Chapter Text
The briefing room at HQ was all cold steel and colder glares, and Eunho was convinced the weird tension in the air was Bamby’s fault. Probably. Almost definitely.
He sat back in his chair, legs sprawled out like he owned the place, spinning a pen between his fingers while pretending not to look at the human migraine seated across from him.
Bamby. Agent B. The most irritatingly competent agent Eunho had ever met.
“I can feel you staring at me with your cheap cologne,” Bamby said, flipping through the mission file without looking up.
“It’s not cheap. It’s French,” Eunho said while grinning. “Wouldn’t expect your nose to understand luxury.”
“I wouldn’t expect your personality to understand basic decency.”
“Touché.” Eunho raised an impressed brow. “Did you Google that one?”
Bamby opened his mouth to fire back, but the door slammed open and in walked their commanding officer.
“Shut up. Both of you.”
Ah, the sweet sound of unity.
“Great,” the officer sighed, dropping a folder on the table. “Because you two love birds can’t stop talking, we’re giving you something that’ll shut you up.”
The folder was labeled: Mission 147 – Operation Velvet Ring.
Bamby narrowed his eyes. “Why does this sound like the title of a romance novel?”
“You’ll find out,” the officer muttered, already sounding tired of this. “There’s a party. Black-tie gala. Intel suggests a high-ranking arms dealer is hiding a chip with international launch codes inside a collector’s item, a Fabergé egg. Your job is to retrieve it undetected.”
“So where do we come in?” Eunho asked.
“You’re going in as a couple.”
A moment of silence.
Then—
“I’d rather be shot in the knee.” Bamby stood up so fast his chair clattered to the floor.
“Great, then you’ll limp down the aisle when you fake-marry each other,” the officer said dryly.
Eunho tried to hold his laugh. Bamby looked like his brain had just blue-screened.
“A couple?” Bamby repeated, horror-struck. “As in . . . public displays of affection? Holding hands? Looking at him like I like him?”
Eunho smirked. “You’ve looked worse things in the eye. Like your fashion choices.”
“You wear socks with sandals.”
“That was once. On laundry day. And they were designer.”
The officer massaged his temples. “Enough. You’ll be posing as newly engaged. There’s a cover story, an apartment already set up, and a dance routine you’ll have to learn for the gala’s opening waltz.”
Bamby stared like he was about to be physically sick.
“Can’t I go with anyone else? Please. I’ll go with Yejun hyung. Or even . . . the intern.”
“Everyone else is already on assignment,” the officer said. “And Eunho’s the only one who can crack the vault’s lock algorithm on site.”
Eunho gave a smug little wave. “Missed me, huh?”
“I’d rather be buried alive in glitter.”
“Flattered.”
The officer stood. “You leave tomorrow. Practice your couple act. And for the love of global security, try not to kill each other before the mission.”
---
Later, in the elevator—
“I’m not holding your hand,” Bamby muttered.
“Even if I moisturize first?” Eunho winked.
“You’re aggravating.”
“And yet, you’ll be fake-engaged to me in 48 hours.” He nudged Bamby with his elbow. “Better start practicing that dreamy smile.”
Bamby glared at him like he was considering real murder. “I hope that Fabergé egg explodes and takes you with it.”
Eunho’s grin was infuriating. “Aw. You do care.”