Chapter Text
When someone asks why he decided to become an FBI Agent, Mike Warren would say that he was impressed with some documentary about Edgar Hoover, or fascinated by some TV show, or liked the idea of being a crime-fighter. After all, it’s expected from the boys to want to be cops or military, or some other kind of superhero shit. Especially if your Grandfather was a seasoned FBI agent and you were the one who received the folded flag on his funeral. Symbolic.
Warren would joke, deflect, say what is expected or would just stop the questions, then joke some more, keeping the whole truth to himself. He has known what he wanted to do with his life as long as he could remember, and was sure of it since that horrible night when he was eight. And not once in the next twelve years, despite everything that happened, has he doubted that decision.
Mike was barely able to wait for the end of the graduation ceremony - the assignment letter burned his hands like a coals, and was gobsmacked to see the assignment to Graceland. Not too surprising considering his history - the undercover work and analytics were the areas where he could offer much. But looking at the facts…
Fresh from the Academy rookie wasn’t supposed to receive such an appointment. Twenty years old Mike Warren, being three years younger than the minimum age requirement, wasn’t even supposed to be admitted to the said Academy. The kid, much younger and, as an obvious conclusion, much less trained and experienced than other cadets, couldn't pass the course with flying colors and graduated top of his class. Scrawny white guy who didn’t speak Spanish and couldn’t surf should have never been considered to be a part of an undercover gang in Florida.
But still, despite all these, Mike was on a plane to Florida, lessons on Spanish in his earbuds, cautious sparks of hope in his chest. The almost legendary figure of Paul Briggs as a training agent, the opportunity to do what he likes, the unique place with family-like bonds, all this seemed too much like a dream comes true. And if Mike Warren knew anything for sure, it was that if you were offered something good, it would be one hell to pay for it later. But maybe, just maybe, this new chance was an exception, some sort of a prize for years of hard work, some place to relax and be yourself. Mike smirked at the last thought. How screwed up he must have become perceiving the den of undercover feds as a place to be himself?
Three hours of waiting in the Baggage room made slight excitement give way to anxiety and uncertainty. Was it some sort of test? Was he supposed to find his way to the house by himself instead of wasting time and waiting? Even after meeting the attendant agent Mike wasn’t sure that he had made the right choice.
Johnny was the first of the Graceland habitants he met, and, mocking and teasing aside, the older agent seemed okay with the newbie. Mike, not used to this sort of interaction, took all questions too seriously, which led to another round of jokes. But still Tuturro looked friendly, explained some rules, offered some advice, and Mike relaxed slightly.
Turned out that all the advice was aimed to put the outsider to the bad side of Dale and Charlie. And Mike could only blame himself. “Always watch your back” was one of his Grand’s motto. And it was better not to forget it.
Mike, who was savoring the first meal in almost twenty hours, almost choked under the hard gaze of Dale Jakes. It took a few moments to figure out the reason. Young man, feeling stupid, apologized for taking the food, made some lame excuses, all under Johnny’s derisive look, but the damage was already done. Dark skin agent only cut the conversation, told not to take anything marked with “DJ” and left the room, leaving Mike with half-eaten porridge and bad aftertaste, hunger forgotten.
Charlie DeMarko, the female agent with the most intense eyes Mike has ever seen, smirked, muttered something about the Agency sending them more trouble, and bursted out of the room not bothering to answer Warren's greetings.
First meeting with Briggs went even worse. When his training agent came to the room, Mike got up, opened his mouth to report his arrival, offered a hand to shake, but was silenced by Briggs’ raised hand.
“No need. You are here just till Donnie’s return. And as I’m not interested in potty-training some baby-agent, you are confined to this house and the nearby beach. Do you see this?” Paul gestured at the chore-wheel and, as Mike nodded, continued. “If you see “Donnie”, you read “Mike”. If you see “Briggs”, you read “Mike.” And all the cleaning is also on you, don’t bother with names. We are one man down, so we would be busy. Got it, 1700?”
“Yes, sir.” Mike dropped his outstretched hand, managed to say it friendly and even smiled and Briggs frowned.
“My boss forced you on us. And he would expect me to give you some training, so you’ll receive it. There is a box of unfinished paperwork. I expect it to be done by Friday morning. You need to earn your keep there, rookie.”
Another “Yes, sir” was told to the retreating back of the Lead Agent, who grabbed the whole bottle of Dale’s juice on his way out.
“Yeah, kid!” Smirked Tuturro, patting the younger man on the shoulder. “It’s Briggs. He has his way with people.”
Feeling slightly dazed, Mike followed Johnny to the bedroom on the second floor. Tuturro pushed one of the doors open, gesturing to Mike to go inside. Half-expecting it to be another joke, the young man took a step and froze. The room was wonderful, the ocean view - stunning. The afternoon sun was looking through the big glass wall, painting everything with warm colors, big bed, table, cozy chair. And there was the guitar on the stand, that made his fingers crawl, it was a long time ago that he had played. He made a step to it, but stopped, feeling rather than seeing the presence of another person.
“You could put your shit here, but be careful. This is my partner’s room, so don’t touch anything.” The cold voice from the door made Warren turn around. The angry looking man stepped into the room, and dropped the big box full of papers at Mike’s feet. “The present from Paul. Three days for all of this?” The man smirked. “No way in hell, rookie. Briggs will have your ass. And I would be there for a good show.”
Not waiting for an answer, the man turned to Johnny, who watched the interaction with an amused grin. “Are you up for surfing, Joe? Briggs and Charlie are going. And Dale would join us for some beer later.”
“Sure thing, Leo!” Tuturro smiled, then addressed Mike. “You have heard the man! Make yourself comfortable, but not too comfortable. We would be out today, no need to bother with supper! Consider yourself lucky, as it is your turn!”
Of course, Mike didn’t expect a welcome-party, could understand the possible wary study and questions that would undeniably be raised after the reading of his dossie. And was prepared for all this usual crap about being someone’s protege or a little pet-project. What he didn’t expect is an open hostility and barely veiled indifference that in different proportions were dished to him by his roommates.
Mike smirked to himself sadly. ‘Okay, you could manage it. Just pretend that it is a navy Base camp all over again. Nothing personal, just a way of breaking in the rookie. Nothing personal, Warren, man-up and do the job’. After making a few calming breaths, the young man eyed the open shelves carefully. They all were filled with Donnie’s things, a few pieces of dirty clothes still on the floor near the bed, and an open book on the bed. It looked like the agent had left for a few hours and expected to be here any minute. Mike shivered slightly, found an unoccupied place on one shelf, nodded to himself. That would do - he didn’t have many things to start with, and he didn’t want to touch anything more than absolutely necessary, he had felt like the intruder already.
He took the dirty clothes and crumpled linens from the bed, took everything to the washing machine in the basement, noticing the quiet of the house. Everybody must have been out already. The kitchen was a mess, along with a dining room, so it took Mike a good hour and a half to tidy everything up. Routine chores gave Mike the opportunity to think and went to some conclusions.
Getting upset about his roommates’ attitude was pointless - he just needs to prove himself worthy, work harder, learn faster, do better. Setting himself a goal calmed him up, made everything sharper and Mike finished the cleaning in a significantly better mood. Then there was a short trip to the grocery store - he didn’t understand where he stood with his roommates actually, but he needed to contribute his fare share of groceries and he needed coffee. Judging how the things were going on, he needed a lot of it.
The box that Warren had moved to the table was heavier than it seemed at first and contained a ridiculous amount of papers from cases mixed up with half-written reports, unkept and messy, that needed to be redone from the scratch. Mike remembered Leo's snide comment, grimaced, spotting a few sloppy report pages signed by not Donnie Banks, but Leo Hudges. Man-up, Warren, you can’t let them get to you over something that small. Compared to what he has already been through, it was literally nothing. He put a pot of freshly brewed coffee, a cup and a bag of donuts at the table, and started to work.
*****
Paul Briggs was in a foul mood all day since his four-hours sleep was rudely interrupted by his boss’ arrival. Donnie was expected to gain full recovery which was good news, the new agent was good news, the green rookie just from the Academy was a nightmare. Briggs listened to his superior, holding the offered folder, his sleep-deprived mind refused to process everything with the usual speed. But he understood all that there was to understand very clearly - some teacher’s pet with ambitions to become an undercover agent was placed in Graceland and they were supposed to play nursemaids. Boss left, and the folder flew across the room to the farthest corner without a second thought, not even bothering to know anything about the new guy.
That sudden change was irritating Paul to no end. He even sent Johnny to meet the new guy, needing some time to cool down and figure out how to proceed with the rooke. After some pacing along the house, the idea came with a look at an unfinished report on Donnie’s table. It took no more than twenty minutes to put the report and other papers haphazardly in the big box for the rookie to look through in the next few weeks. The goal was to familiarize the new agent with the operations and the main players, give him time to adapt. Moving from DC to Florida wasn’t an easy transition as it is, moving from having a personal space to living with a bunch of unknown people and doing the job was even harder. Going from the class to real life…Yeah, the man would need help and time.
The thought that it was better to get acquainted with the guy’s dossier to avoid the disappointment managed to flicker and went out, giving way to irritation and anger in a few seconds. One look at a nervous new agent - blondish hair, warm blue eyes, thin as a stick - was enough to make a conclusion. What the fuck his boss was thinking, assigning that kid to the Graceland? He was not just fresh from the Academy inexperienced agent, he was literally the kid… Hell, he couldn’t be older than twenty-five - no work experience, no life experience. They had almost lost Donnie, and they deserved a break and some help, not the burden. That rookie wouldn’t stand a chance in the field and they would lose another one of their own. And Briggs snapped.
Later, standing on the porch, stolen (he would name it ‘borrowed’) juice in his hand, Paul would recall his words, remembered the kid’s reaction, and he would feel ashamed. But it would be after he had sent Leo upstairs with some task to the new guy. Leo wasn’t in the right headspace since the shooting, and Briggs planned to keep him from Donnie's temporary replacement for some time. But his temper just made him forget those ideas for a second. And when the Lead Agent returned to his senses, the damage had already been done.
“So, what is this all about?” Briggs tore his gaze from the fire and looked at Charlie, he had obviously missed some part of the conversation. She was sitting nearby, Johnny and Dale by her side, looking at him with similar interest.
“Huh?” Briggs raised a brow questionably, made a long drink, leaning back to the rocks more comfortable.
“The new guy.” Explained Charlie patiently. “What are we supposed to do with him? Is he any good?”
“Hey, the kid just graduated. And by the look on him, I would tell some college or an office job before that. Maybe his scores are that high. Hell, maybe he even deserved them, which I doubt by the way. But he can’t be any good.” Dale shrugged, sipped his own beer, smirked as if remembering something. “Makes me guess what my first partner was telling his buddies about myself.”
“Oh, I’m sure he was fascinated by your charming personality right from the beginning.” Johnny couldn't pass this opening and received a slap on the bicep from the female agent.
“Paul?” She returned the conversation back on track. “I need the eyes in the new club. This place is posh, full of college students - the kid would blend in easily. They are looking for a bartender. He is a perfect match.”
“I’m not sure about it, Char.” Briggs paused, thinking. “Let’s have a look at him.”
“And how would you do that? Not many things to look at if he would just hit on his ass doing nothing.” Dale wasn’t sure he liked the idea of someone that young in that house, but the kid went through one of the most grueling recruiting processes in the country and graduated top of his class. He deserved a chance.
“Oh, believe me he wouldn’t just sit. We should be thankful for receiving our own housewife. Maybe it would be good to make the punk do all the cooking too?” Leo sounded too drunk for the beginning of the evening, but the guys let it slide, understanding the need to have some relief. The nasty edge of the tone was harder to ignore, though, and Johnny frowned.
“Yeah, about that, Briggs.” Always cheerful agent was looking slightly uncomfortable. “You know, I would be the first to tease any of you guys. But it was too much. There is no chance that the kid would be able to finish that shitload of papers by Friday. And it would be impossible even without doing all the housework.”
Dale and Charlie, who just now grasped what was going on, frowned. Paul grimaced slightly and nodded.
“I see your point, man. But I won't backtrack now. We will talk on Friday.” He saw that Johnny wanted to object and raised a hand, silencing him. “No hard time for the unfinished job. Promise.”
“A little discipline won't hurt..” Hudges clearly wasn’t impressed with Briggs’ words, but decided not to argue with the boss.
****
The next few days passed in a blur. The arm dealer that Briggs was working on, suddenly has decided to make a move, speeding the well-planned op and making the FBI agents spend almost all the time out of the house. Returning home for a short sleep Briggs was satisfied with the cleanliness at the house and the ever-present fresh meals at the fridge. His trainee was nowhere to be seen, must be sulking in his room, or relaxing on the beach, whatever - Paul didn’t have neither time nor desire to deal with the rookie now. He expertly avoided all the conversation that wasn’t work-related and focused on the job. The successful bust which led to the arrest of a few leaders of the ring and withdrawal of a full truck of military-issued weapons was a reward. The quiet evening spent with the friends and beer near the fire - even more so.
The Bosses were happy with the outcome, and decided to give the agents time till Monday to rest and relax. While the more complicated part - discovering the sources of the weapons - were planned by the Brass. Johnny, being his usual cheerful self, organized a party on the beach in less than an hour, ordering around tired and that’s why surprisingly cooperative agents. The fire cracked hot and tall, the beer was cold, the music from the bumbox held chilling vibes that made everyone relax. The night was awesome.
Charlie for a moment considered asking about their rookie, but remembered their previous talk with Briggs. Too early, right. They would clear this shit on Friday and her boss would stop pretending to be a jerk and would start to act like a lead agent they knew and respected.
“I’m going to bed.” Announced Briggs. It was 2 am, the guys were now laying near the fire, talking quietly, and Briggs decided enough was enough. “Enjoy your time since tomorrow’s… or rather today is an unplanned free day.”
“Sure thing, boss!” Johnny and Leo saluted him with the bottles, Charlie waived and Dale snorted in his sleep.
Paul smirked and poked the Customs agent slightly. “Hey, it’s time to move to bed, Sleeping beauty.”
“Leave me alone, boss! I want to spend a night under the stars!” Dale’s voice was slurred and held the whining tones that were so unlike his usual grumbling that guys just laughed. Paul shook his head and covered the sleeping agent with an additional blanket.
Bsiggs entered the house from the back door and almost jumped at the sudden movement nearby.
“Oh, sorry, I thought everyone is still on the beach.” The rookie told it without turning, being in the process of preparing a pot of coffee. When the brown powder was put in it’s place and the coffee maker was switched-on, Mike turned to Briggs.
Even in the kitchen, lit only by the moonlight, the young man’s pale face and slightly unfocused gaze were seen clearly.
“The guys are still outside.” Paul nodded at the coffee maker. “Isn’t it too late for the coffee?”
Mike shrugged, leaning at the kitchen counter somehow clumsy. “No, it’s fine.”
“Hmm, ok. I promised you a talk.” Briggs grimaced at his own words when the kid shot him a weird glance, but continued. “Technically it’s Friday morning and we have postponed the proper introduction for quite some time, soo…. Let’s grab your coffee and talk a little.”