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The 70s is by far one of the most familiar decades Flynn’s ever visited, everything is almost recognisable to what it’ll be in his time. The clothes are a little garish for his tastes, with everything being just a little too bright. But it’s a comfort to see Wyatt and Rufus look just as uncomfortable in their ill-fitting suits as he does. Lucy on the other hand still manages to look beautiful in the little blue dress she’d managed to find. It really wasn’t fair.
They were currently in some bar, seeing that they wouldn’t actually be able to find the sleeper agent until the next day when Arthur Ashe was supposed to become the first black man to win Wimbledon. But they wouldn’t be able to find his would-be assassin until the next day when he was playing, so Rufus had the suggestion to kill time at a club. He thought it was a terrible idea, but Lucy had looked excited at the prospect, so himself and Wyatt begrudgingly agreed and followed the two silently as they giddily skipped along the street and into the first club they found.
The two of them sit giggling at something across the table, glancing in wonder at the people around them while Wyatt’s in the bathroom. This whole scene puts him a little on edge, there are too many people moving around at once and it’s so nosy that he can barely hear himself think. One of the only comforts is the cool metal of his gun that he can feel against his back from where’s its tucked into his waistband.
The gasp from Lucy is audible, even over the loud music, when the notes of the next song begin to play. And a small smile tugs at the corner of Flynn’s lips when he realises why, it’s Your Song By Elton John, one of her favourites. A small warmth settles in his chest when he realises why he knows that, it’s not from something he’s read in her journal, it’s something he knows from knowing her. She played it in loop last week, he’d heard it blaring through her earphones, and when he’d asked her why she kept on playing it, she’d rolled her eyes, told him that it was one of her favourite songs and that it fitted her current mood.
He drains the remainder of his scotch before he makes direct eye contact with her, nodding his head towards the dance floor. It takes her a minute to catch his meaning before she nods and says something to Rufus. They walk silently to the dance floor, her hand gently brushing against his as they move, he eventually finds the courage to take it and spins her into his embrace, his hands comfortably finding their way to her waist as they begin to sway to the beat.
She fits comfortably next to him, her heels making her just the right height for her hands to rest on his shoulders. Her waist his soft against his hands and he can imagine if he moves his thumb just a little, her breath would hitch as he almost brushes against her breast. But he doesn’t, not yet. They’ll have plenty of time for that later, he hopes.
“Why’d to ask me to dance?” She asks him, her forehead creasing in that adorable way that it does when she’s trying to solve some puzzle. It amuses him a little, that she thinks of him as something that she needs to figure out, to understand. And he wants to help, he wants to pull all of the pieces together for her, but he doesn’t know how. So he’s stuck with giving her the small pieces of him that his heart will allow.
“It’s your favourite song, you told me last week.” He watches as the touched look crosses her face, and he can practically see her barriers come down another inch. Feeling brave, he steps closer to her, so she has to tilt her head in order to see him properly, if not for the heels she would have to be lifted in order to rest her arms on his shoulders at all. “Why’d you say yes?”
That question catches Lucy off guard. Her mouth opens and closes once, twice as she looks away, flustered. After a moment, her eyes meet his and he feels her fingers gently twisting in the hair at the back of his neck. “I wanted to.”
Flynn feels his heart practically swell to burst in his chest and he can’t contain the grin that spreads across his face. He sees her grin back, the small blush rising to her cheeks as she bites the inside of her cheek and he thinks that nothing could bring his mood down right now.
Except that.
A movement at the bar above Lucy’s head catches his eye. It’s Emma – of all the goddamn clubs she had to come onto this one? His first instinct is to reach for his gun and he feels his grip tighten on Lucy’s waist as he resists it. She seems to be alone, so the sleeper isn’t with her and he can already feel the telling off he’ll get from the rest of them if he starts to open fire in a packed club, for surely if he did all hell would break loose.
Wyatt and Rufus can’t be seen from the bar at their table in the back corner, so if they can make it back over there, they can leave through the back exit and then wait for Emma to leave later to extract information from her. But the problem is that he can be seen very clearly from the bar, with his towering height. Flynn watches as she turns Emma turns her head, just a fraction, but its enough to make him panic and do the only thing he can think of.
He kisses Lucy.
He half expects her to push him away, but she grabs the lapels of his suit to draw him deeper into the kiss and his hands wrap around her waist and pull her closer of their own accord. It’s sweet and she tastes of the chocolate she’d been eating earlier and for a moment he loses himself. Nothing exists except the feel of her arms tugging him close – impossibly close – and the taste of her kiss.
Eventually, he snaps back to reality. He glances at the bar where Emma has vanished, but a quick glance over his shoulder and he see’s her enter the bathroom, unaware of their presence. They had to move quickly.
But he continues to stare at Lucy, unable to fathom words as she beams up at him, seemingly pretty okay with what happened, more than okay in fact. They have to move, to get to safety.
But just for a moment, he smiles back.
Rufus has been acting weird ever since Wyatt came back from the bathroom. He won’t give him straight answers. One minute Flynn and Lucy are in the bathroom - separate bathrooms, something Rufus felt the need to emphasise for an unknown reason - and the next they’ve gone outside to get some fresh air. If his mumbled story wasn’t weird enough, the fact that he keeps on pushing drinks on Wyatt is.
Whatever, he just wanted to find Lucy so they could leave and find somewhere to sleep. Flynn had been getting on his nerves with snide comments the whole damn day and he just wants to find somewhere where he can put a locked door between them and get some quiet.
He glances around him, the soldier in him never allowing his guard done, especially when they’re on missions. He’s extremely thankful for his training because its kept Lucy – and Rufus – safe on several occasions and his observations skills are always something that he likes to use to his advantage.
He’d been thankful for them, until now, when he sees Flynn kiss Lucy on the dancefloor and worse, as she pulls him in closer. It’s like watching a car crash into you, knowing that it’s going to upend your whole world but you can’t look away as the headlights come so close they blind you until all you see is black. He feels his fists clench and his nails dig painfully into the palm of his hand, except it’s not painful at all because nothing could be as painful as the sight he sees before him.
Wyatt isn’t even aware of when he gets up and moves closer to the dancefloor, but he does.
Flynn’s still trying to pull himself together but it’s a little hard with Lucy smiling at him like that, and he really wants to kiss her again, to feel her tug him closer. But he has to focus before Emma sees them and all hell breaks loose.
He glances up to see Wyatt Logan marching towards them, with steel in his eyes and his jaw set.
Perhaps all hell was about to break loose anyway.