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"Was that the boss?" Ward assumes it must have been, it's not like Pelayo would have stayed on the phone that long for ZaZa.

"Yeah, and he wants us geared up and ready tonight, just in case." Pelayo unzips a large duffel bag that had been haphazardly throw onto the bed when they arrived. Much to Ward's annoyance, there were plenty of other, better uses for that bed. The kind Pelayo doesn't like to talk about despite all that eagerness in the moment. Pelayo fishes around in the duffel bag tossing Ward an unassuming black shirt.

"Is he expecting trouble?" Ward unfastens the claw near the wrist and it clatters loudly against a low dresser.

"Hard to say." Pelayo slips out of his leather jacket and undershirt, trying to ignore Ward's wandering eyes and pulls a similar black shirt over his head. "Boss says its just a meeting but…" He trails off, invoking Hollow Ground's name always felt like a bad omen.

"Yeah, I get you- goddammit!" Ward's swear is loud in the small space.

"What is it?"Pelayo's eyes dart around the room betraying a nervousness he tries hard to hide. Ward would tease him about it, if those instincts hadn't saved both their lives a dozen times over.

"It's my arm," Ward's fingers press deeply into the plates connecting the rest of the prosthetic at the shoulder, giving Pelayo an apologetic smile. "I think it's jammed again."

Pelayo sighs deeply through his nose, abandoning his own gear to make his way over to Ward, still worrying at the connection port.

"Nehal was right, you really should oil that thing."

"Yeah I'll get right on it, sounds so easy with only one fucking hand." Frustration buried under sarcasm.

"Here, turn around." Pelayo offers, better and less embarrassing than an apology. "Hold the arm."

Ward does as told and even if Pelayo can't see it he knows the eye roll was there by the little shake of Ward's head, metallic arm braced by a scarred but organic hand.

Pelayo places a hand on the shoulder for leverage and with a single open palmed strike the prosthetic wrenches free with a loud metallic screech. Modded strength was always good for quick, if indelicate, solutions.

A short stumble accompanies the sudden loss of weight but Pelayo's hand prevents Ward from falling as the arm is placed on the dresser next to the claw. Ward slips out of a worn undershirt one handed, accepting the black one Pelayo offers him. The material is cool and silky soft and much more than meets the eye. Burn and cut resistant, nearly bullet proof at a certain distance they had been a commission from Dr Mortum, paid for out of the bosses own pocket no less. It was a far cry from the days of scrounging second hand gear while moving through the ranks of the Wolf Pack, working for villains like Psychopathor as little more than cannon fodder. A new job, a new life, maybe even a chance at retirement if things kept going well. That alone was enough to keep Ward on the books. For now.

"A hand?" Ward asks with a smile, getting out of a shirt one handed was easier than getting back in one.

Pelayo answers with a frown but takes the shirt from Ward's hand anyway.

"Sometimes I think you act helpless just for the attention." Pelayo grumbles as he slips the shirt over Ward's head.

"Maybe I just like your attention." Ward isn't sure if the brush of Pelayo's knuckles against bare skin as he pulls the shirt down is intentional or not.

"Don't."

"Don't what?" Ward asks, innocence personified.

"I know what you're trying to do." Pelayo doesn't meet Ward's eyes as he undoes the button on Ward's jeans, the button always was the hardest thing to do single handed and it was quicker just to help than have to watch the ensuing struggle.

"I mean…since you're taking my pants off anyway…" Voice thick with suggestion, Ward leans into Pelayo's space, closer that strictly necessary.

"We're on call." Pelayo glares, emphasizing the last two words, hoping they are sharp enough to cut through Ward's optimism.

"We can be quick." Ward chuckles. "Besides, you said it was just a meeting and when was the last time we had any alone time, just us?" A warm hand on Pelayo's arm.

Too long.

Between the endless meetings, the stake outs, information gathering, shakedowns, and fights Retribution had them running nothing short of ragged, even down time was a thinly veiled meeting with all of them at base. Meet, work, rinse, repeat. But in the wake of the casino heist it had seemed best to scatter, no one staying at base too long lest it draw attention, having no idea where Nehal, ZaZa and Jane even were so their locations couldn't be leaked. It felt too much like the old days, when Ward and Pelayo were on their own, no one to watch their backs but each other.

Some things never change.

Like the familiar scratch of Pelayo's stubble, the roughness of his lips against Ward's, goaded into the kiss by a handful of truths. Ward leans into him, warping an arm around Pelayo's waist, single hand seeking the warm skin underneath a too expensive shit. Hand to chest and a short fall onto a soft but creaking bed, still half claimed by the duffel bag.

"If that phone rings even once, we're done." Pelayo tries to sound stern but its easy to ignore with the sight of him slipping the shirt back off, revealing sinewy muscles and black chest hair once again. It's a sight Ward is used to but appreciates all the same, making a somewhat award shuffle back on the bed to make room.