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This was, without a doubt, the worst extraction plan in the entire history of the IMF; and this included Minsk and Dubai and the clusterfuck of a mission in Calcutta that they'd all sworn in blood to never, ever mention again. What the hell were they thinking even contemplating it, for fuck's sake; it was, honestly, the worst idea on the planet, even worse than –
"I feel compelled to remind you – again – that this is your plan, you know," and Will opened his eyes to see Jane staring back at him, with a very amused smirk on her face, which meant –
He groaned, sheepish and more than a little nervous. "I was doing the thing where I –"
"Oh yeah," she replied, and stepped in to straighten his already impeccably straight tie. Will let her, because he knew the value of keeping one's hands busy. "Gets cuter every time you do it, too," she added, and patted at his chest before stepping back to look over his outfit with a critical eye.
He fought the urge to fidget. And the equally insistent urge to make a cutting remark that he wouldn't mean, because it wasn't her fault that she didn't have the required, uh, equipment, for this particular job, although they all knew who was to blame for this particular scenario, yes, they did, and –
A hand waved in front of his face. "Will." Jane said it sharply, jerking him into awareness. "You're doing it again. Still cute, but, you need to focus on the mission."
"Focus," he repeated, then let out a thick laugh. "Oh sure, that's great. Easy for you to say, you're the one with all the fucking expertise in undercover work here, I'm just – I mean, this is a terrible idea – I can't –"
"Well, it is still your idea, technically speaking," Benji piped in, voice coming through their comms systems as clear as if he was in the room with them. "You thought it was fine back at base, so I dunno why all the fuss now."
It was honestly lucky for Benji that he was a quarter-mile away at the rendezvous point with Luther, and not with them in the hotel suite.
"Brandt, you got this," Luther said, the deep rumble of his voice patient for once, instead of vaguely threatening. "You just gotta breathe, and trust your training."
Trust his training. He'd laugh if he thought it wouldn't come out as hysterical. "We need a better plan," he said, even as he walked over to the floor length mirror to make sure he looked presentable. A very well-dressed man with a solid build, nervous eyes and greying hair greeted him. The hair was something he'd lived with for a couple of years (he'd earned every single one of his grey and white hairs, thank you, especially since joining the IMF and Ethan's team), but the eyes? Well, the eyes were going to get him in big fucking trouble if he didn't find a way to calm down.
"You'll be fine," a new voice assured him, and Will met Ethan's calm, cool, collected gaze through the mirror's reflection. Ethan, who shouldn't even be out of bed right now, but here he was, standing in the middle of the room, larger than life and sucking up every bit of oxygen the way he always did.
"I can't do this," Will said, not even pretending like he had his shit together now, and turned to face Ethan.
"Yes, you can," Ethan countered, in that soothing tone that Will normally loved; except for how right now he wanted to strangle Ethan with his tie. "You've done undercover work before."
"It's a simple bait and switch," Jane added, no doubt also trying to be reassuring. And it wasn't her fault she was failing, just like it wasn't her fault the mark didn't prefer women, just like it wasn't her fault that Ethan couldn't do this particular job, just like –
"You're over-thinking things," Ethan said, and clapped Will on the shoulder with his good hand, squeezing lightly. The grip nice and strong in spite of the pain Will knew Ethan was in.
"I'm an analyst, Ethan, my job is literally to overthink things," Will retorted, his gaze skittering across the cuts and welts on Ethan's normally movie-star handsome face, then to his left arm, currently in a sling close to his chest, then to his stomach, where he knew would be more welts and marks and bruises under the loose t-shirt Ethan was wearing, and –
"I don't think over-thinking is actually what an analyst does," Benji said – everyone could practically see the furrowed brows – then added: "So that's not exactly literal then, is it, I mean –"
"Benji." Jane said it softly, but it had the desired effect.
"Right, sorry, shutting up."
"I thought you were supposed to be resting," Luther said; Will could hear the frown in his tone.
"I'll rest when the mission's over," Ethan replied, with a small shrug, and he was good, he was better than good. Take the sling off of him, and no one looking at him would even be able to tell just how close he'd come to –
Ethan was fine, Will reminded himself, fingers curling into fists. The sharp sting of his nails digging into his palms eased the tightness in his chest.
"We're good here," Jane told Ethan. "You should be recuperating."
"After the mission. You'll be fine, Will," Ethan said again, and smiled that megawatt smile that Will also normally loved. But right now, just seeing it made him feel queasy.
"The last time I was on point on a mission, your –" He skittered to a halt. Julia was still alive, he reminded himself. And no one outside of himself and Ethan and Julia knew that. "Well, you know what happened," he finished, lamely. His skin itched all over under the exceptional cut of the suit.
"Jane, could you give us the room for a minute?" Ethan asked. He didn't take his eyes off of Will's face.
"Sure," she replied, with an encouraging smile for Will. He tried to return it, but it felt wrong, twisted up, and he gave it up for a lost cause after a second. They heard the soft click of the door shutting behind her a moment later.
"Benji, comms," Ethan said.
"Yeah, they're working great, I can hear every –"
"Off, Benji," Ethan interrupted. "Give us five minutes."
"What, now?" came Benji's startled squawk. "Will's got to leave in –"
"Five minutes," Ethan repeated, steel creeping into his voice.
"Right, right," Benji replied, then the line went dead.
Ethan wasted no time stepping in close, laying his hand along Will's jaw. "You've got this," he said, those mesmerizing green eyes softening with an emotion Will still couldn't quite bring himself to name. Not until he'd earned it.
"It should be you out there," he argued, even as he nuzzled into the light touch. Resisted the urge to let his eyes slip shut. Not the time, not the place. "If we'd been quicker in getting to you –"
"Hey, we're not playing that game."
Will swallowed around the lump in his throat as he nodded. He knew better than to bring the what ifs and if onlys into an active mission. That was for after, when everything was secure.
"I trust you," Ethan continued, in that same soothing voice, with that same soothing touch. "I trust you and Jane trusts you and Benji trusts you and Luther trusts you, and you've got this. You know your part, you know what you're doing, you've been over every scenario a thousand times already in that big brain of yours –"
"I need at least a thousand and one," Will joked, only he wasn't and they both knew it. He wasn't Ethan – he couldn't work on the fly, he was terrible at improv. It should be Ethan out there. But it wasn't, because Ethan had almost...
"Ethan –" His voice broke. "Ethan."
"I know," Ethan murmured, gentle and low, and then Ethan's lips were on his, chapped and real, and the best sort of reminder that Ethan was still breathing.
Will gave himself a moment; pulled Ethan in for a longer, messier kiss, slanting their mouths together, fisted his hands tightly in Ethan's t-shirt. Breathed Ethan in, every beautiful, crazy, self-sacrificing inch of him, tasted adrenaline and affection in the slide of Ethan's tongue against his own. The internal clock in his head kept counting down the seconds they had before the comms came back on – one-twenty, one-nineteen – but most of his attention was on the steady thump of Ethan's heart against his chest, the slick friction of Ethan's mouth against his own, and the blessed absence of doubt in his mind.
If Ethan had faith in him, there was no way he was going to fuck that up.
"You're okay," he murmured, between kisses, between breaths, "you're okay, you're okay –" If he said it enough times, it would be true for both of them. Ethan was okay. And if Ethan was okay, then so was Will.
"I'm okay." Ethan sighed it into Will's mouth, giving him new breath and new life, and the kiss turned aching and soft for a too-small handful of seconds (forty-five, forty-four) before Ethan pulled back. "Are you okay?" he asked, searching Will's face.
"No," he answered truthfully; his hands were still trembling and his nerves were jumping all over, "but I'll be okay out there."
"I'll be here after," Ethan promised him, and they shared a smile, private and just theirs and perfect (five, four, three) and –
"We good?" Benji asked, popping back online. "You've got four minutes, thirty-four seconds to get out the door."
"Not that Benji's counting," Luther added, with a put-upon sigh.
Ethan lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. Will let out a short breath, held up his hand as evidence - steady now - and nodded.
"Yeah," he answered, for both of them. "We're good."
***