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safarigirlsp · 4 years ago

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Off with A Bang!

Off with A Bang!

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Word Count: 10.8k

Warnings: NSFW. Language. Extra Smut. Graphic Violence. Gun Violence. Knife Violence. Lots of Violence. Action themes.

AO3 Link

Author’s Note: Please enjoy my contribution to the New Year’s Eve celebration! There aren’t enough fics out there of Flip being a badass, so I’m fixing that! Buckle up for a John Wick/John McClane style holiday! ✨🥂✨Happy New Year✨🥂✨

Snow fell lazily down outside the window of your elegant hotel suite. Fluffy powdery flakes, tinged pink by the soft light of dawn. The snow was too thick this morning for you to make out the distinct silhouette of the city of Paris, the sight that had greeted you the past few mornings of your winter vacation. A beautiful snowy morning to greet you on this New Year’s Eve.

A deep appreciative hum accompanied the light scratching of your husband’s goatee against the delicate skin of your neck as he nuzzled you from where he lay behind you. His powerful arms were wrapped securely and warm around you, as they had been all night. As they always were throughout the night.

“Mornin,’ gorgeous,” Flip murmured huskily against your skin as he kissed you softly between nudges of his large nose against you. His attentiveness to you never failed to make your heart flutter and your lips smile.

Rolling toward him and onto your back, you stretched luxuriously in the sheets. With your arms reaching as high above your head as possible, back arched, tits pushed out, hair splayed beneath you, you knew you looked good, showing off for your man. The hunger in Flip’s eyes as he admired you rewarded your display, as did his lips when he brought them down to kiss you softly.

Wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, you pulled him close against you as you kissed slowly. When you broke away, you smiled brightly up at him, smoothing your hands over his neck and shoulders.

“Are you excited for today, handsome?” you asked teasingly. “Shopping, lots more sightseeing, pictures, and museums. Did I mention shopping?”

“I’m not respondin’ to such negativity first thing in the mornin.’” Flip glowered at you playfully.

Flip had really been putting in an exceptional effort for you during your vacation. He had taken it upon himself to personally book a week in Paris for you both over the holidays, knowing it had been a destination on your travel list for as long as you can remember. He had planned it so that you could ring in the new year together in the City of Lights. He had even tried to refrain from growling and glaring as much as he wanted to, keeping himself pleasant for you.

To say that Flip was enjoying any part of your Parisian vacation, other than his time with you, would be ludicrous.

Shopping and taking pictures were hardly high on Flip’s priorities, but he made a valiant effort to smile through it for you. Even if his smile did look more like a grimace most of the time. Not to mention that his boots were ill-suited to walking the miles required to see all the sights daily, just as his flannel and jeans earned plenty of disapproving stares from the chic locals.

On several occasions so far, Flip had almost ripped an aggressive bicyclist off his bike and slammed one of his meaty fists into the offending man’s face. He damned sure didn’t appreciate the cyclists weaving haphazardly between pedestrians and coming far too close to colliding with you.

Crowds generally did not add to Flip’s good humor either. After a day in the city, he had started audibly growling at people, in addition to fixing them with his most menacing glare, who dared try to shove in front of him when he was trying to take your picture.

A running theme during your vacation had also been that your poor husband had so far been unable to even get a decent meal. It was burgeoning on comical at this point. Between portions far too small to put a dent in his hunger and the scarcity of steak and potatoes on menus, you thought he had already lost a couple pounds since your arrival.

“How about breakfast in bed this morning?” you suggested. “I’m sure they’re used to dealing with grouchy Americans at this hotel.”

“Somethin’ tells me they won’t give a damn how grouchy I am,” Flip huffed. “They know I’m stuck here for the rest of the week regardless.”

Laughing as you smacked his chest, you pushed him off of you as you reached for the room service menu.

“French toast for me,” you said, handing him the menu. “That should be a safe bet.”

“I wonder how they’ll fuck up an omelet and toast,” Flip mused, chewing his lip. “What do you think?”

“I think that if you ask nicely, maybe they’ll even fuck it up extra just for you.” You smirked as he shook his head at you.

“That’s what they’re gonna do no matter how nicely I ask, sugar,” Flip groaned as he rolled to the far side of the bed to reach the phone on the nightstand.

You watched in amusement while he ordered, repeating everything slowly, no doubt inadvertently insulting the French lady who spoke perfectly fluent English. It seemed to go smoothly until he tried to explain he only wanted plain toast instead of their breadbasket.

“No. No croissants. No bagels. No muffins with pieces of fruit and shit stuffed in ‘em,” Flip gestured animatedly as he tried to explain. “Just toast. Regular toast. That’s it. Alright?”

You grinned at him from where you lay, one arm propped behind your head.

“They’re gonna fuck it up,” Flip grumbled as he hung up the phone.

“Maybe they do it on purpose because they find you as sexy as I do when you’re all riled up,” you teased.

“Sexy, huh?” Flip smirked, crawling back to you.

“You have your moments,” you said with a playful wink.

Instead of laying back down beside you, he grabbed your hips, pulling you to him. You were laughing happily when he pushed your thighs apart to settle between them. Lowering his shaggy head, he pressed open mouthed kisses beginning at the base of your throat and trailing down the center of your body.

“I like your idea of havin’ breakfast in bed,” Flip spoke against your belly between kisses. “At least I know there’s one thing in this damned country that I love to eat.”

Hooking his arms under your legs, he lifted your thighs up to rest over his shoulders as he kissed his way down to your pussy. You were already heady with anticipation before he even touched you, but when his hot tongue licked a fat stripe up your center with a satisfied groan, you shuddered at the sensation. His hips thrust reflexively against the sheets as he kissed and licked into you, making out with your pussy as ardently as he would your lips.

Flip loved the taste of you, loved being surrounded by you while he indulged in your body. He could cum from that alone, although that was never as much fun as when he stuffed you full with his enormous cock followed by load after load of his thick cum.

“You feel so fucking good, Flip,” you moaned, twisting a fist into his dense hair, feeling his tongue trace patterns of his adoration into you. His eyes smiled in response, wrinkling at the corners, looking up at you with his predatory gaze from between your thighs.

Pinning you firmly with one hand on your lower belly, he moved his other down to push two thick fingers into your pussy below his chin, pumping them into you as he sucked your clit between his lips. The added stimulation had you bucking your hips against him and using your grip on his hair to yank him closer.

The coil of your pleasure was already tightening in your core, your pussy dripping and clenching around your husband’s fingers. Flip hummed his rich approval into you as he sucked hard on your clit. The vibrations from his deep voice sent the first wave of pleasure surging through you. Feeling your pussy start to tense on his fingers, Flip knew exactly what you needed, how to work your body perfectly.

Shoving his meaty fingers into you and curling them just right, he aggressively stroked against your front wall. His soft lips fervently sucking your first orgasm of the day out of you in a hot rush of throbbing pleasure.

Through the haze of ecstasy, you saw him smile against you as he licked and kissed you eagerly until your pussy had stopped pulsing around his fingers and your thighs had stopped quivering around his head.

“Breakfast of champions,” Flip said huskily with a smirk as he withdrew his fingers from you.

A knock on the door interrupted your reply and signaled the arrival of your actual breakfast.

Flip kissed your inner thigh before wiping his mouth on your skin. Easing off of you quickly, he threw the covers back over you and pulled on a pair of his pajama pants from the floor. There was really no possibility of hiding his massive erection through the thin material. He grinned at you comically as he stepped to answer the door, his cock bobbing heavily. You thought he was mostly successful at blocking himself with the door while he told the bellboy that he could leave the tray for Flip to manage.

Carrying the tray to the table seated next to the window, as if he could read your every thought, he grabbed his soft flannel shirt that he had worn yesterday and tossed it to you. Smiling broadly at Flip, you proceeded to shrug it on, securing a few buttons while he lifted the metal covers from each dish.

A sarcastic laugh drew your attention away from buttoning the shirt. Flip held the breadbasket out for your inspection, one eyebrow raised. Not a single piece of toast was in sight among the gourmet croissants, bagels, and muffins. You couldn’t help laughing at his ongoing plight.

Taking your seat opposite him, you accepted the mug of coffee he had just poured for you. You thought to yourself that for your next vacation together, this was all you wanted. A nice room that you never wanted to leave, shared with your handsome husband as he laved you with his attention and adoration.

That’s all Flip ever wanted himself. To make you smile, laugh, and sigh from the things he did to you. To shudder in his arms and collapse against his chest as he held you close. Looking at you now, hair wild, eyes beaming, and wearing only his flannel as you smiled at him over the rim of your mug, Flip thought that he’d never seen you looking more beautiful.

*******************************************************************************************

After finishing breakfast, you rose to take your morning shower.

“Care to join me, handsome?” you asked coyly, pausing at the bathroom door. You laughed as Flip stood up so quickly that he almost knocked his chair over in his haste to shower with you, crossing the room in only a few long strides.

Before you could even set the temperature of the water, Flip was on you. Standing behind you and removing his own shirt from your body, replacing it with kisses along your bare skin, as you reached inside the large shower to turn the knobs.

As soon as a healthy cloud of welcoming steam filled the shower, Flip stepped inside, holding his hand out for you to follow him. He instantly pulled you into his arms and into a searing kiss. Holding you against his chest and rubbing his hands along your back, his lips on yours heated you faster than the warm water that washed over you both.

It seemed immediate that his cock was hard and heavy, eagerly pressing against your stomach. Smiling up at him coyly, you turned in his arms to press your hands and tits against the cool tile of the shower wall, facing away from him and pushing your ass out to rub his cock.

Flip’s hands traveled down from your waist to your hips, his left gripping you there and pulling your hips out further toward him while his right smoothed over your ass. He rubbed the swell of your ass appreciatively before landing a playful smack. Grabbing his cock, he ran his thick head through the folds of your pussy a few times before pushing into you with a heady grunt.

“There’s nothin’ like sinkin’ my cock into your perfect pussy first thing in the mornin,’” he growled, relishing in the feel of you.

“I love how you fuck me, Flip,” you moaned, pushing your hips back against him, taking him in further. “Make me cum again.”

“You know I fuckin’ will.” He grinned as he began thrusting into you.

Each thrust rocked you against the tile, the sensation on your tits as they pressed and rubbed against the cool stone going straight to your pussy. Flip pounded his cock into you, his grip bruising on your hips as you pushed back to meet him.

“Fuck, this is a helluva view from back here, sugar,” Flip groaned, watching his giant cock pump in and out of your pussy, spreading you apart around him, and your glistening body bounce in the steaming shower.

This angle allowed him to rub the entire length of his cock along your front wall with every thrust. Each one igniting sparks of pleasure that surged through your core. Flip reached to the detachable showerhead, quickly thumbing through the spray settings to find the jet. Removing it with a self-satisfied smirk, he brought the shower head in front of you, aiming the jet of warm water right on your clit, as his cock spread you open.

“Oh, fuck!” You almost screamed from the intensity of the stimulation. The sensations of the heavy spray on your clit combined with Flip pounding his massive cock into you had your pussy clenching in minutes.

It was almost overwhelming, the way your pleasure exploded through you. Your pussy pulsed around Flip’s cock as you gushed around him and bucked your hips back harder onto his cock. The jet on your clit drew out the pulses of ecstasy until it became too much and you had to push Flip’s hand holding the shower head away. You couldn’t remember the last time you came so hard. Shuddering and breathing hard, you leaned against the shower wall, hoping your legs wouldn’t give out as Flip fucked you.

“I’m glad you enjoyed that, gorgeous,” Flip huffed with a laugh. “Fuck, I love feelin’ your pussy squeeze my cock that fuckin’ hard.”

After returning the showerhead back to its attachment, Flip grabbed your hips with both hands, supporting you as he slammed his cock into you. Pounding his cock into you hard with one final thrust, he came with a growl, filling you with so much of his thick cum that you could feel it leak out around his length.

Flip leaned his own head against the tile above you as the tension left his muscles, a satisfied groan rumbling through his thick chest. His hands moved to squeeze your breasts, pulling you up with him, your back against his chest, when he straightened behind you. You swore the heat of his cum trickling down your thighs was even hotter than the shower as you stood under it in his embrace. Turning in his arms, you reveled in the feeling of his densely muscled body under your hands as you lathered and smoothed body wash over every plane. Flip, of course, loved any excuse to have his hands on you, caressing your body lovingly. Although, his hands loved to linger unduly on your tits and ass.

Flip always left the shower before you, always there to hold a towel for you when you followed. Making quick work of scrubbing the excess water from his hair, he finished drying as you wrapped your hair in a towel. You cast him a warning glare when he removed his towel. He smirked back at you, amused at your preemptive warning against him snapping his towel in your direction. Instead, he dropped his towel in defeat, leaving the bathroom to dress.

You took the time to fix your makeup and hair for the day, ensuring you looked a little extra nice. Stepping from the bathroom, you paused in front of the mirror on the armoire that held your clothes, standing in your bra and panties. Flip approached you from behind, dressed only in his jeans, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed your neck.

“I’m sure one lucky sonofabitch,” he purred, meeting your eyes in your reflection. “To have a knockout like you for my wife.”

“I’m not sure if you’re lucky, but you’re certainly ridiculous,” you teased.

Straightening behind you, Flip smacked your ass with a wolfish grin.

“Wear somethin’ pretty for me today, sugar.” Flip winked over your head at your reflection.

You knew exactly what he meant, too. Flip thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world whether you were wearing sweats, jeans, or a curve hugging cocktail dress. Whenever Flip asked you to dress ‘pretty’ for him, he meant something that he could push up easily when he wanted to get a feel of you. Or more.

The thought excited you as you selected a flattering sweater dress. It would pair well with your knee-high boots and leather jacket. Shaking your head in playful disapproval, you pretended to glare at him. You grabbed a charcoal grey flannel shirt, tossing it at Flip’s head for him to button on.

By the time you were fully dressed, Flip was lounging on the bed. Reclining against the headboard, one arm behind his head, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He extended his free hand to you, beckoning you to come join him on the bed.

“Are we in a hurry?” he teased.

“Did you really bring me all the way to Paris just to stay in bed all day?” You planted your hands on your hips, posturing and teasing him back.

Flip raised his eyebrows at you, imploringly.

“The quicker we get everything done that we’ve planned for today, the quicker you can continue getting our money’s worth out of the room,” you said firmly, grabbing your purse.

Grumbling for your amusement, Flip pushed himself up from the bed. He picked up your leather jacket as he walked to you, holding it out for you to shrug on.

“Where to, sugar?” he asked reluctantly, opening the door for you.

“The Louvre,” you told him, stepping past him into the hallway of your hotel. “Even you won’t be able to have a bad time at the Louvre.”

“You better find some wood to knock on after that statement,” he grouched, placing his hand on your back possessively as you walked.

*******************************************************************************************

The first stop of your day was a visit to the Eiffel Tower. To say it was not a hit with Flip would be a drastic understatement.

“The damned thing doesn’t even look as good in person as it does in pictures. It could use a good power wash,” he groused as you both walked away, his large hand holding yours affectionately. “Why don’t the travel books mention gettin’ trampled by crowds tryin’ to take a picture in front of the damn thing?”

Sightseeing was followed by a late lunch at an upscale restaurant. You protested, but Flip insisted, wanting to take you somewhere nice.

The restaurant was a disappointment as well.

“That was supposed to be a nice place, sugar,” Flip grumbled as you both walked away after your mediocre meal. “And they have horse meat on the fuckin’ menu next to the beef tongue and not a damn ribeye in sight.”

He was scowling in full force by the time you both waited through the lines to enter your final stop of the day, the Louvre. You hoped that once inside, even Flip would have a nice time, despite himself.

The crowds were thicker than usual. Banners and heavily applied regalia around the entrance and main corridors told you why. There was a special exhibition, the finest jewels from around the world were on display for New Year’s.

It was already late in the afternoon. The best the two of you could hope for today was to do enough reconnaissance to better plan your attack for tomorrow. Flip was already nose deep in a detailed map, trying to memorize the floor plan and also locate the things that might matter the most to you.

Leading you first to see the Mona Lisa, it didn’t help Flip’s mood that the crowds were still so dense, even late in the afternoon, that neither of you could get close enough to really see it.

“Just say the word, sugar,” Flip gritted, leaning in close to your ear. “And I’ll plow through this crowd like a bull at a matador.”

“You’re not allowed to try to get us kicked out early,” you scolded him, laughing.

“Want me to pick you up?” Flip raised his eyebrows at his idea.

Without waiting for you to tell him ‘no,’ he bent at the knees, wrapped his arms around your waist, and lifted you up high in a bear hug.

“What are you doing?” you laughed as he lifted you.

“You can look at the painting,” he instructed, smiling up at you. “I have a prettier girl to look at.”

Flip turned his back to the painting, giving you a bird’s eye view of it over his head and far above the heads of everyone else in the crowd. Meanwhile, he teased your neck and then your breasts with his nose, nuzzling into them in turn while they were pressed close to his face.

When you were finally able to convince him to remove his face from your tits and set you down, you made your way next to Winged Victory. Flip was able to shoo the crowds away enough with a growling glare to snap a picture of you at the top of the steps in front of the sculpture.

After you both descended the stairs, going through the lower levels, you were surprised to discover so many antique knives and weapons in glass cases ranging from samurai swords to Charlemagne’s sword.

That particular relic naturally caught Flip’s eye.

“That’d be a helluva thing to come in swingin’ with in a fight, wouldn’t it,” he mused.

The crowds had thinned significantly now, with the Louvre near closing. You and Flip had just entered a room devoid of patrons in the lower levels containing the famous sculpture Pysche Revived by Cupid ‘s Kiss by Antonio Canova.

The sculpture portrayed Psyche, who had just been awoken by her lover, Cupid, as he gently holds her from behind supporting her head and cupping her breast. Loosely draped around her lower body is a sheet, otherwise they were both nude.

As you admired the sculpture, Flip moved behind you, reaching his left hand under your arm to reach across your body and squeeze your right breast teasingly. His right hand caressed your cheek from behind, his positioning mirroring the sculpture. Playing along with him, you lifted both of your hands to fist into his hair. Pushing your tits out further into his hand, you angled your face to kiss him where he towered behind you.

Heart fluttering in his chest, Flip kissed you indulgently, too much so for a public setting. You were thankful you were alone in the room when you sighed loudly against his lips. Pulling back from your kiss, he grinned at you, still kneading your breast.

“I read about this sculpture,” he playfully rasped into your ear. “Did you know that Cupid wakes Psyche from her dream with a ‘prick of his arrow’?”

You could hear the smirk on his lips. Flip turned you to face him, wrapping his arms around you. Sucking his lip, he exaggerated eyeing you up and down with a mischievous grin.

“I think we can put on a better show than them,” he told you huskily, indicating the sculpture.

“Are you insane?” you chastised him, but the excited gleam in your eyes betrayed you.

“Only for you, sugar.” His grin turned wolfish as he held your gaze, pointedly unzipping his jeans.

“The museum’s closing, Flip,” you reasoned, placing a hand on his chest.

“Exactly,” he said with a laugh. “We’ll have thirty minutes before the guards come by to kick out the two Americans who got lost down here.”

His cock was already half hard when you trailed your hand down his chest, down his belly, and down below the waistband of his jeans. You wrapped your hand as far around it as you could, fishing it out and giving him a few solid pumps. Flip reached to the hem of your sweater dress, hiking it up over your hips and gripping a handful of your ass. Flip backed you against a wall, his cock swelling quickly in your hand.

With a grunt, Flip hoisted you up in his powerful embrace. Your back pressed against the stone wall behind you, as your legs wrapped around Flip’s waist. Your pussy was perfectly aligned with his cock from ample experience of being pinned against a wall for a quick fuck by your ravenous husband.

Pulling your panties to the side, you let Flip thrust into you in one firm motion. You had to bite down onto your lip to keep from whining with pleasure at the feel of his perfect cock splitting you open. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you held on for dear life as he pounded into you, growling like a beast in time with his thrusts.

It was always so fucking hot when Flip fucked you like this. Holding you up and supporting your weight so easily while he slammed his cock up into you, those rigid arms and thick thighs of his as sturdy as the stone wall that pressed against your back. The thrill of getting caught added an extra edge of excitement. Flip could almost always make you cum in minutes, fucking you like this. Rough, gritty, powerfully, and fully exposed.

Flip pumped into you, teeth gritted, brow furrowed, muscles strained, a low growl rumbling through his chest. Completely lost in you. Intruding upon your own pleasure, you heard footsteps coming down the hall, approaching the room.

“Someone’s coming,” you whispered to Flip, who was too absorbed in thrusting into you to notice. “Flip!” you whisper-screamed, giving his hair a sharp yank.

By the time that Flip opened his eyes and regained some awareness, a guard was already approaching. A young man in a blue blazer was just entering the room when Flip wrenched his head to the side to meet the guard’s shocked and embarrassed wide-eyed stare.

The guard cleared his throat loudly, as Flip cussed, fumbling while he tried to shield your body with his own.

“We’re closed. Time to leave, monsieur,” the guard commanded in English. He politely turned his back to you both, allowing Flip to withdraw from you and shove his wet cock back into his jeans while you hastily pushed your dress back into place.

The guard then laughingly added, “I hope you have enjoyed your visit with us, today, monsieur and madam.”

“Nothin’ goes right in this fuckin’ country,” Flip grumbled, helping smooth the remaining wrinkles out of your dress. You couldn’t help giggling at both the embarrassment at your situation and at Flip’s grousing. Although he glared playfully at you, his eyes were apologetic through his squint.

Suddenly, you were all plunged into darkness, Flip’s face disappearing into black before you. You felt Flip’s hands tense on you, his entire body going rigid. You heard rushing footfalls coming from the hallway just beyond the entrance into the room where you and Flip stood.

A loud bang ripped through the shadows, reverberating off the stone walls, deafening in the small chamber. Flip jolted, yanking you to him protectively.

Flip’s huge hand crashed down over your mouth, as he shoved you back flush against the wall, shielding your body with his own. Flip’s heavy boot collided with the wall as he pushed himself against you before he held you both still and silent. It was the only audible sound other than the heavy crumple of what could only be a lifeless body falling onto the stone floor.

“Who’s there? I won’t hurt you,” the voice in the dark called out in French. A different voice from that of the guard.

Your eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, now able to make out Flip’s face right in front of yours, but little else. Looking at you intently, he indicated to you to remain completely still and silent.

The charcoal shirt you had chosen for Flip to wear that morning and his dark jeans faded into the darkness of the room, as he noiselessly stepped away from you. He was deceptively agile for such a large man, moving as silently as any predator in the night.

Seconds later, the solid thump of a fist colliding with flesh resounded through the darkened room, followed immediately by the sound of wet snapping as bones twisted and broke. No doubt from Flip wrenching the gunman’s neck to break it instantly. A metal clang followed by the scrape of metal on stone indicated the dropped pistol sliding across the floor in your direction. Faint light glinted off the gunmetal as it spun toward you.

Rushing forward, you retrieved the gun, training it in the direction of where Flip had to be positioned. Ahead of your barrel you heard the sound of another body drop to the floor, but you could not see through the darkness.

“Flip, are you okay?” you asked quietly. “Are you alright, handsome?”

A strong fist closed around your hand holding the pistol, pushing it aside, as Flip returned to you, taking you in his arms.

“Yes, handsome, are you alright?” A smooth, heavily accented male voice asked sarcastically amid a burst of static.

Flip exchanged a worried glance with you.

Releasing you briefly, Flip stepped away to grab a walkie talkie from the floor and a flashlight from the corpse.

“What are you doing in here, handsome, with a woman after closing?” The disembodied voice asked through the radio, as if some French specter had latched onto you and Flip. “Tourists who got lost in the maze of the Louvre?”

You looked at Flip questioningly. He nodded No in response, holding a finger to his lips.

“I have no interest in errant Americans,” the voice continued. “We are simple jewel thieves. Well, not simple. But there is no money in killing tourists. Return the radio to Gerard and he will handcuff you while we conduct our affairs. We are all gentlemen here.”

Flip quickly searched both bodies. The assailant yielded nothing beyond the gun, radio, and flashlight. The guard’s body provided another light, a keycard, and key ring, but no additional weapon.

“Of course, they don’t give their damned guards guns here,” Flip snarled, as he removed the clip from the single handgun. Six bullets remained in the magazine, one more in the chamber.

“Lucky seven,” he huffed, slamming the clip back into the gun.

“Where is my associate, handsome?” The voice pressed, through a burst of static. “Perhaps we are not all gentlemen after all? If you have changed the rules, killed my man, I shall happily play by yours.”

Flip met your gaze as he surged toward you in the darkened room, reaching for your right hand with his left. With his gun held up, lifted near his shoulder, he led you through the doorway, exiting the room. You each had a flashlight now, each kept turned off so as to avoid detection by whomever was on the other end of the radio and his other ‘gentlemen.’

“I will assume by the radio silence that you have indeed killed my man,” the French voice spoke with a more ominous tone now, crackling through the radio static. “Which of you shall I kill in turn? The woman whose voice I heard or the handsome Flip for whom she was so concerned?”

Flip clutched your hand tighter as he walked in long swift strides down a lonely hallway. You had to jog every few steps to keep pace with him, trying to keep your footfalls quiet. With each step, the static coming through along with the voice in the radio deepened, indicating you were traveling away from the originating source.

The next room you entered was filled with glass display cases. Flip paused, turning his flashlight on for a moment to examine the contents. His light shone briefly on a plaque labeled Sixteenth Century Japan before illuminating the display of knives and swords.

Looking at you with a sideways smirk like the jackass he was, Flip slammed his elbow through the glass.

“Seven bullets might not last long,” he told you, handing you an exceptionally sharp dagger, watching as you tucked it into the sleeve of your sweater dress. Flip grabbed a few sheathed knives and daggers, shoving the leather scabbards into his pockets wherever they would fit. He then reached for an authentic samurai sword, resting in a replica scabbard. Hooking the weapon to his belt, he met your eyes with a wicked grin.

A deafening bang and a blinding flash of light erupted on the far end of the weapons display room.

Flip’s huge left hand shoved your head down, gripping you hard at the nape of your neck, as he spun toward the gunshot. Raising his own gun as he turned, he fired a quick shot aimed at the muzzle flash from the other man. Flip’s shot was followed almost simultaneously by the telltale dull thwack of a bullet hitting meat, and an immediate pained scream.

Six shots left.

Flip pushed you behind the display case, just as you heard flustered voices, speaking hurriedly in French. At least three men.

Now that your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, you could see your immediate vicinity, and you could see the silhouettes of the dioramas in the display cases when they were backed by the light stone wall of the room. Flip noticed too, motioning you to crouch low enough so that you would not be silhouetted yourself, as he did the same. Both of you pressed yourselves against the case on the right side of the aisle, sinking below the line of sight of the men.

Indicating for you to stay put, Flip grabbed your hand in a brief reassuring squeeze, before he rushed ahead toward the assailants, his tall frame doubled over. You, however, were not about to let him rush into danger alone. You followed a few steps behind him. It had to be easier for you to crouch low than it was for Flip, but he still managed to move more quickly and quietly ahead than you.

Flip had nearly reached the end of the display case when he realized you had followed him, only a few paces behind. In the split second it took him to turn his head to glare at you over his shoulder, a man charged at him from the darkness, coming from Flip’s left, as his right side pressed against the glass display case.

You heard the pained grunt, the sound of the air being knocked from Flip’s chest, as the man plowed into him from the side, slamming Flip hard into the glass case, shattering it. The gun in Flip’s hand dropped, spinning away into the shadows on the slick floor, as Flip’s body was forcibly shoved into the breaking glass in a cascade of shimmering light in the darkness.

Flip yanked one of the knives from his pocket as his body slammed into the display inside the case, its contents crashing down on him and his attacker where they both fell in a struggling mass. Flip landed on his back, the other man bearing down upon him with all of his weight and momentum.

Without hesitation, before the other man could regain his balance to strike, Flip slashed a backhanded cut through the man’s throat. In the dark, the blood shone as black as oil when it erupted from the gaping wound in his throat, raining down onto Flip’s chest.

Seeing that Flip was out of danger, you ran ahead, looking for the gun he had dropped. You rounded the end of the display case and exited out into a hall, while Flip shoved the body off of himself with a huff.

As Flip regained his feet, another man emerged from the dark, his gun trained on you instead of Flip as he advanced.

Instantly, Flip lunged at the other man. Flip hit him full force from the side, slamming the man into the stone wall with all of his immense strength. The man’s gun fired upon his impact, errant shots ricocheting off the floor and walls all around you. Flip used his considerable height advantage and his massive hand to crash the man’s skull into the wall, blood smearing instantly across the pale stone.

Unnaturally quick, Flip dragged his left elbow roughly across the man’s jaw, crushing his head against the wall harder, as a feral growl tore through Flip’s chest. Flip pushed his elbow past the man’s face, only to slam it back violently into the man’s nose, shattering the bone and whipping his head back to expose his throat. Flip’s right hand followed in a vicious punch to his opponent’s windpipe. The body fell in a twitching heap to the floor, dead and gurgling.

Flip stood above him, glaring down contemptuously at his second kill, his huge chest heaving. You looked frantically for the gun, as Flip moved toward you. Locating it only a few steps away, you hurriedly rushed to retrieve it.

Straightening with the gun in your hand, you saw a dark figure looming behind Flip, whose back was turned toward the oncoming attacker. Without pausing to think, you leveled the gun, squeezing the trigger as soon as your sights fell upon the shadowy figure just over Flip’s shoulder.

Flip flinched and ducked at the shot, the handgun firing in your grip only feet in front of his chest, the bullet sailing only inches over his shoulder.

Your shot was perfect, striking the advancing enemy right between his eyes. A plume of blood splashed almost elegantly from the hole in his forehead, as the man’s body collapsed instantly to the floor.

Flip spun quickly, ready to fight again, but instead he only admired your work.

“Nice shot, sugar.” He grinned at you, as he closed the remaining distance between you, taking the gun from your hand.

Five shots left.

Flip had taught you how to shoot. He would never allow you not to be a ‘hand,’ as he called it, with a gun. Not with him being involved in his line of work. He had made it fun too. Afternoons spent shooting together amid playful competitions and celebratory kisses.

He gave you one such kiss now, his lips pressing against yours briefly.

“I love that my wife’s a badass,” he purred low and rich as he returned his attention to the bodies on the floor. Now that you were both sure all the men were dead, Flip stepped toward one supine body, reaching down for the man’s gun.

Sparks erupted right below Flip’s fingers, as gunshots wailed from the other end of the room, bullets striking the floor right beneath Flip’s outstretched hand.

Scrambling backward, he stumbled to his feet and ran towards you. No more crouching or pretense of stealth. He grabbed your arm roughly and dragged you with him as he ran hard toward the opposite exit. You felt as though your feet barely touched the ground with Flip pulling you bodily along with him to keep pace with his sprint.

More gunshots echoed behind you, as the wall in front of you exploded in an artillery of stone shrapnel and shards that hit both of your faces, stinging violently, while you both ran ahead. Flip slid into you, stumbling off balance and taking the turn too sharply to shoulder into your side, as you both turned through the exit door, running too fast on the slick floor.

You could hear the men pursuing you, still in the room you had just exited, as you both ran hard down the hallway. The hallway opened at its end into a large chamber, a foyer of sorts with numerous rooms lining the hall. Flip quickly ducked into one of the side rooms, pulling you roughly along with him. Inside, he pressed his back to the wall, flattening himself in the shadows, you mirrored him at his side.

It worked. The men chasing you ran ahead, following the hallway and passing you by. Five of them, a small contingent of armed men. Including the four men you had both already killed, that brought the number to nine. At least.

“We’re definitely not dealin’ with rookies,” Flip whispered to you.

“And you know they’re not leaving their heist unmanned to chase after us,” you replied back quietly.

“Yeah,” was all Flip grumbled.

“What do we do if there’s a lot more of them?” Your voice was more concerned than you intended. “Even you can’t fight off a small army, Flip.”

Flip brought his mahogany eyes to yours, looking at you intently.

“Whoever comes.” Flip raised his hand to your cheek, stroking you gently with his thumb, holding your gaze. “I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all.”

His hand fell from your cheek down to take your hand, bringing it to his lips and placing a soft lingering kiss on your skin. He then gripped your hand tighter, leading you across the room to another exit at the far end.

Following another hallway for a distance, you found yourself in another wing of the labyrinthine museum.

Stone sphinxes, colorful murals, and giant sarcophaguses told you that you had both entered the Ancient Egypt section. Enormous stone pillars decorated the room, providing Egyptian ambience and also potential cover.

After assessing your surroundings and listening carefully for any sounds for several minutes, Flip pulled out the radio.

“The cops have a designated frequency in the states. It’s probably too much to hope the frogs have the same one here,” Flip huffed, turning through channels.

“Hello, can anyone hear me?” Flip asked when he found the frequency, trying to keep his booming voice low. “I have an emergency. L’ urgence. Over.”

After a few moments a nasally woman’s voice responded in heavily accented English. “Monsieur, this is an official police channel. Please change your frequency for your New Year’s Eve party.”

Flip’s head fell back in relief, as he shook the radio triumphantly.

“I have an emergency and I need to report a crime,” Flip explained quickly. “My wife and I are locked in the Louvre. There’s a robbery takin’ place as we speak. They’re heavily armed and dangerous. They’re tryin’ to kill us for witnessin’ it. Get some cops over here right fuckin’ now. Over.”

“Monsieur,” replied the very unamused voice. “We are quite accustomed to holiday pranks from drunken tourists, however, an armed robbery at the Louvre is too outlandish for us to take seriously. Your American pranks are not appreciated here. Good evening.”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me, lady?” Flip was shaking, on the verge of crushing the radio in his fist, having difficulty keeping his voice low. “People are fuckin’ shootin’ at us and robbin’ your historical landmark blind.”

“This is for emergencies only, monsieur,” the woman explained, bored.

“Exactly what the fuck do you think this is, lady?” Flip growled.

“You need to know, monsieur, that misuse of this channel is a crime,” the operator replied calmly.

“Oh, really? Well, that’s good to hear, honey, because I’m gonna misuse the fuck out of it,” Flip assured, his voice rising. “Come arrest me.”

Radio silence.

“I’m also gonna break some shit while I’m stuck in here. Vandalism is pretty fuckin’ serious too. Even worse than misuse of emergency channels. You can arrest me for both,” Flip raged. “Get some of your croissant eatin’ bastard cops off their asses and come down here to do their fuckin’ jobs.”

“Oui, monsieur,” the voice replied sarcastically. “I shall send a battalion of officers to stop the armed robbery at the Louvre at once.”

With a growl, Flip pulled the map of the Louvre from his pocket, reviewing it briefly.

“We’ll make for the main exit,” Flip spoke into the radio again, studying the map. “Have police backup there.”

“They’re not going to come. They think you’re just bullshitting them.” You raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Yeah. Sorry bastards. That’s the closest exit. The one the guys we’re stuck in here with will expect us to use. I said that just in case they’re eaves droppin.’” Flip winked at you. “We’ll make for one of the further exits, the one by the Metro. They won’t expect that.”

“Won’t the cops come from the gunshots?” you asked, confused by the lack of police presence.

“Not on New Year’s Eve,” Flip grumbled, switching the radio back to the criminals’ frequency. “They’ll blend right in with the fireworks.”

Flip gripped your hand tighter, his jaw clenching in thought as he considered your situation.

“Do you think that we are not monitoring the police frequency, handsome?” The smooth French voice intoned, cutting through the sepulchral quiet of the room. “No one is coming to help you tonight.”

“I’m not worried about it. I can kill you boys all fuckin’ night,” Flip replied gruffly into the radio. “I was just tryin’ to avoid workin’ more while I’m on vacation. The wife always says I work too damn much.”

“You speak, finally,” the Frenchman said pleasantly. “Turn yourselves in to us now and we shall not harm you.”

“Not all of us Americans are quite as dumb as you give us credit for, Frenchie,” Flip quipped.

“Indeed,” the voice laughed through a burst of static. “A stroke of genius to be locked inside the museum overnight.”

“Funny thing about that.” Flip grinned darkly. “That also means that you’re all locked in here with me.”

“Oh, dear,” the other man patronized.

“You’re down some of your men already, Frenchie,” Flip spoke sarcastically, like the smug bastard he was. “Better call it quits while you’re ahead.”

“We came prepared to deal with an armed response,” the man explained calmly. “You do not think we can neutralize two tourists?”

“I wouldn’t put my money on you, Frenchie,” Flip replied, his tone taking on an ominous edge.

“What exactly do you think you are?” The voice asked indignantly, much clearer now. “Some kind of American cowboy?”

“Yee haw, motherfucker,” Flip growled into the radio.

Returning the radio to his pocket, Flip moved to the entrance to the Egyptian room, gun held at the ready. He had heard the clarity on the radio, indicating the originating source was much closer to you both now. Flip pressed himself against the wall by the entrance, sinking down to kneel against the wall. From his knee, he motioned you to crouch down behind the huge stone sarcophagus in the center of the room.

In the deathly silence, befitting of an actual tomb, from your place hiding behind the sarcophagus, you heard the unmistakable sound of a boot scraping on the floor.

Kneeling, Flip was below the expected line of sight. Fast as a striking snake, he whipped his body around the doorframe of the exit, just enough for his head and right arm that singlehandedly held his gun to peek out. His eyes immediately focused on the contingent of five men, firing instantly on instinct as soon as his target was locked.

Two shots rang out, deafening in the stone chamber, from Flip firing in rapid succession at the approaching targets. Two men crumpled to the floor, as the wall beside Flip exploded in a hail of gunfire just as Flip pulled himself back inside the room.

Pushing himself up from his kneeling position, Flip lunged toward the sarcophagus, planting his left hand on it to easily vault over the large tomb and land in a crouch beside you. Ducking down almost to the ground, Flip looked underneath the sarcophagus, sighting down the barrel of his gun.

When the first man entered the room at a run, Flip squeezed off a shot at the only target within Flip’s view, striking the man in the knee and collapsing him instantly. Another shot to his forehead stilled him permanently.

One shot left.

Grabbing your upper arm again in his unyielding grip, Flip pulled you with him as he surged up from the floor and through the room.

Dodging exhibits, statues, and tombs, you both ran through the Egyptian exhibit. A huge wing, composed of many long rooms emptying into other smaller chambers, all filled with artifacts.

Beams of light chased after you, bobbing haphazardly while they pierced the darkness searching for you both, as the armed men chased you down. Gunshots echoed through the chambers, striking stone and artifacts alike, fired erratically by the running men.

Your lungs burned from fear and exertion, even though Flip was pulling you along in his powerful wake. Sparing a glance to him, you saw his jaw set and brow tensed, his expression one of sheer will and focus.

Rounding a corner, Flip stopped abruptly, shoving you against the wall behind him. He had to wait only seconds before the first man came into view, looking ahead and not to the side, an automatic rifle pointed forward as he walked past Flip.

Using his handgun like a hammer, Flip viciously slammed the butt of the grip into the man’s temple, crushing through the fragile tissue like paper mâché. Flip’s left elbow followed immediately to the back of the man’s head. The man, dead on his feet, fell to the ground in the span of a heartbeat without wasting a bullet.

A single perfectly aimed shot to the head dispatched the second remaining man who rushed at Flip. The last shot Flip had left.

Out of bullets.

As the man’s body collapsed, you felt more than heard something behind you. You didn’t have time even to turn when gunfire erupted around you, striking the wall and exploding artifacts. The space lit brightly by the muzzle flashes of gunfire behind you.

Shoving Flip forward, you both turned into another long room leading to an exit.

Flip’s left hand found yours again as you both ran. Running hard, you became aware of a wet heat in your palm where it rested in Flip’s. Looking over at him while he ran beside you, you saw his left arm coated in a dark stain that ran down from his shoulder to drip down his hand.

“You’re shot, Flip!” you exclaimed, breathlessly.

“It’s nothin,’” he huffed. “Just clipped my arm.”

“It’s not nothing!” you hissed, fighting for breath as you ran, the sounds of the men chasing after you echoing off the walls.

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Flip panted. “Did you see how many men there were?”

“Three. Or four,” you strained for breath. “I think.”

“Hardly seems fair, does it?” Flip smirked, even through heaving breaths and sprinted steps. “Only four men against me.”

Flip still had the samurai sword he had belted on from the Japan display. You instantly knew what he was thinking.

“You can’t be serious!” you wheezed incredulously, as Flip pulled you through another doorway into a room filled with Persian artifacts. “You don’t know how to use a fucking sword, Flip!”

“Sure, I do,” he grunted, pushing you ahead of him toward a large sandstone bull, intending that you shield yourself behind it. “The pointy end goes into the bad guy,” Flip informed you with a wink, shoving you behind the statue. Even though he was shot and bleeding, he still fucking winked at you and flashed you his handsome grin.

Turning back toward the doorway, Flip drew the samurai sword, holding it in a two-handed grip in front of him. The running footsteps quickly grew louder, thudding in your ears in time with your frantic heartbeat, as the men fast approached the doorway.

This time, you had a bad feeling, a darkness creeping into your chest. Flip was bleeding and he was bringing a sword to a gunfight. Even in your darkest hour, Flip lifted your spirits and fought just as hard to give you hope as he fought the gunmen.

The first man was easy. Flip swung the sword like a major league bat at the man’s throat when he passed through the doorway. You watched as every rigid muscle in Flip’s massive back tensed with the force of his strike. The man’s body continued stumbling forward with inertia while his cleanly severed head toppled behind, landing near Flip’s boots and rolling away.

The second man was close behind, automatic rifle held out in front of him. Flip grabbed the side of the rifle near the action with his left hand, his grip slick with his own blood. Holding the gun pointing forward, Flip kept the second man blocking the doorway, as he roughly stabbed the point of his sword through the man’s diaphragm. The point popped out through the man’s back as his body doubled over the blade.

Gunshots pierced the darkness, striking the corpse of the second man who luckily blocked Flip’s own body.

Using his immense power, Flip shoved the impaled man back violently, pushing him into his associate behind. Flip followed, shoving through when the body collided with the living adversary, knocking him backward off balance.

It gave Flip just enough of an opening. Using his bloody left forearm, Flip slammed the man’s handgun away from his aim on Flip’s body. Flip’s steel right fist then crashed into the man’s jaw, wrenching his head to the side in an eruption of blood and teeth slinging from his gaping mouth that now hung open with a fractured jaw. Simultaneously, Flip’s left hand wrenched the gun from the dazed man’s grip, reversing the barrel to press against the man’s chest and firing a round straight into his vitals.

As the body fell to the floor, Flip was just quick enough to duck off balance to the side as a fourth man ahead fired a wild shot, narrowly missing Flip. The pistol in Flip’s hand followed his gaze instinctively as he moved, his finger squeezing the trigger when the sights fell on the other man’s eye as he was likewise training his gun on Flip. A mix of pulpy white and watery blood exploded from the man’s eye socket with the impact of the bullet, his head jerking back, before his body too fell in a lifeless pile onto the floor.

Returning to his full height, Flip surveyed the room. His handgun followed his line of sight, held at the ready, as he looked for any other attackers. Satisfied they had all been neutralized, he returned to you.

You ran out from behind the statue when Flip walked back through the doorway, jumping into his arms like one of those ridiculous scenes from a movie. Smiling broadly, Flip wrapped his free bleeding arm around you, holding you tight against him.

“I told you that it was hardly fair for ‘em,” he laughed with relief in your embrace.

Disentangling himself from your arms, Flip again took your right hand in his blood-slicked left and led you out of the room. You both moved quickly but silently down another cavernous hallway. You recognized this one. It led to the staircase that you needed to ascend, past Winged Victory, to the upper level to make your way to the Metro exit.

When you reached the stairs, you could see slightly better. Light from the upstairs windows filtered down the flights of stairs to you. Fireworks from countless parties outside illuminated the stone facades inside the museum in flashing bursts of color.

As you both climbed the stairs, a faint noise resounded below you. Flip pushed you ahead of him, turning to cover your rear, backing up the stairs himself. You walked a few steps ahead onto the first landing, passing beneath the sculpture of Winged Victory.

Suddenly, out of the penumbra of the sculpture, a cruel foreign hand gripped your arm harshly. You jumped, yelping in surprise, at the man’s grip on you. Flip spun back to face you, his gun following his murderous gaze, pointing at a target just over your shoulder. You felt the cold press of steel against your temple, a gun barrel kissing your skin.

“I am an exceptional thief, monsieur Cowboy,” the Frenchman whose voice you had heard on the radio spoke near your ear. “I always find the most valuable items. Whether they are the Crown Jewels themselves, or just this little gem of yours.”

“You won’t have much use for loot where I’m fixin’ to send you, Frenchie,” Flip growled menacingly, his gun held as steadily as the marble sculptures around you.

“Drop your six-shooter, monsieur Cowboy,” Frenchie commanded, tightening his hold on your arm and dragging the muzzle of his gun between your ear and temple.

Flip grimaced at the sight, his jaw clenching so hard you expected to hear his teeth crack from the force. He extended his right hand holding the gun to the side, dropping it to the floor.

“Satisfied?” Flip asked, as his arm returned to his side. His fists were clenched tight and his shoulders set forward, ready to launch a ferocious attack at the first opening.

“Not yet, no,” Frenchie replied airily.

The man’s hold on your arm was hardly enough to keep you completely in place, but for the gun at your head. Otherwise, you could easily yank yourself free or turn in his grip. He had underestimated you.

You were hardly a damsel in distress. Flip knew that too. In fact, you knew that your husband was counting on it.

“You have made my evening quite inconvenient, Cowboy.” Frenchie pressed the barrel into your temple more harshly, emphasizing his point. “It is only fair that I now return that courtesy.”

“Better shoot me first.” Flip bared his teeth in a snarl. “Because if you shoot her, you’ll be a dead sonofabitch before you can get that gun pointed back at me.”

“Oui, monsieur,” Frenchie sneered. “Finally, we find ourselves in agreement.”

The Frenchman swung his gun from your temple toward Flip, leveling it on his huge chest. At his motion, Flip lunged forward toward the armed man behind you.

You were quicker than both of them.

As soon as you felt the gun move, you stabbed backward with the dagger Flip had given you earlier. The dagger that you had let fall into your palm from where it was tucked inside your sleeve while the villain monologued. The dagger that now met only minimal resistance as it sank easily into the flesh of Frenchie’s inner thigh.

Turning into your strike, you used your free hand to knock the gun back away from where it moved toward Flip, trying to aim it in a safer direction.

Frenchie yanked the trigger in pain and shock, a shot firing errantly in Flip’s direction, as Flip closed the distance between them.

A faint spray of crimson plumed on Flip’s chest, just below his collarbone, where the bullet struck him, burying itself in his upper chest near his left shoulder. Flip flinched just as you wrenched your dagger free from your enemy’s thigh and drove it brutally up under his chin.

Flip slammed his fist into Frenchie’s face in a crushing blow that snapped his head backward. Although it was unnecessary. The man was already dead on his feet from your blade. His body fell backwards into a twitching pile onto the stone floor.

Immediately, Flip stomped his boot down on the man’s wrist of his gun hand, pinning it in place as a precaution, while he bent to retrieve the gun with a grunt.

“Did he hit you, Flip?” you asked urgently. Rushing to Flip, your hands found his chest, as he straightened painfully. You looked over his body, sick with worry. “Did he shoot you?”

“Maybe a little.” Flip tried to smirk, but it was more of a grimace. “Don’t worry, sugar. It didn’t hit anything important.”

Ignoring his protests, you ripped his shirt open to assess his wound, sending buttons flying across the stone floor.

Blood trickled out from the bullet hole that sat at the very top of his massive chest. At least Flip was right. It hadn’t hit anything vital. In fact, it was only an inch or so away from another round scar on his chest, from another aged bullet wound.

“My favorite spot to get shot,” Flip joked, looking down at you. He rubbed his good hand along your arm to comfort you, as if he wasn’t the one who was injured.

“We need to get you to a hospital, cowboy,” you told him, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “Can you walk?”

“Can I walk?” Flip huffed. “That’s the most insultin’ thing you’ve said to me all day. What do I look like to you? Some kind of lightweight?”

You picked up the other gun just in case before looping your arm around Flip’s waist, letting him rest his injured arm on your shoulder as you both walked slowly away.

Outside, fireworks danced beyond the windows, igniting the night sky in bursts of color and sparks. Rainbows of color danced around the corridors of the Louvre, shining through the windows, painting the sculptures and artwork in bursts of sparkling light.

“We’re really startin’ the new year off with a bang, aren’t we, gorgeous?” Flip teased, leaning in to kiss your cheek with a wince.

***********************************************************************

The orange rays of the setting sun filtered languidly into your vastly upgraded suite, casting soft light onto yours and Flip’s bodies as you lay in bed together on New Year’s Day. Flip held you against his bare chest, your head resting on his right shoulder. Your hand caressing his chest, careful to avoid the bandages wrapped in layers around his left shoulder and upper arm. You had just returned to your hotel after Flip was discharged from the hospital and collapsed onto the bed.

The director of the Louvre had seen to it that your room was upgraded to the finest and most decadent suite in the hotel. On the museum’s dollar, of course. Yet, Flip was still scowling deeply, his brow furrowed and jaw set tight, his words coming out as gritted and growling when he spoke to you.

“Two weeks, sugar,” Flip bemoaned. “I can’t believe we’re fuckin’ stuck in this goddamned country for another two weeks.”

“Those were your discharge instructions,” you affirmed with an amused smile. “No flying. No heavy lifting. And no strenuous activity. For two weeks.”

Flip huffed, grumbling a curse under his breath.

“It’s not all bad. Your Captain gave you paid time off and the Louvre is paying all of our expenses here.” You kissed his chest. “And I get the feeling that they won’t even say a word if we incur some additional and very lavish expenses.”

“Lavish expenses be damned,” Flip grouched. “They couldn’t pay me enough to stay here another fuckin’ day.”

“Look on the bright side. This will give us plenty of time to do everything this city has to offer,” you said happily, knowing just how much that thought appalled him.

“You can see the cup as half full all you want, but if it’s filled with piss, it’s still not somethin’ I’m real excited about,” he grumbled, chewing his lip.

“Do you think that shopping falls under ‘strenuous activity?’” you asked playfully. “I don’t think it would.”

Flip glared halfheartedly down at you where you laid on his chest. Feeling his eyes on you, you lifted your head to look at him, propping yourself up on his chest as you smiled at him. A smile you knew he could never resist, even if he knew you were ribbing him.

“No more cultural activities of any kind. No more goddamn horse meat.” Flip fixed you with his best teasing glare. “And no more fuckin’ museums, sugar.”

“You know what we could do while you’re taking it easy?” You beamed up at him. “We could see a show at the Moulin Rouge.”

“Well, it looks like gettin’ shot twice isn’t gonna be the worst part of this trip for me, is it?” Flip growled low, leaning toward your lips, as his arm wrapped around you tighter. “How about you and I start the new year off right? With both of us gettin’ off with a bang.”

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#my stuff!#my writing #winter #flip #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman #fic #best

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