Jensen knows he should knock it off, but he can't stop looking. He tries to do it sneakily, out of the corner of his eye, but, inevitably, Cougar snarls and moves out of his line of sight, muttering incredibly foul Spanish and glaring at Jensen like everything is his fault.
Even though it definitely wasn't his fault — this time. He triple-checked the intel, he spent hours reviewing and researching the target, and nowhere — absolutely nowhere — did anyone mention a brand new weapon that left you alive, healthy, and the opposite gender.
Jensen knew loads of bizarre weapon tech — spray hallucinogens, microwave "heat" guns, even that rumoured "gay gas" that turned the enemy into a giant homosexual orgy — but he hadn't heard a thing about any sort of "gender laser".
And, yet, here was proof that such a weapon existed, all five feet, ten inches of suddenly-transformed woman, glaring at him from under her cowboy hat as she swears and moves out of his line of sight.
But Jensen can't help it. He just can't stop looking at her, looking at what his brain instinctively knows as Cougar, the years of working together and saving each other's lives on a regular basis building this memory sense of what his best friend is, but his prosimian hindbrain is chanting "woman woman woman woman" over and over, making him notice the fullness around the hips, the softness of her lips, the utterly mindblowing (and let's face it — absolutely fantastic) weight of her breasts that were now straining against that old Che Guevara t-shirt Cougar kept wearing.
He knows it's completely and utterly wrong. He knows that this entire situation is totally and utterly fucked up. But Cougar is hot. Like, unbelievably, pants-bustingly, straight out of Suicide Girls, totally out of his league hot.
He used to think Aisha was the perfect chick, all rocket launchers and smart talk, but when Cougar came down from that roof (and how fucking terrifying was that — those godawful ten minutes from when he saw the laser hit the roof to when Cougar finally appeared), her rifle slung over her shoulder, hat down low over her forehead, exuding "don't fuck with me" from every pore like Cougar always did whenever a mission went FUBAR...
Shit, man, he thought Cougs was dead — it wasn't like he noticed the fact that 'he' was now 'she' — his little brain just automatically went "CougarCougarCougar" and propelled his legs towards Cougar in a tackling hug, and it wasn't until his chest hit those two soft mounds in the middle of Cougar's chest that the rest of his brain kicked in and promptly freaked the hell out.
And now, back at their safe house, he couldn't stop looking at her. He could see Cougar getting angrier and angrier, her entire body tense with barely-restrained rage, but Jensen's fucking stupid fucked-up brain just found that even sexier. And the sexier she got, the harder it got.
In more ways than one. Boy, Jensen was seriously glad he was sitting down. Yeah, Cougar had always been attractive — Jensen'd be even more of a moron to deny that, the way the ladies went to him. But he had seen more of Cougar than any of those ladies had seen, and, besides, guys were, like, too familiar to be sexy, and Cougar was just another guy.
Except now Cougar was a woman.
With breasts and hips and lips and...God, the thought of Cougar's pussy, all hot and wet and tasty...
Jensen quickly crossed his legs and looked down at his laptop. Except his eyes strayed again. Towards the slow sway of Cougar's bra-less breasts, their heavy weight straining against Che's face, nipples visible through the thin cotton... Until Cougar quickly turned around, her swearing getting just a bit louder.
Jensen was so gonna get his ass kicked.
He just wasn't sure if he wouldn't like it.
This The Losers story was written by Kate Bolin. If you liked it, there's plenty more at http://www.dymphna.net/fanfic/. And you can feedback her at dymphna@dymphna.net.