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“You actually d-did well tonight, Uris,” Bill said, walking Stan to his car.
Stan removed his earpiece, tucking it into his pocket and then loosening his tie- he bristled at the comment. “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’re nuh-nn-not exactly the b-best at your job any other time.” He’d already made his bed, he might as well lie in it. That was their banter, it wasn’t like they were friends. So he continued with the joke. Stan had reached his car and was wrestling his keys out of his jacket pocket, pointedly not looking at Bill so he couldn’t see the anger plastered on his face. “We all know I’m the best sss-s-spy in the business.” He was practically breathing down Stan’s neck (the scent of his cologne was fresh, kind of citrusy), tone playful, but there was an edge of truth to it. You had to be a little arrogant to enjoy a job like this.
Stan was in the middle of pulling on the door handle when he turned around so fast Bill jumped back a few steps or so; which he covered as best he could. He’d seen him cold and calculating when he was arresting a criminal, teasing when he was talking to Richie over the comms, even happy when Bill told a particularly good joke, but never like this. Red splotches had appeared on his neck and his breathing was heavy, his hands balled into fists at his sides.
“You’re an asshole , Denbrough. You wouldn’t have been able to catch the guy without me and my team. Best spy in the business? Give me a fucking break.” He laughed without humour. “Bev, Richie and I are a unit. You go off and leave your guys while you satisfy your saviour complex! And you know what that causes? Stupid mistakes .”
Bill grit his teeth. “At least I’m nn-n-not too scared to take risks. You huh-hide behind disguises, never actually approach the target until the last minute.”
Stan waved his hands around almost comically. He would have laughed if Stan didn’t have a gun in his pocket, and didn’t know he would use it.
“Because I don’t want to die. I don’t want to leave my team alone. But you’re fine as long as you get the glory.”
When looking at the shiny black exterior of the car, Bill could see his own disdain for Stan in the reflection. They’d known each other for less than a year, had hated each other the entire time. Bill didn’t owe him an explanation for why he was the way he was.
He walked forward, lessening the distance that had grew between them. Sweat was beading on his upper lip because of the July air; which he licked away while he was wetting his mouth to speak. Stan tilted his chin up daringly. A small part of Bill acknowledged that although he probably looked a mess, a bruise forming around his eye and a deep cut on his left cheekbone, Stan was barely ruffled. One curl hung in front of his face, and he itched to move it away. Despite the angel in front of him, devilish words escaped his lips.
“I wish we never met on that stupid mission.”
Stan exhaled slowly through his nose and nodded shortly. “I’m glad we finally agree on something. Because y’know what?”
“ Wh-What?” Bill challenged. “Enlighten me.”
He held up five fingers in front of his face, barely able to squeeze through the space between them.
“Number one - you’re arrogant. I’ve never met someone who spends so much time checking himself out in the nearest reflective surface, no matter what the situation.” Bill recalled him looking at himself in the car only a few minutes earlier, and flushed at the accusation. He still snapped back.
“Doesn’t sss-st-stop you from looking at my ass. ”
Stan glared at him and lowered one finger. “Number two - you’re forgetful. I can’t even count how many times I’ve had to loan you some gear because you’ve forgotten yours.”
“ Twice. ” Bill said. “Good th-th-thing, too, your gear is terrible.”
“Because you don’t know how to use it, and you never thought to ask. Maybe make use of your resources rather than try to go it alone. Which brings us to number three.” He smiled sardonically. “Reckless.”
Bill clenched his jaw and looked at the hand being waved in front of him rather than into Stan’s eyes. “ I get it. You don’t have to keep going.”
“Oh, but I want to.” Stan was actually using the car to steady himself as he got on his tiptoes to make sure he was at eye level. “Number four. Clumsy. Leaving prints? No codenames?”
“I sss-still get the perp.” He smirked. One hand was now resting casually against the hood of the car, now hovering over Stan so he was forced to shrink back down to his normal height.
“But you’re not guaranteeing the safety of you, Ben, Eddie or Mike afterwards!” Stan exploded, pushing on Bill’s chest to try to get him to stumble backwards. He didn’t succeed.
Bill ducked down enough so he was close to Stan’s ear, his voice now a low rumble.
“This might just be mm-m-me being arrogant ,” he teased, “but ih-it almost sounds as if you’re worried about me.”
“Please,” Stan scoffed - his voice wavered slightly. “No use worrying over a lost cause.”
He took his break of facade as an opportunity to push his buttons, see the weaker side of the spy that was never exposed while on the job. Bill’s lips ghosted over his jawline briefly, the hot breath he was exhibiting making Stan shiver, his curls bouncing with the motion.
“I wanna hear nuh-nn-number five.” He whispered, trailing his hand up and down Stan’s arm.
“I- What?”
“I’m sorry, did I d-distract you?” Bill’s laugh was breathy and light.
“Your sheer idiocy tends to leave me lost for words, yes.” Unlike earlier, he couldn’t detect any malice behind Stan’s words. He pushed gently on his shoulder so he was fully pressed against the car, and he heard a soft gasp.
“Number five,” he reminded him, pressing the lightest kiss to Stan’s cheek before moving to look him square in the face, focusing on his eyes in particular, which were narrowed in irritation.
Stan cleared his throat and stood taller. “Well, you’re-”
His lips moved wordlessly, the actual noise coming from them fading into the background with the honking of horns and rumbling engines; it was impossible for Bill’s gaze to not drift lower. Unlike his own, Stan’s were plush and soft - at least he imagined they were. Bill watched as his pink tongue wrapped around each syllable, how it darted out every so often nervously. He caught excerpts of what was stumbling out of Stan’s mouth-
Selfish…Insulting other’s efforts...Ignoring orders…
But it was all white noise when he realised what he really wanted to do, something he’d most likely get slapped for. Bill, whether he liked it or not, had grown to know Stan pretty well. He knew that he never let someone make decisions for him; control was the key to success in his opinion. What he also knew was that he could afford to loosen up every now and then.
So relinquishing that control just once couldn’t hurt, right?
“...And to top it all off, you’re...you’re…” Stan’s eyes scanned over his face, never settling on one feature for more than a second. Bill settled a hand on his hip and finally leaned in, cutting off the half-assed insult. The kiss was only a soft press of lips, and despite the tension between them it could even be described as sweet. That is, until Stan made an embarrassingly desperate noise, opening his mouth just enough for Bill to deepen the kiss. His hands made their way from Stan’s hips, to his waist, shoulders, and eventually his hair, Bill holding onto it so tightly Stan’s head tilted back. His lips were just as soft as Bill expected, and they slotted perfectly against his own as their tongues moved together cautiously. Apparently our suspicious nature applies to making out too, Bill joked to himself.
“Bill,” Stan whined, pulling away. He noticed smugly that his face was flushed and his pupils were blown.
“Not Duh-D-Denbrough anymore?” He laughed.
“You sticking your tongue down my throat kind of puts us on a first-name basis.” Stan responded drily.
“I should’ve…” Bill cocked his head at the commotion he could hear rather close by, and Stan did the same. It almost sounded like...laughter?
Three sets of laughter.
“Hey,” Eddie wheezed, “I have an idea for number five.”
“Yeah!” Mike chimed in, laugh booming. “Forgets to turn off his earpiece when he’s making out with his crush.”
Ben’s giggle could also be heard, and Stan’s dreamy smile formed into something that could be only be described as absolute fury by Bill when he heard the tinny voices.
Stan ripped the earpiece out swiftly. “You were listening?!” He shrieked into the mic. His gaze focused on Bill. “You kept it in?! ”
Bill stepped back slowly, hands held up in surrender. “You’re v-very distracting!”
“You-” Stan breathed out slowly and rolled his eyes. “Just turn the damn thing off and get in the car, Bill.”
“I’m sure no one else wants to hear the next part!” Was the last thing heard from Ben before Bill crushed the microphone under his heel.