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The first time Minho properly meets Seungmin is on a Tuesday in the middle of Brazil, except that’s not what name he’s going by and he won't know his real name until a few years later. He doesn’t know it yet but this man is going to change his life. At that moment, he’s nothing more than someone he’s supposed to save from their own stupidity.
It’s a mission gone wrong where an extraction is necessary, that’s how he meets Sky Choi. The guy is a few years younger, later he learns it's a two year difference, and he’s more than a little green.
“Nice to meet you,” Sky says, “Wish it was under better circumstances.”
“Don’t get used to getting saved.”
Sky smiles, almost sharp, “I wasn’t planning on it.”
(This is not the first time Minho became aware of Sky’s existence. The very first time is when he’s nothing more than a trainee. Just another John Doe being put through hell. Minho’s watching all the newbies, and there he is, looking small and timid and like he’ll break in two just by a gust of wind. He’s standing off to the side watching as the instructor has two of the other trainees fighting on the mat.
“He’s never going to make it,” Minho comments, nodding towards him, once he's finally called to the matt. His opponent is larger, more muscles and he's circling him like he's prey caught in his sights. "They're going to eat him alive," he adds, frowning down at the sight.
Brian smirks, tilting his head as he watches the kid with a sharp eye, “Nah, I wouldn’t underestimate him.”
He glances back towards the scene where Sky is dodging punches and landing hits as if it's second nature. Precise and clean hits, it's clear he has some boxing training under his belt. Minho still doesn't think that's enough to save him, but in a matter of seconds the opponent is pinned to the ground. Minho tries to hide his surprise at the takedown.)
"So, are the rumors true?"
Minho looks up to see Sky looking at him from the other side of the table and if he'd known rescuing the guy would make him think that he could talk to Minho like they were friends, he would've made sure to leave South America sooner so he wasn't the closest Agent they could call.
"Which ones?" Minho asks, "You'll have to be more specific."
He knows what the other Agents think of him, and can safely assume what Sky’s heard about Minho.
He’s gained a certain reputation and with a reputation like his rumors are bound to follow. In their line of work information is everything, so it makes sense that people talk. Some of the rumors are based in fact, but he knows a lot of them are extremely exaggerated and even more are completely false. In fact, he’s made a game of fanning the flames of the rumors, likes to keep people guessing which are truth or fiction.
It keeps things interesting when he’s not on a mission.
But more than that, it keeps others at a distance.
Sky looks at him with a certain gaze, he isn't sure what it means and he doesn't like that. He doesn't like that he can't read him.
"Any of them.”
Minho raises a brow and shrugs. "That's not being specific."
He gets up and begins walking away, he rolls his eyes when he hears the footsteps trailing behind him.
Something that they don’t mention when you sign up for the job, is that most of the time spy work is boring. It's a lot of waiting around and passing on intelligence. The first op they work together is a simple surveillance job.
They've been surveying the same building for weeks now. Sky takes pictures and Minho jots down patterns. There's a few times they've had to make dead drops to pass on and receive things, but mostly not much happens.
"Minho," Sky says suddenly, when Minho is being particularly restless with boredom. There hasn’t been movement in hours, so he’s taken to purposely trying to figure out which buttons to press to annoy Sky. He’s been tough to crack so far, clearly annoyed but kept his reactions minimal and not even responding as he watches the building. "If you were on a deserted island what would you rather have: gloves or shoes?"
Minho looks at him for a long time.
"What kind of question is that?"
Sky shrugs, not looking at him, "Just a question."
"It's a stupid question.”
Sky glances at him. They fall into silence after that, Minho huffing and going back to the files he’s been decoding. Eventually Minho says, "Gloves."
"What?"
"Your question, I'd rather have gloves."
"Are you dumb? Have you learned nothing during training?"
"Are you dumb?" Minho echoes, "Your hands are more important and you need to protect them. Gloves are the best option."
"And what about your feet? Are you going to be limping around the jungle the whole time?" Sky argues.
They argue about this for the rest of the mission whenever there isn't any activity.
"God, you sound just like-" Sky stops himself from finishing the thought, his expression going blank as he turns away. He'd lost himself in the argument.
"Just like who?" Minho asks, before he can stop himself.
Sky doesn't respond right away; he busies himself with snapping pictures through the window of something across the street. "Nobody," he says, eyes still trained on the distance.
Minho takes the answer at face value. He assumes its personal and personal subjects are completely off the table in their line of work. Revealing personal things only leads to vulnerabilities and getting close; it's important to keep each other at arm's length.
"I still think you're insane for wanting shoes over gloves," Minho says, purposely ignoring the grateful look that Sky sends him. "Now, tell me, how'd you get off the deserted island?"
They dive into another argument, critiquing each other's survival plans and throwing insults. If Minho were anybody else, he'd say they were becoming friends, but friends in their line of work is a dangerous thing.
They're holed up in a safe house waiting for extraction in Japan. Sky is fiddling with their supplies, organizing it to his liking, one of the first things Minho learned is how organized Sky is. Neat and particular about everything, it has to be in a specific way for him to be satisfied.
It gives Minho nothing to do while they wait, so he decides to cook for them. He makes gimbap and a stew. It’s not exactly as he’d normally make it, but it’s good enough. Another trick of the trade is improvisation.
Sky's eyes widen when he walks into the kitchen, says, "I didn't know you could cook."
"Shut up and eat," he says, plating the food for each of them.
"This reminds me of home," Sky says, teetering into uncharted territory of revealing things. "My mom used to make it."
Minho smiles, “Yeah, mine did too.”
They fall into a silence and Minho thinks that’ll be it, as they continue to eat, but he sees the way Sky shifts and fidgets in a way he normally doesn’t. He’s about to make a comment but Sky beats him by asking, “Do you miss her?”
Minho blinks. “What?”
“I just… I miss my mom. And my dad and my sister,” he whispers as if speaking any louder would shatter the illusion, there’s a pause and he adds almost sadly, “My friends too.”
“Don’t be so soft,” Minho says because he doesn’t know what else to say. He swallows hard as he focuses on his bowl.
Sky doesn’t bristle, he doesn’t stop there like he probably should. They’re not supposed to have emotional attachments and if they do, they shouldn’t admit to them. “I talk to my mom whenever I can but it doesn’t feel the same. They don’t know anything I do. Hell, they think I’m an accountant.”
Minho sighs, “It’s for the best. That’s the life we chose.”
“I know,” Sky says, he doesn’t add anything as he focuses on grabbing some more pieces of the meat.
“I do miss her,” Minho admits, his relationship with his mother is far more complicated than Sky can ever know. She is the reason he’s ended up where he is, why he was ever on the government's radar. “We don’t talk much these days. I miss her Kimchi stew, I can never get it right.”
Sky smiles, “Nothing ever tastes quite the same as Mom’s food, huh?”
(Minho pretends that it means absolutely nothing when a Tupperware filled to the top with Kimchi stew finds its way onto his desk with a note in Hangeul. It’s not quite the same as his mom made it, but it’s good. It feels familiar.
It feels like home.
He doesn’t mention it, instead he makes some other foods from his childhood and leaves them as an offering on Sky’s desk without a note. Sky smiles bright and pleased, he tries to mention it once but Minho pretends to not know what he’s talking about.)
“Star Wars or Star Trek?”
Minho raises a brow, he can’t see Sky’s face, his back is turned to him as he’s stitching up a wound. He got shot in the shoulder and Minho just finished digging the bullets out, the bloody pieces of metal on the table beside them. He doesn’t give a warning as he slathers alcohol over the open wound, Sky’s muscles contract beneath his hands, he’s swearing under his breath. Minho chuckles, “You’ll live.”
“I know,” Sky says, through gritted teeth. “So?”
“So?” Minho prompts as he picks up the needle to begin the actual stitching up.
“My question,” Sky says, “Star Wars or Star Trek?”
Minho hums, focusing on stabbing the needle through the skin before he answers, “I haven’t seen either of them.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Why would I lie?”
“Because that’s your job,” Sky says, Minho rolls his eyes and purposely presses onto the wound, snorting at the way he feels Sky’s body react. “How have you never watched it?”
“Aren’t they old?”
Minho is making quick work at pulling the suture tight.
“They’ve made newer ones,” Sky says, “But yeah, the older versions are better.”
Minho hums, “Spoken like an old man stuck in a young person’s body.”
Sky breathes out shakily, clearly trying not to give away how painful the sutures are. Minho decides to show mercy and attempts to stitch him up as fast as he can without being sloppy, which is quite quick given the amount of times he’s had to stitch up wounds over the years.
“So any shows you do like?”
Minho hums, focusing on finishing off the stitches, “Nope.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You assume I have time with our job,” he remarks, he cuts the suture and moves to cover it up with gauze to protect it. He’s laying it gently over the stitched up wound.
Sky sighs. “What about before?” He hisses slightly when Minho presses down gently, apparently not as gentle as he’d hoped. “Anything from your childhood?”
Minho shifts slightly, “I didn’t have a childhood.”
“Liar.”
Minho finishes taping the last side of the gauze. “Done,” he mutters, “I didn’t. I sprouted from the earth as a fully realized adult.”
Sky laughs which is the reaction Minho wanted, he shifts in the chair and finally turns towards him. “I knew the rumor that you were a company experiment was true.”
They pose as a newly engaged couple for a mission and their cover gets blown because of Christopher Bang.
Things were going smoothly until Bang had to mess it all up and now they've had to make a run for it. This is why he hates joint ops with their cousin agencies. Sure, he admits maybe it wasn't entirely Bang's fault but he certainly made matters worse.
(It doesn't help that during the last run-in that he had with Bang, they'd almost tried to kill each other. But that's another story.)
"Honey, I want a divorce," Minho grumbles after he had to climb out of a window. Something he does his best to avoid and has managed to not have to deal with for quite some time.
"Let's survive the night first," Sky says. "Then we'll talk."
"Sorry for ruining the op," Bang says, scaling the building with them. The worst part is he actually sounds apologetic.
Minho considers facing his fears and looking down just so he can flip the both of them off, instead he says, “I’m going to kill both of you once this is over.”
He wonders what he's done to have to deal with the two of them together. Okay, he can list several things that he's done that would earn this karma. Things from both before and after his recruitment.
Minho almost dies, it’s a little over a year into their partnership, and this isn’t the first time they’ve had a near death experience. Hell, Minho’s had a lot of close calls during his time, but this time is different. It feels more serious, more final.
Minho’s grip on his gun is shaky, he's bleeding out from his abdomen, a metallic taste in his mouth, and confesses: “I… I’ve lost a partner before, I blamed myself. If you survive-”
“We’re going to get through this,” Sky says, his breathing uneven and he’s got a large cut on his shoulder, another gash on the crown of his head.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Minho continues, shutting his eyes as he feels Sky press hard into his wound. “I’ll haunt your ass if you do.”
“You’re not going to die, asshole.”
“Careful,” Minho whispers, coughing and the taste of blood is worse, he squints up at Sky, “I might start thinking you actually care about me.”
“I do care,” Sky admits, “So you better-”
Minho blacks out before he can say finish that thought. He wakes up in a bright room filled with white walls, the smell of antiseptic hitting his nose, he can hear the beeping of the machines beside him. He can feel the IV poking his skin, he looks around the room without trying to move too much, he looks at the clock on the wall right across from him. It’s just after four and he assumes it’s the afternoon seeing as there’s light peeking through the closed blinds.
The second thing he notices is Sky sitting beside his bed, softly breathing and clearly asleep in the uncomfortable chair.
Minho laughs, it causes Sky’s eyes to open immediately and zero in on him. “I bet you thought you finally got rid of me,” he jokes, smirking and hoping to fall into the usual banter.
Sky doesn’t take the bait, he only smiles in return and begins to sit up. “I’m glad you’re feeling like yourself already,” he says, it sounds so earnest, “I’d rather stick with you as a partner.”
Minho is stunned into silence for a moment. He blinks quickly. “So you do care,” he says, shifting in the bed so he’s sitting up, Sky is immediately standing as if Minho will fall over any second. “Thought the blood loss was getting to me.”
Sky is glaring at him, as he looks him over and reaches to press the call button, he scoffs, “Don’t act like you don’t care about me either.”
“Careful, that softness might get you killed,” he warns, feeling distinctly uncomfortable for being called out because as much as he wants to deny Sky’s claims, he knows if the roles were reversed he would’ve been out of his mind with worry. Not that he’d ever admit that aloud, not even under the threat of torture.
Sky laughs, "You're good at what you do, I know you have my back is all."
It stuns Minho into silence the way any time his jokes and jabs are met with sincerity from Sky. He's always prided himself for thinking on his feet, but something about Sky makes him feel off kilter.
The nurses come in, and Sky slips out in the meantime, Minho goes through the usual pre-check up procedure, wounds cleaned up and bandages being replaced. Once it's done and over, the doctor enters and continues the actual check up. He's prescribed to observation for the next 24 hours and lots of bed rest.
He's bored out of his mind after it's done, the tv playing some daytime soap opera that he's vaguely seen in other times like this. He's eating his fifth pudding cup that the nurse allowed him to have, she's one of the usual that's taken care of him before.
That's when Sky comes back in the middle of a dramatic reveal that someone had faked their death.
"What are you watching?"
"Nothing," Minho answers, eyeing Sky, he has a bag and has clearly showered while he was gone. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, I don't have any assignments and you're bedridden," Sky starts, he places his bag on the side table taking out his laptop and wires. He moves towards the tv, making his way to hooking it up. "I figured it's about time you experience some culture."
Minho scoffs, "I'm plenty cultured. That's what they teach you here."
"Cultured in pop culture," Sky argues. "So what do you want to watch first?"
"You're so lucky they gave me the good stuff."
When he gets their newest assignment, he avoids Sky’s heavy gaze as he stares ahead while their handler explains what exactly needs to be done. He needs to seduce their target in order to get close enough to extract what’s needed. It’s not a new kind of an assignment, he’s done this kind of thing before, he just hasn’t had to do this since Sky became his partner. He’s sure Sky hasn’t even done this before since he’s only been a field operative for the duration of said partnership.
“Have you done this before?”
Minho looks up, meeting Sky’s gaze through the bathroom mirror, “It’s just another assignment.”
“Right,” Sky says, “But it’s different-”
Minho turns abruptly, “Usually I’m sent in to kill someone. Yes, it’s different, but it’s far from the worst thing I have done.”
That renders Sky quiet as he leans against the doorway, he doesn’t say anything more. Minho turns back to the mirror as he finishes getting ready, trying to decide on the best way to style his hair. He fiddles with it for a while before Sky sighs. “Style it up, the target usually goes after guys that tend to be more put together.”
Minho doesn’t have a chance to reply when Sky disappears. Once he’s done getting ready for the night, he heads into the main room of their suite where Sky is gearing up for the night. Minho grabs his jacket, putting it on and moving to arm himself.
He does one last look over himself.
"Okay, don't wait up, honey," he says, finally moving to leave he hears Sky scoff as he closes the door.
This is one of the things Minho doesn't like about the job, mostly because he never knows exactly what the target will be like. He has a general sense of what kind of people they are just not always when they're behind closed doors. Some end up being absolute creeps that make Minho's skin crawl for hours after, that make him wish he could just dive the knife into their flesh instead.
Not every honeypot op ends up with an assassination, that would make things easier, he wouldn't have to go through with anything in those ones.
This time, is not one of those times, he has to play a long con. Has to cozy up with Mrs. Miller to extract as much information as he can, to be able to gain access to her home and company.
He makes contact at a high end bar of an even more exclusive hotel. Sky shows up not long after making himself comfortable at the bar with a clear sight of the place. He does his best to subtly put himself in her cross-hairs, to be the kind of younger man she tends to go after. It works, he ends up in her hotel room, keenly aware that Sky and the other agents are listening over the comms as she giggles as he kisses against her skin. He switches the comm off before it goes too far.
"So," Sky says that night when he returns, "Do you always turn off the comms?"
"Why?" Minho says, tossing his jacket and tie on the table filled with equipment, "Thought you'd hear some juicy material? Choi, I didn't know you were such a dog."
Sky doesn't speak, it causes Minho to look up to see him watching with a strange expression. He shakes his head.
"I don't have time for your judgement," Minho argues, scoffing. He thought Sky understood, he's still new, but he's been in this long enough to know better. He should know that this is just how things need to be done sometimes.
It's only a matter of time before they put the same responsibility on Sky. As if he hasn't already done terrible things for the sake of this job.
"I'm not judging you," Sky says.
Minho stills, he notices the flush on Sky's cheeks as he avoids looking at Minho, he's focused on the screens in front of him. "What?"
"I just..." Sky starts, shaking his head, "Never mind."
The moment lingers in Minho's mind for awhile, it's not until a few weeks later, when it hits him like a truck. He noticed that Sky's monitoring from a distance was more heavy rather than subtle while Minho had been dancing with Miller and her friends. He wasn't an idiot, he could tell when someone was enjoying what they were seeing a bit too much.
"This means nothing," Minho whispers as he pulls Sky in as soon as the door is closed, pressing him against it while pressing a harsh kiss to his lips, hands heavy and moving along his body. He feels Sky's own hands reaching out, gripping the silk of his shirt.
"Ah, yeah, of course," Sky mumbles, voice rough and he's smiling, clearly pleased. "It doesn't—"
"Shut up," Minho says, pulling Sky away from the door and towards the couches of their suite. He pulls him into another kiss before shoving him to the couch. Sky lands with a laugh as he sits up, hands immediately finding his way to Minho's thighs. He's looking up at him with dark eyes, his hair flopping onto his forehead.
"You're gorgeous," Sky mutters, hands massaging the muscles of his thigh, roaming higher up to his waist before pulling him down onto his lap. Minho lets himself be pulled in, something intoxicating about the whole moment.
Sky's rough hands find their way to Minho's face and pressing their lips together, deepening the kiss quickly.
It's not the first time they've kissed, it's happened before on missions where they did so to keep their cover, or on occasion as a diversion. This time is different, much more heated and heavy and passionate. There's no pretense in this intimacy, nobody to trick or pretend for, just them. It's only for them. It means something.
"This means nothing," Minho repeats as if that'll convince his brain that it's the truth, that deep down he knows it means something to him. He's usually smarter than this, always keeping others at arm's length. He's pushing again, making Sky lay on his back as he takes control and Sky lets him.
"I know," Sky says, breathless as he grins up at Minho. "I know."
"Good."
They’re in a co-op in London working to track down someone they’ve been keeping an eye out for awhile. After the mission is a success, they’ve got a day or two before they’re to fly back out with new orders and a new location. The British agents on the joint mission invite them out for the night, they’re in a backroom of some pub that is clearly owned by retired military personnel.
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
Minho snorts, taking a drink, “What haven’t I done?”
Mark’s eyes light up as he leans forward, “Is the Latvia thing true?”
Minho smirks and shrugs, “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“What happened in Latvia?” Sky asks, brows raised and watching Minho with a sharp gaze.
“Rumor has it someone infiltrated and took out several high ranking officials without detection,” Jamie says, tilting her head as she speaks, “They blamed Estonia and Lithuania intelligence. Nearly caused an international scandal when they realized it was American, though they could never prove it.”
“If I had done it,” Minho starts, “I would have used a mix of techniques from surrounding countries to not draw attention. Hypothetically, of course.”
Sky looks as if he’s mentally taking note of that, he hums as if he’s appraising Minho for being smart about this as if Minho hasn’t been trained to do this since he was barely seventeen, far younger than usual recruits.
“What about you, Choi?” Mark asks, turning his attention to Sky, “What’s the worst thing you did?”
Sky doesn’t look like he’s considering it, he simply says, “I betrayed my best friend.”
“What?” Minho asks, frowning as he considers it, he’s always seen Sky as loyal. He was loyal to their partnership and to betray that seemed out of question. He can't imagine him betraying anybody.
“It had to be done,” Sky says, like it’s that simple, and in their line of work it really is that simple. “I’ve done horrible things, but that will always be the worst.”
“Do you regret it?” Jamie asks.
“No,” Sky says, no hesitation, there’s no shift in his demeanor. He’s confident and firm. It’s the truth. “If I had to do it over again, I’d make the same choice every time.”
Mark laughs, holding up his glass towards Sky, “Cheers, mate. Spoken like a true spy.”
Sky goes to Seoul and he doesn't ask why Minho isn't going on the mission with him. It's not unusual for them to go on separate missions; it happens quite often.
The second time it's a destination and Minho doesn't go; Sky asks, "Why aren't you going to Seoul?"
"Don't ask stupid questions," he says.
The third time Sky asks, instead of deflecting, Minho says, "I stole the President's cat and he hasn't forgiven me yet."
Sky snorts, "Next time you plan a heist, call me and you won't get caught."
The next time Minho doesn't go, Sky doesn't ask why but Minho makes up another outlandish lie. It earns a laugh from Sky, offering to sneak him into the country.
He knows what the other must think; he’s sure that he knows these rumors as well by now. That Minho must be one of the spies that defected to the US. It's never a secret when someone used to be an intelligence for another country prior to their current status, so Minho isn’t exactly sure why it’s become the theory. (Only Agents that have been around longer than him and knew him during his early days know he hadn’t defected, but they don’t know anything past that, don’t know his history. They didn’t even know the reason behind him not going to Korea.)
There's a betting pool within the Agency as to what made him defect to the states. Along with various rumors and a few theories that don't include defection.
None of them come close to the truth.
But it's better this way, better for them to assume what they'd like.
It's idiotic what they're doing, they're breaking so many rules, personal ones and ones that the Agency has in place. But it's hard to follow the rules once the lines have been crossed and blurred over. Especially since they are in the business of crossing lines, of doing things they shouldn't be.
"Did you know you could make the shot or am I expendable?" Sky asks, they've done their job, waiting for the go ahead to get out of here.
Minho hums from where he's laying on his stomach, opening his eye, "You know the answer."
"Do I?"
Minho nods. "We're all expendable." He watches as Sky's lips quirk in a smile, wry and not quite happy, it's the truth. They're bodies to the government, nothing more. Once they've outgrown their purposes they'll be gone. "And I'm an excellent shot."
That earns a laugh from Sky.
"You'd take the shot without hesitation too," Minho says, finally turning to lay on his back. "Right?"
Sky looks at him, "Of course."
"See?" Minho asks, stretching out and moving to sit up in the bed. He yawns. "It's not personal."
"It never is," Sky answers.
Bang looks ready to walk out of the office when he spots the two of them and their handler already present in the room. His own boss forcing him to actually enter, followed by the Director.
"I'm sorry," Bang says, "These two are loose canons, I can't work with them."
"Hey," Minho says, frowning, "I resent that!"
"You're the one who got us caught last time," Sky says, "We might be loose canons, but you've got quite the temper."
Minho laughs at the anger filling Bang's face at the accusation, but it's true. Bang is normally calm and collected, though he does have quite the anger streak when things don't go his way. He's usually good at keeping the full extent at bay.
"Lee and Choi are two of my best field agents," the Director says, crossing his arms. "They bring in results besides they've been working this op for the past month."
Bang bites his tongue as he glances at the two of them, he clearly doesn't forgive them for their last interaction even though Bang was equally as involved in what went wrong. More likely he hated how often the two of them ganged up on him throughout said op, it was far too easy to press his buttons.
"Fine, what's the situation?"
They get right to work after the briefing, the three sent on their way to get their job done. Right now, the three of them are holed up in a surveillance van. Sky purposely poking fun at Bang, Minho eggs him on, as they continue to wait and watch.
Bang sighs heavily, "Glad you're both annoying as ever."
"Your age is just getting to you," Sky comments, "It makes you irritable."
"Sorry, how old do you think I am?" Bang asks, tearing his eyes away from the screens and narrowing his eyes at Sky.
Sky smiles easily, "Old."
Minho laughs, leaning back in his seat. That gets Bang's attention on him. "I know you're not laughing, Lee," he says, "You're basically the same age as me."
"Are we?" Minho asks, just to be contrarian. Bang sighs loudly again, and Minho's eyes catch something on the screen behind him. "Oh, we've got movement."
Bang drops the subject as he turns towards the screen, he snaps his fingers. "Sky, you're up."
Sky huffs as he grabs his bag and opens the door to slip out of the van to plant the bugs. It doesn't take him long, pick pocketing their target's phone as he exits the building and Sky enters right after. He's in and out of the office in no time. Quick and efficient, their screens up and ready as Sky gets them into the building's security.
It's been days and there's hardly any progress on their mission, a waiting game as usual. Sky is out on a run to their dead drop, leaving Minho alone with Bang in the van. Minho is busy going over files when he feels Bang's heavy gaze on him, he tries to ignore it, but eventually he sighs. "What is it?"
"Since when are you and Sky sleeping with each other?"
Minho pauses momentarily, flips the page in the file, "I don't know what you're talking about."
Bang scoffs, "I'm not an idiot, Lee."
"You're delusional then," Minho says, finally looking up from the file, eyeing Bang. "There's nothing between us."
Bang doesn't believe him, that much is obvious, he shakes his head. "Fraternizing with your partner this way isn't smart. It never ends well."
"Thanks for the advice," Minho says, rolling his eyes, "But I can take care of myself."
Minho's in the makeshift gym in his apartment, he's going at the punching bag. Tomorrow he'll be sent on a solo mission, the first one in awhile and Sky is going to be sent somewhere else likely in a few weeks. Or he might end up with a more local mission.
His hands sting from punching the bag, he hears the creak of floorboards. He continues working the bag as he lets the intruder come closer, then when he hears them close enough he turns abruptly. His punch is stopped and he realizes it's Sky.
He laughs, and Minho sweeps his leg bringing Sky to land with a huff on the ground.
"You know better to sneak up on me," Minho says, hovering over Sky.
There's bruising across his face from their last mission. Sky chuckles, "And you know I'm recovering from being stabbed. So could you get off?"
Minho rolls his eyes, getting up and moving to sit on the floor beside Sky. He watches as Sky breathes in and out slowly, he sits up after a moment.
"What are you doing here?"
Sky takes a moment, to look over himself and make sure his stitches are still in tact, "You're flying out tomorrow."
Minho only hums in response, Sky sits forward and gives him a half smile, "You get a mission yet?"
"Um, yeah," Sky says, "Got orders the other day."
"That was fast," Minho comments, he'd only just got released from the medics.
Sky doesn't reply to that, instead says, "We'll be going our separate ways for awhile."
"It's about time," Minho jokes, "I'm tired of carrying this team."
Sky chuckles, looking soft as he smiles, ducking his head. "I'll miss you too."
Minho swallows hard and smiles back, he's still not used to Sky understanding him. At least most of the time, there's quite a lot of times Sky doesn't get him, that he admits that he finds Minho confusing. The feeling is mutual in that sense, sometimes they're on the same wavelength and others Minho finds it hard to read Sky. They're silent for a moment, Sky's hand finds his own, a barely there touch.
"We'll always have Paris," he jokes, smirking slightly, "Besides, I'll be back before you know it."
"Ah I've always known that it'd be hard to get rid of you."
Minho uses Sky's hand to pull him in close, hand landing on his cheek and pressing a kiss into his mouth. Sky smiles into it and it's simple for a moment, easy to forget about the blood on their hands. To forget that in several hours he'll be sent away to gather more secrets, spill more blood if he has to. But right now, he can pretend that it's just a normal day, that this is the only thing that matters: the man sitting next to him.
He notices that Sky doesn't like September.
The first September, he'd known him. He didn't think anything of it, he hadn't cared to pay attention to the shift in moods. Frankly, he assumed it had to do with the op and the fact that it was early on in their partnership when they barely knew each other, so it didn’t cross his mind that something was wrong.
The second September; they're in Venice and Sky disappears on the fourteenth. He comes back the next day like nothing had happened and Minho tries not to wonder about it. (He can’t help himself.)
Last September, they've been through hell trying to avoid getting killed as they complete a mission in England and travel through the European countryside. It's on the seventeenth when they reach a calm point, tucked away in a safe house and Sky stares at the calendar for a long time. There’s something heavy in the way he carries himself for the rest of the day.
And maybe if Minho was someone else, or if they both were different people, or maybe if they worked normal jobs, he would ask. Instead, he makes dinner for them and runs through hypothetical situations. He makes them go over what they need to do to complete their current mission.
It's on September 14th in the early hours of the morning when Minho gets the call; he’s supposed to be returning from a deep cover mission in the morning, instead he hops on the next available flight he can catch. As soon as he's off the plane, the Director is waiting for him. His expression is grim as he whisks him away and he finds himself in an interrogation room.
The Director asks when he last had contact with Sky; the last they spoke was before Minho got shipped off for his mission. He asks more questions, the kind of questions that make Minho's mind whir with a single thought because he knows this procedure. It’s the standard for someone whose partner has gone rogue.
"Agent Choi has gone rogue," the Director informs him, he looks stern but there's a sliver of sympathy. "He broke into the DNI late last night to steal extremely valuable intelligence, then proceeded to bomb the building."
Minho stiffens, he wants to say that it must be a mistake. He wants to say, Sky is far too straight-laced to do something like this. He’s a stickler for the rules and has never done anything to go against them. He’s berated Minho for going off book countless times over the years. He wouldn’t betray the Agency like this; wouldn’t betray Minho like this.
But he doesn't say any of those things because they’re spies, tricking people and lying is what they do. Instead, he shoves down everything that he’s feeling like a good spy, and asks, "What was stolen?"
“A program called the Intersect, essentially a supercomputer where us and our sister agencies have been pooling together data."
Minho hums slightly, nodding as he mulls over the information.
"We recovered the device he had the files on, he wiped it completely. But we managed to trace where he possibly sent the data to, or rather who he sent it to," he continues, hand sliding the stack of files towards Minho. He pauses, the files left halfway between them. His expression is grim, eyes searching. "Before I continue, I have one more thing to share. Agent Choi is dead.”
Minho allows himself a beat, eyes shutting briefly as the news washes over him. He sits up straight, clearing his throat. "What do you need me to do?"
Minho doesn't cry for Sky Choi.
This is the life they live, death was always the most likely outcome for them, another reality of what they do. People die every day, it's a constant risk that they take every day in their job. So, no, he doesn't cry for Sky. He doesn't even cry for Kim Seungmin, the real name behind the man he's known for years, because Seungmin knew as well as Minho does that death was always inevitable.
He thinks it’s poetically ironic that Sky died in September.
But he does mourn him, at least in the privacy of the plane's bathroom where nobody can see him. He hates him for being an idiot and getting himself killed. More importantly, he hates him for betraying everything, and he hates himself for taking Sky's betrayal so personally.
He holds back the tears as he stares at his reflection in the mirror.
Soft, too soft.
And it makes him even angrier at Sky.
He lets himself privately mourn for a short amount of time before he steels himself and pushes away the hurt like he's been trained to do.
When he returns to his seat, he reads through Bang's report on what happened when he went after Sky with the same clinical way he’d read any other mission report. This is no different. Then he takes a steadying breath as he reads every detail before shifting over to the file on Peter Han.
“I’m not sure about this guy,” Minho tells his boss as he watches Han walk down the street towards the restaurant they’d planned to meet at. There’s something nervous about his entire demeanor as he looks around.
He thinks back over the past two days that he’s spent watching him. Minho isn’t sure what he was expecting when he was sent to track down Han, but he just doesn’t seem like the co-conspirator to a rogue spy that they assumed he was.
There’s something that doesn’t quite add up, like the fact that even before he started tailing Han, the file that was provided had shown nothing extraordinary. He’d moved around a lot as a kid due to his parent’s work before they settled in Burbank. His grades were good, he was accepted into Stanford, where he was expelled during his senior year. He now works a full-time minimum wage job and has since his expulsion. He has no known ties to any agency, rogue or otherwise; an utter lack of criminal record, not even a single parking ticket. There was a time that he and a friend were held in jail for thirteen hours because of an incident involving public disturbance and minor vandalism but other than that, he seems to be an upstanding citizen.
All in all, nothing in the file suggests that Han is part of the conspiracy.
Minho isn’t dumb, he knows how easy it is to hide things, to falsify information and that not everything is as it seems. But the more Minho watches him, the less sense it makes. He has no idea why Seungmin would send Han government secrets.
“Keep sharp, Lee. Nice guys don’t get sent government secrets.”
Minho hums as he watches Han come to a stop just outside of the building, he’s pulling out his phone and Minho’s phone vibrates with a text. He gets out of his car, begins to walk towards him.
“He was sent the email for a reason. Get whatever answers you can from him by any means necessary. We need to know how much Choi told him.”
“Got it,” Minho agrees easily, crossing the street and watching Han, still unnoticed. “What do I do if he runs?”
He already knows what the answer will be; like his boss said, he needs to do what he does best and that includes many things, including one major aspect. As he nears closer, he sees Han looking around, an obviously nervous. He can pinpoint the exact moment Han notices him.
"Do what you do best."
Han practically beams at him, bright and adorable, walking forward to meet him.
“Kill him.”
(Han asks him, “If you were stranded on an island would you rather have gloves or shoes?”
Minho tenses, the question bringing forward an old memory of Sky asking him the exact question. He blinks as he thinks back to the times they’d argue about it, Sky’s slip ups about an old friend from his life before. It clicks firmly into place.
If he hadn’t already known that Han knew Sky, then this is clear confirmation. In fact, it confirms that they’d been close, at least close enough for Sky to ask the same questions and be cagey when talking about him even vaguely.)