agentcampbell | OUR car?! (RP with isabelowens)

Current Mood: aggravated
Current Location: FBI Headquaters, New York City

OUR car?! (RP with isabelowens)

Campbell had been preparing to check his blood sugar when Isabel had flounced in and practically slapped him in the face with a pair of panties in a small plastic baggy thing. She distracted him and stabbed his finger much harder than he should have. "Ow, fuck!" he cursed, dropping the small monitoring lancet onto his desk. He quickly smeared the blood droplets onto one of the strip and shoved it into the small electronic meter, then pushed out of his chair to stalk over to Isabel's desk.

"What?!" he cried in aggravation, throwing up his hand.

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"You pretty much already own my arse," Campbell sniggered.

"Do I now? Funny, because I don't think I've ever been allowed to do anything with it." Isabel feigned a look of innocence and took out the case notes and the fresh copies as she started to head back into the main part of the office.

Campbell automatically followed her. He went back to his desk and plopped down into his seat, swivelling in his chair. "And what would you want to do with it?" he asked with a smirk.

Iz shrugged a shoulder, and leaned across to take her pen back of his desk. Funny how it kept winding up there. Of course the action may, or may not, have caused her shirt to fall open and give him a clear view down it. "I don't know, but I'm sure I'd think of something. Maybe get a nice little tattoo on it proclaiming it to be my property. Just so there's no confusion."

Campbell's eyes immediately fell to her clevege. He was never one to hide the fact he was perving, and never had any shame in it either. Not even a mere blush across the cheeks. "Red suits you," he said lightly, referencing her bra. "Besides the one tat on my arm, I draw the line at any unnecessary jabbings with sharp things of my skin." He picked up a stray pen and started clicking it open and shut annoyingly.

"I look even better out of it," she replied without missing a beat. Switching from fighting to flirting was something her and Campbell could do easily. Something neither of them seemed to question. Of course there were days where she found herself wondering just what would happen if they did manage to transfer things to the bedroom. She'd just never admit it, though. "Then you better work on not landing in a coma again, or I might just take it upon myself to give you the tattoo while you're out cold."

"Ah ha! You did peek under my gown while I was out! You have a far too detailed plan of attack to be innocent on that front! But at least I retain the mystery of what my willy looks like at full mast. A coma isn't exactly conducive to happy thoughts."

He swivelled a little bit more in his chair, still smirking. "What are you doing for St. Pat's Day?"

She rolled her eyes and picked up a rubber band to fling at him. "Ever consider I'm just really good at my job for a reason? I'm good at dealing with the unknown." It wasn't exactly a denial, but Isabel wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of ever owning up to taking a peek.

She pulled the hair tie off her wrist and arranged her hair in a ponytail as she made a face. "Probably listening to my Dad go on and on about the Irish. Either that, or finding a nice quiet bar that doesn't serve green Guinness and enjoying my own company. Why?"

"At least you know I'm a natural blond," Campbell couldn't resist adding, his eyes still shining in amusement.

He caught the band and flicked it back. "I'm thinking of having a bit of a party at my place. If you can drag yourself away from the paternal Irish bashing or lonely beer drinking, you should come along."

Isabel just arched her eyebrow and smiled a little too knowingly. So maybe she did know, but she wasn't going to fill his ears with praises about how impressive he was. Even in a coma.

She managed to catch the rubber band before it hit her nose, and returned it straight back. Her nose crinkled delicately, her green eyes reflecting something akin to fear. "I don't know, loser. That last party of yours I went to... Still trying to scrub the images from my brain."

Campbell laughed. "Oh come on, Special Agent! You're not that precious and delicate! You might even get laid. You know I always put on a good spread. I even have a balcony to smoke on if it all gets too much."

"Why is my getting laid so important to you? I mean, it is possible for people to live without sex every five hours." She found herself smiling though, and just waved a hand in defeat. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't blame me if I wind up jumping off it instead."

"I think it's what you need to loosen up. When was the last time you had sex, by the way? This could really explain the tense moodiness that you seem to take out on me on a regular basis. No female has PMS that often," Campbell teased, swabbing off his lancet to check his levels again. They were too low to leave it. Could explain his own irritability.

He took the meter from his pocket and removed the old strip. "Markham on third floor could be a good prospect. He's a nice guy."

Isabel gave him a look that said he better be careful what else he says about her 'female PMS'. She hadn't thought she'd been that bad, and really... it was only Campbell's continual rubbing in of his healthy sex life that was starting to get to her.

"Whatever. I'm going to the party. Doesn't mean you need to play pimp."

"I never play pimp. I just lightly suggest. My eyes will be peeled for my own prospects. I won't have time to think about anyone else's. My brother will be there with a bunch of his mates. His wife is letting him out to play for the night, even though she doesn't trust me as far as she can spit on me," Campbell said with a snigger.

He pricked his finger and squeezed it so the blood would come more freely. He finished up and dropped the meter onto his desk to wait for it to beep. "On the other hand, Frank's not allowed out to play. His Mummy wants him home for a family thing."

"Can't you just spend one night not having sex? Is it really going to kill you?" She sighed, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. It shouldn't be getting to her so badly. She'd had three years of watching Campbell fuck like a rabbit. Why was it bothering her so much lately? "Never mind, I don't care. Just focus on your own prospects, and don't worry about me. I'm a big girl."

"I love your brother," Iz said with a smile. "He's like you only he doesn't get on my nerves. As for Frank... when doesn't his mother want him home for a family thing? I swear one these days he's going to come in with a note from his mom asking if he can be excused from anything dangerous because he's got asthma, or something."

Campbell laughed, watching her as he twisted his medic alert bracelet around his wrist. He was one of those sort that always needed something to do with his hands, so this was just another habit of his many he had.

"He doesn't get on your nerves because he's too busy pissing me off. He sent me an email this morning. 'Tips on how to date without sex'. You and he must be soul mate." He checked the monitor when it beeped and growled in annoyance, chucking it to the side. "I promise not to put green shit in my Guinness. And you say I don't do anything for you."

Isabel wasn't exactly phased by his tendency to get fidgety. Half the time she just thanked her lucky stars he didn't crack his knuckles, or snap gum. Keeping hands busy was one thing, but having noisy habits was another.

"Too bad someone else got to him first. Guess I'll just marry him in the next lifetime." She laughed at hearing about the email, the rich sound filling the office as she threw back her head. "Oh God, I definitely love him. Maybe you should try it sometime." Her head came back up when she heard the beep, and his growl and she arched her eyebrow in silent question. "Thanks, loser."

"You aren't married to him. In that sense, he should be your perfect relationship. And you didn't even have to get an almost-wedding dress. You can even have almost sex and everyone would be happy."

Campbell waved his hand dismissively at the monitor. "It's bollocks," he replied, picking up the pen again as if reading her thoughts and starting to snap it open and shut incessantly. "What's on your schedule this afternoon?"

"I'm not married to you either," she pointed out. "Does that mean you're my perfect relationship, too?"

Isabel glared at him, and opened her draw to pull out a stress ball and throw it at him. "Less noise, more hand action. And I'm assuming there's work to be done, so... nothing? Why, are you wanting me to do your paperwork so you can go and get laid?"

Edited 2008-03-14 09:28 (UTC)

James caught the stress ball and shot her a small frown. "I'm offended. I never shirk my duties. Not for sex, not for anything but a coma," he replied, throwing the ball back and forth between his hands. "And I couldn't possibly marry someone who loves my brother more than me. It's almost criminal."

She got this smile on her lips, and her green eyes sparkled as she looked at him. "I don't remember saying I loved your brother more than you. I just said he didn't get on my nerves like you did."

James met her eyes. "And I'm supposed to believe you would marry someone who gets on your nerves? You won't even marry blokes who don't! You run away from them." He put the ball down and started drumming his fingers. He was more restless than usual today. He couldn't really put his finger on why. He hadn't had a day off in eight days, which could be a factor. But the panty car thing seemed to have irked him for some reason.

"And why don't you wear knickers like that? Ever?"

"Why not? If me an my husband were exactly the same it'd just be boring. Let's face it, if you're both strong personalities and do things that irk each other, then chances are there'll be fights and fights lead to angry make up sex." Isabel folded her arms under chest and gave a nod as she leaned back in her seat. She didn't acknowledge his comment about running away, because she wasn't ready to get into it with him. She knew what she did was horrible, and she didn't need his constant reminders.

Her eyebrows shot up before she smirked. "Because I don't need my ass crack flosses, and because wearing something lacy and delicate is more my style. Thongs like that," she said as she shot the plastic bag a fierce glare, "are for women who don't understand subtlety."

James opened his mouth and then closed it, looking at her in complete confusion. "Since when is sex subtle?" he finally asked after a few more moments of contemplation. "Fair enough, it's not practical for every day use, but it is sexy on the right person."

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OUR car?! (RP with isabelowens)

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