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Floyd never really cared for terrorist groups. Mafia? Sure, if they paid enough and didn’t try to off him. He also made it very clear he didn’t work with any groups that did human traffic or child porn. Otherwise, the mafia didn’t bug him. But terrorist groups? He didn’t dare work for or with them. Maybe it was the fact they didn’t care who they killed: men, women, children. He leaned more towards how they posed a bigger threat to his daughter than anything. That was why he actually didn’t mind shooting the assholes who just blew up an apartment building.
The flames and rubble crumbled to the left of their squad. Flag stood next to Deadshot as Harley and Boomerang took them out with melee weapons. Deadshot aiming for the stragglers or those who posed a threat to his teammates, if they could be called that.
A wail echoed through the clearing. Deadshot paused mid shot and his heart skipped a beat. The wail came again, that of a little girl somewhere in the ruins. He crouched behind his cover and tried scanning the flames for the source.
“Mommy!” The girl yelled, cries loud and clear. The image of Floyd’s daughter with tears streaming down her face popped up in his mind. His girl bloody and broken. Her small hands pressed to the body of a empty woman. “Mommy, wake up.” His daughter looked at him with pleading eyes, begging him to do something. Eyes glazed over, Floyd swayed over to the wreckage.
The next thing he knew his body was thrown onto the ground, his ears ringing. There was no little girl and her mom in the flames, just lumps of burnt bodies and stone. His body felt heavy and his head fuzzy. His hands shook as he tried to push himself up. His body shuttered, shocked from the blast. Pain echoed in his shoulder, blood slowly seeping into his suit.
“-yd,” A voice leaked into his head. Was he hearing things again? “Floyd, get up!” The voice yelled at him. A hand was tugging at his arms, propping him up.
“Deadshot’s down, Alpha team get the rest of the team out. I got Deadshot.” Floyd could hear the words but time seemed to slow down around him. His mind screaming for him to get a grip but his body didn’t dare reply. How could he let such a stupid hallucination take away years of battle instinct?
Floyd’s eyes drifted to the man who was dragging him away from the firefight. Rick. Closing his eyes for just a second, he composed himself. Know was not the time for this. He needed to disconnect himself from his emotions until they were safe. He forced his legs to carry him, his stride a little off kilter do to his muscles hissing in pain. They turned into a back alley, a safer distance from the fight.
“You back with me sunshine?” Rick had a playful tone in his voice but his face twisted in concern. Floyd tugged himself away from the support and leaned against the grimy wall. He let out a long breath, his body not used to being so beat up. He really needed to get ahold of himself or next time he could end up dead.
“Asshole.” Floyd stated, looked at Rick with a glare. The concern melted off his face and relief replaced it. They stood there for a minute, listening to the fire fight a few blocks away. The shots got less and less; either meaning Alpha team escaped, died, or took down the terrorists. Rick was tempted to radio in and ask but he knew his soldiers knew what needed to be done.
“What happened back there Floyd?”
He expected Rick’s voice to hold anger or disappointment. What he didn’t expect was the gentle way he asked, as if he actually cared. Floyd furrowed his brow, his body shaking at the thought. People like Flag didn’t care for people like Deadshot. Even if they shared a kiss or two. It didn’t mean shit. That is what Floyd tried to convince himself anyway.
“Nothing, I just…” His words stopped, wondering if he should even tell the other. He knew it wasn’t like him to pull shit like that. Not only did he risk his life but the teams as well. “I saw something that wasn’t there, I got distracted. I fucked up okay? Just, leave it at that.”
Rick opened his mouth to say something but paused. He didn’t want to ush the man, clearly seeing how torn up he was. However, if he didn’t know what exactly caused this next time things might not end up well.They both knew this and yet, stood there in silence looking at each other. Challenging the other to say something, do something. Deadshot wasn’t one to get sentimental over anything. Except….
“You saw your daughter.” It wasn’t a question. They both knew it was the truth. Floyd rarely cared for anything but her. She was his sun. Floyd just looked away, a distance in his eyes Rick knew all too well. “We should get moving.”
When Rick turned around, a hand caught his wrist before he could walk away. He sent a questioning look at Floyd. Thoughts flew around in Deadshot’s head. Thoughts that would probably be regretted at the end of the mission. He blamed Rick of course, if he didn’t act as if he actually cared he would never thought to act on these thoughts.
Rick was pulled against Deadshot’s body, their bodies leaning against the cold brick. They stared at each other, their breaths mingling. Floyd didn’t do anything else, letting Rick make the choice to start something they wouldn’t be able to brush off. They stood there for a few minutes, before Flag took a step forward and pressed the other firmly against the wall.
The kiss tasted of sweat and dried blood, lips chapped. Their hands tangled together, eye closed. Rick pulled back a little bit, so their lips barely brushed and they shared their air. Floyd’s eyes fluttered open, the pupils blown. The misery and fear that once resigned there replaced with lust and something Rick didn’t want to think about.
The next time their lips met, the kiss was sloppy and rushed. Hands untangled and rushed over each other as if they had only seconds to feel to touch. Floyd’s hand slipped under the other’s shirt, fingers tracing over the scars painting Rick’s chest. It brought a moan to Floyd’s lips, knowing that the man in front of him wasn’t invincible. It made his desire to take him apart and twist him around his fingers. Have him moaning for more.
The kiss ended with heavy breathing and lidded eyes. Rick smirked at Floyd, his hands trailing down his suit and over the bulge in his pants. A voice to their right shocked them out of their moment.
“Oh, isn’t this hot.” Harley twirled her hair, her bat swung over her shoulder. An innocent look playing on her face as the two guys looked at her. “Don’t let me stop you guys, please continue. I’d love to watch. Maybe even join.” Her eyes trailed down Rick’s body, licking her lips.
Flag took a step back, composing himself. Floyd just stayed where he was, smirking back at Harley. “As hot as that would be, I don’t your boyfriend would appreciate that.”
A pout slipped on Harley’s lips but she knew he had a point. A sour look crossed Rick’s face as the image of what they were saying crossed his mind. Just, no.
“Don’t look like that asshole, I was joking.” Floyd turned to follow Harley out of the alley and to the pick up location. He still hand a slight limp but he had pushed the pain down. Just a flesh wound.
“Whatever you say Sunshine.” Rick grumbled but smiled anyway. He walked after them, wondering if he could bribe some guards to let him into Deadshot’s cell sometime.