The Heat or the Flies (Bill Fraser x Fem!Reader)
Summary: You hate Bill Fraser, right. At least that's what you think... until one especially heated argument.
Warnings: swearing, drinking alcohol, allusions to sex
Requested by: anon
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Bill Fraser is a kind, righteous, brave, quiet man. He is all those things, good things, yet you despise that man to your bones. Maybe it is the way he walks, with so much confidence in his step yet none of it. Maybe it is the way he talks, with that thick Scottish accent of his, seeping in through every word he says. Maybe it is the dare and courage in his eyes, that you feel the need to compete with on every mission, in every situation. Maybe, maybe, maybe…
Even just looking at the man leaves you uneasy, getting irritated every time he is near you, which causes you to be mean to everyone around you. David is the one who catches the most of your hateful spitfire, being your closest friend, as your father and his father are childhood friends.
At first, he tried to talk some sense into you, explaining that Fraser is a good man, that some people are just born not to get along and that you should just let it be. Not that it changes a thing.
He then opted for a strategy he’s been trying with Paddy: seep out the hatred with competition, which only resulted in you being fuelled by rage and dislike and jumping into very dangerous situations only to prove you are in fact better than Bill Fraser.
David very quickly left this strategy in the sand dunes of the Sahara Desert and simply gave up. Right now, he ignores your often outbursts, only humming in agreement, as he realized many days ago that doing anything else is right-down useless.
Everything changes when Eve Mansour tracks down the sanctuary of the SAS in the middle of the desert. You’ve been friends with the mysterious and dangerously beautiful woman ever since she started mingling in the SAS business, and most importantly in the David business, the two of you discussing all the saucy details of that forming relationships. You then left for another chapter of the war with the SAS men, leaving Eve “behind” to her different kind of war in Cairo and essentially in all the world.
But then she appears, stepping out of the dirtied car, her perfect hair and clean fresh clothes looking like something out of the world, and you suddenly feel less like a person and more like a creature of the night, desert, and blood.
She is walking like the night, like Hera, and it is in that moment that you know that David would walk to the edge of the world for her, slay armies of every kind, and take any torture known to man, just so that she would be safe. Eve has the same look in her eyes when she is looking at David, the courage and bravery fuelling her movements.
You don’t see her or David for almost the whole afternoon. You sit with Johnny Cooper and Reg Seekings, who are arguing about some stupid thing you choose to ignore. You barely catch words like “sand”, “bugs”, “storm”, and “sun” flying over your head, when Johnny turns to you.
“Y/N,” he smiles sweetly at you, to which Reg just rolls his eyes, “settle this, alright.”
You turn to him to give him the attention, expecting another ridiculous argument, but the sun is still strong in the late afternoon, you are a bit dizzy from the whiskey you’ve been drinking and so you smile back at Cooper and wink at him.
“What is worse: the heat or the flies?”
You stare at him. “What?”
Reg decides to step in to clear things up a little. “Well, I’ve been saying that heat is the fucking enemy, you can’t escape it, eh, it just is always here. But Cooper here thinks that the flies are the worst, which is just fucking stupid.”
You have to bite your lip from laughing.
Cooper frowns at the comment. “Flies are worse! You can’t get rid of them, the heat passes once the sun sets, but the flies are here, or other bugs, bothering you all the time.”
They both turn to you at that, waiting for you to answer. You are aware that you just can’t pick a side, although the argument will be well forgotten by the morning and quickly replaced by another petty disagreement.
You are prepared to hold your diplomatic stance on things, but Bill Fraser decides to step in, your whole strategy and will crumbling around you the moment he speaks up.
“I personally think that the flies are worse.”
Eight words, eight simple words, and you are sent into a spiral, the alcohol in your blood only making your rage more red.
“That is interesting, but no one fucking asked you so next time keep your stupid opinions to yourself,” you frown at him and turn to Johnny and Reg, who suddenly have knowing grins on their faces, which only pisses you off more.
“Reg,” you start, “heat is worse, definitely. There’s no arguing about it.”
Seekings only straightens his posture, smug smile adorning his face but for some reason, known only to those two, Johnny does not counterpoint.
“That is a fucking lie. How can you say something so ridiculous?” Fraser says, looking directly at you.
You raise your eyebrows, slowly standing up, highly aware of your slightly drunken state but you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you stumble. “Of course, it is the heat, you Scottish fuck. The heat is the real enemy. Flies are just stupid opportunists, whereas the sun is organized in its abuse.”
Fraser laughs, only laughs, and you suddenly want to stuff his mouth with something to keep him quiet.
“Your satanic sun does not land on your fucking eyelid!” he counterpoints, taking a step closer.
You sarcastically chuckle. “Oh, grow up, you big baby. The sun cooks your brain, that is if you have any.”
“Flies are coordinated; they attack you at once. You know what that is called? I’ll educate you: it is fucking tactics.”
“Learn to read a fucking room. It is not your famous tactics; it is just stupidity in numbers. I understand why that appeals to you.”
He takes another step closer. “You are missing the whole picture! They study you, then they go for the corner of your mouth.”
When he says that, his gaze drops down to your lips and stays there for longer than absolutely necessary. It shifts something in you and for a split of a second you cannot think of any remark to make, of anything to say to counterargue, only thing on your mind the word “mouth” and Fraser’s stare on your lips.
Then you’re back. “Bullshit. If it wasn’t for the heat, there wouldn’t be any flies. Which makes your flies fucking inferior to heat.”
“If it wasn’t for flies, the heat wo-“
“Enough!” David’s voice carries through the whole place, making everyone stop in their tracks. You and Fraser stop your petty bickering, Reg and Johnny stop pointing at the two of you, giggling, Jim and Pat wipe the knowing smirks off their faces.
“Like fucking children,” he mumbles and shakes his head. The SAS sanctuary is for a few beautiful seconds covered in complete silence. You almost forget how it sounds.
“Dinner is ready,” David adds in resignation and motions toward the long table being prepared by the kitchen duty.
And so, the argument is squashed but the feelings prevail and you somehow cannot get yourself to calm down. You keep glancing Fraser’s way several times during dinner, which only infuriates you more.
In your fury you are completely oblivious that Fraser is more than struggling with the exact same thing, it is a wonder you haven’t caught him staring yet. The only difference between you and him right now is that you seem to be able to control your composure, but the poor Scottish boy is flushed in his face like a teenage boy who saw a girl take off her bra for the first time.
After dinner, men resort to drinking and lying around, no jolly is scheduled tonight, and everyone is just happy to get some sleep, spend time with their mates in the hazes of alcohol.
You’re grateful that dinner is finally over and you can take a walk to calm yourself, your feelings, your body, everything seems to be on fire, including you and the desert around.
“Hold your horses, Y/N,” you hear behind yourself and see Eve running after you, struggling in the sand as her heels dig into it.
You wait for her to catch up and the two of you walk in front of Jalo in large circles, back and forth, not talking, just enjoying the presence of the other.
“How’s David?” you decide to be the first one to speak up. Of course, you know how David is, the two of you talk every day, he’s like the big brother you never had, and he tells you everything. Eve knows this but she decides to play your little game, circling you like a vulture its unknowing prey.
“He is fine, has some painful desert sores but I’m sure you do too and know all about it,” she replies.
You nod. “Yeah, all of us have them. Painful little shits.”
Eve chuckles. The two of you do not say much after this, several more minutes pass and then it comes, the attach of the vulture.
“Heard your argument with Fraser today,” she says into the silence.
You roll your eyes at that, shrug your shoulders. “He is a bit of an idiot.”
“You argued about the heat and the flies.”
“So?”
“So?” Eve is looking at you in disbelief as if she is unsure whether you are really that oblivious or just brilliantly good at playing dumb. She would wager it could be equally both.
“Okay, let me put it this way,” she continues, “what do you feel when the two of you argue?”
You laugh, “What is this? Some kind of therapy session?”
“C’mon, Y/N,” she pleads, linking her arm with yours, the two of you continuing your walk, “I miss our talks.”
You sigh, “Fuck me, alright.” You take a break. “I feel angry, all the time, he is so infuriating, it is unbearable.”
Eve fails to hide a giggle but regains her composure quickly. “Anything else besides anger?”
You let yourself think about it. “Exasperation, exhaustion, ridiculousness, second-hand embarrassment… pick your fighter.”
“Oh my God, Y/N,” Eve exclaims, laughing, “you’re just gonna make me ask it, right?”
“Ask me what?”
“You never feel attracted to him? You never feel the heat when the two of you argue? Forgive me but earlier today it looked like you two would kill each other or fuck each other, nothing in-between.”
You stop in your tracks to look Eve in the face, realizing she is in fact not joking. She is looking right back at you, her gaze making you aware how straight to the heart her words were.
“You’re being ridiculous,” you exasperatedly laugh, shaking your head, “that is just-… it is so-… well, this, you’re… it is just fucking ridiculous.”
“Whatever you say, dear,” she caresses your arm, walking away to give you some space to think about her words, not that you would give it any second thought because you are most definitely not attracted to Bill Fraser, right?
Right?
You’re coming back to your tent late, everyone seems to be already asleep, you cannot see anyone and you are quite grateful for it.
You make your way to bed, looking down at your shoes and the sand, that you do not register the male figure pacing in front of your tent.
“Y/N,” you hear a voice and you do not need to look to know who it is. He’s speaking softly, quietly, something you haven’t heard him do with you. Something warms your heart, you are unsure what it is, Eve’s words suddenly find their way back to you, and you try to wave them away like annoying flies.
Maybe the flies are worse than the heat…
“What the fuck are you doing here?” you whisper-shout at him, as the anger is the only thing keeping up the distance between the two of you.
Fraser swallows, watching you up and down, his gaze lingers on your lips for a second longer, you catch it and curse him, it is suddenly too much, the sun is long gone and yet you feel so hot, as if he set you on fire with just his eyes.
Maybe the heat is worse that the flies…
“I came to…” he whispers but does not finish the sentence, you can see he doesn’t know what to say, he’s lost, you are lost, the eye contact is getting intense with each passing second and you don’t know how much more of this you can take.
“Don’t be a baby and say it, Fraser,” you say in a more hostile tone than intended but there is no coming back now. You feel your body taking a step closer to him, as if you are a moth and he is a flaming ball of sun, his cheeks are certainly red enough.
Your tone apparently gets to him and he retorts, “Don’t fucking rush me, are you always this impatient?”
How the two of you got so close together that you can feel his breath on your skin is a baffling mystery to you, you know that if you moved for one inch, you could touch his hand, his chest, his torso, the back of his head, him, your head is spinning and his presence too much.
“Are you always indecisive?” you shoot back and it takes every fibre of your being not to kiss him right here and there because breathing the same air as him has become in the last few second not enough, you suddenly want more, so much more.
He smiles softly at your comment, and you feel like you could hike through the entire Sahara Desert and back, if it would mean he would look at you with that smile again.
“Indecisive?” he whispers, “indecisive?” His voice is low and deep, the Scottish accent more prominent than ever.
“Yes,” you reply and feeling proud of yourself that your voice doesn’t tremble one bit, God knows the rest of you is, “you are so indecisi-“
You never get the chance to finish that last word because Fraser’s self-control finally snaps and one of his hands grabs your waist, pushing you firmly against his strong body, his other hand finds its way into your hair and the back of your head, making you look up directly at him.
And then he is kissing you, Bill Fraser is kissing you and you are kissing him, and you think finally, finally, finally, not really bothering yourself with why you are exactly thinking this when you’ve spent your time hating him.
His lips are soft and hot, you cannot get enough of him and just when you think you are going to pass out, because right now oxygen is one of the less important things when Fraser has his tongue in your mouth, he pulls away, kissing you on your cheek, behind your ear, he stops at your neck, kissing, sucking, pulling, leaving you dizzy from all the emotions and pleasure.
“Bill,” you breathe out and you feel him smile against your skin. He kisses your ear again and whispers, “That’s the first time you called me by my name.”
You smile too, already missing his touch, “Don’t get used to it.”
He smiles again, “Too late, but I have a way of making you say it more. It will be the only thing you remember once I’m done.”
“Who would have said that the shy reserved Scottish boy has such a filthy mouth?” you retort, smirking at him.
He shakes his head, swiftly picking you up in his arms and carrying you inside of your tent, where he puts you down.
You can feel his gaze all over you, the lust in his eyes, and you just want him to do it all. He reaches for your army blouse, for those first tiny buttons.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers and unbuttons the first one, “oh god, tell me to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop,” you breathe out, holding onto his shoulders for balance.
He fiddles with the buttons, his hands shaking with the desire that’s burning you both.
“Fuck, just rip it off, Fraser, I really don’t care right now.”
And he doesn’t give you a smart comment on how impatient you are, he doesn’t chuckle, he follows your wish immediately, buttons flying in every direction and you’ve got to yourself back because that was incredibly hot.
He takes his own shirt over his head, his trousers follow suit, you don’t want to get behind so you shrug yours off, his mouth is immediately on yours, he is kissing you as if it was the last thing he would do before dying.
He wraps his arms around you without him mouth ever leaving yours, leading you to your bed, unclasping your bra on the way, throwing it back into the depths of the tent.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he says, looking you in the eyes and you feel at home.
It is a strange emotion, the hatred towards him suddenly making sense.
You chuckle, “I’m starting to get an idea.”
