And Cinnamon

The mission was over: a rogue enclave of Terran Reptoids had been terrorizing a nice, normally peaceful suburb in Jersey, refusing to disguise themselves and generally making babies cry, and half of the Twelve had been sent to discreetly annihilate them. Roger was spattered with mud and blood and had a laceration over the back of his hand. He hoped to god he wasn't going to contract some weird reptile-bacteria infection, and wanted nothing more than to shower at a temperature just short of scalding. However, Eight had intercepted him and insisted that he deal with his minor injury first. She led the way, wrapped around his wounded arm, warm body pressed against him at every opportunity. She smelled like cherries and cinnamon, and he thought he could have enjoyed it more if she weren't jostling his sore shoulder and there weren't patches of alien blood sticky and drying against his skin. He closed his eyes as she cleaned his hand, mucked it up with ointment and applied a bandage. He felt her breath past his sweat-soaked hair and allowed the slick press of her lips against his cheek.

"Later, Twelve," she murmured in parting.

Roger groaned and made his way back to the showers. He didn't quite make it before he ran into Six. The hybrid had been on the same mission, but aside from a scuff on his shirt cuff, he still looked impeccable. He stared with his eerie, deep eyes until Roger said something stupid.

"Good mission, huh?"

Six narrowed his eyes. "Idiot. Are you really that simple minded?" He shook his head and stepped away. "I don't have time for this."

"What, do you have a date with a magazine and some scissors?"

Six turned back with a glare and Roger was slammed bodily against the wall, pain sparking in his shoulder. Roger whimpered and opened his eyes to find the other agent looming over him.

"You really don't get it," Six said, the tip of his long finger ghosting against Roger's cheek. He traced the spot where Eight had kissed, smearing the lip gloss slightly. Roger sucked in a breath, shoulders pressed to the wall.

"Get what?" he said as the pale, cold hand crept below his chin.

"Missions like this one. Days like this." He breathed warm and damp near Roger's ear. "Cherries," he said, nuzzling the spot of gloss, and tasted the corner of Roger's mouth.