Chapter Text
Julian Pankratz. Code name Dandelion. Nickname Jaskier.
He was proud of that nickname.
The code name? Well, that wasn’t entirely his decision, but he thought it was better than “White Wolf”, and Agent Rivia could suck about a thousand dicks for trying to make fun of him.
“It’s a flower.”
“Your powers of observation are absolutely impeccable.”
“You’re a spy for the federal government and your code name is a flower.”
“We can’t all be Double-O-Seven, Rivia. Go guard a diplomat or something.”
Assignments for Jaskier were inconsistent, but often. An inside job here, a covert op there. More often than not, lately, he found himself paired up with Agent Rivia; which was great, considering that he was probably the most perfect-looking man Jaskier had ever laid eyes on, and awful, because Agent Rivia was about the most infuriating person that Jaskier had ever had the displeasure of coming into contact with.
He was half-sure that Yennefer was trying to do something, by teaming him up with Rivia, but unless the woman was intent on making him self-destruct out of pure frustration, he wasn’t sure what she was up to.
It wasn’t that Rivia was an awful person. Well, he was, but not, like, morally. He seemed to have his saving-puppies instinct in place, and Jaskier was relatively sure that he would jump in front of a bullet for a child if such a circumstance were ever to present itself. Unfortunately, he was also the most sarcastic motherfucker in the entire agency.
“You’re the White Wolf, then. Quite a code name. How’d you get it?”
“Someone wrote a thrilling epic about me.”
“Somehow I don’t quite believe that.”
He also had this infuriating habit of not actually doing what the assignment called for. Rivia called it ‘improvising’. Jaskier called it being a danger to himself and others. He’d almost died just the week prior, when they were set to apprehend an arms dealer at a hotel, and Rivia’d decided to jump through a window—or, more accurately, through the pane—in order to get to the guns faster. Jaskier, who’d had a perfectly sound ambush set up, was left with glass on his suit and a damper on his sunny demeanor.
Hadn’t been much better on their first mission together, either.
“Agent Rivia. I hear we’ll be working together.”
“Agent Pankratz.”
“Could you… could you not call me that? It’s a family name, and I hate it. My code name works just as well.”
“You want me to call you Dandelion?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Huh. Fine. Look forward to working with you, then. Dandelion.”
“Agent Rivia.”
The op in itself was one of the simpler ones Jaskier had been on. Get in. Get intel. Get out. It required them to infiltrate a party, and Jaskier loved infiltrating parties; Agent Rivia was only there for the purposes of covering more ground, getting more information without drawing suspicion to one person. Somehow, though, Rivia had wound up having sex with one of the targets. Admittedly, it had gotten them the information that they needed without drawing too much suspicion, but it also meant that Jaskier had to sit in the car, half-buzzed on champagne, waiting for Rivia to finish getting laid because one of them had to be the responsible one and it evidently wasn’t going to be Rivia.
Not that Jaskier hadn’t slept with someone on the job before. But at least he was somewhat discreet about it.
Jaskier spent half of that night in the car fantasizing about what it would be like if he and Rivia were to sleep with each other, rather than targets; he spent the other half inventing creative ways to curse him out when he saw him again. It was an interesting way to start a history with someone.
Their success rate on missions was rather high, actually. There was a reason they kept getting paired up. Agent Rivia got the job done, no matter how roundabout and impulsive his methods were. That didn’t stop Jaskier from becoming increasingly exasperated.
At least he always had the chance to go home for a little bit and decompress with his music. He’d written about as many songs about Rivia’s eyes as he had about the lucid fantasies he had about strangling the man to death in the parking lot.
To his credit, Jaskier thought that he managed to annoy Rivia in return, if just with how much and how often he spoke. He made a point of it when he could.
The job for that night included infiltrating a party, and Jaskier was very excited. Parties meant he got nice outfits, and he always looked his best in a nice suit.
So did Rivia, but that was against the point.
“Someone at that party will have the Cyrill diamond, and there’s going to be a hand-off tonight.” Yennefer said, leaning over her desk. “Retrieve it if at all possible. Otherwise, report back as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the sooner it changes hands, and we can’t risk losing it again.”
She paused, for a moment. “There’s one other thing. We were only able to acquire one invitation, so Rivia, you’ll be Pankratz’s plus-one. I don’t care what you do with that, but make it convincing.”
“So. What are you thinking,” Rivia asked, as they walked out of Yennefer’s office.
Jaskier’s mind raced—he’d been thinking about it, since she told them the circumstances, and only two options were presenting themselves to him. “Well, we’ll have to enter together. It’s more suspicious if we go in and then immediately split off. Better to have some connection to each other—and then we can regroup, if needed.”
“So, what? Brothers?”
Jaskier looked up at Rivia’s snow-white hair—key word, up—and raised an eyebrow at him. “Ignoring the fact that nobody would ever mistake us for siblings, it’d be a little weird for me to bring my brother as a plus-one.”
“Hmmm.”
“Well. I was thinking maybe you’d be my bodyguard—”
“I’m always the bodyguard,” Rivia grumbled.
Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Well, stop being hulking and generally growly and maybe people will reconsider. Anyway, as I was saying, I was thinking of having you be the bodyguard, but in the long run, it’d just come off as more suspicious. You wouldn’t leave my side, which would be an awful hindrance to collecting information, and if you did leave, it’d be a strange choice to bring a bodyguard just to have him leave.”
“Bringing a bodyguard in and of itself might seem suspicious, anyway,” Rivia pointed out. Jaskier nodded.
“Which brings me to my other suggestion, which is that you pose as my date.”
“Oh?” Rivia raised an eyebrow at him. Jaskier looked away defensively.
“Don’t let it go to your ego. All I’m saying is that it would be a good excuse to attend together, split up, and reconvene from time to time.”
Jaskier wasn’t looking, but he was pretty sure that he could hear Rivia rolling his eyes.
“If you’ve got a better idea, I’m all ears,” he said, turning to look at him again.
Rivia just hummed what Jaskier hoped was approval, before turning down a hall that took him away from Jaskier’s elevator. The conversation was over, it seemed. That was inconvenient.
It was going to be interesting, though—sure, Jaskier could control himself, and it wasn't as if he'd engineered the situation to be able to fake-date Rivia, but it certainly wasn't a downside. A little physical contact and close proximity to a pretty man had never hurt Jaskier before.
That night found Jaskier in a fitted suit, dressed to the nines. As he usually did, he took some time to preen in front of the mirror once he’d done all the basics—doing his hair, hiding weapons on his person, shining his shoes.
He met Agent Rivia in the car, and not for the first time, he reconsidered every reason he’d ever had to dislike him. The man looked good . For a moment, he considered asking Yennefer if she could give them more missions where they had to dress nicely; suits were definitely a good look on Rivia.
Once he’d gotten over the initial shock of how Rivia’s looks somehow improved when he cleaned up, he set himself to going over the basics of the night again.
“So. We get in; you’ll be posing as my date. We’ll need to spend a little time together first, to establish our cover, but after that we’ll split up, talk to the rest of the room, figure out who has the diamond. Find each other if there’s any important information to share. If we can, we get the diamond; if not, report back to Yennefer and retreat to headquarters.”
Rivia glanced over at him, and nodded. Jaskier trusted that he knew what was going on. He was a good enough agent to have taken in the necessary information when they were being briefed. What he didn’t trust, however, was that Rivia wouldn’t completely desert the plan at the slightest whim.
There was no red carpet leading to the party, as there was at some of the functions that Jaskier attended for work, but there was security at the door—and, he noticed as the car pulled up, at the windows, and on the roof. Unsurprising, considering the purpose of the party. Quite a few black market most-wanteds were going to be there, although Jaskier had no faces to pin the names to. If one of them didn’t have the diamond, it was likely that one of them was there to buy it.
Jaskier introduced himself as his cover name at the door, and offered his invitation to the door guard. He offered his best charming smile as they examined the slip of paper, and checked the list. When the guard looked questioningly at Rivia, Jaskier introduced him as his date. It took him a good second to realize that the hand suddenly on his lower back was Rivia’s, apparently intent on playing the part. He took it in stride and kept up his smile until they were both let in.
Even more security decorated the interior of the venue. Guards stood at the top of the stairs, near the bar, at the back exits. Jaskier carefully noted each of them in his mind. He glanced over to see Agent Rivia’s eyes darting across the room, doing the same thing as him. Similar training showed, at times; although they both had very different ways of executing it. Jaskier was certainly not as partial to brute force as Rivia was.
Once they were through the door, Jaskier turned to talk to Rivia, but the man was gone, already halfway across the room. He moved fast, for such a big man. Jaskier sighed. So much for the cover.
Jaskier busied himself with talking to people. A few he crossed off his list right away. The ones who were very drunk were not the ones who had important business that night; the ones who stumbled in their heels or wore ill-fitting suits obviously didn’t have much experience in this business. Not enough experience to have gotten their hands on the Cyrill diamond, anyway.
A few times, he tried to get Agent Rivia’s attention. Either he was being ignored, or Rivia was suddenly very conveniently blind, so Jaskier took that as an invitation to do whatever the fuck he wanted, since Rivia wasn’t going to stick to the plan.
Soon after giving up on Rivia’s cooperation, Jaskier struck up a conversation with Delphine Stael, and he found himself falling a bit in love.
Really, it was a bit ridiculous, but she was the sweetest person he’d ever met. A bit strange, to find at a party like this, but she told him she was a countess, which would explain her presence. The Stael family was hosting the party, after all. She offered him a drink. He accepted.
She really was a gorgeous woman. Enough to make Jaskier think to hell with Rivia . He spent a little longer with her than he probably should’ve, but he surmised that she probably knew people there, and spending time with her might give him an in if she were to talk to someone later. She offered him another drink, and he accepted; he certainly didn’t want to seem rude, and it was just some champagne. It wouldn’t do much to him. Besides, she was an absolutely wonderful conversationalist, and Jaskier hadn’t had a decent conversation in so long.
He forgot, for a while, that he was supposed to be thinking about the diamond. Talking about the diamond. Asking about the diamond? Something along those lines. His head was feeling a little fuzzy. Delphine offered him another drink. Jaskier got a bit lost in the blue of her eyes, for a moment, and took the glass without thinking, downing it with a laugh at a joke she’d made.
She really did have just the most wonderful blond hair. It was starting to look a little blurred, but maybe everything was just being blotted out by her beauty. The fuzzy edges to her figure didn’t do much to alarm Jaskier. Everything was fine. Everything was great. She offered to dance with him, and he gladly accepted.
Suddenly, a hand was around Jaskier’s arm, and an easy, charming voice was saying, “Mind if I steal him for a second?”
“And who are you, sir?” Delphine asked, all smiles. Such a vibrant personality. Such a lovely person. The sweetest girl in the whole world. Truly royal, in virtue if not in status.
“His date,” the voice replied, and Delphine giggled.
“Oh, deepest condolences, sir. I’ll let you two alone.”
A moment later, Jaskier found himself face-to-face with Rivia, who looked less than amused as he dropped the charming tone. “What happened to the cover, Dandelion?”
“She is a countess, Wolf! A contessa! And she’s gorgeous! Besides, you weren’t going to follow through on the cover, anyway, so why bother?” Jaskier suddenly found himself quite irate with Rivia, all six-foot-something of his handsome bullshit.
“Oh?” Rivia raised an eyebrow.
“And—if you’re not ever going to go along with my plans, why shouldn’t I go flirt with a pretty lady for a little bit? Fuck knows you do it enough.”
“Alright, loverboy,” Rivia muttered, glancing around. “C’mon.” With that, he pulled Jaskier off to the dance floor.
Jaskier was very put out that he wasn’t out dancing with Delphine Stael, but then Rivia slipped an arm around Jaskier’s waist, pulling him closer, and Jaskier was reminded exactly who he was dancing with. His breath hitched in his throat as Rivia nosed at his ear.
“What are you doing?” Jaskier muttered, suddenly remembering that drawing attention was bad. He glanced around the room, but nobody seemed to be paying attention; they were just another couple on the dance floor.
“Following through on the cover,” Rivia breathed, his voice a low rumble in his throat. “Now. No more contessas. We have a job to do. Did you hear anything about the diamond?”
“The diamond?” Jaskier asked, very distracted by everything that was going on. Everything felt… fuzzy.
Rivia pulled away, brows pressed together. Confusion. Concern. One of the two. Jaskier was a bit disappointed to lose the close contact. It’d been very pleasant. “The diamond, Dandelion. The one we’re here tonight to retrieve.”
“Oh!” Jaskier laughed. That was funny. He’d forgotten the diamond. “Right! The diamond.”
Rivia looked distressed by that. He shushed Jaskier. That was unfortunate. Rivia was very pretty. Jaskier didn’t like it when he looked upset. “Dandelion. Are you alright?”
“Me?” Jaskier laughed. Silly. Why would Rivia be asking that. “I’m a-okay, baby!” he said, remembering the cover, because he was a good agent. “I think I might be in love with the countess de Stael,” he confessed, softer. “She is a goddess among women, baby. And that’s saying something, because I spend a ton of my time around you, a god among men.”
Rivia raised an eyebrow at that. Jaskier grinned. Their faces were very close together. Rivia was very pretty.
“Hey. Rivia. Pretty boy. You should kiss me. For the cover. We’re already dancing.”
“She drugged you. Didn’t she.”
“Who?”
“The countess,” Rivia growled. “The one you just spent all night talking to.”
“Delphine? Love of my life, light of my heart, stars in my sky? All we did was talk. And drink. She gave me a few drinks.”
“Damn it.” They were still swaying to the music, but Rivia’s attention was very obviously elsewhere. His gaze darted around the room; Jaskier watched his eyes flick this way and that. Rivia had very pretty eyes. Golden. He’d noticed it before; he didn’t know how the man had become a spy with eyes like that. He was immediately recognizable. Horrible design choice. Very pretty result.
“She’s going up the stairs,” Rivia said, with the tone that Jaskier vaguely recognized as his ‘fuck, something’s going wrong’ tone. “Dandelion. I need you to snap out of this. I think she may have the diamond.”
“But the diamond is for bad people,” Jaskier said, confused. “Why would Delphine have the diamond? She is… everything, everything that is good and light in the world, everything that is sweet and kind—”
“Fuck, I forgot you’re a songwriter,” Rivia muttered.
“I’ve written you some very pretty songs,” Jaskier muttered as seductively as he could, taking the opportunity to press himself up against Rivia’s firm chest.
“What happened to Delphine, light of your heart?” Rivia answered, still distracted.
“The love of my life!” Jaskier remembered, before remembering something else and moving his hand from Rivia’s shoulder to his cheek. “She’s not here right now, baby.”
“Okay. This is ridiculous.” Rivia pulled himself away a bit, much to Jaskier’s dismay. “Try not to puke.” He retrieved something from his suit jacket; a little bottle of something. He brought it to Jaskier’s lips with the hand that wasn’t around Jaskier’s waist. Jaskier very much liked Rivia’s hand on his waist.
Jaskier drank, obligingly, and found that he didn’t like what he was drinking at all (which was an understatement, because it was the most awful thing he’d ever drank ever and he immediately wanted to vomit). He pressed his eyes closed for a moment to try and clear his head of that awful feeling that came with the taste. When he managed to open his eyes without spewing chunks all over Rivia’s nice suit, his head suddenly felt a lot clearer than it had been moments prior.
“What—oh, god. She drugged me.”
“Welcome back, Dandelion,” Rivia said, the sarcasm weighing heavy on his voice. “Now, are you ready to do your job?”
Jaskier blinked a few times more. It suddenly occurred to him that he was very close to Rivia; that, in fact, he was being held by Rivia at that moment.
Well. There was one of his daydreams, fulfilled.
Unfortunately, the taste of whatever the hell Rivia had given him was still extremely strong. He nodded, and Rivia wasted no time in leading the way toward the stairs.
“What the fuck did you give me?”
“One of my concoctions,” Rivia answered, which was concerning. “Sobers you up. Won’t be pleasant, and you’ll have a fuck of a headache in a few minutes, but you should be able to do your job in that time.”
“Could do without the passive-aggressive comments about doing my job, thanks,” Jaskier muttered, following Rivia up the steps.
He got the sense that Rivia would have come back with a snappy retort, but by then, they were facing the guards at the top of the steps.
“Authorized guests only,” one said, glaring suspiciously at Jaskier and Agent Rivia.
Rivia didn’t skip a beat. “We’re here to discuss the… transaction. With the Countess de Stael.” He flashed them a grin—Jaskier forgot, sometimes, how charming Agent Rivia could be when he wasn’t acting like himself.
The guards exchanged a look, but Rivia pressed on. Jaskier did his best to smile with the awful taste still in his mouth and lingering in his nostrils.
“She said to follow her shortly after she went up the stairs.” Rivia smiled, again, and the guards exchanged another look before reluctantly stepping aside to let them pass. Rivia thanked them and towed Jaskier down the hall.
Several rooms lined the hall at the top of the stairs.
“So. What makes you think she has it?” Jaskier asked, his mind a bit clearer now.
“Well. For one, she drugged you,” Rivia said, eyes on the doors. “And she’s hosting the party. It’s the perfect setup. This is her establishment, after all. I also heard some chatter about the diamond—and how the ‘heiress’ was going to be receiving a gift tonight. Seems the likely answer.”
Rivia paused, and Jaskier heard what he was listening for—muffled voices behind a door. Rivia held a finger to his lips, and reached into his suit jacket to retrieve his gun; Jaskier did the same.
Rivia reached gingerly toward the door—but before he could do anything, it swung open on its own.