Work Text:
Gavin scowled at his reflection as he tried for the millionth time to properly knot the bowtie around his neck. The fabric refused to cooperate, hanging from underneath his collar in a rather unattractive clump.
He heard a low chuckle as Ryan sidled up behind him, smirking at him in the hotel mirror. "Need some help?"
Gavin huffed and nodded, turning to face the older man.
"This is ridiculous. Who even wears tuxedos anymore? I look like a James Bond wannabe."
Ryan smiled, deftly untangling the mess Gavin had made of his bowtie. "Well, not all the missions we go on are filled with blood and death and the threat of being captured and tortured. Sometimes, like tonight, we take on jobs that're much worse." He smoothed the redone bow against Gavin's shirt, and the younger man grimaced.
"When I joined up with the Agency, I thought I'd be wearing stealth suits on all the missions. Not a bloody tuxedo."
"Ah, they're not so bad."
"Easy for you to say," Gavin grumbled. "You've got the shoulders to pull it off. I just look like a beanpole."
With sinuous grace, Ryan moved so that he was standing behind Gavin again, hands on the younger agent's shoulders. He squeezed gently and murmured against Gavin's ear. "If it helps, I think you look delectable." He grinned and slipped away, leaving a blushing Gavin in his wake. "C'mon, we've got to go pretend to be civilised."
~* * *~
Michael was waiting for them outside, in the driver's seat of a sleek black BMW. The auburn-haired agent was disgruntled, not only because they were running a few minutes late, but because he didn't particularly care for field work - even if he was only driving the car. "No, please, take a little more time, I don't mind at all!" he called to them from the open car window.
The two tuxedoed men grinned. "Good to see you too, Michael."
"Yeah, yeah, just get in the car. Let's get this show on the road so I can get back to my desk before Ray messes with my shit." Gavin and Ryan both got in the back, reclining against the cushy seats.
"Nice change from the van," Gavin observed, absently flicking the air-conditioning vent on the back of the centre console with his foot.
Michael snorted as he pulled out into traffic. "Well, we can't exactly roll up to a high society event in a van. Does make for a good drive, though," he added, the car gliding smoothly through a turn. He then gave them a quick debrief on their mission, but Gavin soon found his attention drifting, having already gone over the mission file back at the hotel with Ryan. His leg started bouncing lightly without him realising, and as he stared out the window, he had to fight the urge to touch his hair. It was parted at the side and slicked neatly against his head, a look that had taken about half an hour and half a bottle of product to achieve. If he so much as bumped his head against the window, it would probably spring back out into its usual wild disarray. Gavin thought it was unfair that Ryan was able to have his usual swept-back hairstyle and get away with it.
Ryan nudged him out of his reverie. "We're here."
"I'll be back to pick you up at eleven." Michael twisted in his seat so he was looking at them and grinned. "You kids have fun at your party."
"Thanks, Dad," Gavin muttered sarcastically, clambering out of the car. Ryan followed suit. They made their way up to the fancy building, all curved glass walls and slender steel supports and soft white light. When they reached the greeter at the door, Ryan produced their tickets from his jacket pocket, handing them over with a charming smile. The greeter, an attractive brunette in a white dress, glanced at the tickets before handing them back with a small smile, wishing them a pleasant evening. They walked into the foyer, then onto the main room, and Gavin's eyes landed almost immediately on the open bar.
"Well, if we're James Bond wannabes, maybe we should go grab a martini."
"We're on the job, Gavin," Ryan admonished, lips quirking upwards.
Gavin quietly muttered about needed something stronger than a martini anyway as Ryan took him by the elbow and guided him further into the main room. They made small talk with well-dressed strangers, Ryan subtly flirting with far too many women for Gavin's taste. Only because the whole point of being undercover was that no one would remember them, of course. Jealousy had absolutely nothing to do with it.
They slowly made their way to the lounge area, where their client would meet them. Usually, when someone hired the Agency to retrieve and deliver data, it was done through more conventional means - meetings were generally held in an Agency building, or, more often, digitally. But, with the large sum being paid by the client, the Agency indulged the man's eccentricities.
Ryan drew a small printed card from his pocket and handed it to the security guard standing outside the door to the lounge area. The guard scrutinised the card carefully, then nodded, satisfied. "Go on through. He'll join you shortly." He opened the door, and the two agents stepped past him.
'Lounge area' was an accurate description - it was the only type of furniture in the room. The couches were all of the same modern design, smooth black leather arranged in tight circles with a light embedded in the ceiling above each grouping. Ryan chose a circle close to the middle of the room, settling on a love seat that faced the door.
Away from the guests at the event, Gavin could finally speak his mind. "This is ridiculous! There's four ice sculptures out there. Four! How many frozen swans do people need? And what're those waiters playing at, calling that stuff food? It looks all fancy, but it tastes terrible. I swear, Ryan, if we don't get some bevs from that bar once we've handed over the data, I'm going to go absolutely mental."
"It's a matter of getting used to it." Ryan flung an arm over the back of the sofa, slouching casually and looking completely at home in his tuxedo. "Mr. Zellner is something of a regular with the Agency, and he always arranges meets like this."
"Will he keep us waiting long?"
"Nah. He used to work for the Agency before branching off and creating his own tech company, he knows how impatient agents can get when they're not actually on a mission."
They sat quietly for a moment. Gavin opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could the door opened and their client walked in. He didn't have any bodyguards, but with his height and physique, he probably didn't need them. The two agents stood, Ryan sticking out his hand as their client approached. He grasped the man's forearm warmly.
"Nathan. It's good to see you again."
"Ryan," he replied with a nod and a small smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Ran into some old friends." He turned his gaze to Gavin, who held his hand out, trying to ignore how intimidating the man looked. Nathan shook Gavin's hand with a firm grasp. "Gavin, right? I swear, every time I see Ryan he has a different partner."
Ryan grinned. "You don't know the half of it. I have the feeling Gavin's going to be sticking around, though."
Nathan clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Alright, business time. The data?"
"Right here." Gavin pulled the slender USB from his jacket pocket and handed it over. Nathan took it, then pulled out his phone and tapped at the screen a few times.
"And there goes the money transfer. Pleasure doing business, gentlemen."
"The pleasure's ours." They both shook his hand again.
With another small smile, Nathan gestured at the door. "I'm sure you have some time left over before pickup. Go and enjoy the party."
"We will. You as well." The two agents wove around the sofas to the door while Nathan settled back against the black leather with a content sigh, tapping away at his phone.
"That was... quick," Gavin said eventually.
"That's about as chatty as he gets. He's a quiet guy. Besides, like I said, he used to work at the Agency, and he's known me for years. He trusts the work we do."
"Fair enough." Gavin's eyes were inexorably drawn to the bar. "Hey, we're not technically on the job anymore, are we?" he asked hopefully.
"You have a problem. But no, we're not." Gavin grinned at him. Ryan rolled his eyes. "We have time for one." They made their way to the bar, and, resisting the urge to get them both vodka martinis just to see the look on Gavin's face, Ryan ordered two Black Russians. Ryan grabbed the drinks with a nod to the bartender, handing one to Gavin as they slowly sauntered through the room.
An elegant blonde, who Gavin guessed was in her late thirties but hiding it well with her makeup, approached Ryan with a winning smile. He returned it, introducing both himself and Gavin with their aliases for the night. She greeted Gavin politely and returned her attention to the older man.
Gavin scowled slightly and stomped over to a table laid out with refreshments. Moodily, he downed half his drink in one go, and felt his eyes water slightly as he reached for some dainty crackers, the only food available that he actually recognised. He was about to polish off the rest of his drink when he heard a voice at his elbow.
"You know, you'd probably attract just as much female attention as him if you stopped looking like you want to throw someone off a building." The woman was dressed in a simple pale blue dress, her black hair cut into a sleek bob. She nodded to Ryan - who was quite happily flirting with the blonde - with a grin.
Restraining himself, Gavin took a small sip from his glass, something that was definitely not jealousy swirling down into his stomach alongside the alcohol. "That's not the problem. He drags me along to parties he knows I don't like, and then this happens." He gestured at the blonde woman, who was laughing prettily at something Ryan had said.
"Well, I can sort of relate," she said, leaning against the table. "My dad does pretty much the same thing with me. He know I hate these things but he insists that 'I was born into this world, and need to act like a lady of my standing.' Then he goes and talks about cars with anyone who will listen." She rolled her eyes.
"Where's you're dad from, the 1920s?"
She scoffed. "Sometimes I wonder." Her eyes flicked to point somewhere past Gavin's shoulder and her expression soured. "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Sorry, I've got to go." With a wry grin, she darted past him. Gavin finished his drink and grabbed another cracker, checking his watch. Stuffing the cracker into his mouth in a rather undignified fashion, he made his way back over to Ryan and tapped him on the shoulder. "It's eleven," he murmured.
Ryan nodded. "Jessica, it was lovely meeting you," he told the blonde, and turned to follow Gavin to the exit. Michael was, once again, already waiting for them outside.
The car trip back to the hotel was quiet, and Gavin held his silence until they got on the elevator.
"Did you really have to flirt so much?"
Ryan quirked an eyebrow. "You weren't doing so bad yourself. That black-haired girl seemed pretty interested."
"I wasn't flirting with her, though." Gavin's tone was sullen.
There was a few seconds of silence, then Ryan started laughing. "You're jealous!"
Gavin coloured hotly. "No I'm not. I was thinking about the mission. The whole point of these stupid tuxedos was so that we'd blend in!"
"And that's exactly what I was doing," Ryan told him as the elevator stopped at their floor. "I don't know if you noticed, but everyone was flirting with everyone in that place. That's what a lot of those sorts of society parties are for. If anything, you looked suspicious by just standing next to the snack table and glaring at everything." He slid the key card into the slot on the door for their hotel room, letting Gavin go in front of him. "Besides, there's nothing to be jealous of," he told Gavin, voice low as his hands slid over the younger man's shoulders. "I've been waiting to tear this tuxedo off you since the second you put it on."