Archive of Our Own

With the two paper coffee cups occupying his hands, Colin got out of the car and closed the door with his elbow. He made his way to the back end of the vehicle, weariness weighting on his every step. This week had been endless.

Bill was already there, opening the trunk of the black SUV. He started unbuckling the straps of his FBI vest to take it off with a sigh. They were just coming back to the fusion cell office after making the last, definitive arrest in their latest op, which had taken almost a week to complete.

They were both quiet worn out, hence the late afternoon cups of coffee.

Colin sipped his, grimacing slightly at the burnt taste. Any other time he would have insisted they went to one of his favorite spots for an actual good coffee, today though he just wanted enough caffeine to get back to base, write his after action report and collapse into bed: nothing like six days of surveillance during the night and working with a new, slippery informant during the day to mess up your sleeping schedule.

Truth be told, he didn’t mind the long hours. After the whole Toni-Sarah-Pyramid mess, it’s not like he had anyone to go back home to at the end of the day, if you didn’t count replays of old English sitcoms and his one solitary basil plant, neither of which was much company nor help when his mind got too loud in the quiet of the night.

When the work went long, or the op was especially difficult, he could at least hope to go home tired enough to just fall straight to sleep, no chance for his subconscious to entertain him with his greatest failures.

At his side, Bill peeled off his vest, laid it down on the car’s trunk and took a moment to roll his shoulders, flex his neck.

Colin let himself watch him, finding the flow and practiced ease of his movements soothing. There was something fascinating in the way Bill took care of his appearance when on the job: his suits were always spotless, shirts well pressed, face clean shaved and hair neat. He had asked him about it once, reluctantly curious to know why he put so much effort into it. He had almost expected Bill not to answer, maybe even to find his question distasteful, but he had actually took the time to explain his point of view.

He had been taught that the image he presented the world when going out there representing the Bureau was important, it reflected the values and ideals the whole FBI stood for. In his eyes, taking care in looking professional and put together was the least he could do.

Colin still wasn’t a hundred percent sold (clothes for him were just another instrument to use to get what he wanted, be it information, knowledge, access), but he could respect it. Well, he could respect Bill for it, he still had his reservations about the rest of the feds.

– What? – Bill asked, eyeing him sideways while rolling down one of his shirt sleeves.

Colin offered a one shoulder shrug as an answer. – Just thinking.

– Mmh – the other man mused, fingers working to close the cuff button. – You’re dangerous when you do that.

Was that a joke? Colin actually smiled, a genuine grin spreading on his lips. The FBI golden boy’s humor was a well guarded, diffident thing that only came out every so often, but when it did, Colin found it, to his surprise, actually funny.

Once Bill was done with his cuff, had picked up his suit jacket (it was way too hot for him to put it on, the start of May already raising the temperatures enough that even the most loyal of the feds had to concede and abandon the uniform integrity) and reclaimed his own cup of coffee, they made their way to the elevator and then the office. They didn’t talk on the way, just stood shoulder to shoulder in tired, yet comfortable silence.

When the doors opened at their floor they walked over to their desks to get a start on their after action reports. There was a handful of analysts left in the office, typing away at their computers or studying data. Gina was among them, being a workaholic just like Colin himself; she offered him a small smile when their eyes met, which he returned.

Colin had just opened his report when Nikki walked into the room and stopped near his desk.

– Colin, Bill, can I have a word? – she asked, her tone neutral, not even a hint at what might be going on.

Bill turned around from his desk in front of Colin’s, stole a questioning glance his way, before standing up. – Sure.

Colin internally rolled his eyes, but still got to his feet and flanked Bill while the walked behind Nikki towards one of the conference rooms. At least this time he wasn’t walking towards a possible reprimand or a scolding on his own, he thought. He had backup.

What a weird concept that was still, the idea of having someone watching his back, guarding his side. Even after months of it, of having a partner to work with on a daily basis, a part of him still marveled at the notion.

The near feral, guarded side of him, that kept him alive with sheer stubbornness and spite, that held an iron fist rule on the allocation of his trust, had welcomed the idea of having someone, a stranger (a fed, nonetheless) at his side in a consistent, long-lasting role with bared, snapping fangs.

Now it had reluctantly pulled back its claws. Having a partner, having this partner, another trained, capable person pursuing the same cause of keeping Colin alive despite their work’s and his own best efforts to meet an early grave, had mellowed out even his most enduring resistance.

All it had taken had been perseverance, a constant, unyielding showing up from the man now walking at his side. That, and a couple occasions when Bill had figuratively (and nearly physically) shook him by the shoulders to knock some sense back into him. His self preservation instinct had found that a quiet effective tactic that had won Bill a lot of points.

His loyalty had been won, for better and for worst. Bill Goodman had entered, maybe unsuspecting, the very exclusive, forsaken club of people Colin would show his side to, people he would go to all extremes, lawful and not, for.

Nikki had stopped in front of the smallest meeting room. She offered the hint of a smile and gestured for them to enter, before following them and closing the door behind her.

There was already someone in the room, a tall man with a neatly trimmed, graying beard and full black hair streaked with white combed back. He was standing near the window, hands clasped behind his back in what at first glance could have seemed a meek, passive posture.

Colin did not miss the tension in his shoulders, the way the man’s eyes studied and analyzed both him and Bill, how he kept his weight well distributed between both feet, almost as if he was keeping ready to move at any given moment.

The man was CIA, or some other agency of the sort, even if he tried to mask hit with a blue plaid shirt, a tweed jacket and a pair of glasses hanging from his breast pocket. At first glance he might

pass for a professor or a teacher, gentle and harmless, but there was a hardness beneath it that had nothing to do with civilian life.

– Colin, Bill, meet Martin Bloom – Nikki said, stepping over to position herself between them and their guest. – He was one of my mentors when I first started with the Agency.

Exactly as expected, Colin thought, meeting the man’s searching gaze with a nod. At his side, Bill did the same, his composure guarding, cautious. He was too well mannered to be out right hostile, or even questioning, but having spent months working with him Colin recognized the tension at the corners of his eyes, in his jaw, in the way he kept his hands clasped in front of him.

Apparently they both had had the same first impression.

Martin Bloom skipped the pleasantries all together, didn’t even bother with a fake yet expected “nice to meet you”, which only solidified Colin’s theory he was not there for a social visit.

– Martin came to me because he needs some help with a delicate thing – Nikki supplied, her gaze moving between the three of them.

Ah, right on cue. No one involved with the CIA never did nothing for nothing, for Martin Bloom to come all the way there and lower himself to ask for help, whatever it was he needed assistance with it must be pretty big.

– Whenever you want, Martin – Nikki added, folding her arms at her chest.

Martin dragged his eyes from her to Bill, his expression a carefully curated blank canvas. – As soon as we are in the appropriate company.

Nikki didn’t miss a beat, just smiled politely and said: – You can speak freely.

Martin regarded her with a pointed look. – He’s not CIA.

Almost on instinct, Colin shifted his position to put himself slightly in front of Bill: if Martin wanted to be a hard ass and be petty about the whole thing, he’d have to look him in the eyes first. He could tell the man held some modicum of respect for him, probably due to his status as Nikki’s asset; he would be more than happy to use that against him.

Nikki let the polite, agreeable mask drop, her gaze hardening and her expression turning serious. – No, but he’s with us nonetheless.

Martin was not satisfied with that, didn’t even try to hide it. – Very well, if that’s how you chose to operate.

– It is – Nikki confirmed. – Now, it’s been a long day, why don’t you tell us why you’re here?

The man took a deep breath, more theatrical than necessary, before starting to talk. – A few days ago a hard drive was stolen from one of our safe locations. I’d like your help in getting it back.

Too simple, Colin considered, there had to be a catch. – What was on it?

Martin sent him a look, somewhat in the middle of impressed and calculating. – A list of names and personal details. It held the real identities of some of the assets working under me.

That reveal swept through the room with all its heavy implication. CIA or FBI, everyone who had even the least involvement with the work they did knew those were the worst kind of information to have dragged out in the open, left for all kind of vultures to pick through to then deliver merciless deaths to unsuspecting agents.

Building up on the gravitas filling the room, Martin went on: – Usually I would send one or two of my own people to retrieve the hard drive, but they are out of State, if not out of the country all together. I won’t risk having them travel with this kind of danger hanging over them. I’ve ordered everyone under me to go underground and hide. I can not expose them while trying to fix this.

– Do you know who did it? – Nikki asked, lines of concentration appearing on her face.

– I have some ideas. My informants suggest the hard drive is still in the city, awaiting to be sold to the highest bidder – Martin replied. – I would like for you to retrieve it.

– Even if we do, how do you know the information on it it’s not corrupted? – Bill took a step forward, coming to stand next to Colin. – They could have made copies, sold them already.

There was a flash of something dark in Martin’s expression, but he was quick to dissipate it. – The hard drive is equipped with a safety mechanism. Only one copy of the files on it can exist at any given time. If anyone tries to make a copy, we have a code in place that would destroy the original. My people tell me that code has not been activated yet.

– Clever – Colin conceded. – Where is this hard drive now? Do you know?

– No, I don’t know where it is right now – Martin admitted. – But I know where it will be. There is a gala dinner happening in Simone Decleur mansion, I have solid intel the hard drive will be there. Its buyer will probably pick it up after the party.

Simone Decleur was a very successful entrepreneur, she had her hands in a dozen different projects at any given moment, from real estate development to social media start ups and entertainment. She also had very expensive and exotic tastes that only the black market could satisfy. She was rumored to deal with drug lords, gangs, even cartels to buy and sell a bit of everything: recreational drugs, designer clothes, illegal produce, weapons, jewelry… the list went on.

Many law enforcement agencies had tried and failed during the years to pin charges against her, she was too slick and smart with her tradings for any of them to stick. The substantial group of lawyers working for her helped clean up anything else.

Nikki nodded slowly, taking in these new details. – When is this party?

– Tomorrow night – Martin said, placidly.

Colin and Bill exchanged a glance. Of course.

– That’s a very tight timeline – Bill commented, wariness in his voice.

Martin dismissed him with wave of his hand. – It’s just enough time to study the house blue prints and put together a plan. If you know what you’re doing.

With the corner of his eye, Colin saw a muscle in Bill’s jaw work, but he kept silent.

When neither Nikki nor Colin agreed with him, Martin added: – I can supply some of the intel you will need to know the place, plus an invite to the party that will let you walk right through the front door.

Nikki inclined her head, considering. – That can help, but it’s still a big ask. Are you sure no one will question a complete stranger showing up?

– The invites get mailed to people Decleur and her team think might have potential or be useful to her somehow, but she does not know each of them personally – Martin explained. – The galas are a way for her to observe and study those people, before making her move. The crowd is ever changing, new comers are the norm.

A part of Colin was buzzing with the idea of an old school undercover op, with all the danger and excitement that came with it. It had been a while since he’d done anything of the sort and he was kind of missing it: those kind of operations had been his bread and butter for a long time, before his level of skills had allowed him to rise in the ranks and have a bit more say in what cases he worked. As much fun as those undercover stints were, they were also the most risky and the most exposed. He himself had almost got himself found and killed in more than one occasion.

Colin put his hands in his pants pockets with studied carelessness. – So, to recap, you want us to go to this party, pretend to be excited prospect for Decleur business, make our way through her mansion, recover your hard drive and then leave with no one the wiser. Am I correct?

Martin looked at him with a glint in his eye. – Allowing room for unexpected corrections, yes.

– That’s quiet the tall order – Colin mused. – Who do you think the buyer is?

– I have some suspicious, but they are just speculation at this point – Martin picked an invisible lint from the sleeve of his jacket. – The only thing I know for certain is that they will screen all the interested parties before deciding who gets the prize. They will do their best to avoid another Bolivia.

Colin, Bill and Nikki all grimaced at that: a few years ago there had been a similar data leak, when a whole team of DEA agents had been outed while deep into an undercover op with a Bolivian cartel. When the information had gone out, it had been absolute chaos. Three agents had been killed, the rest had managed to save themselves only because the cartel men had been too busy arguing among themselves about who should get to take out which operative to actually get the deed done. Their internal conflict had given local authorities and the DEA just enough time to send rescue teams, get the remaining agents to safety and arrest all the people involved.

After that, the market for intel on undercover operatives had become way more restrictive and hard to access. Only serious, organized players got to participate in the bargaining, the time for open hunts had been deemed outdated.

– Which is way we can’t pose as a possible buyers – Bill said.

Even if they managed to put together enough funds, getting over all the red tape and bureaucracy that came with that, there was no way they would be even taken into consideration, being an outsider, unknown, untested party. The only way for them to get the hard drive was to quiet literally go in there and pick it up themselves.

– That is not a possibility, no – Martin confirmed.

Nikki took a deep breath and straightened herself. – Okay. Martin, please give us a moment, we’ll let you know what we decide.

The man arched an eyebrow at that, like any other option besides saying yes was alien to him, but kept quiet and made his way out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Nikki watched him go for a moment, before turning to regard Colin and Bill. There was a line of worry on her forehead, partially hidden by a lock of dark hair that had escaped her bun. She was not taking this lightly, she knew very well the risks that came with such a mission.

– I’m not going to order you to do anything – she started. – We will go ahead only if we are all on board with this. I know you just closed a complex case, under normal circumstances I would never ask you to do this now, with so little time to prepare. So, feel free to say no.

Colin leaned against the table at the center of the room with a sigh. – It sounds easy enough on paper, but these things always carry unknown variables. I’ve done worse, but I’ve also done easier.

Nikki acknowledged that and turned to Bill. – What do you think?

He shrugged, shaking his head. – It does not matter what I think. There are people’s lives on the line, agents lives. We owe it to them to at least try – He looked over at Colin, eyes finding his. – This is your specialty, if you think it’s doable then I’m in.

Having that kind of trust awarded to him so easily almost made Colin stumble in his next breath. No, it wasn’t easy, it had taken time, and arguments, and harsh words and harsher truths for the two of them to get there, to a place of reliance and confidence in each other. And yet, it still surprised him that they had managed to arrive there at all.

Colin put great respect in the faith Bill was showing him, he felt its weight on his chest like a physical thing, but he shouldered it gladly. It meant he wasn’t walking alone anymore.

– I want to ask Martin some more questions, see if we can lay eyes on the location of the party beforehand, get a few more details – he said, mind already at work, planning, strategizing. – But yeah, I think we can do it.

Martin had looked quiet pleased with himself after Nikki had let him know they would take on the op. He had thanked her profusely, reminiscing all the potential he had seen in her since the beginning of her career in the Agency.

He had promised to sent over, through an encrypted channel, all the intel he had on the party, together with the invite.

On his way out, he stopped by Colin’s side, holding his hand out for him to shake it. Colin did so, with a healthy dose of caution.

– I’ve heard a lot of good things about you, Glass – Martin said, keeping his tone low. – If you ever want to get out of the office and do some important work, just let me know. We could use someone with your talents.

Colin plastered a plastic smile on his face and nodded politely. – Right, of course.

Martin let go of his hand, gave him one last knowing look and went on his way. Colin followed him with his eyes for a second, an uneasy sensation poking through his mind. He shook it off and made his way back to Bill’s desk, where the man was typing on his computer.

He raised his head when Colin approached and leaned against the side of the table.

– I don’t think he likes me very much – Bill commented, with a glance in the direction of the office exit.

– He’s very old school, was raised not to trust any kind of fed – Colin muttered. – Besides, I don’t think he likes that many people in general.

Bill turned his attention to him, raising an eyebrow. – He seemed to like you well enough to offer you a job.

A grin made its way on Colin’s lips. – Look at you, eavesdropping on people’s conversations and collecting intel. There might just be hope for you yet.

Bill rewarded his quip with a small, genuine smile, looking only the littlest bit exasperated.

– We should go get some rest, tomorrow is going to be a long day – he said and Colin could only agree: he had a feeling they were in for a lengthy, complicated one.

They spent a few hours the next morning staking out the villa where the gala would be held, comparing the real life version with the blue prints Gina had found for them, noting the vendors, staff and set ups that were being prepared for the main event.

Colin had hoped they might also get to peek at the guest list, but it seemed that information was beyond reach, even for their very capable analysts. He didn’t like the idea of going in blind in that sense, knowing who would be there would have given him an edge when crafting his undercover persona. He would have to improvise on the spot, with only the very sparse pointers Martin Bloom had given him to guide him.

After he and Bill were satisfied with their surveillance of the mansion, Colin went to look for an appropriate outfit, while Bill went back to the office to pour over Martin’s intel with Gina.

They had discussed briefly if only Colin should go in, since undercover ops were his forte: Bill had been reluctant with the idea, both because they didn’t really know what to expect in terms of guests, and because the place was enormous, too big for one person to search on his own. In the end, Colin suggested Bill could go under with him as his security detail, since the invite specified plus ones were welcome, together with bodyguards if the guests felt the need for them. The wording of that last detail was weird, he and Bill had both picked up on it, it made it sound like people were expected to show up with full blown armed guards details.

It was sometime after 1pm when Colin made his way back to the office, a garment bag in tow.

He made a quick stop by the break room to steal a candy bar before reaching Bill and Gina in the same meeting room they had met Martin Bloom the day before. Nikki had found it more prudent to keep the op away from the main office and the many eyes there, the whole thing too delicate and precarious as it was without the additional scrutiny.

Gina had been read in first thing in the morning, Colin, Bill and Nikki all agreeing she was more than trustworthy and too skilled to keep in the dark.

Once inside the conference room, Colin draped the garment bag on an empty chair and made his way over to the white board Gina was writing on: she and Bill had carefully filled the whole thing with all the intel they had, cramming as much knowledge as they could in the little time they had.

– Hey – Bill greeted him from his place at the other side of the board.

He had a blue marker in one hand, which had left blue stains on his fingers. He had just finished writing something near a blown out aerial picture of the mansion, with an arrow pointing to a room on the second floor. It said “office number 2, second floor, east side”. Next to it, Gina had added a red X, like the ones that mark the treasure in a pirate’s map.

– Hey – Colin said back, taking in all the information plastered on the board. – This is impressive. Should let you kids do arts and crafts more often.

Bill rolled his eyes, capping his marker. Gina made a face at him, then smiled.

– Did you find it? The fancy suit? – she asked, a glint in her eye.

The invite to the party specified guests must wear elegant, refined yet original pieces, to better complement the magnificence of the villa itself. It had taken some digging, but Colin was satisfied with his choice: he needed something fancy enough to blend in, yet at the same time practical enough for all the spy work that needed to be done.

He unwrapped his candy bar and took a bite. – Yes, I think I did. How are we doing here?

– Gina figured out where they might keep the hard drive – Bill said, eyeing his choice of lunch sideways. More than once Bill had found his eating habits so deplorable he had resolved to taking him out to eat for a real meal, as he had called them. Judging by his expression, he was probably considering doing it again.

– Let me guess, – Colin pointed with his candy bar to the board, – X marks the spot?

Gina nodded, pulling up the villa blue prints on her tablet and showing them to him. – It’s the only place that makes sense. It’s out of the way from the main event, located at the center of the mansion, so it’s harder to slip in from the side gardens, and only accessible from the one door in the main second floor hallway. It’s still close to the gala itself and elegant enough that Simone or whoever on her behalf can use it as the location for the buy.

Made sense, Colin thought, taking another bite. And honestly, it was way more than he had hoped to obtain from their last minute dive into Simone Decleur and her party.

– Well, we are as prepared as we could be – he commented, looking over to Bill to gauge his reaction. The man returned his gaze, expression set in grim determination.

– Actually, there is something more – Gina interceded, going over to the table and stifling through the papers spread over its surface. – I made this, to use as a decoy – She was holding up a small, black plastic rectangle, with a few USB ports to one side.

– Is that… a fake hard drive? – Bill asked, surprise bleeding through his voice. – Like, a copy of the one we need to recover?

She handed it over to Colin, who was just as amazed. – Yes, Nikki asked me to make one so you could swap it out for the real thing. She gave me the description and all the details she could. It should buy us, you some time, before anyone notices the actual hard drive is gone.

– Bloody hell – Colin muttered turning the little plastic box over. – They might even go ahead with the buy itself and not even realize.

Bill leaned over his shoulder to take a look. Colin could feel the warmth of his body, the soft touch of his breath on his skin. He kept very still, almost afraid to move too quickly and ruin the moment, which was an absolutely idiotic worry to have. What moment?

– You’re a genius – Bill whispered with genuine awe.

Gina shrugged, hugging her arms to her chest. – It’s just a fail-safe, and a pretty last second one to be honest.

– It’s more than we had an hour ago – Colin rebutted, winking at her when she caught his eye. – Now all that’s left to do is to dress pretty and go rob a mansion.

Before they could change into the outfits for the gala, Bill had cornered Colin and all but forced him to sit down and eat a meal that contained ingredients from at least three of the major food groups. He had sat down with him to eat, too, which had been a nice moment of quiet before the big event.

Colin had forgot the last time he had taken the time to sit at a table with someone to consume a meal, it felt like a novelty, a break in the chaos and the rush of his life. That it was happening not even two hours before a hacked together undercover op was very much on brand.

In some mysterious way she had refused to reveal, Nikki had managed to procure them a brand new Mercedes sedan, complete with chrome rims and blackened windows. When Colin asked about it, she only said someone owed her a favor. Knowing her and her reputation, that someone might very well be the brand CEO for the American branch.

Nikki was a bit on edge about the op, but she hid it well; Colin noticed only because he caught her digging her thumb into the flesh of her forearm, in the trigger point near the elbow that released the tension in her wrist. It was a nervous habit of her, a vicious cycle kind of thing: when she was stressed or under a huge amount of pressure, the old injury in her wrist and hand would act up, so she had taught herself how to soothe it without medication and now used the technique to placate her nerves too.

She had recommended them both not to take any unnecessary risks, to try and be in and out as quick as they could.

Now, they were pulling up in the same driveway they had staked out that same morning, waiting for their turn to enter behind an electric blue Ferrari. They were both already in their undercover roles, Bill as the security detail, driving the up and coming European investor that was Colin to the most exclusive party of the city.

Colin felt weird being seated in the back of the spacious car, the leather seats cool under his touch, the silver metal inlaid in the interiors shiny under the courtesy light. He was used to be seated next to Bill, sometimes driving, most of the times in the passenger seat, at his side, as his partner. He shook the thought out of his mind, along with any lingering doubt about the op. There was no space for reservations, not anymore.

Bill pulled up next to the young man in the bright read jacket standing at the beginning of the driveway: Simone Decleur had put in place a full valet service for her guests.

Before getting out of the car, Bill caught Colin’s eye in the rearwiev mirror. An expression of stony calm came over his face, substituting any trace of wariness. Then he stepped out and Colin took in a long breath to steady himself. He could hear Bill and the valet exchange a few words from the dim, calm bubble of stillness the car offered.

Just a couple of seconds later, his door opened into the warm evening, the chatter of the other guests and the rumble of modified (and illegal) engines filling in the car’s interior. Colin schooled his face into a confident, welcoming mask and got out.

Bill was at his side, one hand still on the handle, shoulders held back in impeccable military posture. Colin thanked the valet with a nod, then turned to the other side to make his way to the entrance of the garden.

For a brief moment he was close enough to Bill, as he was closing the door behind him, to whisper: – I could get used to this –, with a grin.

The other man rolled his eyes, quickly as to not be seen. Was that the hint of a smile Colin spied on his lips? He felt a pang of satisfaction at that, the idea of being able to make him smile despite the more than tense situation they were in.

As they walked to the mansion entrance, making their way through a well curated driveway of white, fine gravel, bordered by perfectly equal bushes of roses, he found himself looking over at Bill, taking in his stark figure in his totally black shirt and suit, the way the light of the setting sun deepened the red of his hair. He should have been checking out the scene around them, take notice of who was there, what level of security was in place, yet he could not tear his eyes from the man at his side, which was crazy. He had seen him in a suit a thousand times already.

Not like this. Not when the objective was not to look like a reliable, honorable representative of the FBI, but to blend in with a crowd of extravagant, well dressed people, with the sharp profile of the jacket highlighting his broad shoulders, with his hair tidied up less severely than usual, leaving its waves free to follow their natural shape.

It was stupid, and possibly dangerous, he should cut it out at once. It was probably just a way for his tired, over caffeinated brain to calm itself, by concentrating on something, someone familiar to stay focused while walking into the unknown of the op. Yes, that made sense.

Satisfied with his explanation, Colin fixed his own jacket lapel, straightened his tie and brought his attention back to sea of colorfully dressed people that awaited them inside the villa.

They made their way up the driveway, the air around them filled with the hum of the crowd, music filtering out from the mansion, the sweet smell of the roses at their feet. The villa itself was magnificent, with its white marble details, high windows and massive doors of dark wood, dark green ivy climbing up on a corner in such a perfect, aesthetic way it looked staged. There was an honest to God stairwell to the main entrance, the steps of light gray stone polished and immaculate, despite the many people that had already walked them.

As they got closer, Colin caught the soft, yellow light of the lanterns hanging in the portico making the fabric of his suit shimmer slightly, just as intended. He had found it in a little shop, tucked in between a Chinese take out restaurant and vinyl shop. It had been a near perfect fit straight from the rack and it was just peculiar enough to match the gala theme.

It was a suit of a deep, rich green, made in a fabric that, when the light hit it just right, glinted with purple and pink, almost as if mother of pearl had been woven in the cloth. The shopkeeper had insisted he paired it with an ivory silk shirt, with the first buttons open at his throat, that held a sheen itself and a vest with a deep burgundy damask motif, which created a nice, refined contrast with the whole outfit.

The effect was quiet fascinating, he had to admit, while still being a relatively simple suit that allowed complete freedom of movement. He had to remember that shop for future use, he thought to himself, eyes straying again towards Bill.

Colin had picked up a black tie with the same, subtle damask motif in red as his vest, too, that was now sitting pretty at the man’s throat, a nice pop of color against his black shirt. Colin had handed it to him back in office, while they were getting ready, with the excuse that it would make them look more cohesive, since the red of the tie and his own vest would match. Truth was, he just thought it would look good on him. Which was, again, a stupid, completely out of pocket idea. He needed to get his head back in the game, for God’s sake.

They had reached the top of the steps, where they were greeted by two security guards wearing white shirts and dark gray suits, who asked for their invite. They were quiet scary looking, both built big and wide, their body language telling of a military past.

Colin reached inside his inner jacket pocket and produced the cream, thick envelope that held the invite, a rectangle of velvety paper, with the words inlaid in actual gold. It was address to a Lucien St John, the letters of the name adorned with flowers and leaves arranged in a flowing pattern.

The man on Colin’s left checked out the invite for a second. – Mr St John and…?

Colin offered him his brightest smile. – And my bodyguard, William.

He leaned quiet heavily on his English accent, trying to sound as posh and sophisticated as possible. Definitely not someone showing up to steal anything.

The guard nodded, taking care in putting the invite back into its envelope before handing it back to him. – Welcome, Mr St John. Please make sure all weapons are handed over at the check, just here on the left.

Even without looking at him, Colin could feel Bill tense, just a step behind him. They would both do their very best to avoid any kind of situation that would require violence of any sort, but the idea of at least one of them being armed was a reassurance for both of them. To be told that would not be the case, changed things, even if just slightly.

– Of course – he replied, without missing a bit.

The two guards parted to make them pass, one of them pointing to the little room just behind them when another guard (still ex-military, still in a dark gray suit) stood behind a glossy wooden counter: looked like they had united the wardrobe and the weapons check in spot in one neat, tidy spot for everyone’s convenience.

The marble floor echoed their steps as they made their way inside the room. Colin gave his fake name to the man, who wrote it down next to a number in his registry. He then looked up at Bill, hand reaching over the counter.

Bill hesitated for just a fraction of a second before unclipping his gun hostler from his belt and handing it over. He kept his face blank, a seasoned bodyguard just going through another day of work, but Colin picked up on the tension hiding underneath.

The man at the counter took the gun with a polite nod. – Enjoy the party.

And it was done, they were in.

They walked to the main ballroom, Colin in front, Bill just a step back. The room was huge, with a high ceiling painted to look like a clear sky punctuated by soft white clouds and the occasional bird in flight. The floor was polished gray and white marble, veined with red. The big windows, framed by thick, luscious curtains of red velvet, were left open to allow fresh air in, the walls opposite them lined with long tables covered with immaculate white cloths, their surfaces displaying silver platters of food impeccably presented. Waiters in candid shirts and black vests rounded the room with trays of champagne glasses.

The walls hosted painting of hunt scenes, landscapes and modern pieces that somehow all went well together, creating an eclectic, unexpected harmony. It felt like walking into an English countryside mansion, with its same elegance, minus the imposing weight of its history.

A quartet of musicians sat in a corner, playing live a mix of modern and classical pieces, arranged to blend into each other.

Colin took it all in, letting the atmosphere help shape what would be his personality for the night. He then stopped short, just on the doorway to the ballroom, as the intelligence trained part of his brain took over. He felt Bill inhale sharply at his side and knew he had come to the same realization: almost half the guests mingling, talking, laughing in the room were, in a way or another, involved with some kind of criminal activity. He recognized gang leaders, corrupted politicians and city hall workers, out of State players with ties to violent groups, mob families representatives, even a couple of foreign drug and weapons smugglers, dressed up for the occasion.

He didn’t know the details to all of their operations, but any agent, CIA or FBI, worth their salt lived with the good habit of keeping themselves up to date with the latest developments, players and objectives of federal and non agencies. It was just common sense, being informed about what was going on around oneself and be familiar with the events and their protagonist. Who knew when that kind of information could turn up handy, or even save your life.

He felt his mouth dry out at the sight of so many (presumed, since no charges had been pressed on any of them yet) criminals, all together in the same space. A lot of those people, under any other circumstances, would have been the targets of an op he himself would be working. Now, instead, he would have to make conversation with them, smile at their joke, rub elbows with them, without thinking of all he knew about their extracurricular activities. Fucking Martin Bloom and his vague intel.

He exchanged a look with Bill, reading the subtle weariness in his face: he had probably went through a very similar thought process just then, and came to his same, bitter conclusions.

Bill put a hand to Colin’s lower back, gently guiding him to the side as to not occupy the entrance and give them a moment of quiet at the same time.

He then leaned in, eyes still scanning the room ahead of them. – Any chance someone might recognize you?

Colin had to briefly wrangle his mind back to attention, away from the weight, light and careful, of Bill’s hand on his back, to sift through the people of interest currently intent in socializing and making acquaintances. He recognized faces, could attribute them names and particular areas of interest, but he had not worked nowhere near enough any of them as of late.

He shook his head, pretending to fix his shirt collar. Bill acknowledged that, his hand falling away, but still kept close.

– Do you still want to go ahead? – he asked, voice soft, low.

Colin turned his head slightly to catch his gaze. – We’re here, aren’t we? Might as well get what we came out for.

The other man’s expression was serious, yet determined. He touched his arm briefly. – Watch yourself – he murmured, before moving on to take his place along the wall, together with the other security details and bodyguards already lining the perimeter of the room.

Apparently, gang leader and mob officials liked to have their muscle close while the enjoyed fancy champagne and canapes.

Being separated from Bill, watching him lay distance between them, putting himself further away, where Colin could not reach him, or at least not as easy as he would have liked, sat strangely in his mind. He was the undercover expert, the master of play pretend and lying through his best smile, he felt a responsibility to watch out for his partner in such an unknown, unfamiliar place, keep him relatively safe. But he couldn’t.

They would both have to rely on each others capabilities and strength, and hope for the best.

Colin took a deep breath, squared his shoulders in his best upper class posture and got himself ready to be Lucien St John for a few hours.

It only took Colin a few minutes to gauge the sense of the crowd and adjust his character accordingly. It all came back to him immediately, all the years spent jumping from one undercover op to the next lending him muscle memory for small talk, jokes and subtle information fishing.

A lot of people he talked to gushed over his accent (which he exaggerated just a bit for this very reason), asked questions about his life back home, nodded empathically with his made up stories of a childhood spent between the English countryside and boarding schools in medieval castles.

Once he got the lay of the land, he leaned in deeper with the few people he had identified to be either in the process of talking business that night or who might be associated with it. Colin laughed, rubbed elbows (both metaphorically and physically) and flirted his way to as much details as he could get.

The party was an articulated animal, with its beating heart in the main ballroom and its many limbs stretched out in other smaller, but just as tastefully decorated rooms. Colin sipped expensive champagne, exchanged gossip and offered his arm to women walking around in perilous high heels, moving from salon to parlor, to quieter lounge rooms.

No one spoke directly of anything, to get any inkling of intel he had to take a scenic route of a conversation and piece together detail after detail, but after a few hours of social mingling he was fairly certain the hard drive was indeed in the house and was going to be sold that night.

While he was busy gathering information, a small part of his awareness was projected outside, keeping him tethered to the one spot in each room where he knew Bill would be, a silent but constant presence. He would have been keeping an eye on the house security details, trying to learn as much as possible about their routes, their internal organization, in order to find them an open path to the hard drive and then back out.

Colin made sure to visit the upper floors as well during his social wandering, as to give Bill the opportunity, disguised as a loyal, attentive bodyguard checking in on his employer, to study all areas of the mansion. They worked surprisingly well together, despite the forced lack of communication and having to rely only on the strategy they had discussed before going in.

They met up again in one of the balconies overlooking the gardens around the villa, one small pocket of quiet in the middle of the chatter. The sun had set, leaving only the faintest traces of orange to streak the evening sky. Even outside the air was warm, if just a bit less oppressing thanks to a light breeze.

Colin was grateful to the brief respite it offered, the gentle draft cooling his skin at the open collar of his shirt. He could feel the sweat sticking the soft material to his back, under his jacket and vest, and would have gladly peeled off both. But Lucien St John was a fancy man, and would suffer some uncomfortable temperatures in the name of fashion.

Colin had stepped out on the terrace with a glass of champagne, his fourth of the night (which, like the ones before would end up with its contents dumped in the nearest plant vase), and was now looking over to the city skyline, the perfect picture of a guest taking a moment to catch his breath before diving back into the crowd.

He caught Bill joining him with the corner of his eye and felt himself exhale. His undercover skills were still there, sharp as always, but he could not deny the relief in seeing a friendly face.

He turned slightly to his right, leaning against the wrought iron banister to look at Bill without making it too obvious for any prying eyes. The other man kept still, standing tall with his hands joined behind his back.

– Did you find what you were looking for? – he asked, voice calm and collected.

Colin smirked into his champagne glass. – That and more. I’ve been invited by at least five people to their summer houses on the French coast. What about you?

Bill nodded, sighing softly. The warm climate appeared to no bother him, he was still perfectly striking in his total black look. He looked the part of the bodyguard, with his near permanent scowl and serious eyes, the perfect composure and exquisite manners. Maybe he had a future in undercover work after all, as long as his aliases included some level of brooding and scowling.

– There is an opening we can use – he said, catching his eye.

Colin fixed his already perfectly straight tie. – Very well. We’re on then, as discussed.

He spilled the rest of his champagne down the terrace and went back inside, Bill at his back.

The office was exactly were Gina said it would be, nestled between a library and a lounge room labeled “tea room” with a neat brass plaque. It had only one way in, as expected, the door that opened on the wide corridor they had just walked, slipping past one of the mansion guards on the wooden stairwell. They had timed it perfectly, under Bill’s guidance.

The floor of the hallway was covered by a red carpet, decorated with stitched geometric patterns. The walls still carried paintings in gilded frames, these ones smaller then their counterparts downstairs: hunt scenes, with deers, hares and hounds, set in autumn landscapes alternated with monochrome, abstract portraits and one frame that held only a red canvas with three parallel slashed etched into the fabric.

With Bill keeping watch, Colin tried the office door, finding it unlocked. Martin Bloom had mentioned that Simone Decleur like to flaunt her influence, her power and her reach, often engaging in subtle power games and shows of strength through her lawyers or her parties themselves. But even knowing that, for her to leave what could possibly be one of the most delicate, consequence laden items so in the open, with just a couple of guards on patrol was a bold move. Either she was very, very confident no one would try anything in her own house, or she had severely miscalculated her security protocols.

Not that Colin was complaining: he had a couple of lock picks hidden away into an inner pocket of his jacket, together with Gina’s decoy hard drive, but he did appreciate having his work made easier for him.

He opened the door, which glided smoothly on its hinges, immaculate and polished like everything else in that house, to reveal a modest size studio, with shelves lining the walls, four chairs of smooth, deep red chair arranged around a mahogany coffee table, and an imposing dark wooden desk, with a tall, throne-like armchair sitting behind it.

Colin inclined his head in a mock bow. – After you.

Bill regarded him with another slightly exasperated, yet somewhat fond look, gave the hallway another once over, and stepped inside. Colin followed him in, closing the door behind him, and reached over for the light switch. Dim, yellow lights flickered on from opaque glass lamps mounted on the walls.

It felt like stepping inside a different world, so distant from the party downstairs one could hardly believe it was all in the same house. Here the silence was almost absolute, only the faintest noises of chatter and music drifting up all the way to the second floor. It was a welcomed break from the crowd and the near constant buzz of people.

Colin and Bill made their way through the room, checking for places where the hard drive might be stored. The coffee table yielded nothing, so they moved over to the desk, stepping behind it to access its many drawers. A few were locked (Simone did have some common sense after all), but Colin made quick work of them with his pins and some gentle, but firm shoving.

The second one from the top on the left side turned out to be their lucky one: once the drawer slid forward, after some coaxing and a soft grunt from Colin, it revealed the black, unassuming shape of the hard drive, sitting harmlessly on top of a leather bound notebook.

– X marks the spot – Bill whispered, from Colin’s side, his shoulder pressed gently into his.

Colin opened his mouth to reply, when the sound of steps on the hallway froze him mid movement. They both held still, daring to draw only the lightest breath, while the listened. Colin felt his blood go cold as the steps grew louder, getting closer and closer.

Fuck. He quickly tucked the hard drive into his jacket pocket, but soon realized they did not have the time to put the decoy in, cross the room and hide before whoever was coming entered through the door. Because it was now clear, someone was coming in.

His mind was going a hundred miles an hour, scanning the room for any possible hiding spot, going over the pros and cons of getting into a physical altercation to carve their way out. When the steps stopped, just outside the door, his gaze landed on Bill, a coil of tension at his side, his own brain picking over their possible escape routes.

He made a decision then, a rather stupid one, but he didn’t really have the time for finesse.

– I’m sorry, you can punch me later if you want – he said, voice low and rushed.

Bill looked over at him, scowling. – What?

As the door glided open, Colin grabbed two handfuls of Bill’s jacket, allowed himself a deep breath, pulled him in and then kissed him.

A part of his mind, the ever alert survival instinct nurtured over years of CIA ops, strained to hear who was coming in, what their reaction was, if they were already dead or might just get out of it.

But the other part, the mellow, emotional side of him, very nearly got lost into the physical aspect of the whole thing. On the feel of Bill’s mouth on his, the solid shape of his body pressed against his own, on the sensation of Bill’s hands on his waist, where they had wandered somehow in the midst of it all. He could disappear in that moment, let his mind quieten, the flutter in his stomach grow bolder.

From somewhere in the office came a surprised huff, someone cutting themselves short in front of an unexpected view.

Colin sent a silent prayer up to an unanswering God and broke the contact. The whole thing had lasted what, two seconds? It was enough to steal his breath, leaving him gasping for air, his skin flushed, adrenaline flowing his veins.

He caught Bill’s eyes briefly, found them questioning, stunned, and so, so honest he almost forgot they might very well still end up with a bullet in their heads.

Colin let the mask descend, schooled his face in the perfect mortified expression and, with his best British tone, said: – Oh, dear! I’m so sorry, I had no idea this room was in use!

The audience of his performance, one of the mansion internal guards, an ox of a man with a thick mustache of graying hair, muttered something, looking rather embarrassed. Public displays of affection almost always had that effect on people.

He had a gun at his hip, its shape only partially obscured under his suit jacket.

Colin was very aware of the weapon, just like he was very aware of Bill’s heaving chest, of the color creeping up his neck, the way he was gripping the edge of the desk, his knuckles white against the dark wood. He kept all this in one half of his mind while he turned the other completely on their unexpected guest.

Colin cleared his throat, sent a quick, pleading look to Bill, trying to say to him keep with me, just a little longer, please. – I’m terribly sorry, I guess we must have lost ourselves a bit.

He smiled, polite and harmless, just a man in love fallen prey to a particularly burning passion, so convincing the guard almost smiled back at him.

– This office is off limits – he grunted, hands fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. – I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.

Colin took that time, and the barrier Bill’s body offered, to silently drop the decoy hard drive in the drawer, all the while keeping his attention on the man. – Of course, of course. We’ll be out of your hair immediately.

The guard seemed to relax a bit at that. – Right, good.

– I apologize once more, we forgot ourselves for a bit there – Colin added sheepishly, hands still working, hidden from view, to push the drawer closed, lock the latch and make the pins disappear up his sleeve. – You know how it is, love makes fools of all of us.

Once that was done he grabbed Bill’s hand and got both of them to the door with brisk, yet unhurried steps, still smiling apologetically at the guard and murmuring apologies, leaning hard into all the appropriate British phrases he could think of. Could English slang be used as a distraction tactic? They were about to find out.

The guard stepped aside to let them through the door, brows furrowed. – You should get back downstairs, to the party. This area will be off limits for a bit.

Colin all but pushed Bill out the room, the man thankfully cooperating, and offered the guard an understanding nod. – Of course, we’ll be right down.

He then closed the door in his face. He and Bill found each other gaze for a second, too brief for Colin to pick out anything but apprehension and alertness. They could not afford to linger, the risk of the guard rethinking their encounter and deciding he wanted a closer look at them too high for the luxury of catching their breath. They both knew that, could feel the cold touch of danger looming deep in their bones.

So they started walking towards the opposite stairwell that the one they had used to go up, their pace brisk. Their shoulder kept brushing with each step, both of them alternating glances beyond their back and to the hall in front.

They reached the stairs with Colin one step forward, and started descending. Just a few steps in, Colin stopped and turned abruptly around, finding himself face to face with Bill, so close he could feel the touch of his breath on his skin. For once, Bill was the taller one, standing on one step higher, and was looking down at him, brows drawing closer in a questioning look.

He did not flee their closeness, even with the last dregs of color still draining from his neck, even if Colin could read the questions swirling in his brain. A small, selfish part of him was grateful for it: he had taken a gamble back in the office, now he would have to reap its results, but the mere possibility of Bill meeting him with either disgust or contempt squeezed his chest in a discomforting way.

– Are you… – Colin started, but his own voice failed him. He dragged a hand through his hair,

frustrated, tried again. – Are you okay?

Bill’s frown deepened, like the question was alien to him. – Yes, sure. You have it?

Colin could have kissed him, again, while they were standing like that. He just needed to tilt his head up to find his lips again, to continue what had started, what he had started in that office. Why was he thinking such things, was beyond him. It had been a necessity, a tight situation that had needed a quick, dirty way out, there was nothing more to it.

– Yes, we’re good – Colin answered, forcing himself back to the present, to the very pressing matter at hand of getting both of them out of there alive.

Bill nodded, brows furrowed. – We should go.

Colin looked at him a second too long, noticing how the shadows in their little alcove away from the world sharpened Bill’s profile, made his hair look black, the red of his tie deep and dark like freshly spilled blood.

– Yes, we should – he murmured.

They made their way back down to the party, which was still in full swing. Some people had spilled outside in the gardens behind the villa, searching for the relief of some fresh air. The music kept playing, upbeat and captivating. The drinks in the guests hands were now mostly colorful cocktails, decorated with slices of fresh fruit and flowers: the time for champagne and polite talks had passed, as the night advanced the stakes were changing.

Colin could almost taste it in the air, a new buzz of activity that set his blood alight with anticipation. Something was about to go down, maybe more than one something. The more unsavory part of the guest list was gathering in a smaller ballroom, man and women regarding each other with sharp smiles and sharpers looks, wolves circling each others, while the others, blissfully unaware party-goers enjoyed the beauty of the gardens and the buffet of pastries that was being set out outside. The split had happened smoothly, in such a subtle way it felt choreographed. Simone Decleur really did know how to throw a party that would cater to all palates in a seamless way.

Colin and Bill stopped near the main doorway to the ballroom, taking a moment to collect themselves. Colin’s gaze kept drifting towards the guests inside, tracking who was talking to who, who gravitated closer and who kept their distance from others, their body language and expressions.

That whole room was a gold mine of intel, sitting pretty right there in front of him. Something in his chest hummed with the need of diving into that crowd, pulling out his best tricks and getting himself a mindful of information they would usually need weeks to gather.

At his side, Bill kept his attention locked on them, too, his gaze intense as a predator’s tracking his prey. It didn’t matter that he came from a different school of investigation, had a totally opposite approach to cases and ops, the potential for knowledge called to him just the same.

Somewhere to their right, near the main entrance, came a shout, followed by angry yelling in Spanish. Not everyone was playing nice then.

The sudden noise broke both of them out of their spell. Colin took a moment to make sure his lock picks and the hard drive were nice and safe in his jacket pocket, while Bill tracked the guards, moving from their posts to investigate the commotion.

When their eyes locked, they did not need to use words: it was time to go.

They walked back towards the entrance, stopping briefly to retrieve Bill’s gun. His shoulders actually lost some of their tension when the weapon went back to its place at his hip.

Then they were passing through the main doors, Colin smiling politely at the guards manning them like the respectable gentleman Mr St John was. They went down the steps, Bill one step behind him, having resumed his role of bodyguard for the sake of their exit.

Colin could already see their car, the shiny Mercedes parked neatly with the other luxury vehicles just behind a bend in the gravel driveway. They were almost out, and surprisingly few things had gone not according to plan. They could call this one a success, but only once they were safe and sound back in the fusion cell office.

Bill spoke a quick word with the valet, who nodded and went to retrieve their car. Colin was almost starting to relax when something hard and smelling of booze crashed into him, sending him stumbling for a couple steps.

He righted himself quickly enough, turning around to see a young man, his red silk shirt open all the way to his chest, where gold chains glinted, finding himself face to face with Lucien St John’s security detail: Bill gripped a fistful of his shirt, his forearm shoved into the man’s throat, his own body strung with tension. His other hand held a gun, silver and shiny in the mansion lights, keeping it safely away from the man’s clumsy fingers.

The boy, because he was little more than that, was mumbling something angry in Spanish, words slurred by too much alcohol, hands gesturing wildly in the face of an impassible Bill, who simply kept holding him and walked him back a couple steps, putting distance between them and Colin.

A group of four other men, with a young black haired one looking very similar to the drunk one at the front, made their way towards them with hurried steps.

The man at the front, curly hair arranged in a studied messy array, held his hands up in a placating gesture. The others at his back, all dressed in dark suits with bold gold belt buckles, hovered near Bill, studying him with wariness.

– Ah, my man, I’m so sorry, my brother had a little too much to drink – The first man said.

A gilded earring glinted at his ear, almost as bright as his smile. Colin realized he knew him, well, knew of him: he was Helio de Costa, older son to Pablo de Costa, a major drug dealer just south the Texas border.

Which meant the young blood still grumbling in Bill’s hold was Carlos, his younger brother. He was probably the source of the commotion earlier.

Colin offered him a tight smile. – No harm done.

Helio gestured for his men to relieve Bill of Carlos, who went with them with minimal resistance. Bill went back to Colin’s side immediately, jaw set, eyes scanning the new arrivals. He handed the silver gun to Helio, handle first. The gesture was received with a sheepish smile and a soft gracias, before Helio shoved the gun into the band of his pants at his back.

Colin wanted to smack himself in the head: he hadn’t even noticed Carlos was holding a gun when he had came barreling into him. But Bill had, and had acted quickly and quietly to keep the situation under control. That made Colin feel some kind of way, his traitorous brain focusing on all the wrong things once again.

His gaze kept wanting to slip towards Bill, to see what he wasn’t sure: it’s not like the man had changed much since the last time he had looked at him two minutes before. If he looked at him now he would see the same hint of curls in his hair, the same sharp lines of his body that the suit highlighted in such an unavoidable way. He would still see the same man he had entrusted with his back time and time again and had never let him down.

Helio turned towards Colin, a considering expression on his face. – Quiet the asset you have, a very loyal, efficient man. Those are hard to come by.

The last sentence was accompanied by a pointed look towards his own men, now busy trying to keep Carlos from wandering off. Colin felt a pang of… something in his chest, warm and stirring, like a bird flapping his wings in the cage of his ribs.

He disguised it with another artificial smile, putting his hands to work fixing his collar and jacket as to keep them from fidgeting with nervous energy. – He’s one of a kind – he agreed, feeling the hot touch of Bill’s gaze on him for one brief moment.

Helio nodded, like he understood, then extended his hand to him. – Thank you for being graceful. I’m Helio de Costa, by the way. Pleasure to meet you.

Colin returned the gesture, clasping his well curated hand with his own. – Lucien St John. The pleasure is mine.

– I’m going to let you get back to your evening then – Helio said, bowing his head slightly. – Have a good one.

He winked before turning around and getting back to his brother and their men, the light catching on the handle of the gun at his back. Colin scoffed under his breath, both relieved and amazed. At his side, Bill was still scowling at the de Costa brothers, the corners of his mouth pulled down in a judging grimace. Colin almost laughed at the sight.

In the meantime, the valet had finally brought them their car. Bill recovered the keys and handed him a twenty dollar bill accompanied by a nod. Colin took advantage of that moment to take climb in the passenger seat, to hell with the propriety of their fake roles.

Bill caught his eyes from outside the car, shook his head slightly and took his seat behind the wheel. As soon as he started driving and the mansion was in their rearview mirror, Colin exhaled, leaning fully in his seat, one hand going to his pocket just to feel the reassuring shape of the hard drive.

With the adrenaline wearing down, he felt like laughing, all the tension of the last few hours washing over him like a wave. He rolled down his window, relishing in the fresh air cooling his warm skin. He wished he still had one last glass of champagne right now, this one to drink and not dump into a plant.

Next to him, Bill was focused on the road, but he too was notably more relaxed, fingers flexing on the steering wheel, chest moving with deeper breaths.

Colin left his head lean on the headrest, stretched his legs in front of him. And kept staring at his partner, his brain walking lazy paths around the million thoughts he still had to mull over properly from the last couple hours.

He wanted to loosen Bill’s tie, the tie he had bought him, open the first buttons of his shirt, kiss his jaw, his neck, hear him hold his breath and… And nothing, this was not productive in any way. It was also not a thought to be had when the subject of said contemplation was sitting right next to him.

He resolved himself to think about Martin Bloom, his frustratingly poor intel and his smug, stupid face to get his wandering mind back under control and towards safer avenues. Nothing like risking his life for an unhelpful, deceitful fellow operative to get himself back on the objective at hand.

That, and the fact he had just shook hands with Pablo de Costa’s son, a cartel boss more than one American agency had in their cross-hairs. Or the fact that he had been in the same room where criminals of quiet high levels were discussing, through code words and subtext, buying out the real identities of CIA agents while sipping expensive wines. Martin Bloom had not been straightforward at all when pitching the gala to them. Colin really hoped he would have the chance to tell him to his face just how that made him feel.

***

Stopping the car in the fusion cell office underground parking lot was like shedding a hundred pounds from his back. Bill took a second to close his eyes, breathing deeply. He could sleep for a week straight after the whole ordeal. Or run a marathon, both felt like possible options.

He and Colin climbed out of the Mercedes (he barley had had the time to enjoy driving such a sleek, performative car) and walked together towards the elevator.

As they waited, Colin unbuttoned his vest and took off his jacket, breathing a sigh of relief after.

The gesture dragged Bill’ attention back to him, in a way he had been careful to avoid for the whole evening. Colin’s outfit was rather stunning, with the way the fabric shimmered and caught the light, revealing hints of pink and violet, contrasting nicely with the darker hue of the vest. It fit him like a glove, following the lines of his tall body with sharp precision. Only the shirt looked softer, open at his neck in such a careless way one could not help but look at him, at the skin showing like a suggestion, an invitation.

With his black hair, glossy and combed back, Colin almost looked like a royal. The thought surprised Bill, like a glitch in his brain: since when did he spend so much time considering what anyone, let alone his partner was wearing?

– Are you okay? – Colin asked, pulling him back to the present.

Bill frowned. – You already asked me that.

Besides, he did not want to dwell too long on the answer. Was he okay? Yeah, sure, just a bit on edge, adrenaline still humming through his veins. The feeling of Colin’s lips on his burning still, like it had happened a moment ago. He was trying quiet hard not to think about that.

Colin nodded, fingers tracing the stitching on the jacket he now held folded over his arm. – Right. It has been a while though, and you’ve had a moment to catch you breath now, so I’m just checking.

He sent a quick glance his way, assessing him for God knows what. Was he afraid Bill would have a nervous breakdown? A delayed reaction to the stress of the op?

The elevator saved him from having to figure it out by choosing that moment to open its door. They climbed inside, went to stand shoulder to shoulder like they had done a thousand times already.

Except this time, Colin moved slightly to the side when he noticed their arms touching, which was weird. Bill had grown used to the casual touches from the other man, soft, gentle points of contacts that punctuated their workdays together: a hand on the small of his back when walking somewhere busy, a tap at his elbow to get his attention, a shoulder pressed into his when they were pouring over a report, a squeeze of his arm after they closed a case.

It was familiar now, a part of their routine. Another one of Colin’s quirks Bill had come to know and maybe even appreciate. There was something in the touch of the person who shared the burden and the dangers of his job, an understanding that needed no words.

To have such a regular, expected gesture be withdrawn so suddenly sent his mind spinning. Maybe Colin was just weary, the tension of the day catching up to him, adding to the weight of their previous, lengthy op.

– I’m fine, really – Bill said, pressing the button to their floor. – Just ready for this day to be over.

Colin sighed deeply. – Amen to that.

When they entered the office, Nikki stepped out to greet them. She was in the middle of a phone call, telephone pressed against her ear, so she only smiled and looked them over like an anxious mother would, assessing them for injuries and any sign of distress.

Colin gave her a thumbs up and a mouthed “all good” that seemed to melt the tension from her shoulders. She held up a finger, signaling them to wait for her a moment and went back to her office, leaving the door ajar.

Colin retrieved the hard drive from his pocket and set in on the desk Gina used when debriefing before an op, then dropped his jacket and vest on a nearby chair without much ceremony. Bill took off his own jacket, the cooler air of the office touching his sweat soaked back. He draped it over a chair then loosened his tie. With the corner of his eye he caught Colin watching him, only for a moment.

He had turned on one of the computers and when the log in screen came up entered his credentials. The big screen mounted on the wall in front of them, which they used for brainstorming and intel sharing, came alive as well with the press of a few keys from Colin.

He kept typing and a second later the picture of Helio de Costa appeared on the screen, with a little fact sheet next to it. Other pictures, some mug shots, some taken from surveillance videos or social media, popped up, all faces of guests they had seen at the party. Colin was pulling up a list of the players they had glimpsed while they were still fresh in his mind.

Bill walked over to him and suggested a few names, which were dutifully added to their growing collection. Seeing the number of profiles increasing at a steady rhythm made him uneasy, a too real reminder of just how close to being found out they had been, just how big of a risk they had taken.

The list of crimes these people were suspected of being involved in was a disheartening long one.

He and Colin kept adding names, rifling through the archive on their server when their memory came up short. They continued until they didn’t have any more subjects between the both of them, the sheer amount of gang leaders, cartel bosses, dirty politicians and suspected high profile criminals now crowding the screen staggering.

Bill leaned forward on the desk, putting both hands on the its surface, and let out a shaky breath.

At least a dozen of those people had federal investigations open against them only at the FBI, and those were only the ones he knew of. God knows how many others the DEA, ATF, police departments all over the country had. And they had been all in the same room, conversing amiably among each other. Hell, they probably were still there at this moment.

– This is unreal – he muttered, unable to tear his eyes away from the grim reality staring back at him from the screen.

Colin crossed his arms over his chest. – Seems like half the dark side of society was out tonight.

– You did it – Nikki’s voice came from behind them. She must had seen the hard drive.

She came closer, taking in the names and faces on the screen. – Were these people there? All of them?

– These are just the ones we saw, between the two of us – Colin answered. – There might have been more.

Nikki said nothing, just stared, lips pressed in a hard line. They were all thinking it, even if they were avoiding saying it out loud: Martin Bloom had hold up on them.

A hot flash of anger went through Bill at the thought. He wasn’t a resentful man, had learned to deal with unhelpful, even incompetent bosses and colleagues a long time ago, but the idea of having been used so blatantly left a bitter taste in his mouth.

– Martin is coming over soon to retrieve the hard drive – Nikki informed them. – You don’t need to stay for that, you should go home, get some rest.

Colin put his hands in his pants pockets, the casualness of the gesture contrasting with the shadow in his eyes. – I think I’d rather debrief him in person, if you don’t mind.

He looked over at Bill, asking a question without words. Bill held his gaze and nodded. He was tired, sweaty and rather pissed off, but he could definitely take the time to have a conversation with the man.

Like clockwork, Nikki’s phone buzzed with a notification a few seconds later, a message from Martin informing her he was there. She went to meet him and a handful of minutes later the four of them were all together in the office main room.

Martin, still dressed like a professor with his light blue sweater and gray pants, glassed hanging from his collar, eyed the hard drive with dark satisfaction, even before greeting them.

– Ah, I knew I could count on you – he commented, patting Nikki on the back.

Bill forced himself to keep a neutral expression, a courtesy that Colin did not feel like extending, since his face was twisted in a severe frown.

It was quiet the feat how he could be unreadable, an unapproachable stone wall of judging gazes and monosyllabic answers, or a completely open book, each thought and emotion displayed clear on his face, depending on the context and the company.

Martin must have caught on the mood of the room, because he stopped staring at his precious hard drive and looked up at them, then at the screen and the truth it carried. He was too sly to show any kind of remorse or cowering, so he simply held their attention with a serene expression plastered on his face, just a little bit smug.

– I trust everything went well – he said, the hint of a smile on his mouth.

– Did you know? – Nikki’s voice was ice cold, it sent a shiver down Bill’s spine, and he wasn’t even the one being questioned.

Martin turned to her, folding his hands in front of him. – It wouldn’t have changed anything had I told you before.

Colin scoffed, it sounded almost like a growl. – Still, we would have liked to know what we where walking into. How long has this been going on?

It was obvious, had been obvious since they had seen the amount of armed security at the mansion, the seamless way the crowd of the guests had been split between the commoners and the real protagonists. Those kind of galas with that kind of guest list had been happening for a while.

– Events like that have existed since forever, first in Europe, lately here – Martin shrugged, unbothered. – Decleur has been the point of reference on this coast for the last couple of years.

Bill’s outrage was briefly outclassed by a dark suspicion taking form in his mind. Nikki was arguing with Martin now, her tone still level and calm, yet unrelenting, but Bill had stopped listening. The pieces were aligning in his brain, all the little things he had picked up, like evidence at a crime scene. And the picture they painted was a grim one.

– You knew of it all because you are already involved – Bill said, cutting off Martin mid sentence. He was not sorry for it. – You needed outside agents to go in for you because your own men are part of it, the gala, the guests, the meetings they held there. Or at least they already have roles to play there.

He felt both Colin’s and Nikki’s gaze on him, their surprise evident. Martin, on the other hand, looked straight at him, simmering red anger under his calm exterior. He made to step forward, hands fisted at his sides, but Colin moved before him, putting himself between him and Bill. Something in the way he had moved reminded Bill of a wolf, hackles raised, the promise of sharp fangs just out of sight.

– Congratulations, you figured out a spy is always playing the field from multiple angles – Martin growled, eyeing Colin cautiously. – A gold star for the FBI.

A bitter smile tugged at Bill’s mouth, more grimace than grin. He had touched a live nerve, it seemed. He was past caring though. He almost welcomed the man’s anger as a reason for his own temper to be out and burning like it was.

– For all your talk about our shared past and work together, I would have thought you’d owe me at least the respect to be transparent with me – Nikki said, each word sharp and heavy.

Something in her composure had shifted, shedding the polite appearances, held up until now for the sake of collaboration, and letting the hard, unyielding walls of her authority come through.

Martin sighed, pinching the root of his nose. – There is no courtesy, no playing nice in this line of work, you know this. I needed something from you and I took it. You got a discreet amount of intel for your troubles, information you can use moving forward. We can be satisfied with the results.

For a moment, it looked like Nikki wanted to argue, to say something more. Then, it passed. Her features smoothed over with practiced neutrality, the nervous tension in her body melting away.

She moved to stand in front of both Colin and Bill, forcing Martin to take a step back, looking down at him with her head held high.

– Take what you came here for, go make sure your people are safe – Her tone stayed even, devoid of all emotions. – We’re done here.

Martin was taken aback by that reaction, eyes wide and mouth agape in an incredulous expression. A flash of irritation passed over his face, but he was quick to hide it. He nodded, picked up the hard drive and nodded slowly.

– Thanks again – he muttered, then he was leaving.

Nikki waited a few seconds to make sure he was out of the office, that the door had locked behind him, before turning around to face them both. As soon as Martin had left, Colin had relaxed, Bill had seen his shoulders drop, the muscles in his back release.

He still wasn’t sure how to feel about the way the man had stepped in front of him, putting himself between Bill and someone who was supposed to be from his side, from his same faction who, yes, was being an asshole, but still. Martin Bloom was CIA, and CIA agents always trusted each other more than they would ever trust any other asset or officer from outside the Agency. Yet, Colin had not hesitated to go against the man, physically too, not when the truth about his intentions came up, not when the ruthlessness of his way became evident, but when he had showed the littlest hint of violence towards him.

Bill’s brain felt too tired, too overwhelmed to deal with that right now. He would close it in a drawer in his mind to address at some other time.

While he was busy getting to this conclusion, Colin took back his place at his side, close without touching still. In front of them, Nikki was looking at the screen, at all the names and pictures filling it, a distant glaze over her expression. It couldn’t be nice to see the ugly truth of someone you had spent years holding to high regards like she had.

– I want to apologize, to both of you – she started, frowning slightly. She raised her head to regard them. – I am your superior, it is my job to protect you, make sure you are as prepared and well equipped as possible when you go out there. I failed to do that today, and for that I am sorry.

Colin had started shaking his head even before she finished talking. – It’s not your fault Bloom is a sniveling prick. You couldn’t have know.

– He played us all – Bill said. – None of us saw it coming until it was too late. It’s not on you.

She offered them a grateful, yet sad smile. – Still, I am responsible for each and all the ops we take on. I should have pressed him more, dug deeper.

– Then he would have slithered away, disappearing as soon as you put the pressure on – Colin commented with a shrug. – He’s a slippery bastard, but he’s smart.

Nikki nodded, still unconvinced. She folded her arms at her chest, thumb digging into her forearm. – Thank you, both of you. Now, go home, get some rest. Do not come in tomorrow, I mean it.

The last part she said with a pointed, meaningful look at them, like she could anticipate they would not listen.

Both Bill and Colin muttered their agreement, and it must have been convincing enough, because she gave them a curt nod and walked back to her office, phone already back at her ear. Bill had the strong impression this woman did not need to sleep at all.

At his side, Colin blew out a breath, running a hand through his hair, black shiny strands parting between his fingers. Bill tracked the movement with his eyes, lingering just a touch longer on the way his throat moved, on the shape of his collarbones peeking through the open collar of his shirt.

God, he needed a shower, he thought dragging his gaze away. And eight hours of sleep.

– Do you remember who was talking to who? – Colin asked, gesturing with his chin at the screen, still bright and crowded.

Bill bit on his lip, trying to recall to memory the details of all the conversations he had seen happen at the gala. – Some of them, maybe. Why, you want to track them?

– Might as well do something with all this intel Martin Bloom gifted us – Colin muttered, eyes tired yet still bright.

Bill thought it over for a second, nodded. – Sure. We wouldn’t want to waste it.

His answer was met with a small, relieved smile that warmed something in Bill’s chest. Colin walked over a few steps to Zeeb desk, bent to rifle through one of the drawers, than came back up with two Red Bull cans in his hands. He tossed one to Bill, who caught it with ease.

Who needed sleep anyway?

Bill made his way into the office the next morning with a current of restless energy coursing through him. He had woke up after what had felt like only five minutes of sleep, his internal clock, completely oblivious to the lack of an alarm, startling him awake at 6:30am sharp, like always.

He hadn’t been able to get back to sleep, so he had showered, got dressed and dragged himself to the office with the idea of catching up on his paperwork for a few hours and then maybe going for a run, in the hopes some physical activity might quieten his racing mind.

He kept relieving scenes from the gala, the extravaganza of it, the ease of wanted criminals conversing with each other in front of his very eyes, the steady rush of adrenaline that had ran through his veins, having his instinct sharper than ever, how he’d actually enjoyed it. Colin looking absolutely stunning in his green suit, so absurd and so him at the same time. The feeling of Colin’s body flush against his own, his lips hot and soft on his mouth.

That last image always made his heart skip a beat, which couldn’t be healthy. He knew, in the rational, objective part of his brain, that Colin Glass was a handsome man, it didn’t take a genius to see that. It had never been an issue, never had been something Bill really thought about. Sure, he had noticed it the first time he had met him, together with his arrogant, cagey attitude and the giant chip on his shoulder, but that was it, just another fact in the multitude of the little, hard won fragments of truth that made Colin.

He had seen plenty of beautiful men and women, had worked with them, had even arrested some, and he had always been professional about it. That’s what he was trained to do, one could notice such things, but they should never get in the way of doing the job.

Then why could he not stop thinking about Colin Glass wearing a stupid silk shirt and smiling at him and kissing him? He was infuriating, the whole thing was really. Bill had been engaged, one step away from marriage, he was supposed to be over this teenage-like flings.

It was probably the exhaustion, he told himself walking in the office, offering polite smiles at the analysts. Once he got some actual good sleep he’ll be fine, back to normal.

Before diving in the reports waiting for him, he decided to get himself a cup of coffee, hoping some caffeine could make the whole thing more bearable. While making his way to the break room, he noticed Colin’s jacket draped over the back of his chair at his desk, the man’s computer turned on. Guess he hadn’t been the only one unable to take a day off.

Bill focused on the task at hand, picking a mug from the cupboard and pouring lukewarm coffee in it.

– I thought I told you to take a day off – Nikki’s voice came from behind him, a judging note in it. – Nice to see neither of you listened.

Bill turned to face her, offering her the full cup as a peace offering. – It’s not so easy to switch off, I guess.

She accepted the coffee with a hinted smile. – Guess not. But just know you’re staying in today, no ops, no stake outs, no meetings with informants.

Bill nodded, pouring himself another cup. – Sounds like a plan.

– I want to apologize again, for the events of yesterday – Nikki held up a hand when he started to protest, went on with calm resolution: – I know you and Colin already told me it’s fine, and I believe you, but it’s different for you. Me and Colin, we’ve been raised in these kind of games, we know the stakes and the unspoken rules. I asked a lot of you, to trust us while walking into the unknown.

Bill looked down at his mug. – It’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?

Nikki’s expression softened. – Yes, still doesn’t diminish what you did. Thank you for stepping up, for being there for the op, for Colin.

Bill’s first reaction was denial: Colin had not needed him at the gala, he could have done the whole thing on his own, probably in half the time it had taken them. He had seen him at work, blending effortlessly with the crowd of guests, smiling, chatting, flirting his way into their ranks like he had been born there. The way he had transformed himself for the night, with all the mannerism, the backstory, the accent, had been surreal to witness. Bill’s only real contribution had been driving the man to the mansion.

He couldn’t really admit that out loud, though. So he just nodded, polite and agreeable. – Of course.

Nikki eyed him, catching on his unspoken thoughts. – Thanks for the coffee, too – she said simply.

She made to exit the room, but stopped just on the doorway, sending him a look over her shoulder. – He’s in the conference room.

Bill cleared his throat, caught off guard. – Yes, thank you.

Nikki walked away, sipping her coffee with a knowing look on her face he wasn’t sure he liked. These CIA agents and their vague answers would be the death of him, sooner or later.

He still found himself walking to the meeting room they had first met with Martin Bloom in, because apparently he liked making his life more complicated that it should be.

He knocked on the door, waited for a British “come in” to sound out from inside and entered. Colin was sitting on the table at the center of the room, one foot propped over a chair, the whiteboard they had put together the night before in front of him. At the center of it was a picture of the front of Simone Decleur’s mansion, with a red X over it, as to indicate the starting point of all the connections.

Fueled by the last dregs of adrenaline and an energy drink, they had spent a couple hours drawing a map of all the people of interest they had recognized at the party, trying to track who had been talking to who in an attempt to maybe build some kind of indicator for what to watch out for in the next weeks of months, who might cooperate with who.

It was a bit of a desperate effort, built on nothing but gut instinct and probabilities. They had kept at it until Nikki, finally reemerged from her office, had kicked them out, all but ordering them to go home and sleep.

In the light of day, their effort looked just as hacked together and messy as it had the night before: it would take a lot of work to get an official looking, presentable dossier out of it.

Colin did not look surprised to see him, he greeted him with a mock cheer with his own coffee mug. On the table beside him there was a brow paper bag with a coffee shop logo printed on it and a few napkins sprinkled with crumbs and powdered sugar.

Colin gestured to the bag. – Got you that apple thing you like. I figured we could both use the sugar.

Bill stopped short at that, his mind short-circuiting for a second. He and Colin had been working together long enough now they had both picked up some of each others quirks and preferences, like each others coffee order or how the other coped with stress on the job. It was only natural, you spend enough time shoulder to shoulder with someone, risking both your lives on the daily, you are bound to get to know them in quiet an intimate way.

But to have that knowledge turned into a practical act like that? To have one small, insignificant detail about him, mentioned maybe once in passing, remembered and put to use? It was a whole other story.

Bill swallowed, mouth dry all of a sudden. – Uh, thanks.

He took a drink of coffee to try and mitigate the situation.

– It still looks like a madman put it together – Colin commented, turning back to the board.

Bill could not deny it. – It’s still a bit rough, yeah – He slid a hand in his pants pockets to retrieve a small bundle of black and red cloth: the tie Colin had given him before the op. – I wanted to give this back to you.

It was a fine piece of tailoring, just by touching it the quality of the fabric was evident. The whole red damask motif was a bit far from what he would usually chose for himself, a bit too flashy, too extravagant, even if it was well done enough, subtle enough he might have considered it for a special occasion.

Colin considered him and the tie in his hand from over his own shoulder. Something passed in his eyes, too quick for Bill to read it.

– Keep it – he said, gaze flicking to Bill’s. – You’ll probably get more use out of it that I ever would. Besides, we already know you can pull off red.

Oh. Was that a compliment? Or a joke? The heat blooming on Bill’s neck had him leaning towards compliment more, an absurd, impossible option. The mere thought was a gateway to dangerous territories and dangerous consequences. Nothing good would come form entertaining those kind of ideas.

Colin tapped softly on his cup, eyeing him sideways. – Are you okay?

Bill could not help but roll his eyes at the question. – If you ask me one more time I might just have to take you up on your offer and punch you.

Was it weird, that he had mentioned what Colin had told him right before kissing him? Probably. But this was probably the fifth or sixth time he had asked him if he was fine, and unless Colin knew of some impeding medical emergency coming his way that Bill was unaware of, he really didn’t have a reason to be so worried for him.

Colin arched an eyebrow and raised his free hand in a placating gesture. – Sorry. Didn’t know I was touching a nerve.

Bill sighed, stuffed the tie back into his pocket and stepped closer. – It’s just… You’ve been acting weird since yesterday and it’s throwing me off.

A moment of silence passed. He could almost see the thoughts coursing and overlapping in Colin’s head. In his defense, Bill had just thrown at him a piece of rather raw honesty, something they were both quiet careful not to do.

Bill trusted him to watch his back, to cover his blindsides when out in the field, Colin put his faith in him to guard his side and keep him centered, but God forbid they actually had a real, honest conversation. The risk of getting caught and mangled on sharp truths, of getting too close and seeing a glimpse of each other’s most real, vulnerable core was too great.

FBI or CIA, it didn’t matter, they both stuck to that unspoken rule like it was a sacred oath.

– Well, yesterday was a lot – Colin started, careful and slow. – I figured you might need a minute to adjust, mull it over.

– I don’t, because it was just an op, like dozens we’ve done – Bill replied, a bit too quick, gripping his cup. – I’m okay, it’s a done thing.

Colin turned to face him fully, a hint of caution in his features. – Except it wasn’t exactly like other ops. Besides the danger of getting caught and killed on the spot, I mean.

There it was. Bill had hoped with everything he had they could just ignore what had happened in the office, dismiss it as a simple incident, a necessary deviation from plan and leave it at that. They did not need to revise it, dissect it, or even just talk about it. It was fine.

Bill grit his teeth, a line of tension running from his jaw to his shoulders. – It was nothing. It meant nothing. It was a spur of the moment thing, a necessity.

He was getting pretty worked up about this “nothing” thing, his words coming out almost too fast, but that could stay between him and his subconscious.

His delivery of this denial had been quiet poor, he was aware, he just hoped Colin would grant him the grace to leave it be all the same.

Obviously, he didn’t.

Because now he was putting down his coffee, and he was getting up, coming close but still keeping a stupid, safe distance that made Bill want to scream. Why was he treating him like he was made of glass, one misstep away from shattering? He was good, it took a lot more than an unexpected PDA to get under his skin. Or at least he hoped so.

– I get that you don’t want to talk about it, but you’re my partner, I need to know if things are good between us – Colin said in a soft voice. – I kind of forced you into an uncomfortable position back in that office, for that I’m sorry.

Bill shook his head, leaving his own mug on the desk, not trusting his hands not to shake. – I told you, it’s all good. It was nothing. I’d rather… do that than get a bullet to the head, so…

Colin’s eyebrows went up. – Nice to hear such praise for my romantic abilities.

He was making a joke, trying to lighten the mood, which any other time Bill would have gone with. For some reason, though, now he couldn’t bring himself to relax, to let the whole thing go, even if it was exactly what he had told himself he wanted. He was going mad, quicker than he thought.

He should have been able to joke about the whole thing, to take it lightly. He had been through worst, had done worst, seen worst on the job. It should be easy to let it wash over him and be done with it, like he’d done for so many other things.

Yet, it was a rusty nail stuck in his brain, poking and nagging, reminding him constantly of what had happened, of how his traitorous heart had reacted to it.

In front of his silence, Colin returned serious, adopting the same body language one would when dealing with a startled wild animal, all coaxing and calming energy, slow movements and cautious words.

– If it really meant nothing… – he started.

Bill didn’t hear the rest, his mind was filled with white noise, a buzzing like that of a faulty neon light. If it had meant nothing then why was it still occupying his thoughts? Why couldn’t he shake it off like some many other things before? He should have just stayed in bed, let whatever this was pass on its own, like a cold or a hangover. There had been no reason to go and poke the sleeping dog.

Colin had stopped talking, was looking at him with those dark, deep eyes, now questioning and considerate. Something in Bill’s mind snapped, like a latch finally caving, his rational, reasonable side momentarily outclassed.

Before he could realize it he was stepping forward, erasing the distance between them until he was so close he could feel Colin’s breath on his skin, count the lashes framing his wide opened eyes. His hand went to Colin’s waist, his mouth finding his with an urgency he did not know he had.

Then they were stumbling back, until Colin’s back was against the wall, Bill’s other hand cushioning him from the hard surface. He tasted of coffee and sugar, which was so absurd it temporarily canceled Bill’s internal panic.

Colin welcomed his impatience, opening his lips to him, deepening the kiss. It felt like picking up from when they had been interrupted back in that office, going back to a moment suspended in time, just waiting for them to get their act together and return to it.

Bill’s hand traveled up Colin’s side to his back, the warmth of his skin so close, so real, like an electric current through his fingers. He inclined his head slightly, to get a different, better angle, their tongues finding each other, a soft, low sound coming from Colin’s throat. The man grabbed the front of his suit jacket, pulling Bill closer, to which he obliged gladly.

– Just to make sure, – Colin murmured against his lips, – This means nothing as well?

Hearing his words thrown back at him like that stung. Bill stumbled to form an answer, his brain too focused on the physical part of things to be of any real help.

Colin straightened his shirt collar, fixed his tie so it laid nice and flat over his chest. Bill should have really said something, anything, but he was too lost in the feelings of his hands on him.

– I mean, that's fine with me, I get it. It's a highly stressful job, we all need to let go of some tension from time to time – Colin continued, his tone casual, his fingers still toying with the lapel of his jacket. – I would just like to know where we stand.

He hadn't pushed him away, even if he had put some sliver of distance between them to get his point across. Bill was glad for it, both the chance to catch his breath and the closeness that remained, he wasn't sure he'd be able to bear being rejected.

At the same time, Colin's words sat awkwardly on his mind. Was that what he thought this was? A distraction, a way to blow off some steam? He wasn't sure himself what he was doing, what the force that had moved him was, but one thing he knew was that it had not been a fling of emotions, a lapse in judgment.

The space Colin held in his life was bigger than that, more significant. It was a surprising thought, yet it felt somewhat familiar, like it had been growing in the back of his mind for some time, just waiting for him to realize it.

For some God forsaken reason, he liked Colin. He shouldn't have, on paper he was the exact kind of person he would hate: arrogant, closed off, using the rules as a mere suggestion. The kind of person who would jump off a cliff and figure out the landing on his way down.

And yet, much to Bill's dismay, he had grown fond of Colin Glass. The man had burrowed under his skin without him noticing, not until it was a done deal already and he found himself caring for him, worrying about his silences, his safety, what his mood was. Reaching out and checking in on him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He had ended up liking him enough to refuse an ASAC job, to probably drive the final nail in the coffin of his engagement.

It made his blood boil. That was not what he had signed up for when he had taken the job, it said nowhere he would end up getting attached to an emotionally distant, complicated English man.

Bill took a deep breath, the taste of their kiss still on his mouth. – It's easier to say it means nothing – he admitted. – Safer.

– You don't owe me anything. It's fine – Colin murmured. – You don't have to pretend it was something it isn't.

Bill caught his eye, saw the guarding, the caution coming over. – I'm not that good of an actor, you know that. Besides, it does mean something, I just don't know what to call it.

That was not the answer Colin expected, it was clear in face. He blew out a breath, a muscle in his jaw flexing. He took a moment to mull it over, still pinned between Bill and the wall like it was a common occurrence.

A part of Bill told him to move, step back, they were still at work and this was very much not professional. He couldn’t, wouldn’t move though, as if afraid to break the spell holding that moment together.

– Well, we don’t have to give it a name now, right this second – Colin conceded. – We have time to figure that part out.

Right, because that was a normal thing to do, kiss your coworker not once, but twice, have a little chat about it and then go back to working side by side like nothing happened. At the same time, Bill couldn’t really ask for much more, could he? Even if he had all the answer, neat and tidy in a report he could read and reread, it wouldn’t change anything. Because everything had already changed, the axis of his existence already tilted at a new, dangerous angle.

The worst (best?) part was that it felt good, right. Like something had been amiss before and now was found, if he only had the courage to go and get it.

– Yes, we do – he said, slow and deliberate. A decision made.

Colin nodded at that, the weight of his gaze a physical, grounding thing. He wrapped his fingers around Bill’s tie and gave it a light tug, an invitation. Bill found himself following that pull like a dog on a leash, closing the distance between them once more.

His lips hovered near Colin’s for a second, one final chance to walk back from it all. He sealed his faith by leaning in, kissing him again, slow and steady, taking the time to taste the sugar on his mouth, the bitter hint of coffee.

When Colin pulled back, a second or an eternity later, he kept close, their breaths still mixing in that sacred space they shared.

– Now that that’s out of the way, – he whispered, a playful edge in his voice, – you should eat your breakfast, we’ve got work to do.

A soft, breathy laugh escaped Bill’s chest. He looked up at Colin, caught the glint in his eye and found that any traces of the anxiety, the restless energy that had wrecked amok in his mind were gone, quiet at least.

It had been worth it coming to the office after all.