Work Text:
Taerae can feel the sweat dripping down the neck of his suit, but he can’t move to wipe it. He’s not as well-versed on the social faux pas of the upper echelon as Ricky is, but he figures publicly wiping his sweat with the back of his hand is probably on the list.
The pompous old lady they’d been talking to finally excuses herself to “powder her nose” after half an hour of babbling nonsense at them. Taerae isn’t sure if that’s a real thing or if it’s just rich lady-speak for having to pee, but he’s not about to complain.
He sighs, speaking in a low mumble only his partner can hear. “Why does the agency always make us go undercover as a couple? Do you think they know?”
“Well, we have undeniable chemistry.” Ricky smirks, an arm slipping around Taerae’s waist to pull him closer.
Taerae would normally squirm away from the display of affection, but he knows Ricky’s only playing it up to make their cover seem more realistic.
“Also, everyone knows you two are a couple,” Matthew chimes in over the comms.
Taerae curses. He forgot Matthew could hear every word.
He’s about to retort when Ricky says “I have eyes on the target. Ten o’clock. Ugly suit.”
He follows Ricky’s gaze to the man in the gaudy green velvet suit.
Ricky leans over to fix Taerae’s tie, as if the man in the ugly suit would care if his tie is slightly askew. Ricky, as usual, looks perfect.
Ricky’s always looked better than him in a suit. Taerae feels like a kid wearing his father’s clothes in comparison.
“Ready to lay on the charm?” Ricky asks, slipping his hand into Taerae’s.
His hands are surprisingly cold, a shock against Taerae’s clammy ones.
“I never am, so let’s get it over with.”
They make their way over to the man, slipping in right when his previous conversation partner steps away.
“Ambassador,” Ricky greets, a charming smile already on his face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. We’ve heard all about your work.”
Taerae lets Ricky doing the talking, nodding along and laughing where it’s appropriate. Somehow, Ricky manages to convince the ambassador to check out the art in the rest of the gallery with them, and the three of them leave the grand hall.
They’re almost at the end of the hallway when they’re ambushed by two burly men, likely mercenaries tasked with eliminating the ambassador before the vote.
“Go, Ricky! Get the ambassador to safety!”
Taerae isn’t the better fighter between the two, but he can keep the mercenaries occupied long enough for Ricky and the ambassador to get away. They may be stronger than him, but he’s faster and smarter.
They nearly knock the wind out of him a couple of times, and his earpiece goes flying in the chaos, but he manages to slip out of their grip once he’s sure they’re in the clear.
Taerae stumbles into the room they arranged to meet in, breathless.
There’s no one there.
A click sounds behind him. Taerae knows the sound all too well, the sound of the safety of a revolver being disengaged.
“On your knees,” a familiar voice commands.
Confusion clouds Taerae’s mind but he complies, holding his hands up in surrender.
Heeled boots click on the marble tile until Taerae is staring up at his partner.
“Ricky…”
“I’m sorry, Taerae. This is going to be our last mission.”
“What— Why— Ricky, what’s going on? Where’s the ambassador?”
“Neutralized.”
The betrayal hits Taerae like a shard of ice to the chest, a sharper pain than the gun pointed to his head could deliver.
“The double agent. It’s been you this whole time?”
“I’m sorry,” Ricky says, but his voice conveys no sign of regret. Taerae searches his face for familiar flickers of emotion but finds none. “I couldn’t let the ambassador go through with that vote. It would destabilize the entire region.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“You’ve always liked to follow the rules, Taerae. I knew you were loyal to the organization first and foremost.”
Blood rushes to Taerae’s ears. Even his own lover thinks him too law-abiding and rigid to confide in.
“So now what?” Taerae stares down the barrel of the revolver, still pointed at his head. “You shoot me and make your escape?”
Ricky hesitates. He might be willing to betray the organization, but taking his love’s life would be too much to bear, if he feels even a fraction of the love Taerae thinks he does.
Taerae takes that risk, leaning closer until the cold barrel of the gun is pressed against his forehead.
“Do it, Ricky. Shoot me,” Taerae pleads, looking up at Ricky with wide, frantic eyes.
Ricky looks at him like he’s crazy, and he might just be.
“What are you doing?” he hisses.
Taerae stands, taking the gamble that Ricky won’t react to his sudden movement. He raises the gun with Taerae, but doesn’t shoot.
“If you really love me…” Taerae wraps his hand around Ricky’s wrist, guiding the gun to point at his heart. “You’ll let me run away with you.”
“Taerae…”
Taerae’s heart squeezes, and he closes his eyes. He knows that whatever decision Ricky makes, he’ll love him either way, even in his last moments.
The pressure of the gun lessens from Taerae’s chest.
Bang!
Taerae’s ears ring. Warmth blooms in his chest, and he looks down.
Nothing. His suit is pristine, albeit a little rumpled.
Ricky’s gun is pointed away from him, the barrel still smoking.
“Ricky, what—”
“Let’s go,” Ricky murmurs, pulling Taerae in for a quick kiss. “Let’s go and start our new life before they find us.”