DISCLAIMER: I so don't own the D.E.B.S. - They're owned by Angela Robinson and the movie people. I'm doing this for fun - I'm not making a profit, any kind of money or anything else off of this. If I've forgotten something, insert the usual disclaimer stuff here. The title for this fic is from an old-school song by the same name.
CHALLENGE: Submitted for the 5th Anniversary Challenge.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
We Don't Have to Take Our
By Del Robertson
"Let me see if I've got this straight," Amy paused, eyeing Lucy speculatively. "You broke into a top-secret military installation, knowing that the D.E.B.S. would be dispatched to stop you."
"And, you kidnapped me at gunpoint, forcing me to come back to your secret lair with you."
"And, your plan to celebrate my birthday doesn't involve cake, flowers, a romantic dinner or anything of the sort."
"Uh - no."
"You assumed we'd come back here and just jump into your bed the way we always do."
"I thought I might sing you Happy Birthday first."
"Um - why not?"
"Because. I'm going to prove to you that we don't have to take our clothes off to have a good time."
"I'm serious. Our entire relationship shouldn't be based on sex. It's unhealthy."
"I don't know. I read it somewhere."
"That's the problem. You read too much."
"I think we should do something else."
"You also think too much. Hazard of being the D.E.B.S.' poster-child, I guess."
"We could take a walk."
"Too risky. Might be spotted by a D.E.B."
"Again, might be spotted by a nosy D.E.B."
"Fine. I suppose anything that requires leaving your secret lair is out of the question. We could watch a DVD."
"I've seen everything in my collection. Twice."
"How about television?"
"No good. Scud's the God of Bingo. And, I refuse to play a game I can't win."
"Fine." A long pause, teeth biting pensively into pale pink lips. "Stripping naked and making mad, passionate love until we're both too sore to move tomorrow?"
"I'll race you to the bedroom."
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