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‘Are you sure you don’t want backup?’ Foolish’s voice crackles through the earpiece.
Fit’s fingers tighten their grip around the steering wheel as he maintains his laser focus on the dilapidated building in front of him.
“They said I need to go alone, and they’ll know if I have any communication on me - I imagine they’ll have a signal blocker.”
‘We can get around it! They’ll never know!’ Foolish persists.
Fit sighs. “Since Project Rose Bush went dark, this is the biggest lead we’ve had on taking down a major criminal, Foolish. I’m not taking any chances. I can handle myself.”
‘Understood, boss. Just please be careful.’
“Always am, Foosh. I’ll check-in when I can.”
With that, he switches off the earpiece and tosses it into the glovebox.
He steps out of the car and pulls his coat tighter around his body to fend against the bitter winds, and takes tentative steps towards the building which continues to show no signs of life.
The various concealed weapons weigh heavy in his multiple pockets and holsters, but provide a comfort as he takes his first steps onto the concrete floor.
The roof is almost non-existent and lets in the remnants of the late afternoon sunlight as Fit continues walking through the entrance room - knowing he’s exuding a cocky kind of confidence which is exactly as he plans, sweeping his glance with each step he takes.
When he eventually arrives at the back room, as instructed by the anonymous tip, it’s significantly darker than every other room - the holes in the roof patched over with some form of thick material, plunging the surroundings into darkness but Fit isn’t fazed.
In fact, it all seems… planned.
“Alright, i’m here,” he says, managing to keep his voice level and calm. “Now it’s your turn.”
He hears a faint snicker from somewhere that sounds near the top of the room, and he hears a click before a tiny flame appears dangerously close to one of the blankets (he thinks they’re blankets, anyway) covering one of the roof holes.
For a split second he wonders if this whole thing is actually going to go to shit and someone is going to set the building ablaze with him inside, but any worry is instantly distinguished when the flame lights up a lantern and is then shut off.
The faint lantern light doesn’t give away much, but the pure theatrics of the situation matched with the laugh he hears echo through the room instil him with a new wave of confidence.
“Come on, Pablo,” Fit says and clicks his tongue. “I don’t have all day.”
“Oh come on, Fabio,” Pablo says with a slight whine in his voice, before jumping down from wherever he was perched to stand in front of Fit - by way of an admittedly impressive backflip. “I’m not even allowed to have fun anymore?”
Fit sighs and throws his head back. “Of course you were the anonymous tip, I don’t know why I didn’t piece it together sooner.”
“Me neither, to be honest,” Pablo teases as he walks around the room lighting more lanterns until the room is casting a soft glow bouncing off of each of the walls. “Or maybe you did, and just couldn’t resist?”
Even through the fabric of Pablo’s mask, Fit sees him wink.
“Yeah i’m sure that’s it, big boy,” Fit rolls his eyes. “Do you actually have anything for me or am I wasting my time?”
“I would argue any time spent together is never wasted,” Pablo replies, dragging over two boxes and sitting upon one, gesturing for Fit to take the other.
“I don’t have time for this,” Fit shakes his head at the other man.
Pablo presses his lips together and wordlessly reaches into his coat and retrieves the statue that Fit’s team have been trying to locate for the past month.
“You take the fun out of everything,” Pablo rolls his eyes. “I had a whole, like, back and forth thing planned.”
“How the fuck do you have that? Are you working with-“
“Absolutely not!” Pablo cuts him off. “And i’m offended at the question, big boy. You know I work alone.”
“Well I know that’s not true, I know about Tubbo, for one.”
Pablo smirks. “You’ve been doing your research on me,” he places a hand over his heart. “I’m honoured! But i’m just helping him get started, get back on his feet. He’s a good kid.”
“Get started with what? Crime?”
Pablo laughs. “If you want to be so black and white about it, Fabio.”
Fit sighs again and rubs the back of his neck. “Can I just have the fucking statue? My team’s been running themselves ragged over trying to locate it.”
“I know, bless them,” Pablo pouts. “That’s part of why I took it from him. I felt bad, you know?”
Fit bites the inside of his cheek. “Can I just have it?”
Pablo places the statue on his lap and wraps his arms around it. “What’s in it for me?” He tilts his head to the side. “I went to a lot of effort to get it, after all.”
Fit scoffs. “Well I know for a fact you didn’t have it two days ago, so I don’t think it was all too much time and effort.”
Pablo grins. “As far as you know,” He shrugs. “Otherwise you’d have wrapped it in my bedsheets and ran out in the middle of the night. Not exactly impossible to imagine, huh?”
Fit tries his hardest to prevent the heat rushing to his cheeks, and fails.
“What do you want?”
Pablo shrugs. “Good question,” He clicks his tongue and taps his fingertips against the statue. “What do I want?”
There’s a silent challenge swirling in his eyes and Fit swallows back any reservations before closing the small gap between them and kissing Pablo with as much passion as he knows the other man craves.
He kisses Pablo in the way that he knows the other man likes best, runs his hand down the other man’s chest and makes sure to avoid touching the mask at all costs. Nipping at the soft skin of the criminal’s neck with just enough intensity to leave his mark, symbolic in more ways than one.
Fit loses track of how long he kisses Pablo for, and even lets himself begin to enjoy it, but when his rational thoughts catch up to him - he is still on the clock, after all - he pulls away and staggers a step backwards.
Pablo’s eyes flutter open and he licks his lips before raising a hand to his forehead. “Well, I certainly was hoping for that but wasn’t expecting it. Here.”
He holds out the statue with his other hand and Fit takes it, fingers brushing against the thin fabric of Pablo’s gloves as the exchange takes place.
“He’s not going to come after you, is he?” Fit asks, daring to meet Pablo’s gaze. He nods to the statue. “For giving this back?”
Pablo shrugs. “He can try, but i’m not worried,” He winks. “But it’s cute that you care.”
“I just want to be the one to take you down,” Fit says. “Nobody can beat me to it.”
Pablo smirks. “You can take me down any day.”
Fit scoffs again. “You’re insufferable.”
“So you say.”
Fit pauses for a moment. “Did you,” he pauses again as he studies the other man’s face - or, rather, what little of the man’s face he can see. “Do this to help me?”
Pablo shrugs. “Who’s to say?” He gets to his feet and closes the gap between them, running a gloved finger down Fit’s cheek. “Maybe I want to be the only one you focus on.”
And Fit swallows back his instinctive response, instead opting to remain silent.
“You’d better go,” Pablo whispers, cupping Fit’s face in his hands. “Your team will be wondering if your anonymous tip has held you hostage or something. But he wouldn’t do that, unless you were into it.”
He presses a light kiss to Fit’s lips before stepping into the darkened corner of where the first lantern has died, the others following suit like falling dominoes.
Fit retrieves the flashlight from his pocket and shines it into the corner, which is empty other than the lantern container - as is every other corner. Even the roof-level of the room is empty - it’s impressive, Fit has to admit.
But the statue is still in his other hand as proof that the exchange happened, as is the ghost of Pablo’s lips against his own, so he makes his way back to his car and tries to process everything.
And once he’s back at the headquarters, after the statue is on its way back to the museum and he’s sat through the celebrations, he finally manages to escape to his office, and shuts the door behind him and rests his head against it, thoughts racing.
Then his attention is drawn to his desk, and the ornate lantern sitting in the middle of it - the short wick of a tealight casting a soft glow, nearly burning itself out.
A page of paper with Fit’s letterhead - the paper which is only located in this very office - rests against the lantern.
‘Congratulations, hero.
Gosto de você.’
Beneath the writing, a cartoonish doodle of the statue.
Fit notices that his office is still secured - the window is undisturbed and the door was still locked until he entered.
But instead of questioning it, he allows himself to slump in his plush chair and spins around to stare out of the window, finding himself smiling absentmindedly before pulling up a translate app on his phone.