Sucker For Pain ⇒ SUICIDE SQUAD [RICK FLAG] [#1] [COMPLETED]

14 || I'll Fix This, Dig, I Promise You

❝You know you've got that thing

That makes the girls all swing

You know exactly what you do❞

One Time ~ Marian Hill

___

She woke suddenly the next morning, every thought in high definition. Her eyes took in every ray of light and without a doubt she knew that she had slept for too long. The noises are of a day in full swing, traffic heavy.

She attempts to move, only to be drawn back to the pillow due to her piercing headache. She looked around, slowly, staring at the pristine white walls. Somehow, the wooden table in the corner gave her some sort of aesthetic pleasure due to the clean assortment of pens, pencils, files, and loose paper.

Whoever's house she was in, they knew how to keep clean. She looked down to see an oversized t-shirt covering her body, and then she did what she knew best: panic. She dashed out of the bed subtly.

She clung onto her chest, seeing as her bra was missing under the shirt, and her pants were replaced by boxers too. She tidied the bed to match the cleanliness of the room before she made her way out of the bedroom.

Once she stepped out, her nose immediately caught the smell of bacon. She sniffed it heavily, taking in all the aroma that she could. She followed the scent all the way down the staircase and into the kitchen.

She stopped right before the door, peering in to see the only person she didn't even want to look at. Rick stood there, his back to her, frying some bacon and pancakes in the pan, whistling 'Come As You Are' while her slightly jiggled to the beat he was creating.

She bit her knuckles slightly, muffling an oncoming laugh. She leaned closer, but instead leaning too far out and hitting the leg of a table, making some cutlery rattle. Rick turned around and saw her, a smile plastered on his face.

A pair of grey collegian sweatpants hung loosely from his hips, revealing a defined V-line. The fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt also made it harder for Sierra to actually concentrate on the situation. His body was completely chiseled to perfection, the shadow his abs casted only made them pop out more.

"Good God," she muttered, in awe of his body.

"What?," Rick furrowed his brows, the smile still dancing on his lips.

"Oh—uh, good-good God—those pancakes smell great!," she saved herself from an awkward moment.

"Yeah, you best believe that I make the best pancakes," he chuckled, turning back to the pan.

She let out a small sigh of relief and took a seat on the stools, her elbows resting on the counter. Her eyes wandered down his toned back, and rested on his bum. She knew that guys were the one's fantasizing over butts and boobs, but a girl can also fantasize over a butt too.

She shook her head and stared down at her shirt again, and back came the panic-mode. "Hey, um, Flag?," she voiced, nervously.

Rick looked over his shoulder, "Yeah?"

"Who, um, who changed my clothes?," she asks, her voice slightly perplexed.

His finger slowly shot up in the air as he cleared his throat, "That would—uh—that would be me."

Then she thought of where she had slept, "If I slept in your bed, where did you sleep?"

"On the couch," he pointed to the living room door that was open through the kitchen.