Chapter Text
“Hand them over.” Kun eyed the tall agent hovering against the door frame.
In contrast to the blue screens Kun had been staring at for the past sixteen hours, Johnny’s tallness and handsome-facedness was welcome relief. Being tasked to handle Johnny for the past three years was a death sentence for your heart, it made you value time, how quick hand-offs could transform into what felt like year-long waiting games when Johnny turned off his earpiece at random intervals seemingly just to piss Kun off. The smudged lipstick stain on Johnny’s dress shirt snapped Kun into sharp focus.
“What are you possibly talking about?” Johnny pooches his lips out and takes a seat on Kun’s desk, monopolizing the precious desk real estate between the mousepad and the water tumbler Kun had from the Agency gift shop (the plasticy text on metal read: “World’s #1 Handler”, yes it was a gift from Johnny from their first year working together in this capacity).
Kun doesn’t even entertain this conversation, choosing instead to focus intently on his computer set up on a new file titled “Progress Report: S.JOHN”, wiggling his fingers expectantly at Johnny, palm up, for the stack of “business” cards Johnny had inevitably collected.
“You’re so boring.” Johnny reaches into the lining of his suit jacket, one of those weird agency suits that looks like it’s made from wool, but it’s constructed from a flame retardant material, that’s fitted around Johnny’s crazy wide shoulders.
The stack of cards are from a variety of friends Johnny meets on the mission, sometimes business cards from wealthy, out of touch entrepreneurs who want to hire out private security, once a college chancellor had offered Johnny an associate professorship in aerospace engineering after Kun had fed him the lines for Johnny’s supposed thesis. Mostly the cards were from morally bankrupt socialites and businessmen wanting to seek connection after Johnny worked his, uh, magic on them. Those were the days where Kun wished he could rip his hearing aid out like an over the head headset, instead, he was bluetoothed into Johnny’s escapades, having the unfortunate consequence of experiencing the moment right there, with Johnny.
Those weeks Kun booked extra hours with the in-house therapist.
Kun flipped through the cards, putting the calling cards from women with emotionally distant husbands into their own pile, and updating the contact database. The stack had seemed lighter than Johnny’s usual haul, sixteen hours usually meant Johnny was swimming in business cards, not the twelve he had initially offered up.
“Anything interesting?” Johnny asked, now hovering over the back of Kun’s office chair, neck craning right beside Kun’s face. If Johnny and Kun weren’t Johnny and Kun, Kun would’ve thrown Johnny over his shoulder and shoved the knife from the holster around his thigh near Johnny’s neck. But, Kun was used to Johnny being all up in his space, an occupational hazard of being his handler.
“The stack seems really light, are you sure you didn’t pick up any new numbers?” Kun makes a pointed look at Johnny’s collar.
“Nope.” Johnny popped the p, grinning devilishly down at Kun, the smile reaching his eyes. The one Johnny uses on all his marks, the one Kun sees the impact on his target’s faces through the glasses mounted with cameras Johnny wears on his missions.
“Does someone need to pat you down to see if you’re lying?” Kun looks up at Johnny.
“You’re welcome to pat me down any time of the week.” Johnny raises his eyebrows in that way that makes Kun’s heart jump a little, while also wanting to slap Johnny’s face off. Johnny wasn’t the agency heartthrob for no reason.
Kun picks up the landline on his desk and starts punching in the numbers on the receiver with the end of the pen, “Fine, I’ll call Mark to come up here to pat you down.”
“No don’t.” Johnny counters. his fingers dip into the secret internal pocket of the suit, the one that can seal anthrax in an airtight container, or to prevent cellular transmission, but for some inexplicable reason, Johnny has decided to hold thirteen more cards in.
“That’s more like it.” Kun flicks through the cards, this set with distinctly more lipstick marks and one of a male escort service that’s hiring. Kun returns that specific card back to Johnny, “If being an agent doesn’t work out for you, I’m glad you have your options open for you.”
“Ha ha.” Johnny laughs lifelessly, flicking the card between his fingers out so the card whipped around into the wastebasket across the room, neatly settling into the trash bin.
Kun makes the grabby hands again, “Phone.”
“This is an invasion of privacy!”
“Johnny it’s not even your own phone.” Kun’s exasperation has translated into absolute delight for Johnny, like one of those supply and demand charts. The sharper the sighs of defeat, the wider the smile on Johnny’s face seemed to become. “The longer we do this, the longer it takes for me to go home and see Louis, let’s move it along.”
Johnny hands over the agency-issued cell phone, Kun notices that the home screen has been changed to pictures of himself on a bright pink background with hearts all over the place. He must have changed it on the flight back to the Agency. “You need to let me see your cat, you’ve had him for three months, when is Uncle Johnny going to be able to see the fluff ball in person?”
“I’ll tell you my address once you start listening to me in the field.”
“I’ll just tail you one night, break into your apartment and finally visit my favorite son.” Johnny shoots back, shuffling off his suit jacket and folding it into a clump in front of him. I can’t believe you're preventing me from seeing my one love Qian Kun, you are truly heartless.”
Kun attaches a cord to the phone’s charging port and begins wiping the phone, signaling that he’s done for the night. “You know,” Kun finally swivels his seat around so he’s facing Johnny, I have three knives on me right now, I wouldn’t hesitate to use one on you if you broke into my house.”
“Weak.” Johnny flicks out the knife that’s strapped to his forearm, the holder flexes as he spins the knife between his hands, the cold metal spinning so fast, Kun can hear the glinting metal cut through the stale air of the office. “You couldn’t even take me during basic training, what makes you think you can take me now?”
“I’ve got surprises., you never know,” Kun replies vaguely. Nowadays Kun is the brains of the operation, Johnny is the charisma of the duo, but in their more competitive days of training, Kun was known for getting a few good hits in on Johnny, managing to split Johnny’s cheek during sparring. Most people knew that Kun could go shot for shot at the gun range against Johnny. Johnny knew too, Kun would have been his most intense competition as a field agent if Captain Zhang hadn’t benched Kun after “The Explosive Incident” when Kun lost his hearing.
“You could not take me.” Johnny deadpans.
“Sorry what did you say? I can’t hear you.” Kun flicked the tab on his hearing aid dramatically for Johnny, the room turned to comparative silence. The machines that had been running in the room became silent, Johnny’s comments dissipated behind him, the occasional beeps from the security system were no longer.
Kun watched as Johnny pantomimed mock exasperation while pinching his own lips in a straight line, fighting the urge to break his composure.
“But seriously,” Johnny was signing but Kun still looked at Johnny’s lips intently, “ thanks for the support tonight. I couldn’t have gotten out of there without you.
“No problem.” Kun smiled at Johnny’s ultimately boyish charm. Humility was a good look on Johnny when he could muster it up.
“And Kun.” Johnny looked earnestly down at Kun from his perch back on Kun’s desk, “I love you, I miss you, never change.” Through his scrunched up smile and laugh, obviously very proud of himself, Kun interjected.
“Get the hell out of my office, Suh.” Kun waving his hands at Johnny not bothering to sign at him.