of your tongue glided against his, and you felt him pull you impossibly closer with his large hands.

“If you come back in one piece, there’s a million more of where that came from.” you uttered against his lips, not wanting to let go of his face in the knowledge that it might mean letting go forever. When you looked up to meet his gaze, you expected to be met with that same heartbreaking look of alarm, though your eyes widened as they were met with a brand-new air of confidence.

“I will be-” he swallowed, the corners of his lips hinting at a smirk, “-right back.” he nodded, before effortlessly jumping over the fence in a way you didn’t think he was capable of. Little to your knowledge, John also had no idea he was capable of such a stunt, but then again, he’d never been in the situation of kissing the object of his affection before running head first towards danger, and when he thought about it like that, it didn’t feel as farfetched.

You shivered the second that the warmth of John’s face left your presence, though your cheeks were still radiating immense heat as your whole body continued tingling with excitement. Biting your lip, you watched as he sauntered towards the barn, hearing him wordlessly pant with each step over the comms.

“Somehow, it’s still way easier for me to believe that we’re about to go kill an extraterrestrial amber-fluid-leaking cow than believing that really just happened right in front of me.”

“Oh go fuck yourself, Pissmaker.”