"I have an idea, but you're not going to like it." madison & ethan
Ethan takes a long, controlled breath in through his nose, holds it for exactly three seconds, and then pushes the air out through his steepled fingers.
His therapist would be so impressed.
"How is it..." he starts, rubbing his forehead in exasperation at the sight before him, "...that every time you get in over your head on a case, Sam calls me to drag you out of it?"
"He knows that you're the responsible one," Madison responds with a shrug, looking far too comfortable for someone hog-tied to a chair with frilly, pink panties.
"How does he even have my number?" Ethan mutters as he starts to tug at the lingerie restraints, and then slaps a hand over Madison's smug grin before she can answer him, "Do not-- Seriously, Mads, how many serial killers is it now? Five? Six?"
"Eight, actually. But this one's my first girl," she tells him the moment she's free, practically giddy as she rubs the circulation back into her wrists.
"Good to know that you switch it up sometimes," Ethan sighs, and then groans at his accidental innuendo, resigning himself to his fate.
Madison has the gull to waggle her eyebrows. They're in a torture chamber, there are literal bone saws hanging on the wall, and Madison Paige is waggling her eyebrows at him like she's a god damn four year old.
"I'm flexible like that," she cackles.
This woman is his best friend.
"Alright. So we just need to do is get up the six flights of stairs, past the guards, get around the five flesh-eating dogs, somehow catch the ridiculously attractive, cannibalistic college co-ed in the act of eating a mathlete, and then convince Sam to not make me take mandated leave after taking down an actual cult," Madison rambles as she rolls her shoulders, staring at the door as she attempts to sike herself up for what she knows is to come. "Should be easy."
Ethan punches her arm, "Someone with your life should not be playing chicken with Murphy's Law like that."
"Murphy's a bitch. I'll fight him back behind a Denny's if I thought he was man enough to show up," she swings right back at him, and then raises a sudden, expecting eyebrow.
"You got any thoughts about how we're gonna do that?"
"Why am I the one making the plans here? This is your mess!"
"Ethan, do you seriously think that I came in here with a plan?'"
"...Fair enough," he concedes. Quickly, he takes an inventory of all of the things he'd seen on his way in, and swears loudly when his brain comes up with the dumbest thought in the history of the planet, "I have an idea."
"But you're not gonna like it."
"Does it involve either of us getting eaten by a red head in go-go boots?"
"Then I'm gonna like it."
Ethan takes another breath, steadying himself before saying, "So you know that maid uniform that was on the banister by the door?"
"...I don't like this plan anymore."
"I told you that you wouldn't--" he cries, arms flailing in indignation. Ethan actually stomps his foot in frustration before gripping her shoulders firmly with his remaining fingers and pressing his forehead against hers, "Look. You trust me, right?"
"Of course, I do," Madison says without a second of hesitation, like it was never even a question and god, he fucking loves her.
"Then trust me on this. It's going to work."
Madison blinks, long and slow and catlike. For a single moment, they breathe as one, beat as one, exist as a single spirit forged bright against the storm. Ethan thinks about broken tether he once shared with Scott Shelby, about the rain-water gray stump at the end of his soul that had been severed and cauterized by the heat of the bullet he'd shoved through the man's black heart. And not for the first time, he looks at Madison Paige and knows that despite Scott's attempts to prove otherwise that she's his soulmate, the true answer that his phantom limb seeks out whenever he's alone in the dark.
"Okay," she whispers, nodding against his skin, her hands clutched tight in the earthen green fabric of his sweater. And then, again, "Okay."
"Okay?" Ethan responds with a third.
"Okay," Madison sighs one last time. When she pulls back, her mouth twitches into a confident, knowing smirk, "But, you owe me two back massages for this."
"I'm the one that's saving your ass here, Mads. I don't owe you a damn thing."
"Three massages. And a mani-pedi. Because you like my ass."
"I've seen better asses."
"You'd literally save my ass for free."
"I should be saving your ass for free," he grumbles, and then turns to face the door. "Alright. Maid outfit. Stairs. Guards. Flesh-eating dogs. Cannibal co-ed in go-go boots. Let's do this."
"Let's do this," Madison repeats, and then slams her heel into the wood above the doorknob, knocking the wood off it's hinges and charging forward with all the subtly of a flying bull.
Ethan can't help but laugh, because somehow this is only going to be the third most ridiculous thing he's done today.
"Wait... Why are you getting naked?"
"What? You thought that you were the one that was gonna wear the maid costume?"
"Next time? Lead with that."