Chapter Text
As Chains inspects him for any injuries, Houston glares at Hoxton. The Brit scowls back, a pleased glint in his eye. “S’matter, loverboy? Afraid of a little firefight?” Chains shoots Houston a look, before Houston can even consider arguing, and Houston bites his tongue.
However, an idea settles in his head. It’s no secret that he has some more than complicated feelings for Hoxton, and that the other man feels the same. Houston, though, is patient. And he’s good at pushing buttons.
A saccharine smile forms, and Houston shrugs. “I know you wanted to patch me up. Next time, sweetheart.”
Chains presses his lips together, visibly forcing himself to not laugh, while Hoxton blinks dumbly at him, face bright red. He stands up, quickly leaving the room and nearly knocking down Dallas in the process. Dallas turns to stare for a moment before looking back at Houston. “What-” He’s cut off by Chains bursting into laughter, falling back as he runs a hand over his head.
“Fucking Christ , Houston. You planning something?” Houston gives him a sly smile, and Dallas shakes his head.
“Changed my mind, I don't wanna know,” he sighs.
Houston takes his time teasing Hoxton back, shooting him sweet smiles and quick winks that have the Brit flustered and frustrated. The Ghost is proud of himself, buzzing happily as he works on the escape van.
“‘Ey, what would you do if I took this?” Hoxton’s voice cuts through the air, and Houston turns to see him pointing at his tools.
He deadpans. “I’d put you in your place.” The words come easy now after a few days of flirting, but he himself is a bit surprised at how forward he is. For a moment, he wants to backpedal.
Hox blinks before giving him a Chesire grin. “Yeah?”
Eh, fuck it.
Houston puts his things down before walking to Hoxton, slowly pushing into Hox’s space until he’s against the wall. He raises an eyebrow, glances down at his lips, and smirks. A hand slyly brushes against the other man’s hip as he grabs the wrench Hoxton had been pointing at. “Yeah.”
He turns away, smirking as he hears Hoxton swallow thickly. “And, uh, what- what would that look like?”
Houston tilts his head. He actually doesn’t have a response, so instead he winks and turns away again.
From behind him, he hears a soft, breathy swear.
“Nice work, everyone.” Dallas says. “Good job keeping it quiet.” The last sentence is said with a glance towards Hoxton.
The group is dismissed, and Dallas leaves with Wolf, glancing back at his brother and the Fugitive curiously as he does so.
“Not bad out there,” the Sheffield man says. Houston stands, glancing towards Hoxton. “You did good.”
“Not bad yourself.”
The two stare at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. Finally, Hoxton grins. “Talking about my skills or my looks?”
Hoxton is a slow learner. This is something Houston figured out pretty quickly, and was reinforced by Hoxton’s repeated attempts to one up him in the last few days.
“Dunno,” Houston tugs on Hoxton’s tie, pulling him out of his chair and close to him. “What do you think?” he purrs, smiling.
A moment passes. Then another.
“Fucking- just kiss me already, I swear to-”
The Brit’s words are silenced and replaced with a relieved moan. He grips onto Houston’s lapels, tugging him closer. A desperation takes over him, and he slides his tongue into Houston’s mouth, savoring the growl that’s pushed into his throat. A hand on his back pulls him against the other man’s chest, while another tugs at his hair. “Fuck- please-”
Hoxton groans as Houston pulls back, a string of saliva connecting the two. “Please what? ”
Of course he had to be horny for the most infuriating bastard around.
Words fail him, and he presses his face into Houston’s neck, mumbling incoherently as the hand on his back shifts and slides under his shirt.
“Bedroom. Now.” Houston pants, tugging at Hoxton’s hair.
“Yes, fuck. Yes.”