Work Text:
The sound of running water drew Rose closer to the bathroom, warm steam curled around her the moment she walked in.
Beyond the fogged glass of the shower, Peter shifted under a cascade of hot water. His arms moved through the mist while narrow streams ran down the hard lines of his body.
She let her clothes fall into a messy pile, then slid the glass door aside and stepped into the shower. Peter startled when her arms slid around his waist from behind, so she brushed a soft kiss between his shoulder blades to settle him down.
With an amused grin twisting his mouth, he turned around and drew her flush against him until the spray of water fell on them both.
Any intention of a quick shower became impossible. They both knew from experience that water would never be saved once she joined in.
Rose pushed onto her toes as he leaned down, both meeting halfway in a kiss charged with mutual desire. Her hands roamed over his chest tangling in the wet hairs there. Before long, he began responding just as eagerly. His own hands tightened at her waist while her hips pressed insistently against him, feeling how much he wanted her.
“We need to get ready or we'll be late,” Peter managed out between kisses, though the lack of conviction in his tone made it clear he wasn’t in any hurry to stop.
She hummed absently while her lips glided along his jaw and down his neck.
A cold draft slipped between them the second Peter pulled away. But before she could complain about the absence of his touch, he turned her around and pressed against her back. Neither moved for a long moment, water fell on their overheated skin and steam curled thick around them.
He reached for a bottle and poured a measure into his palm. The lavender scented gel glistened between his hands before they traveled down her shoulders and arms, leaving soapy trails behind.
Rose drew in a slow breath to calm her pounding heart and found herself wondering if anyone ever noticed how often they smelled of the same body wash.
He moved deliberately slow, both hands lingering on the swell of her chest before gliding over her stomach and further down to tease her most sensitive flesh. Small bubbles detached from his fingers and floated away.
Rose tilted her head back against his shoulder, giving him easier access to her neck. Peter never wasted an invitation. His mouth found the sensitive spot below her ear, where he gently sucked the damp skin. Heat built up like waves inside her, every inch of her yearned for more of him.
A breathless sob of pleasure crossed her parted lips and echoed against the tiles as he pressed more into her.
A sharp sound cut through the steamy air. It barely brushed her awareness since her mind was too absorbed by the feel of his mouth and restless fingers.
The sound stopped as suddenly as it begun, leaving just their heavy gasps mingling with the falling water. Rose had almost dismissed the interruption when it started again, for longer this time. Only then did it fully register. The ringing came from his phone in the bedroom demanding a kind of attention neither of them were in a state, or inclination, to give.
“Ignore it,” she insisted. Her hand went up, fingers tangling in his wet hair to pull him down until their lips touched again.
The phone rang on, annoyingly so. With a reluctant exhale, Peter pulled back even though every part of him would rather press her against the tiles and finish what they’d started.
“It might be something urgent,” Peter said under his breath.
There were very few situations capable of pulling him away from her and work was one of them.
Rose turned and kissed him deeply, claiming one last taste before they had to part. Outside the shelter of his arms was the reminder that in a few hours, they would be nothing but strangers again.
Peter breathed in for a few heartbeats. Then, with great effort, he peeled his body from hers after pressing an apologetical kiss to the top of her head.
She watched him go with water drops trailing down his back and soaking the towel around his waist. Left alone, she stayed under the spray with her eyes closed, letting it extinguish the flames of unattended desire.
A short while later, Rose came out of the shower and her eyes drifted to the mirror. The dense condensation on its surface had been disturbed by finger strokes.
Happy Rose day!
The words stood out clearly against her fogged reflection and she laughed quietly to herself. Peter’s affection never seemed to lose its ability to surprise her, no matter how constant it was.
The man himself was long gone by the time she emerged from the bathroom. The call seemed to have demanded his presence elsewhere.
Rose sat on the bed, absently staring at the pale blue wall while her thoughts drifted ahead in time.
For that brief moment in the shower, Peter had made her forget about the pressure of tonight. Though Rose welcomed the chance to shine, she wasn’t used to making herself the center of attention.
She recalled the hurdles that followed the life-altering decision to become Peter’s work partner, despite his objections. Sure, he wanted a life with her and valued her help above anyone else’s, but not at the cost of her safety. It was a contradiction he could never fully resolve in his mind, even to this day.
Being emotionally invested was a risk in itself. But if danger was inevitable because of their feelings, then she was willing to sacrifice her safety. No part of her would trade him for a normal life, ever again.
And once her mind was made, not even Peter could change it. This stubborn flaw had allowed her to survive impossible odds before and she counted on it to carry her through some more.
They hadn’t exactly avoided unnecessary risks in the past, but had proven themselves professional so far. Together, they had built a reputation of exemplary service as partners. Were praised especially for their ability to remain committed to work under stress.
And yet, there was a clock in the back of her mind ticking down to the moment when one of them would choose the other over a mission. It seemed as inevitable now as it had been in the past.
Tonight might very well test the line between work and personal feelings. They'd have to keep their emotions in check and control the instinctive reactions born from love.
The blissful haze from the shower slipped away entirely and her focus sharpened to what came next. Her duty was clear and so were the stakes.
Time flew by as Rose transformed into a rare version of herself. She slipped into a dark blue gown that hugged her figure, falling in an elegant line over her chest and hips all the way down, held in place by thin shoulder straps.
Rose pinned her hair back, then layered different shades of brown across her face to highlight her best features. Once satisfied with the result, she slid both the wedding and engagement rings from her finger, then placed them in the small tray beside Peter’s own ring.
The finishing touches came with a bracelet clasped around her wrist and pearl earrings framed by diamonds that caught the light each time she turned her head. These were fancier than anything she’d ever wear. Inside their purely decorative exterior, was a micro recording device so seamlessly integrated it was impossible to tell.
Rose lingered by the mirror for a moment longer, taking herself in. The woman staring back exuded confidence, even as anxiety coiled inside her stomach. She heaved a sigh between red-tainted lips and slipped into a pair of silver heels.
The sun was already sinking low by the time she climbed into the car waiting for her at the curb.
The cocktail gala was only a stage for deception, where secret deals would be made beneath a veneer of politeness. Several high profile guests were expected to attend, including some already on the FBI’s radar. Nothing overtly illegal would probably happen, but information would flow under the influence of alcohol and a false sense of security among wealthy peers.
This mission required more agents than usual. Some to blend as staff, others posed as security. Only names, affiliations, hints of deals were needed to map connections and justify further investigation. Even so, the team was stretched thin in numbers.
That was why Rose got assigned to gather intel in person when she wasn't supposed to.
The agreement she had with Peter was to work behind screens and comms where the risk was minimal and she couldn’t become a liability to him.
But this mission demanded numbers and she saw an opportunity to help. After all, she had experience in this kind of work, had read the files and understood the targets’ behaviors.
Peter hadn’t seen it that way. At all.
Field missions had a way of unraveling the most carefully laid plans without warning. He’d experienced enough to know how quickly a low risk situation could spiral into chaos. The thought of her being exposed to danger didn’t sit right with him.
Expecting resistance, she’d tried to persuade him by pointing out gaps in the plan, the advantage of being familiar with the targets and the statistical likelihood of the evening remaining uneventful given its public nature.
There was the benefit of her gender as well. Men often lowered their guard around women after a lifetime of having had their ego stroked by them.
That had been another point of contention for Peter. He knew the exact type of men attending the event, all unaccustomed to being denied what they wanted and with very little regard for personal boundaries.
But Rose knew how to steer conversations without losing control of the situation. An instinct honed as a child and perfected in the years of investor pitches to launch her company. She excelled at reading people, noticing even the smallest shifts in body language, and had learned to lie and take what she needed to survive.
Her logic was solid, but so was Peter’s stubbornness when it came to her safety. He had argued back just as fiercely. In the end he conceded because there wasn't a professional reason to object and his personal feelings couldn’t hold weight in the decision.
For her part, Rose was thrilled to finally use all that life experience that made her a natural spy.
There was only one detail she hadn’t anticipated. The event fell on her birthday. The day never had much importance before, so Peter had been the only one swallowing disappointment in the face of duty.
Instead of the plans he’d made to celebrate her, they spent most of the day reviewing the files and combing through the details of the mission. They’d attend the event under false identities, pretending not to know each other. Not exactly the night he had in mind.
Rose paused to steady herself in the lobby of the old theatre hosting the gala. She drew in a calming breath, fingers tightening around her clutch, before climbing up the grand staircase.
The event was already in full swing. Layers of sound filled the large room, conversations weaved into laughter above notes of live music. The dim light from crystal chandeliers cascaded down on glasses and mirrored surfaces, scattering reflections and making the entire room shimmer.
Guests with drinks in hand shifted between clusters of conversation. What stood out the most to Rose was how unremarkable they all seemed. These people looked ordinary despite the display of wealth, yet their criminal actions said otherwise.
The sheer scale of it all pressed against her. Her palms grew damp and she wiped her hand on the dress, pretending to smooth the fabric over her stomach. Some of the earlier bravado faltered momentarily, but she took a deep breath before assimilating with the room.
At five foot one, Rose was nearly swallowed by towering figures in suits and expensive gowns looming all around her. She straightened at once, letting her composure extend her presence well beyond her height. Her expression was impassive to invite interest without appearing too eager to be noticed.
An awareness of being watched settled over her as she searched the crowd for her three targets.
The observer wasn’t the tallest man in the crowd, yet her trained eyes found him immediately. Standing a full six feet tall and slightly removed from the sea of strangers, her G-man cut a striking figure. Broadly built under a perfectly fitting tuxedo, he looked composed and handsome.
Peter had strict orders to avoid her, yet his eyes had also found her the instant she arrived.
Movement, music and voices dulled into muffled sounds as if underwater. The entire room narrowed to the single line of sight locking their gazes. The air became electric, stirring memories of his touch on her body.
Even at a distance, Rose still caught the subtle shift in his posture, the tightening of his hand around a glass that was likely meant to be perceived as whiskey.
Somehow, she could almost hear the spike in his heartbeat carried across the space between them and over the string notes of the band playing. Peter hadn’t seen her dressed up until now. A smile twisted the edge of his mouth, so faint it might’ve been a trick of the lights.
The pull towards him was immediately intense, an ache to fall into the safety of his arms again. He seemed to feel the same magnetic draw.
But their restraint held firm and the moment passed as quickly as it came. With some effort, she resumed walking in the opposite direction as if they were strangers.
“You look great,” Peter’s voice came into the comm at her ear and even through the static Rose caught the notes of adoration and teasing edge in his voice.
“Always so articulate,” she returned in a whisper, unable to hide her own amusement.
A soft chuckle preceded his answer, “You know I can’t say what I’m actually thinking.”
“Oh, I can imagine,” she spurred him on, picturing the flush she was certain to be crawling up his neck and cheeks from all the way across the room.
There was a pause, long enough to suggest he was considering his next words. He ducked his head lower before his voice returned just as playful. “Then you understand I might need a blindfold to avoid gawking at you all night.”
Her red lips twisted between a pout and a smile. There were plenty of things she’d rather say and do to him, none of them helpful to the mission.
“You realize this is going to be transcribed, right?” Rose pointed out and ducked her head to hide a grin.
Another beat of silence from the other end. Then his voice came back even lower, “I’ll request some redactions.”
Rose let out a breathy chuckle, shaking her head slightly despite knowing he couldn’t tell. For all his charm, she doubted he would be able to sweet-talk his way into removing this conversation from the case files this time.
Scanning the room, she spotted a stout man oozing more self-importance than warranted, propped against the bar. He snapped his fingers rudely at the bartender to order a drink. Arrogant and desperate for attention, an easy start for her.
“This wasn't the plan, but try to enjoy the night.” Peter continued in her ear. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
Her anxiety dissolved a great deal more. At least they were within each other's orbit, even if the setting wasn’t ideal. As hard as it was, Rose would behave around him and he would do the same.
“Copy that,” she whispered without losing sight of the man at the bar.
As the comm went quiet, she brushed a finger discretely over the earpiece to turn it off and activated the recording embedded in her earring to pick up the interactions that would follow.
Rose moved to the bar, settling beside her target. She leaned in and ordered a non-alcoholic drink while keeping her voice smoothed by a smile. The performance worked its charm and the man’s attention snapped towards her.
After accepting the glass, she thanked the bartender and turned towards her target ready to engage.
The gala carried on with music and crystal glasses chiming. Her smile remained perfectly calibrated while the man spoke at length beyond introductions. Rose nodded and laughed at the right moments, leaning in slightly as if genuinely charmed by his crass humor, then slipped in the first question. From there, she began pulling a thread of information out of him. It was remarkable what a few drinks and the illusion of female admiration could extract from an inherited man.
A movement across the room pulled her focus for a brief second. An elegant middle-aged woman had welcomed Peter into her circle. With a subtle hand gesture, she dismissed the others at her side and turned her attention to him as their conversation began.
To anyone else, Peter appeared at ease, but Rose knew better. The hand clenched almost imperceptibly around the glass and the stiffness in his shoulders told her he wasn’t comfortable in this territory. He thrived best in motion, in running pursuits or high-speed chases over fake conversation.
The woman laughed, a loud cackle that crossed the room and grated Rose’s ears. Then followed with a light slap on Peter's forearm as if he’d said the funniest joke in the world.
Granted, he had an endearing goofy side and boyish charm that never failed to make Rose laugh, but the woman’s reaction was clearly performative. It was the same playbook Rose was using on her target. Only this woman wasn’t hunting for information, she was feeding Peter’s ego to get something physical instead.
Rose tightened her grip on the clutch and focused back on her target, who remained oblivious to her attention lapse amid his animated talking. Part of her brain was absorbing and storing details for later, but another part – an emotionally driven one – kept drifting to Peter against her will.
The man made a particularly crude comment about her body and Rose suppressed an internal groan, offering instead a tight smile as if receiving a compliment. Without missing a beat, she ordered another round of drinks for both and steered the conversation forward with a few more questions.
Over the rim of her glass, Rose stole a fleeting glance at Peter again. His posture tightened briefly before being guided to the dance floor against his will.
A dull ache took roots in her chest and she made an extra effort to maintain polite interest in her target.
Still, Rose found herself irrationally wishing to be the one on the dance floor with Peter. He probably wasn’t a great ballroom dancer, but that hardly mattered. She had never experienced that with anyone. Hadn’t gone to prom or ever danced to a corny ballad. They’d danced in the days after Camp David, using upbeat movement to shake away the grief, but never a romantic slow dance.
Her own companion had gone silent, but before he could follow her line of vision, Rose recalibrated her focus to him. It was clear she’d drained him of useful information. With a warm smile, she excused herself and slipped away with a thrill of success in her step.
The dance floor lingered at the edge of her perception while she weaved between chatting people.
Peter and his target blended with the other dancers under the scattered light of the chandeliers. The woman clung to him with red nails clawing his shoulders while he kept a respectful distance from her. His smile was friendly but detached.
Rose spotted her next target heading to the restrooms and made an instant decision despite having been warned against leaving the undercover agents’ line of sight.
Instinct had served her well so far and a female target required a different approach. This was a calculated risk. Playing safe had never been her nature anyway and bending the rules had kept her alive many times before.
Peter would spiral once he lost track of her, but the opportunity was too good to miss.
Leaving the cacophony behind, Rose went down the long hallway leading to the restrooms. The music was muted enough inside to hear rustling in the stall.
Rose took her time reapplying lipstick until the woman came out to wash her hands. They exchanged polite smiles at the mirror before the hunt started.
More than half an hour later, she emerged from the restroom loaded with new information.
Peter stood at the end of the hallway like a sentinel, seemingly finished with his first target. He didn't speak or move, yet a dark storm brewed across his face.
Rose walked past him, brushing close as she went. A brief glance and smirk from her were all he needed to confirm she was unharmed. His posture eased.
They made an intermission on their objectives by wandering around and making casual conversation with several people to avoid suspicion. Always a safe distance apart.
Her man looked strikingly handsome in a tuxedo and she wasn't the only one noticing. A few young women had the pleasure of taking him to the dance floor despite his obvious reluctance.
Instead of letting irrational jealousy surface, Rose made a subtle suggestion to the man she’d been talking to. He seemed pleased to indulge, which suited her perfectly. Soon enough she was on the floor as well.
Peter smirked to himself after noticing her, a clear challenge in that smile. So every time he was dragged by another woman, Rose picked a different man to enjoy the moment as much as she could.
Suddenly, they were playing a dangerous game unbeknownst to everyone else. All she craved was the closeness of his body in motion, the only safe place in this room full of danger, but discretion dictated otherwise.
The music swelled and so did their boldness. Their eyes met for the briefest moments, accidentally enough to pass unnoticed, yet it lingered just a fraction longer than it was safe.
Across the floor, Peter adjusted to match her game. Beneath their discipline was an undercurrent of playfulness coming out in stolen glances and subtle grins. They kept dancing, listening, working without losing sense of one another.
At one point, Peter partnered with a short blonde with striking blue eyes while Rose found herself accidentally stuck with a sweaty man sporting a protruding belly and a mustache that had probably been over his creepy smirk since the 80s.
Halfway through a song that seemed to never end, a tall man tapped her dance partner and Rose found herself unexpectedly faced with her next target.
For a brief moment, she wondered if her cover had been blown, but the man leaned in and murmured his intention to rescue her. He followed by leading her to the lounging area with a sense of entitlement that set her on edge.
He was even more attractive in person, with curly black hair framing features seemingly carved out of marble and green eyes that had no real warmth. The polished smile he gave her masked the disgusting suspicions she’d read on his file.
This time, Rose wasn’t in control from the start. She declined an offered drink and he didn’t take one either. If anything, that only made him more dangerous and unpredictable to her probing.
They made idle conversation at first, sticking to surface topics with no open angles for real questions. Her unease grew over time, but she never backed away from a challenge. Craved it even.
This target was sly, observant and not easily led. Still, Rose stayed alert on his guarded behavior and adjusted the approach. Her tone softened without flattery as she leaned more on her intelligence than direct inquiry. Between charm and laughter, she managed to draw a few admissions that aligned with previous suspicions.
The man smirked at one of her witty comments and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered too long against her cheek before drifting lower and brushing over her exposed knee through the dress slit.
Rose kept her expression neutral even as her pulse spiked in alarm. The contact left a cold trace of disgust for being touched by someone other than Peter. No other man could lay claim to her body.
The man’s lips came inches away from her ear and he finally offered bits of information she had been trying to pry from him, along with a proposition to move their conversation to a private room.
Rose forced herself to ignore the instinctive recoil and listened instead, fighting a shiver of discomfort crawling up her spine.
She was on the verge of pressing him further when a security-looking man approached and murmured into her target’s ear. His attention snapped away and without explanation he was guided to a side room behind closed doors.
Frustration bubbled through her, but she let it wash over as quickly as it came. The window of opportunity had closed and she knew better than pushing her luck past the point where she wasn’t seen only as curious.
A distance away, Rose caught Peter’s uneasy glances. For once, she didn’t want to test the boundaries of safety to finish this mission. Whatever more she could have pulled from that target wasn’t worth pulling Peter away from his own or leading him into a dangerous situation to save her.
So she stayed on the couch, turning her attention back to the other guests, watching for any unusual exchanges that might be useful.
At the edge of the crowd, Peter was deep in conversation with a beautiful, deceitfully charming woman. He leaned into her words appearing captivated by them. It was a fake version of a look Rose knew too well, which now belonged to someone else for the sake of the mission.
She also knew every inch of his charming grin, which didn’t quite reach his eyes, yet couldn’t stop the same ache - more annoyance than full blown jealousy - when the woman adjusted his bowtie and leaned in to whisper something to him.
After a few more words that Rose couldn’t read from his lips, Peter slipped away through the thinning crown toward the exit.
String notes faded once she left not long after. The glow of the chandeliers was replaced by a dark sky illuminated by stars, warm summer air wrapped around her and she breathed again for the first time in hours.
On the drive home, her cover fell away in layers of mental exhaustion, leaving behind the false smiles to reclaim her true self again.
The front door opened at the turn of the key and Rose’s curiosity was immediately spiked by the soft music drifting through the house, one of her favorites. The lights were low and the atmosphere was much more inviting than the tense noise that surrounded her all night.
Peter stood in the living room, still in his tuxedo. Unlike the hollow smiles at the gala, the one he gave her now was genuine, his gaze was unguarded in a way it couldn’t have been earlier.
This time, Rose went to him with a smile of her own and no hesitation. Their fingers entwined and he pulled her in gently, his other arm wrapping around her waist.
Their bodies aligned easily despite the height difference and they began to sway together, guided by the rhythm of the song.
Rose rested her face on the curve of his shoulder, breathing him in and letting the familiar scent finally settle the tension she carried all night.
Peter wasn’t a skilled dancer by any measure, but he guided her back and forth without once stepping on her feet as they shuffled across the hardwood floor. He twirled her around and pulled her back against his chest with a dexterity that surprised her into laughter.
The chorus lifted into higher notes and the lyrics started pouring out of him in cracked whispers in her ear. They spoke of hard-won love against all odds, lasting a lifetime and beyond. Its sentiment seemed to capture what he so often struggled to express. So he borrowed from the song, made the words his own, and let it become a confession of his love for her.
As they moved together, his lips brushed her cheek before finding hers, lingering there as the last mellow notes of the song faded. Then he kissed her deeply, assuring her no one else could lay claim over him either.
They rested their foreheads together and continued to dance into another song.
Her arms tightened around his neck, his fingers gave into the temptation he’d resisted all day. They slid over the exposed skin of her back in slow caresses. Rose melted into his touch, breath quickening, pulse spiking in a way that was entirely different from being touched against her will. Peter’s touch was welcomed, craved all the time.
“I only wanted to dance with you tonight,” he whispered. There was a longing in his tone that she couldn’t ignore that made her realize how much effort had taken for him to avoid her all night.
“Me too,” Rose admitted, placing her hands softly on each side of his face and stroking his cheeks with her thumbs.
His hold tightened around her waist. “I’m sorry,” he went on, voice rough with regret. “You deserved a better birthday than this.”
She leaned in closer, shaking her head. “Don’t apologize. Being with you now is the best part of the day.”
They had done their duty, bearing the cost themselves so others could enjoy a measure of safety. For her, that was fulfilling. Everything else that mattered was already in her arms, smiling down at her with pride and love in his eyes.
The crease in his brow faded, along with the tension lines around his mouth. An effortless smile returned, deepening the dimples carved on his freckle-dusted cheeks.
“Well, your birthday’s not over yet,” Peter said, grinning playfully before sliding a hand under her knees and picking her up off the floor.
A surprised yelp rushed out of her, which quickly dissolved into laughter. Rose wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her up the stairs to their bedroom. This time there would be no interruptions.