Death, Sex, and Bickering

[elucreh.livejournal.com]

Title: Death, Sex, and Bickering; or, Five Ways that Polly (Nearly) Died
Fandom: Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow
Pairing: Joe/Polly
Rating: Adult
A/N: This was written for Joanne, in the 2006 Yuletide Exchange


It was true they hadn't often danced with Death without bickering.

They also hadn't often come close to buying the farm without having fantastic, life-clinging sex—against walls, over desks, and once while dangling from a rope over a lava pit.

It was always at least partially Joe's fault.


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1.) The time that was the fault of Joe and the flying forces: Armed Bomb

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Actually, she'd met Dex first.

When she was still only halfway up her ladder, Polly was sent to interview a promising young scientist who was working with a newly developed branch of the flying forces—something about reverse-engineering and the melting point of diamonds. He was probably under orders about the more or less top-secret stuff, Mr. Paley had said, but between her smile and the twisted mind behind it she might get something worth printing.

You're going to let me use my smile? she'd asked, and practiced it on him.

So long as you don't point it at me, he'd said, and raised a wry, avuncular eyebrow.

The promising young scientist was young, and was clearly going to be boyish until he was eighty, and her smile only seemed to make him nervous, but when she gave up the vamp act he relaxed and answered the standard questions she was leading up with. She was just getting to the end of what she already knew from the press release when a taller, ape-jawed man strode in without knocking and walked over to stand behind the scientist's chair, folding his arms across his chest and assessing her frankly.

"Hey, Cap," Dex had said. "This is Miss Perkins, of the Metro. Miss Perkins, this is the Captain."

She raised an eyebrow and put out her hand. "Captain…?"

"Call me Joe," he said, turning her hand to kiss it. "Not trying to charm my boy out of any secrets, are you?"

She glanced at Dex, who was following the Captain with his eyes, hero worship clear in his face. Damn. There went plan one. "I'm sure I wouldn't get anywhere if I was," she said, giving him the smile.

"No," he agreed, smirking at her. "Can't get anything out of old Dex." Out of the corner of her eye, Dex grinned proudly.

"But you won't mind showing me round, will you, Captain? I mean, Joe?" She stepped a little closer, and oh, the smile was doing its work here, with its friends: the big innocent eyes, the tilted head, and the subtly shifted hips.

Two days later, trapped in an experimental hangar, she was mentally cursing the smile and all its colleagues, and outwardly cursing Joe for letting her get trapped in a building with an experimental bomb he didn't know how to disarm.

He'd put an arm around her and patiently explained to the girl she'd been pretending to be for the last three days that there was nothing to worry about, because he'd protect her. She'd tried to pull away, but he'd held on tight to her shoulders, and she'd been forced to resort to a tantrum in her efforts to break free. He'd been blinking and watching her temper fray for the past ten minutes.

"Of all the fail safes to forget to provide in a laboratory, I'd think the exit would be the last one I'd have to wo—mmmmph." She was still indignant, and scared, and hiding her fears from herself, but the heat she'd been focusing on to avoid thinking of the cold feeling in her gut was lowering to a sultry simmer as Joe's tongue played with her lips. She gave in, opened her mouth, let him slide teasingly along her teeth.

He pulled back a little, and she followed blindly, mouth still open, still seeking, trying to kiss him before the cold came back. He let her, only freeing his mouth when she was sufficiently distracted by his finger worming its way into her knickers.

Later—when the door had been broken down and the bomb disarmed and her first story on the work the "Sky Captain and his Crew" were doing had made the front page—her first front page—when they were at dinner, on their first date—she asked him why he kissed her.

He cocked his head. "I could see the panic in your eyes," he said, thoughtfully. "But you weren't letting it on…instead of being scared, you were furious. It's the kind of thing I look for in a woman, really."

"Oh." She went back to her food, absently drawing in her potatoes with her fork. And here she was, at dinner with him, she reflected. He was in many ways insufferable, of course—but his best friend was tolerable.

And he had extremely skilled fingers.

And he would probably be a great source for big stories.

She supposed she could let him fall in love with her.



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2.) The time that was the fault of Joe and the first maniac who wanted to take over the world: Conveyor Belt

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The belt rumbled inexorably down the long factory hall, carrying big brown boxes on their way to being steam-sealed and shipped. In between two of them lay a man and a woman, bound together at wrist and ankle.

Polly winced as the belt passed another set of wheels. Ingeniously evil or not, it was becoming clear that the machinery wasn't fragile.

"Well, this is a fine mess you've gotten us into this time," Joe said, grimly. He twisted his wrists and fingers, trying to loosen them, and the rope scraped along the fragile skin of her inner arms.

Polly bit her lip to keep from hissing and glared at him. "I've gotten us into? You must be joking. Who decided to take the mission? Who bribed me into coming along by promising Parisian chocolates and plenty of petit mort? And who has yet to provide me with a single truffle?"

"Who," Joe retorted, "got the bright idea to sneak in and use flash photography? Who still had her press pass on her? Who, in short, got us tied up by the minions of an evil mastermind and put on a conveyor belt in his factory of doom devices?"

"Who couldn't keep his mouth shut and let me talk our way out of—" she broke off with a soft mmmmph as he kissed her, pulling the heat out of her in long strokes of his tongue and feeding it back into her, spreading it through her system like hot rum. She squirmed closer, trying to wrap her thighs around his leg despite the cords at her ankles, but he pulled away from her and licked her neck instead, focusing on the spot behind her ear he had found in Peru.

She tried to reach for his buttons and let out a soft cry of frustration as the cords kept her from being able to undo them properly. He soothed her with a soft kiss to the underside of her chin and tugged at the rope binding them together until she let him pull their fists level with their groins. She could feel his eyebrows wiggle against her neck as he began to rock his hips, rubbing her knuckles against her clit through the stiff tweed of her skirt, and she let out a small surprised cry and rocked back, harder, grinding the heels of his hands against him. He let her have a moan, and shifted to perfect the pressure he was giving her, and it felt as though the world came to a stop as climax shuddered through her. She felt him shudder and still, too, and looked up to see him raise an eyebrow at her.

She raised one back.

"Well, it's one way to shut you up," he said, wryly, and she gave him a weak kick in the shins, trying to gather her scattered wits. Suddenly, she froze. "Joe."

"What is it?"

"We've stopped."

"Well, yes, I'd say we—"

"The machine. We're not moving."

Behind her, she heard a discreet cough.

She winced and closed her eyes as Joe shifted to look over her head.

"Found the switch, Cap," Dex said, matter-of-factly, and she let out a small breath of relief. "Sorry, took me awhile to distract the guards."

"Quite all right, Dex, thanks." Joe pushed himself up to one elbow. "Mind bringing a knife and helping Polly down?"

"Sure thing, Cap," Dex assured him.

When Dex had cut them loose and rubbed their circulation back in, and Polly had hobbled back to the plane on his arm, she watched as he went back to help the captain set the bomb he'd brought, and silently handed over a dry pair of pants along with a screwdriver.

"Good boy, Dex," Joe said gratefully.


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3.) The time that was the fault of Joe and bugs: Plague

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In an African jungle, sweltering hot and whining with mosquitoes, Joe was tossing and turning and argumentative.

"No, Joe," she said, firmly, for the tenth time that morning. "It would not help."

"But, Polly—" he said, glassy-eyed but stubborn.

"No, Joe." She pushed him back against the bed. "I would not in any way be better off if you were to get up out of bed, wander delirious through the forest, and die. The guides will be back with a doctor by tomorrow. Until then, you are going to stay in bed and drink quinine."

"But—"

"I repeat: no."

He slumped back, defeated for the moment. "It's boring in bed," he announced, a few moments later, in a sing-song sort of tone.

She looked over at him, amused. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really." He tried to smirk at her, but succeeded only in a kind of sloppy leer, made grotesque by the gloss of his eyes and the veins straining at his forehead. In a shocked moment, she realized that she wanted to kiss him anyway.

She smiled and pressed her lips to his forehead affectionately. "I suppose you want me to liven it up for you?" she asked innocently, letting her fingernails trail up and down the bulge in his short pants.

"Well..." he said, thickly. "It's one way to keep me here…"

"I'll catch the malaria," she warned, wrapping her fingers around his cock.

"You've got it already," he said. "It just hasn't hit. But if I stay in bed I'll be well enough to carry you into town when the guides don't show up."

"Then I suppose we do need you to stay in bed," she agreed, bending to kiss him gently, ignoring the slow but definite early fizz of fever in her blood.

When he brought her into town over his shoulder two days later, she was raving of Dex and robots and plague and bombs and planes and gas and guns. The doctor brought her through, but it was a near thing.


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4. The time that was the fault of Joe and the eighth maniac who wanted to take over the world: Poison Gas

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"It's a stupid way to kill someone," Polly said, for the fifth time.

"I know, Polly," Joe replied in an exasperated tone. "But I suppose we will end up just as dead."

"Anyone who would kill people by chaining them up in a room and filling it with poisonous gas will have left a gap somewhere," she predicted—again.

"Polly—" he gave her a look that was equal parts pity and annoyance. "You have to accept the fact that it's possible he didn't."

She slumped against the wall. "I know. It's just annoying to die this way, you know? Letting alone everything I wish I'd done, if I have to go, I'd like to be killed competently."

"What do you wish you'd done?" he asked idly.

"Oh, you know. Got my international syndicate and the Pulitzer. Let Dex persuade me to read a comic book. Told Mr. Paley how much he's done for me. Told you—" she stopped.

His head snapped up. "Told me what?"

"Oh, I have lots of regrets for you," she said, lightly.

"Have you?"

"Well, I suppose so."

"Care to tell me?"

"No."

"Why not?" There was a plaintive little note to his voice.

"Because I still think there's going to turn out to be a leak."

"And if there is? What about the next time we try dying?"

"I'll meet it when it comes," she replied, avoiding his gaze.

"Well…in case there's not."

"No, Joe."

"I'll tell you what I wish I'd told you," he offered.

"You first."

"I wish I'd told you how beautiful you are," he said, belligerently. "I wish I'd said I hate hurting you, and I don't do it on purpose. I wish I'd told you I love you."

Her eyes widened, but he didn't even pause. "I wish I'd taken a day or two to lick you everywhere; I wish I'd made you come screaming. I wish I'd bitten your breasts. I wish I'd taken you across my knee. I wish I'd made you let me watch when you pleasure yourself. I wish I'd chained you to the bed for a week or two and made you eat from my hands. I wish I'd spread you with whipped cream and lapped it up until I tasted of sugar and froth and then fucked your mouth until you could taste it too. I wish—"

She moaned softly, and he broke off, watching her close her eyes and shudder, rubbing her thighs together.

"I really wish I'd known talking about it would make you that excited," he finished, weakly.

She came down gradually, and pulled herself together, leaning back against the wall. Slowly, she raised her head, and grinned at him. "Want to see if it'll do that to you?"

About the same time they discovered that it did, there turned out to be a leak.

When they woke in the medic's area, later, Polly turned her head to watch him sleeping, and when he opened his eyes and smiled at her, she smiled back.

"I wish I'd told you I love you, too."