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It’s a simple, if boring, operation. Lay low, keep your ears out. Be on call as backup if necessary. Leave when given the signal. Vanderwood chooses a cashiering job at a family-run convenience store on a street corner within a designated radius of the bar the target frequents and goes about making themself as inconspicuous as possible. They blend in well—they’re perfectly polite if a bit stoic—and most of the locals loosen their tongues around them in record time, almost like Vanderwood’s a piece of benign and helpful furniture.
The first week passes in a stretched out blur of uneventfulness, all according to plan.
The week after that brings Hyun.
The first time Vanderwood sees him is when they’re taking the trash out to the back. It’s an overcast day threatening rain and Vanderwood just wants to throw the trash bags into the dumpster and hurry back in before the skies break open. They run into Hyun instead, lounging against the wall with a cigarette in his mouth and acting for all the world like he’s a natural fixture of the back alley and not an unwanted annoyance openly flouting the No Loitering sign.
Vanderwood ignores him. Or at least tries to. But he’s a persistent smudge of pale skin and silver hair in the corner of their vision, not blending in and not even trying to, like he knows very well that he can’t go unnoticed and delights heavily in that fact.
When Vanderwood’s thrown away the trash and turned back around the loiterer’s watching them with a clearly curious look in his eye, and once their eyes meet he breaks out into a satisfied grin, grinding out the cigarette on the wall behind him and pushing off to take a few steps closer. Vanderwood bristles. They don’t need curiosity, or questions, or interest. They need anonymity. The security of being completely forgettable.
“I haven’t seen you around before.”
Vanderwood shrugs with practised casualness, a much less sharp movement than they would usually make of it. “I haven’t been working here long.”
“Yeah? What’s your name?”
Good sense dictates that Vanderwood should fake-politely and fake-nervously introduce themself by their chosen alias for this mission, but they don’t. Instead they level him with a deliberately flat look, a slight derisive curl tugging on the edges of their mouth. Later they’ll blame this grave error on their inexperience in the field. Even later than that they’ll blame the man himself.
The man in question finally notices the nametag pinned to Vanderwood’s work clothes and looks again at the European-influenced features of Vanderwood’s face. “Won, huh? So you’re half?”
Vanderwood doesn’t deign to answer that.
“What’s your first name?”
“Mary.” They say in a deadpan, unable to help themself.
He muffles surprised laughter into his fist, eyes sparkling as the laughter trails off and his hand drops. He won’t stop looking at them. His eyes are too bright. “Haha, okay then, Mary. My name’s Hyun.”
Before Vanderwood can brush past him Hyun is already turning around, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he leaves the alley. Nothing of note even happened in those short minutes, nothing was given away, but somehow they can’t help but feel like they’ve been taken at a horrible disadvantage.
God, why would he think they cared what his name was anyway.
As they stand there staring at the empty mouth of the alley it finally starts to rain.
Hyun visits Vanderwood the next day claiming to need cigarettes. He gets cigarettes alright, but before that he leans back up against the counter for at least an hour, chatting up customers as they wait in line and shooting the occasional sly side-glance at Vanderwood as he does.
Vanderwood wants to toss him out for....they don’t know, being intimidating or obstructing business or something...but despite his all-black attire, motorcycle jacket, and clear delinquent vibes everyone is charmed the instant he turns his face to them with a smile.
Once business slows and the line fades out Hyun stops dithering and faces Vanderwood, the side-glance evolving into a full-on stare with eyes that are still much too bright. “Guess I caught you on a busy day, huh, Mary.”
Mary. Well. This is what Vanderwood gets for not controlling themself properly. Secret agents aren’t supposed to have a sense of humor on the job no matter how dry. Maybe if they keep ignoring him...It hasn’t worked for the past hour, but god, he has to get bored at some point, right?
“You’re not supposed to loiter inside the store either.” Vanderwood says, not looking at him. Fuck. They don’t know why they can’t resist the urge to snipe at him—Easy target? Hard to ignore?—but it’s really undermining what they’re trying to accomplish here.
Hyun grins. “I’m not really a fan of ‘supposed to.’”
Vanderwood snorts, amused despite themself. “What about a strong suggestion?”
“Maybe if you suggest something I like~”
“Then I suggest you come back next week.”
“Next week?!”
Hyun will definitely lose interest by then. Or maybe the operation will end and Vanderwood won’t even be here anymore. An easy solution to a pesky problem.
Hyun does indeed come back next week, and Vanderwood is still there. They have their mouth open ready to say something, anything, to shoot him down, but they find themself taking a smoke break with him instead. It’s the boredom. It has to be. Two weeks of nothing but the ring of the register would compromise anyone’s judgement, like sound-based water torture.
“So Mary, where are you from?” Hyun asks, standing right up next to them and lighting their cigarette with a cheap-looking disposable lighter.
“None of your business.” Vanderwood blows out a curl of smoke and keeps their eyes trained on the opposite side of the alley.
Hyun sighs and Vanderwood can hear his head thunk back against the wall. “Cold, dude…”
“I said I’d smoke with you. I never said I’d talk.”
“So what, you want to smoke in complete silence?” Hyun asks disbelievingly.
Honestly? Not really. But there’s less chance of probing questions this way. Vanderwood takes another drag and then crosses their arms. “Yes.”
“...”
“...”
The silence is thick and uncomfortable and Vanderwood does a great job at pretending they’re not bothered by it. Hyun doesn’t.
“No conversation at all?” Hyun asks, fidgeting with his cigarette.
“Not if it requires me answering you.”
“What if I just talk about me?” Hyun suggests almost desperately.
Still too dangerous. “Pass.”
“...other people?”
Vanderwood turns their head, curious, and then instantly curses themself when Hyun perks up. “What do you mean by that?”
Hyun leans in. “You know that guy that always comes in with the bright blue scarf? The weird one without ends on it?”
“An infinity scarf.” Vanderwood corrects, eyebrows raising. They flip through their mental catalog of people from the area and come up with a rather straggly-looking man in his thirties that tends to hover around the back aisles of the convenience store. “You’re talking about Mr. Yi?”
“Yeah! That guy. You know he’s actually…?”
So Vanderwood might have one incredible weakness, just one, and that weakness is gossip. And god, does Hyun exploit it mercilessly once he figures that out. One smoke break turns into a streak of seven turns into a daily ritual that Vanderwood can’t escape from. Not that they’re trying very hard anymore.
So Hyun floods him with stories about the people around town over the course of a couple weeks and inevitably details of Hyun’s own life filter in. He lives alone. He’s worked just about every kind of part-time job imaginable. He wants to be a theater actor. He has a beautiful singing voice. He’s an ex-gang member. And he’s very proud of his newly-gotten apartment even though it’s a shithole half dug into the ground.
Useless details. Not relevant to the job and not dramatic or weird enough to be entertaining. But they stick in Vanderwood’s head just the same, a whole folder full of information taking up space in the cabinet of their mind, and it just keeps growing, growing, growing. If they wanted to they could dump all the puzzle pieces out and reconstruct the picture of Hyun’s life, trace back the lines to find the reasons for Hyun’s overblown cockiness, his persistence, his sincerity.
They don’t. They refuse to. Once you know something you can’t go back and unknow it. And Vanderwood already knows too much about this man just by letting themself stand next to him for fifteen minutes every day.
“Where’d you get that thing?” Hyun asks one day, tilting his head at the old, dinged-up metal cigarette lighter in Vanderwood’s hand. Immediately he realizes his mistake—no questions—and scrubs at his hair with his hand, looking down at the ground. “Oh. Uh, whoops. Sorry, haha…”
The instinctive ‘none of your business’ freezes on their tongue at the apology and they swallow it down, turning the lighter over and over in their hand, a well-worn path. It always feels heavy in their hand but it feels even heavier today for some reason. They’ve been undercover for too long. Long over a month now. The signal from the agency better come soon. “It’s fine.” Vanderwood doesn’t say anything else and, strangely, neither does Hyun. They smoke in silence that day, humidity hanging thick in the air.
Hyun’s late.
And Hyun being late shouldn’t matter—Vanderwood’s perfectly capable of smoking by themself without getting talked at—but Hyun’s never late and there’s an uncomfortable, dissonant sensation of alarm scraping at the back of their mind. It’s stupid so Vanderwood stomps it out. Nothing’s wrong, it’s just a change in routine. Vanderwood shouldn’t even have routines, not ones like these.
But then there’s a sound. A faint one, a grunt, a bit of a distance away. Something thrown into a wall, then sliding. Low voices. Vanderwood doesn’t realize how intently they’re listening until their lungs burn, reminding them to breathe. They take a deep breath and exhale, finally lighting their cigarette and resolving to just ignore it but a shout in a familiar-sounding voice has them moving before they even realize, the cigarette falling forgotten from their fingers.
Vanderwood finds Hyun on the other side of the building, propped up like a ragdoll against the wall with a long cut in his jacket and bloody knuckles, surrounded by three rough-looking men with sneers on their faces. One of them has a knife. Another has his fist bunched in Hyun’s shirt.
Vanderwood crosses the space in four long strides, shrugging off every trace of affected body language like a ill-fitting coat before grabbing the nearest man’s arm, snapping it back with brutal efficiency until the man’s shoulder dislocates and he stumbles back on his ass with a shriek. Vanderwood’s other hand retrieves their taser from where it’s holstered at the small of their back under the store uniform and fires it at the man with a knife. He falls like a bag of rocks. The third one drops his hold on Hyun and charges at them only to be felled by the taser’s second and final shot. Vanderwood drops the taser as the first man gets back up, ready for him to charge, but the man just turns tail and runs.
“Oh my god.” Hyun says looking up at them, stunned. “I...H-Holy shit. Mary?!”
Tension rigid as iron locks Vanderwood’s spine even as they bend down to pick up the discarded taser to stow away again. They think of about fifteen different ways they could knock Hyun out. The agency wouldn’t be pleased at a change of plans but if it becomes necessary they might have to relocate…
“Mary…”
They shouldn’t have charged in like that. Why had they charged in like that? This isn’t any of their business. They should at least have kept the taser stowed away. Shit. They hadn’t been thinking. What the fuck is wrong with them? If Hyun finds out too much Vanderwood will be forced to do something about it. Hyun had a better chance of survival against those three guys than against them.
Hyun laughs. A wild, howling laugh, head tipped back against the wall as blood drips from his busted lip. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this, oh my god.” Hyun flinches for a second as the laughter strains his injured side, but doesn’t stop. “Is...is that kind of taser even legal?”
“No questions.” Vanderwood murmurs, gaze flinty.
“Right, right.” Hyun heaves himself up to his feet with a groan, hand against the wall for balance. “No ruining the grand mystery of Mary Won, I got it.” He groans again, head bowing. “Fuck...this is really gonna mess with my audition tomorrow...”
Vanderwood’s always thought this man was a bit of an idiot, but this really takes the cake. Does he really not understand that he’s still in danger right now?
“We should probably scram before those guys wake up.” Hyun says. “And don’t worry about them blabbing. They’ll be too embarassed that they got the shit kicked out of them.”
“Why were they after you?” Vanderwood finds themself asking. Damn their curiosity.
Hyun shrugs, finally looking a little uncomfortable. “Haha...sometimes you move on from the past but the past doesn’t move on from you, you know?”
“No.” Vanderwood’s abruptly aware of the lighter in their pocket. It’s always been the other way around for them.
“Well. It happens. Trust me.” Hyun begins to walk unevenly, making his way towards Vanderwood and then past them. Vanderwood’s hand twitches, but for some reason they let him go.
“So how much time do you still have off the clock? ‘Cause I could probably use some help bandaging a few things.”
I’m always on the clock, Vanderwood thinks. Always.
But Hyun buys himself some bandages from the store—though no antiseptic—and for some reason...Vanderwood helps patch him up.
“I got the role! Mary! Mary, I got it!” Hyun comes in grinning and points at the cigarette cartons behind the counter. Vanderwood goes to grab one.
After that...incident....Hyun comes around even more frequently, often twice or three times in one day. When Vanderwood’s on break, when Hyun’s just finished a shift of his own somewhere, at one in the morning when no one but the exceedingly desperate come to buy things.
“Stop calling me Mary.” Vanderwood grumbles, returning to the register. They didn’t care at first but it’s honestly starting to grate on them now. Not like it should. An alias is an alias. Fake. Who cares which fake name Hyun calls them by?
“Then you should probably tell me your first name, right?”
“...I see getting pummeled last week hasn’t dampened your spirit at all.”
Hyun healed from his injuries in a record three days. He also never asked any more questions about the incident whatsoever, which just cements the idea in Vanderwood’s mind that Hyun’s an anomaly they could never, ever account for.
“Can’t keep me down.” Hyun winks. “And come on, what is it? Are you embarrassed~?”
Vanderwood pauses in scanning the cigarette carton and pins him with an unimpressed look. “I’m obligated to treat you with respect within these walls but the moment we’re outside all bets are off.”
“Ooo scary, babe.”
Vanderwood pulls a disgusted face.
“What? You wanted me to stop calling you Mary, right?”
It wouldn’t actually hurt to tell him even though they’ve been fighting it for so long. Vanderwood is an assumed name just like everything else, it has no records attached to it, no trail to track. There’s nothing special about it at all other than Vanderwood’s comfort with it. Not telling him was just their way of trying to get Hyun to fuck off, but apparently Hyun’s incapable of that.
“Just call me Vanderwood.”
There’s a moment of shock on Hyun’s face that Vanderwood gains immense satisfaction from, but then the shock softens into something warm and Vanderwood’s hand tightens on the cigarette carton hard enough to start crumpling it. What the hell does that look mean?
“Vanderwood.” Hyun repeats, eyes sparkling. Then Hyun reaches over the counter, gently extracts the squished carton from Vanderwood’s grip, and leaves exact change in the palm of their hand. Hyun’s fingers are hot where they brush their skin and it occurs to Vanderwood suddenly that this is the first time they’ve actually ever touched casually. They jerk their hand back, flustered.
“Come on, Vandy,” Hyun says with a hint of a smirk, “let’s go smoke.”
Another week later and Hyun is peering at Vanderwood’s face in concern. He’s been doing that for the past ten minutes actually, five with Vanderwood behind the counter and five with them outside smoking.
“Stop looking at me like that.” Vanderwood mutters. “I’m fine.”
“Someone hit you.” Hyun says, scandalized.
Better than being dead. Vanderwood thinks. The operation finally went somewhere and Vanderwood had been called in to keep an eye on one of the secondary exits so the target couldn’t escape. Predictably, it ended up being the one exit the target tried to escape from. Along with about five armed guards. A bruise to the face was nothing in the face of those odds. Vanderwood’s actually pretty proud of themself. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
“I can’t help worrying about you.” Hyun says, a hand reaching out to angle Vanderwood’s face to his. His fingers burn hot against Vanderwood’s jaw and his eyes, as always, are bright and earnest as he looks at them. They’re too stunned to jerk away from the touch this time.
“I should be the one worrying. You’re the one who gets cornered.” Vanderwood says finally. A tension’s building that Vanderwood can identify. So...Hyun’s actually acting on the attraction he’s been hinting at.
“I know.” Hyun murmurs, drawing closer.
“I can take care of myself.” Vanderwood moves closer too. Hyun’s undeniably attractive. They don’t mind if things get physical. And Vanderwood will be leaving soon anyway, now that the target has been dealt with. Might as well fit in a night of something interesting before they’re sent back to the agency.
“I know.” Hyun whispers, just before his lips close over Vanderwood’s own.
The kiss is...weirdly soft. Tender. Not what Vanderwood was expecting. Hyun pulls back with a blissful look on his face and lays a second, short kiss at the corner of their mouth. Vanderwood has no idea what’s going on. They feel like they’ve taken a wrong turn somehow and gotten hopelessly lost.
“We should get dinner sometime.” Hyun suggests quietly.
What…?
Something in the expression on Vanderwood’s face must tip him off to their confusion because he takes a breath and keeps going, “I want to take you out.”
Vanderwood freezes. No. No, no, no, no, no. They’d be furious at themself for not seeing this coming, but this has literally never happened before. People don’t develop feelings for them. There’s nothing about them to like.
“Don’t—” Vanderwood starts.
“I-I know there’s something big you can’t tell me about,” Hyun spills out in a rush, “but I don’t care. If you have to keep me in the dark that’s fine. It’s fine. I just want to be with you because I think I really—”
Vanderwood lunges toward him and slaps a hand over Hyun’s mouth, pinning him to the wall. “Don’t!” It’s not just Hyun’s fingers that are warm, it’s Hyun’s face too. He probably radiates heat everywhere, like a furnace, and Vanderwood regrets the fact that they’re not wearing gloves because it feels like that heat is going to travel up their arm and melt them from the inside out. “Whatever you think you feel, forget it. Forget all of it. Do you understand me?”
“I can’t do that.” Hyun says when Vanderwood lets him go.
“This isn’t a game.” Vanderwood hisses. “You shouldn’t push this.”
“Yeah, well…” Hyun smiles wryly. “I have a bad habit of doing the things I shouldn’t do.”
He’s not going to give up, Vanderwood realizes with rising horror. He’s never given up once in his damn life, has he?
Vanderwood takes a step back shaking their head. Then another. Then another. Then they run. Hyun bolts after them and chases them for blocks, keeping up with the advantage of his physique, but Vanderwood’s training has been thorough. They know how to shake off pursuit.
It’s time to disappear. But if Vanderwood’s being honest with themself it’s been time to disappear for weeks now.
They call the convenience store owner and quit, pack up the few of their belongings at the room they’ve been renting week by week, toss their burner phone, and that’s it. The person they’ve been for the past couple of months is now dead.
They’d leave immediately—they should leave immediately—but the urge to leave Hyun some better parting words than what he’d gotten overwhelms them. They try to write a short note but they just stare at the paper for an hour, all their words run dry. They give up and light a cigarette, then keep holding the lighter in their hand. It weighs heavier now than it ever has, and Vanderwood can’t help but think that means it’s time to finally let it go. They’ve been holding onto so many things they shouldn’t be: sentiment, memory, hope—but there’s no room for things like that in a life like theirs.
They don’t leave it anywhere near the convenience store, knowing Hyun might still be trying to find them. Instead they brave the rain to find the theater Hyun’s been practicing at and leave it there. Maybe he’ll find it. Maybe he won’t. Either way, Vanderwood is rid of it now. They’re rid of all of it. Everything.
Six years pass. Six years of endless assignments and close calls and babysitting an unbalanced hacker genius. Six long years pass and at the end of them Vanderwood finds themself completely jobless and yet still somehow stuck hanging around with ex-agent Seven-Zero-Seven, for a simple lack of anywhere else to go.
“You know, I heard a really interesting thing from Zen a while back.” Seven drawls, pushing out a leg and beginning to make his computer chair spin in circles.
“Zen,” Vanderwood says, keeping their voice purposefully neutral as they always do when that name comes up, “that actor in the RFA...Why are you bringing this up?”
“Don’t play coy, Vandy, I know you love hearing the daily update~” Seven sing-songs. “Your life would be so boring without us.”
“Don’t call me Vandy.” Vanderwood snaps. They sigh and straighten out their gloves. “But you’re going to tell me anyway so go ahead, out with it.”
“Welllllll…” Push push push, spin spin spin. “I posted a picture of myself all dressed up and pretty and said it was my wonderful maid, Mary Vanderwood 3rd—”
Vanderwood’s face instantly blanches. “You said what —”
“—and of course he said she was soooo beautiful—”
He’d said that about Seven? Vanderwood’s hands flex but they immediately smooth them back out and cross their arms instead. It doesn’t matter who Zen finds attractive. It’s irrelevant. It has nothing to do with them.
“—but do you know what he said when I teased him again about it the other day?” Seven’s leg drags on the ground until the spinning chair slowly comes to a stop, and he spears Vanderwood with his stare, a half-grin on his face. “He said he used to know someone who went by the name Vanderwood. What~ A~ Surprise~!!!”
Vanderwood’s stomach drops. They’ve died and gone to hell. That’s the only explanation for this. All the things they’ve done have finally caught up to them and now the devil’s making them pay, and the devil looks like a mischievous redhead who’s heard one too many taser threats in his life. Vanderwood’s first instinct is to deny it, but they already know the cat’s out of the bag. They don’t know exactly how much Seven’s heard but it’s obvious that he managed to drag at least part of the story out of Zen. The only way out of this is through.
“We have some history. Not much.” they say coolly.
“Because you cut him out.”
“He was better off without me.” Vanderwood snipes back. “No attachments. You know that.”
Seven doesn’t argue that point; he just goes sober and pins them with his gaze and says, “And you know we don’t live that life anymore.”
“What…? What are you—” Comprehension begins to dawn. “You’re not suggesting…”
“Ding ding ding~!” Seven throws his hands up. “We have a winner!”
“That’s ridiculous!” Vanderwood spits. They’re shocked enough that they speak without thinking. “It’s surprising enough that he even remembers me after all this time. He’s not going to still want me.”
A moment of dead silence. Vanderwood stands there, mortified, and looks away.
“Hmmm, are you really sure about that...?” Seven says, gently enough to make Vanderwood want to set themself on fire. “He said that those were some of his fondest memories, you know.”
“It’s in the past. It doesn’t matter.”
“Oh really?” Seven’s eyebrows raise. “Well, it doesn’t look like the past agrees with you.”
Vanderwood’s head jerks back to Seven. “What does that mean.”
“It means,” Seven says, leaning back in his chair with a self-satisfied grin, “that Zen’s been pounding on the front door for the past couple of minutes. Probably sped here the moment he got my text about you.” Seven taps his chin, pretending to ponder. “Someone should probably let him in.”
Vanderwood flashes to the desk before they can even think, staring at the monitor. There he is, banging on the door with one hand, holding a painfully familiar lighter in the other. He found it. He has it. He’s kept it this whole time. There’s a look of almost frantic hope on his face, a slight sheen of tears in his bright, bright eyes, and the energy behind that look is so strong they find themself leaning forward. Seven, for once, says nothing.
Vanderwood bites off a glove, hovers their hand above the button to open the door. They swallow. If they let him in, they’ll have to face everything. They’ll have to apologize, and explain, and they’ll...what, they’ll...be in a relationship? With Zen? Even without the hurdle of the agency to deal with, Vanderwood doesn’t know shit about relationships. Aren’t people in those supposed to be in touch with their feelings? Be good at communication? The only thing Vanderwood’s confident in is that they’re a good fuck, not a good partner.
But. Zen’s here. Zen knows what they’re like. And Zen still wants them.
They breathe in, breathe out, press the button...and finally, finally let him in.