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Nathaniel is never as aware of Neil Josten being a lie as he is when he lies to Andrew.
His uncle is always telling him to construct a life for Neil, something that other people will buy into. He can’t live in hotels, his uncle tells him. He has to get an apartment, even if he’s only there a week out of every month. He’s supposed to say hi to his old friend Matt when he can, grab a drink.
Matt thinks he’s an accountant. He makes fun of Nathaniel, tells him that his job is boring. Nathaniel doesn’t say anything to convince him otherwise.
Andrew, though, Andrew remains quiet on the subject of accounting. He raises a single eyebrow when Nathaniel offers (fabricated) complaints about work. He doesn’t seem concerned with what Nathaniel does, doesn’t question Nathaniel’s frequent work trips.
Nathaniel doesn’t really understand when he started noticing so much about Andrew. (Well, he notices everything about everybody. That’s his actual job. But he doesn’t do anything with most of that knowledge, doesn’t dwell on it as he gets ready for bed, like he does with Andrew’s minute facial expressions.)
Andrew had been his uncle’s idea. When Andrew, somebody whose car Nathaniel happened to hit in the middle of a get away, had given him his number, Nathaniel kept it out of politeness. His uncle, who had been listening in over Nathaniel’s earpiece, told him to use it.
“Why?” Nathaniel had asked, swerving the sensible, attention-unworthy Prius into an almost-hidden alley. Nobody was following him, he was too good at his job, but thoroughness never hurt.
“Neil Josten,” his uncle had told him simply, and Nathaniel had sighed. Nathaniel had employed a number of tactics to get close to marks, was not unfamiliar with using his body to get information, but rarely outside of jobs would he find himself in a position like this.
The next weekend, they got drinks at a bar across town. Somehow, drinks happened again, and then there was lunch, and then there was dinner, and–
He treats it like an assignment, uses his typical methods of acting to convince Andrew that he enjoys it, and never stays the night.
Andrew, for his part, seems fine with keeping things relatively casual. They never see each other more than once a week, as Andrew also travels for his job (he’s a business consultant, something so bland that even Neil the accountant doesn’t ask any questions). Nathaniel never brings Andrew back to his, and Andrew never asks to come.
It’s all rather painless, which is surprising. Neil Josten has at least one tether, now, and Nathaniel supposes that his uncle sometimes has worthwhile ideas.
Today, however, he resents that tether as he buttons up his shirt and slides a black tie around his collar. His suit is impeccable as ever, fits like a dream. Tonight’s mark is going to a gala with his mistress before returning to her apartment, a shoddy place with plenty of windows and several tall buildings in the surrounding area.
He’ll be camped out on the one he scouted when the mark was first assigned, not actually going to the gala, but he always dresses to impress when he’s on a job. Attractive young (white) men in expensive suits raise few questions.
“Can’t make it tonight,” he says as soon as the dial tone is replaced by silence. He realizes belatedly that he probably should’ve said a greeting, eased into it, and scrambles for an excuse that won’t raise suspicions.
I just got the call that I’m supposed to kill a man tonight doesn’t seem like it’ll fly.
What had he said last time? Friend in the hospital? Had he mentioned any grandparents before?
“My grandpa just had a bad fall,” Nathaniel tries, hoping he hadn’t used that excuse before.
“Again?”
Dammit. “Yeah, that hip of his shouldn’t be trusted. I keep telling them to move him to a home, but– anyway, I’m going to meet my family at the hospital now.”
He smooths out his lapels one last time in front of the mirror. His work contacts are back in, and green eyes look back at him. His hair is still dyed brown, but that’s not particularly distinctive.
“Too bad,” Andrew says into the phone. Nathaniel grabs his briefcase and locks up behind him. Should he take the Prius again? Or maybe the Jeep? Which is less conspicuous in snow? “I was looking forward to tonight.”
“Me too,” Nathaniel tells him in his best sultry voice. It usually seems to get results. “I’ll make it up to you some other time.”
“I’ll hold you to that. Good luck with your family.”
“Thanks.”
It’s a good sign, Nathaniel reflects as he gets down to the garage and plops down into the Prius, that Andrew didn’t try to tag along. He gets where they stand.
The roof that Nathaniel has chosen is drafty, but he’s too much of a professional to let it affect him. Bitching about it into his earpiece, however, is a different matter.
“I thought you said they’d be back early,” he grumbles, keeping his eyes on the sightline to the bedroom.
“That’s what we thought,” Felicity, his uncle’s assistant, repeats. “Sorry, Wesninski–”
“Hatford,” he corrects, adjusting his hold on the rifle in his hand.
“Whatever.” He can picture her watching the security feeds of the gala, of the corner opposite the apartment, bored and alone in the office. “It’s not our fault that the mark is having fun at the gala.”
Nathaniel sighs as loudly as he dares.
“He’s leaving now,” Felicity tells him a few minutes later. Nathaniel is imagining his getaway, the warmth of his Prius as he drives sensibly back to town. “Should be there in fifteen.”
Nathaniel can practically feel the softness of his bed already. (His apartment is unexpectedly nice, and he mentally files it under ‘sometimes Uncle Stuart isn’t full of shit.’)
Finally, finally, the car he’s seen in the dossier pulls up on the street below. The engine cuts out, a few minutes of silence during which there are undoubtedly R-rated actions unfolding in the car follow, and then the couple stumbles into the apartment building. Nathaniel tracks as lights flicker on: the hallway, the kitchen, the bedroom.
He holds his rifle still, aimed directly at the bedroom window. This will all be over as soon as they separate, as soon as he steps in front of the window–
A shot rings out, and Nathaniel stares down at his hands. He hasn’t fired, but that was the exact noise his rifle makes–
The window one over from the one Nathaniel has been staring at has splintered around a new hole. A woman screams in the apartment, echoing down the street, and lights in the building flicker to life. Nathaniel packs up, muttering a play-by-play to Felicity, and gets the fuck out of dodge.
“Get an alibi, quick,” Felicity tells him. “Go out with a friend, bump into a neighbor, anything. This could be a set-up.”
Nathaniel disconnects the headset and flips open his phone. Andrew is the first person in his contacts. He picks up after the second ring.
“Hey,” Nathaniel says, trying not to sound wired. “Turns out that my grandpa’s fall wasn’t too bad, the parents let me go. Think I could swing by?”
“Sure,” Andrew agrees. “I’m just coming back from a friend’s now though, so not for, say, half an hour?”
That gives him enough time to get home, get changed, and make sure his car doesn’t have any evidence in it.
“Sounds good.”
Uncle Stuart isn’t concerned by what happened; he says that Moriyama had a lot of hits out on him, so it was probably just another agency doing their job, nothing against Nathaniel in particular.
Nathaniel is inclined to agree with him until the exact same thing happens on his next mark, the nephew of his previous one.
“This family is a piece of work,” Stuart shrugs. Nathaniel purses his lips, gets dinner with Andrew, and thinks he almost feels something when Andrew blows him.
Nathaniel likes his job. He likes working with his uncle, likes that he escaped his father’s syndicate, likes that his uncle kept him even after everything with his mom. He has money, plenty of free time, and can do whatever he likes between marks. He gets to travel and work independently.
One time, in Lisbon, he messed up and got too close to the mark. He’d been posing as his bodyguard, had snuck in with the uniform on, and got to see the second the mark realized what was about to happen. Nathaniel had watched dispassionately as the bullet pierced exactly where he had aimed, as the man fell to the floor and never got back up.
Sometimes, Nathaniel wonders when his work will catch up with him. He’s been doing it for years, and it has yet to bleed outwards, but he doubts it can last forever.
Andrew is the closest thing Nathaniel has had to something to look forwards to that’s not work since he escaped his dad, and that thought makes him pause.
Has he lost his distance? Should he end it with Andrew, avoid bringing him into this?
The thing is, he likes Andrew. Sure, Neil Josten eats up Andrew’s dry wit, his subtle humor, his scathing commentary. Neil Josten is seen out and about with Andrew, has been in Andrew’s bed, has exchanged nods with the doorman of his apartment building on several occasions.
But more than that, Nathaniel thinks about Andrew sometimes. Not just as an alibi, or something to keep Neil Josten realistic. Nathaniel remembers things Andrew has said as he waits in airports. Nathaniel wonders what Andrew is up to as he checks into anonymous, expensive hotels.
He knows his mom would tell him to cut and run. He thinks about that as he drives over to Andrew’s building, but forgets about it as soon as Andrew’s lips are on his.
He leaves before Andrew falls asleep, and tries to remember if it’s ever felt like that with anybody else.
He can’t sleep that night, because he’s realized something: Andrew is dangerous.
Not physically, probably; the guy’s a five foot even business consultant, even if he’s surprisingly muscular under the suit. But he’s still dangerous for Nathaniel, because he can’t afford to forget things like his mom’s warnings, not even for a second, not even when Andrew tastes like honey.
He tells his uncle the next day that he’s thinking of ending things with Andrew and that he should move cities. Stuart chuckles.
“Has the magic worn off?”
Nathaniel rolls his eyes and wants never to have this conversation with a family member, no matter how unconventional his relationship with Stuart may be. “No, I just think he’s fulfilled his purpose.”
Stuart shakes his head. “Nathaniel, as much as I appreciate your dedication, this job can’t be everything. You won’t be able to keep it up forever, and you need to have something to keep you sane when it falls apart.”
Nathaniel squints and tries to figure out if Stuart is talking as his boss or his uncle. It’s usually a mixture of both. His uncle leans over and claps him on the shoulder.
“Nathaniel, what did you think I meant when I said Neil Josten that day? Someday, all you’ll be is Neil Josten. You want that to mean something, probably more than Nathaniel ever will.”
“Fine,” he eventually sighs. “I’ll stick it out for a little longer.”
Andrew has impeccable taste, that much can always be said. They go to sleek, understated restaurants that fall on the right side of filling portions despite the trendiness. His car is a beauty. His apartment may seem cold to somebody else, but Nathaniel appreciates the clean lines and impersonality of it.
Consulting must pay well; Nathaniel does see a Deloitte building in basically every city he’s ever travelled to for work. Hell, the first building he saw out of the car in fucking New Zealand was the Deloitte one. That’s where Andrew works, right?
Andrew doesn’t talk much about his family. He has a brother, Aaron, who’s a doctor or something. No parents come up, and Nathaniel doesn’t ask.
Nathaniel can’t always remember what he said to Andrew in the early days, when he hadn’t realized that Andrew would be more than a passing fixture in his life. He thinks he’s pretended to have a normal family, whatever that means.
Andrew has an incredible memory, though, so he usually prompts Nathaniel, who just goes along with it. It seems to work.
Actually, the whole seem just seems to work. It makes Nathaniel nervous.
Nathaniel is tying his tie when the phone rings. He tenses up when he sees Andrew’s name– he needs to cancel tonight, yet again, but who knew Riko Moriyama would be coming back into town so soon?
“Hey,” he says into the phone, remembering his manners for once.
“I need to reschedule tonight,” Andrew announces. “A work commitment came up, a dinner with some clients–”
“No problem,” Neil cuts in, then wonders if he should pretend to be upset. He wonders if he would be upset, if he didn’t have his own reason to bail. “We can raincheck for…Friday?”
“Works for me,” Andrew agrees. They exchange goodbyes and hang up.
Nathaniel follows the directions that Felicity had sent over to the building and is up on top in no time. He can see directly into Moriyama’s apartment from here, so he gets his usual setup done quickly. He’s lucky for the position; Moriyama lives on the fifteenth floor, and this is the only building around that has any kind of advantageous sightlines. Just as he settles in, the door behind him opens.
Nathaniel whips around, ready to take out whoever he finds, and comes up short when he sees Andrew standing there, holding a briefcase of his own. They stare at each other in silence for a long moment.
What the fuck? Did Andrew follow him? But he was the one to cancel this time–
“This certainly explains a few things,” Andrew finally says, walking towards Nathaniel, who straightens up, hiding his backup gun behind his back. “How’s your grandfather doing?”
“Which one?” Nathaniel asks, his mouth not really in sync with his brain. They’re both dead anyway.
Andrew rolls his eyes. He’s a foot away now, and Nathaniel’s still not sure what’s going on.
“Here for Moriyama the youngest?” Andrew says, eyes flicking past Nathaniel to focus on the windows below them.
What the fuck.
“I will admit, Neil, that you played a very convincing accountant,” Andrew continues. He crouches down and pulls out a gun identical to the one Nathaniel had just positioned moments before. “The only thing at all off was how often you had family issues, but I just assumed you had somebody else you were seeing or something.”
Nathaniel blinks.
“Nathaniel? Did you say something?” Felicity asks in his ear. Nathaniel mutes it discretely from his watch, hoping Felicity will think she imagined it.
“This is more exciting.” Andrew drops to the ground, positioning his own gun beside Nathaniel.
Nathaniel’s brain is short-circuiting. What’s he even supposed to do? Leave? Take Andrew out?
His cover is blown, sure, but so is Andrew’s, and Andrew’s not doing anything about it. Andrew probably should have shot him when he opened the door and found Nathaniel lying stupidly exposed on this roof.
“What’re you doing?” Nathaniel asks, finally finding his voice.
“My job.”
Nathaniel rolls his eyes, even though Andrew can’t see him.
“Why are you doing your job under the current circumstances?”
Andrew turns to look at him, tilting his head. “The way I figure it, Neil, is that we can play this two ways. Option one: we both go down, either by exposing each other or attempting to take each other out on this roof. Option two: we continue on our merry way, as though we never learned this. Hell, we can go back to my place afterwards and fuck, if you’re feeling it.”
Nathaniel blinks and thinks through the options Andrew’s presented him. There’s just one problem–
“But we both have to do the same job.”
Andrew looks back down at the apartment and shrugs. “We can assign credit later. Let me guess, I’ve been getting in your way for the rest of the family, right? You took out the first one, I got the second, I got the third. We can just run along and tell our bosses the same story, and nobody’s the wiser.”
Nathaniel hesitates. “Why should I trust that you’ll keep your word?”
“I’m running the exact same risk you are,” Andrew replies. “And I think I proved that I have your back the second I saw you on this roof and started talking to you instead of shooting.”
Nathaniel looks at the same suit he’s seen a million times and back towards the apartment.
“I think I should get this one, so we can even out the score.”
Andrew shrugs. “I can be backup.”
They do go back to Andrew’s, after Nathaniel takes credit to Felicity and Andrew passes along a missed mark to whoever his own Felicity is. Nathaniel is more than happy to lose himself in the honey sweetness of Andrew’s lips.
Neil wakes up the next morning with an arm flung around Andrew’s waist, his hair tickling his nose. Morning light hits the bed and casts a warm glow over the usually cold room. Neil likes it, thinks he could get used to this, and then silently panics until Andrew wakes up.
They go out to brunch, Neil nods to the doorman as they leave Andrew’s building, and Stuart winks when Nathaniel calls off his relocation request.