Mr & Mr Hitman

Lovestruck and Drunk

Samuel bit his lips, mentally calculating his next move. He glanced at the exit, completely ignoring the four pairs of eyes that burned holes in his face.

"You're going to- You will have to carry- me if you want to run away- to escape," Cameron glanced at Sam's hands, noticing no umbrella, "I think- I guess going home dry isn't- happening any- any sooner."

Sam chuckled, handing the hoodie he brought to the other man, "Wear that."

"That's yours?", Cameron rose an eyebrow.

"Oh come on," Sam rolled his eyes, slightly smiling when he saw the man slowly put the garment on, obviously a few sizes bigger than him.

They didn't notice the group of men marching with hatred burning in their eyes, looming over the two men.

"Hola prince, finally got your princess? How about he joins us in our little play?", one of the older men spoke up, all of the other ones snickering disturbingly.

Samuel sighed, "Piss off."

"What? You scared-?"

"He told you to piss off, douche," Cameron hissed, glaring at the men.

"Come here, little bitch," another man took a step forward, "Let this old man teach you manners," he snickered, reaching his hand out to Cameron.

"Not even in your wildest dream," the deuteragonist slapped his hand away, only to have it reach for him again, grasping his shoulder firmly.

And like a kettle finally boiling to its maximum, with a screeching high-pitched shriek, that only the creative minds could accurately imagine, Samuel eventually lost his cool.

"Get your filthy claw off of him," the main character gritted his teeth, veins popping on his temple as he clenched his fists white, fury burning in his eyes.

"Ey- hey- calm down man," the man retrieved his hand, realizing that they weren't dealing with a regular, none-murderous person. "I think we should let the virgins away tonight."

"Well, that, unfortunately, sobered me up," Cameron sighed, following Samuel outside, "But now we have another problem," he pointed at the rain outside.

Samuel stepped in front of Cameron, his back facing him, and slightly lowered his body, "Hop on, shortie."

As surprising as this might sound, the once ambiguous and cold killer that gradually opened up his heart to our protagonist, submissively climbed on the other man's back, wrapped his legs around Sam's waist, and steadily hugged his neck, his chin resting on his head.

"Obedient now, aren't we?", Sam chuckled.

The rapid downpour deserted the streets of the early evening, the two hitmen staring at the challenge in front of them. They stood in front of the window, gawking vulnerably yet intensely outside, like two puppies pleading for their owner to let them indoors, except they were not outside, and they weren't dogs at all, far from it even.

"Run as fast as you can, I am shielding you," Cameron tightened his holds.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," Samuel pulled the door, sighing before he sprinted his way back home.

The perplexed yet amused glimpses and titters of people in their cars were left unnoticed to the two men as they laughed. Samuel nearly slipped on the wet concrete pavement, catching his breath only to lose it almost immediately when he heard the held back guffaws of Cameron, who was wiping his face with one hand, virtually thinking of vehicles' wipers.

"You got any beers?", Cam asked as the other man unlocked his door.

"I guess you hating alcohol, was a lie," Samuel sighed, shaking his head, until he responded, "But yes, I do have a couple of cans."

"Great."

"Why- why are you- you so good-so good- at this," Cameron gulped his fourth beer, while Samuel swigged his sixth, slightly swaying, obviously not as drunk as his crush, earning his win to their drinking game.

They both sat on Sam's living room's couch, staring at the ceiling, while the droplets from their soaked hair trickled down on their faces before the protagonist popped a question.

"Tell me something else, do you like me back?", the coffee-colored eyes gazed into the hazel ones.

"Huh- huh?", Cameron blinked lazily.

"I'm asking if my feelings are being returned," Samuel slightly shifted closer to the shorter being. "Answer me, Mr.Hitman, do you like me?"

"And what if I said yes?", the other assassin grinned, his conscience not as present as it needed to be, miles away from the last time he got drunk with Sam, but at least he spoke nothing but the truth.

Samuel's eyes widened, "Then- then can I kiss you?", a surge of embarrassment swiftly took over him, but the passion burning in his eyes and the lust accumulating in his heart couldn't be left unquenched.

They stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity before Vixen cupped the other man's cheeks. The cold yet smooth lips of Cameron slightly grazed upon Samuel's, before he stumblingly started biting on his lower lip, the odor of liquor mingled with their scents.

Groaning in pleasure, Samuel wrapped his arms around Cameron's waist, pulling him closer before engaging in an even more passionate kiss, his hair tugged on by the latter.

I can't believe I'm doing that.

Their thoughts were reciprocal, doubts turning into desire in a fraction of a second.

But damn I like it.

...

Finally a fucking kiss.

...

How to take the stutter away from Cameron:

A) Insult S so that C stands up for him.

B) Ask him if his feelings are mutual.

C) Both of the answers above.

D) Those were facts, it wasn't a pop quiz.