#agent!reader

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You stormed into the office, making your way up to Chris. Your hands met his chest, giving him a shove backwards, “What the fuck, Chris!? That was my fucking shot. Not yours.”

Chris stumbles back but steadies himself with a smirk, his eyes filling with amusement at your anger, “Relax, y/n. You act like I stole your fucking lunch money.” He laughs at his own joke, “It was a good shot, and you know it.”

He sits down, leaning back in his chair, “But if you weren’t too busy running your mouth, you would’ve seen it coming.”

You scoff, and before you speak, he cuts you off, “You should thank me. I just saved you from embarrassing yourself.”

“I’m going to kill you.” As you step forward, the chief calling for you and Chris cuts it short. Chris stands up from his chair, his brows flicking up, “Try me.” He smirks, motioning to the door, “After you, princess.”

You shove past him, stepping into the chief’s office.

Chris follows you in and you roll your eyes. The chief motions to the chairs, “Sit down. We’ve got bigger problems than your childish bickering.”

You clench your jaw, sitting down in the seat next to Chris, but you don’t pay any attention to him. You let out a sigh, “What do we have?”

The chief looks between the two of you, his tone stern as he speaks, “Look, I know.” He scoffs, “Everyone, knows you two have your issues, but I need you to understand this isn’t some kind of joke.”

You nod, “I know it’s not, chief. What’s the case?”

The chief leans back, sliding a file across the desk and Chris and you both reach for it. You snatch it before he can grab it, flipping it open.

“You’re going undercover.” The chief sighs, “You’ll be after a high-profile arms dealer. We’ve been tracking him for months, but we need someone to get in close, someone he’ll trust. His operation is on the verge of blowing wide open, and we need to know who’s pulling the strings behind him.”

You watch as he glances between you and Chris, silently tell you what you already know before leaning in, “The target’s name is Vincent Marlowe. He’s been moving weapons through legitimate businesses, using them as fronts to not get caught. We need you two to play the part of a couple getting close to him and his associates. It’s a delicate operation. Any slip-up could blow this whole thing.”

You glance over at Chris as he taps his fingers against the edge of the desk, his smirk faulting into something more, focused.

He glances over at you, “Looks like we’re stuck with each other for this one. Try not to screw it up, alright?”

He glances down at the file in your hand, pulling it from your grasp and, clearly pretends, to study it while he waits for you to go back after him.

You sigh, looking up at the chief instead, “How do you want us to do that? We play a rich couple?”

The chief nods, holding up a picture of Marlowe, showing it to both of you before continuing.

“Exactly that, y/n. Marlowe’s into high society stuff. Luxury events, private parties, the whole lifestyle. It’s the perfect opportunity to get close to him and his network. You’ll need to play the part of a rich, influential engaged couple with a lot to offer. Think.. private jets, expensive tastes, that kind of thing.”

He looks directly at you, then Chris, making sure you both understand the importance.

You give him a nod, “High end shopping, something I’d have to sell my house for.” You sigh, leaning back into your seat, “Got it.”

“We’ve got some intel on his events, it’s in the file, but nothing solid enough yet. You both know the routine, blend in, gain his trust, dig up what you can.” He pauses, giving you both a look, “Keep it subtle. No arguing, bickering, or any of that shit. Don’t be too obvious and most importantly, do not break your cover.”

Chris chuckles, glancing over as his eyebrow arches up, “Rich couple, huh? Guess I can fake it.” He smirks, clearly enjoying the thought of playing the role with someone who claims to hate him.

“It’s a job, and I for one, am good at my job, so.” You nod at the chief, “Got it. I’ll text you when we land.” You stand up from your chair, and Chris follows you, “I guess I’ll see you at the airport, princess.”

“Stop. Calling me that.” You snap, “Jesus Christ.”

He raises his hands in mock defense, “Alright, alright, I’ll lay off. I was just going to offer you a ride to the airport.”

You roll your eyes, “No, thanks. I’m good.” You walk to your office, but Chris continues to follow, “Come on, I’ll keep you from being late.”

You grab your stapler, tempted to throw it at him, but you use it on the paper in your hand, “I said, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself. Don’t cry to me when you’re late.” He turns and walks away. You roll your eyes, taking a deep breath as you take in what these next few days mean.

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You arrive to the airport, before Chris, shocking.

“Well, well, look who decided to show up early,” Chris teases with a smirk, his eyes moving over you as he tosses his bag onto a nearby seat. He looks unfazed by the time crunch, and that pissed you off even more.

“Didn’t think you had it in you.” He smirks, earning an eye roll from you, but you ignore him, mumbling low, “wasting my breath.”

Chris laughs, sitting down across from you, “Yeah, I get it. You’re so done with me, but come on. Can’t you just admit for the sake of the mission that you actually love this? You’re not fooling anyone with the whole, don’t care attitude.”

You glance up at him, “Do you ever shut up?”

He lets out a playful sigh, “Only when I’m asleep, y/n.” He leans back, grabbing his phone, “But if you want some peace and quiet, you can always just admit that I’m right.” He smirks, “I know it’s hard for you, but that can just be our little thing.”

He shoots you a wink, shaking his head as he looks down at his phone. You roll your eyes, looking away.

On the jet, you force yourself to speak, “What are our cover names?”

He leans back in the seat and stares at you, “Right.” He starts, his tone now more focused, “We’ll be using fake shit for this.” He laughs, “You’ll be Charlotte Carter, a socialite and philanthropist. Real high-class stuff.” He raises his brows, his tone sarcastic, “Got connections in all the right places.”

He glances up at you, his eyes scanning you for a moment. You scoff, “Charlotte Carter? Please, that sounds like something straight out of a comic book.” You shake your head, “But, fine. Who are you?”

“I’m Ryan Bennett. Corporate guy with a bit of a reputation.” He smirks, “Think.. rich businessman, keeps a low profile.” He shrugs, “The kind of guy who blends into the background but still gets invited to all the best parties.”

He leans back in his seat, staring at you, “Do you need me to go over it again, or do you have it?”

You roll your eyes, “I got it.” You scoff, “Now.. our engagement story.. how did-“ you motion to Chris, “Ryan, propose to-“ you motion to yourself, “Charlotte?”

Chris seemed caught off guard by the question, but he quickly covered it up, “Ryan proposed to Charlotte at a private gala.” He leans back in his seat, “A big, extravagant affair. Candlelit dinner, a string quartet in the background, the whole shebang. He got down on one knee in front of all their friends and family, because, you know, he’s classy like that.” He smirks, “And, Charlotte, being the sophisticated woman she is, said yes, but only after a little dramatic pause, of course.” His smirk grows, “How’s that sound? Think Charlotte would go for a proposal like that?”

You sit there taking in his answer for a moment, “Yeah, sure.”

“Well, you’re stuck with it, so..” he leans back, “We need to make sure our stories are straight, y/n. How we met, how long we’ve been together, you know.”

“You act like I don’t know that, Chris.” You stare at him and he laughs, “Hey, I’m just making sure.” He raises his hands, “Wouldn’t wanna leave anything to chance, right?”

You pull the file over, “Yeah, right.” You look down over it, and you can feel his eyes on you, “What?”

You flick your eyes up at him.

He leans forward, letting out a sigh, “We’ll stick to the basics for our story, alright.” He leans back giving you a shrug, “Met at an art gallery, had a whirlwind romance. Nothing too complicated. Just enough to make it sound legit.” He pauses, “You good with that?”

“Art gallery?” You think about it for a few seconds before letting out a sigh, “Yeah, that’s fine.” You turn your attention back to the file, silently cursing when Chris opens his mouth again, “Right. An art gallery. Real classy, just like you, Charlotte.”

Your eyes move to look up at him, watching as he leans back in the seat. There was a shift in the energy between the two of you, but you weren’t saying anything about it.

Chris actually stays silent for a while, letting the weight of the mission settle as you both took it in.

As the plane lands, you sit up a little to stretch. A yawn slips your lips and Chris nods, “Yeah, that flight was killer. Figured you would have slept for more than half of it.”

You roll your eyes, “I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.” You watch him stand up to gather his things, eyes leaving him as soon as he turns around.

He notices, the smirk on his face tells you, but he doesn’t say anything, “You ready to make this whole rich couple thing work? Or are you planning on taking a nap the second we hit the ground?”

You give him a shrug, “Might crash for an hour if we have time. I don’t know.” You stand up, letting out a sigh as you move to gather your bags, “My back is killing me.”

He nods, making his way towards the exit, “I’m sure those seats are awful for someone who doesn’t sit still.”

You shoot him a glare, “I sat still, what are you talking about?”

He laughs, “Come on, we can get you a coffee. You know, so you’re not falling asleep on me during the mission.” He raises an eyebrow, his tone mixed with challenge and concern, “Unless you just want to sleep through the whole damn thing.”

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.”

He laughs, “Alright, okay. I’m just saying, maybe wouldn’t be the worst thing if you did. I actually might get a break from hearing your brilliant commentary.”

I shove past him, making my way down the jet’s steps before him, “You’re insufferable, Sturniolo.”

You hear him jog to catch up to you, “Insufferable? Nah.. I’m just more entertaining than you can handle.” He laughs, “You know, you could be a little nicer about it, though. It might make this whole, couple, thing more believable.”

He winks as you glance at him and a scoff leaves your lips, “I’ll start pretending when you buy me that coffee.”

You pull the car door open and get in, closing it with a slam.

Chris walks around to the drivers side after putting his bags in the car, as soon as he gets in, he laughs, “Buy you a coffee?” He shrug, “You know what? You’ve got yourself a deal, y/n. But, only because I’m in a generous mood.”

You raise your brows, “A generous mood? That’s rare.”

He chuckles, “But don’t think that just because I’m buying you coffee, you’ve won anything.” He smirks over at you, “We both know who’s really running the show here.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, whatever.”

Chris sighs, “Keep tellin’ yourself that.” Before you had a chance to say anything else, he speaks up, “You know, for someone who acts like they can’t stand me, you’re pretty fun to mess with.”

“You’re just an idiot.” You reply dryly, which earns a laugh from Chris, “Hey, idiots make the best company, don’t they?”

You don’t answer him, you just stare out the window, and that eggs him on more, “You know, if we didn’t have so much tension, we might actually get along.”

You look over at him, “What do you mean by tension? I hate you. Plain and simple.”

He clenches his jaw, quickly pulling that cocky smirk out to play, “Yeah, well. I hate you, too. But, hate really is a strong word, though, isn’t it? We can use.. complicated. How’s that?”

You go to argue, but you know that’s exactly shat he wants, well, actually. There’s no way out of this, so you just sigh, “Yeah, complicated. Whatever.”

Chris laughs, “See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” As you pull up to the coffee place, he looks over at you, “What do you want?”

You shrug, “I don’t know. Just-“ A sigh leaves your lips, “Get me a latte, vanilla with two sugars and an extra shot of espresso.”

“Vanilla latte, two sugars, extra shot of espresso.” He repeats the order back to you with a smirk, “I’d say you’re high-maintenance, but I already knew that.” He reaches for the door, “Stay here, I’ll be back.”

You stay quiet as he gets out, taking a deep breath as you let everything settle. It wasn’t often you got a second without Chris flapping his gums, it honestly felt kind of weird without it, but you wouldn’t ever admit that to him, though.

As you wait, your mind wanders, maybe it was you just being tired, but you kept thinking about Chris, and all of this other missions you’ve been on with him.

You guys were a good team, there was no doubt about that, but he got on your nerves, you just didn’t know if it was the good thing, or bad thing.

The longer you sit in silence, the more you questioned your, hate, for him.

Either way, you felt like it wouldn’t work, your agents. You know the game. Work and relationships don’t mix most of the time.

Chris pulling the door open snapped you from your thoughts, “Here you go, one complicated drink for the most complicated person I know.”

You scoff, “Yeah, thanks.” You take it and take a sip, letting out a sigh, “Let’s just go to the hotel. Get settled in. The party we need to attend is tomorrow night, so we can just study up the case, prepare tonight.”

“Alright, sounds like a plan.” He starts the car and starts heading toward the hotel, “Classic undercover move.”

You just shake your head, not giving into the banter.

“Just don’t expect me to be all business all night.” He smirks at you, giving you a shrug, “I’m still gonna keep you on your toes.”

“Just don’t do anything that’ll piss me off.” You sigh, but he’s shooting right back, “I can promise to try.” He says with a sigh, “But let’s be honest, it’s probably going to happen anyway.”

“Of course it is. It’s what you’re good at.” You mumble, looking out at the hotel as he parks, “Let’s just.. make it through the lobby, fiancé.”

“Wouldn’t be the best fiancé if I wasn’t make sure you weren’t bored, right?” He teases and you sigh, “If it helps you sleep at night, sure. Now come around and open my door. You need to act like you actually love me.”

There was no hesitation. Chris got out and walked around quickly to pull your door open, “Anything for you, darling.” He holds his hand out and you sigh as you take it, stepping out of the car.

Chris slides his hand around your waist, “Shall we, my love?”

You slip into the role easily, a little too easy, “Let’s do it, baby.” Your eye twitches at the pet name, but you play it off, following Chris’ lead into the hotel. His hand on your waist tightens as he walks you both up to the desk, “Hello, Ryan Bennett and Charlotte Carter checking in.”

The attendant gives a warm smile, “Yes, hello. Congratulations on your engagement.”

Chris smiles big, “Yeah, I’m a lucky guy with this one here.” He glances down at you and you keep the act up, “I don’t let anyone in easy, but this guy weaseled his way in.” You laugh, catching Chris’ smirk, “Can we get two keys please?”

The attendant nods with a slight laugh, “Of course, Ms Carter.” She glances at Chris, “You know, it’s the ones you least expect that make you the happiest.” She slides the keys over, “Enjoy your stay.”

“Oh we sure will.” Chris smiles, snatching the keys from the counter, “Here, sweetheart.” He hands you the key and you take it, “Thank you, baby.” I give the attendant a smile as we turn and I let out a scoff.

“Guess she has a point, don’t she?” Chris chuckles as he presses the elevator button, “Just don’t get any ideas, alright?”

“Trust me. My mind is on anything but you.” You step onto the elevator, pressing the correct floor button as Chris walks in to stand behind you, “Sure, sure. Just don’t get comfortable pretending like I’m not the most interesting thing on your mind.”

His voice is low, almost like he’s daring you to argue with him.

You sigh, sipping your coffee, “mhm, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

As the doors open, Chris walks out first and you furrow my brows, “What? Did I piss you off for a change?”

Chris stops in his tracks, turning slightly as he repeats your words, “Piss me off?” He’s got this look on his face, like he’s deciding on whether to be irritated or entertained, “Nah, just wasn’t expecting you to be so.. calm, about everything. Thought you’d be more, I don’t know, fired up?”

You laugh, giving him a shrug, “I’ve had my coffee, so I’m good for a while.”

As you walk down the hall, Chris follow you, “You’re not exactly good at hiding what’s on your mind, you know.” He stops as you press the key to the door, “You and I both know that if I pissed you off, I’d know it by now.”

His hand slides over the door, pushing it open, “After you, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, walking in. You instantly take notice to there being only one bed and you let out a sigh that feels like you’ve been holding in for hours, “Of. Course.”

Chris steps up next to you, a smirk plastered on his face, his tone teasing, “Looks like someone didn’t do their homework.” He walks over, tossing his bag down on the floor by the dresser, “I mean, it is our bed, right?”

You set your bag down on the chair, ignoring him completely as you try not to let him bother you.

“Relax, y/n.” He chuckles, “You can always sleep on the floor if you’re that upset about it.” He shakes his head as he pulls the files from his bag.

“I’m not sleeping on the floor.” You snap, “Screw that.”

“Fine, fine. Your choice, but hey, if you really can’t handle sharing a bed with me, I’m sure we can figure out something else, alright.” He shrugs, “I’m just.. offering ideas.”

“We can share the damn bed, Chris. We’re both adults, well. One of us, at least.” You flick a brow up, “Just.. keep your hands to yourself.” You motion, “There’s a sign downstairs about a cocktail hour, figured we could go, blend in.”

“Relax, sweetheart,” he says, his tone saturated in amusement, “You’re not my type anyway.” He sends you a wink before bending down to pull out a new dress shirt, “That’s a good idea, blending in is the way to go.”

Something twisted inside of you, almost like his words hurt you, but you didn’t want to accept it, so you masked it with a laugh, “Good.” You pull your dress out of your bag and start walking towards the bathroom.

You stop as Chris speaks, “Try not to take too long getting ready, alright? I’d hate to have to drink alone while you spend an hour fixing your hair.”

He was teasing you, but you were pissed. About what? You weren’t sure, but your words let him know exactly how you were feeling, that’s for damn sure, “Go. Have a drink by yourself, like I fucking care.”

You could feel his eyes on you. As you glance back, he sighs quietly, his tone lower than usual, “Yeah, alright.” He pause like he’s thinking about saying more, but he doesn’t. He just turns to throw his shirt on the bed, eyes not even on you anymore, “Just don’t keep me waiting, too long.”

You hesitate, but inevitably walk into the bathroom, and that’s the first time any room you and Chris have ever been in, felt like that.

You didn’t even know what to call that. Chris always got under your skin, but that.. that was different.

As you slip on your dress, you ear the quiet shuffle of Chris in the room. You walk back out and within the time it took you both to change, Chris’ smirk was back on his face, “Damn.”

You watch as his eyes scan up and down your figure. He forces himself to look away, rolling the sleeves on his shirt up, “Guess we’ll have no problem getting people to believe we’re together.” He glances up, “Are you about ready or do you need another five minutes to stare at yourself?”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah we both look rich, I get it, and no. I can put my lipstick on in the elevator.” You sit down on the bed to put your heels on, and you can feel Chris’ stare burning into you, “No need to get all defensive, just don’t want you to keep me waiting like you always do.”

“Oh my god, I’m ready.” You sigh, standing up to grab your small bag, “You know.. for someone who said I wasn’t their type, you sure are having trouble keeping your eyes off of me.”

You glance over at him and he opens the door. As you walk out, he chuckles, “You noticed that, huh?” He follows you out, “Guess that means you were lookin’ at me too.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you watch him push the elevator button. You dig in your purse pulling out your mirror and your lipstick, flicking both open to paint your lips.

Chris turns to face you as he leans against the wall, “And just for the record, I didn’t say you weren’t attractive, I just said you weren’t my type.”

You laugh slightly, continuing to try and cover up your real feelings towards it, “Is that supposed to bother me? Me not being your type?”

You step onto the elevator after him and he chuckles, “I don’t know, sweetheart.” He smirks, tilting his head ever so slightly, “But you’re sure working hard to act like it doesn’t.”

You clench your jaw, closing your eyes before looking down to toss your mirror and lipstick back into your small bag.

Before you can even say a word, he steps up behind you, his voice lower as he cuts you off, “It’s okay, though..” he pauses, “I get under your skin. You get under mine. That’s kinda our thing, isn’t it?”

You tilt your head, “I’m not-“ you pause, “Let’s just get through this hour so I can go back to the room and sleep on the damn floor.”

As soon as the doors open, you walk off, Chris following you with an amused huff, “Suit yourself, but if you wake up sore as hell in the morning, don’t expect me to listen to you complain about it.”

He pulls the door open and rests his hand on your lower back, leaning in to whisper low for only you to hear, “Showtime, sweetheart. Try not to look like you wanna kill me in front of all these people, yeah?”

With being reminded about the mission, you snap into action, playing the role of Charlotte Carter, Ryan Bennett’s fiancé.

With a smile, you walk with Chris to the bar. As Chris notices your smile, he leans in, almost sounding like he was admiring you, “There she is.”

He looks at the bartender and orders two drinks.

It didn’t take long for them to come out and Chris hands you yours and holds his glass up slightly, “To a long and happy engagement.” He toasts before clinking his glass with yours.

“To a long and happy engagement.” You repeat, bringing your glass up to your lips to take a sip.

His eyes stay on you over the rim of his glass, searching for anything real under the facade you’re trying to hard to hold up.

You don’t crack, you just scan the room, the smile still holding strong on your lips.

Chris leans in, “See anyone interesting?” He asks, gaming another sip of his drink, his hand staying on your waist. His thumb deliberately brushes over the fabric on your hip as he leans in to whispers just so you can hear, “Or are you too busy trying not to stab me with that tiny cocktail straw?”

“What are you doing?” You mumble, bringing your glass to your lips, “Your eyes should be on the room, not me, Ryan.”

“I’m just trying to make sure you’re not going to stab someone with that straw, Charlotte.” He chuckles, “But I’ll take note, next time I’ll keep my eyes on the room, since you’d rather be left alone.”

You shifted subtly at his words, a small sigh escaping your nose. It felt suffocating to be next to him. In the dress. In the room, surrounded by all of these people.

You didn’t know what was happening. You could feel the burn in your eyes and it confused you more than anything.

You pulled it together, taking another sip of your drink before shaking your head, “Whatever.”

Chris caught on, immediately catching the subtle shift in your energy, your posture. His hand tighten on your waist, pulling you closer to him with ease, “You know..” his tone is quiet, casual, “I didn’t mean to push you. I’m just trying to keep us in character.”

You tilt your head up, feeling that same burn returning and you decided to exit before it progressed. You left out a slight laugh, “yeah, character.” You set your glass down, avoiding eye contact with him, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Without another word, you turn, making your way through the crowd and into the bathroom. You immediately went up to the counter, hands gripping it tight as you tried to control your breathing.

Were you having a panic attack?

Did Chris really get under your skin this bad?

Was it the mission?

Was it being somewhere you felt like you didn’t belong and you feel like people knew?

Maybe it was a mix of everything.

But one thing you did know, was that this, has never happened to you before, and you weren’t really sure on what to do but fake it until you made it.

Meanwhile, while you were pulling yourself together, Chris made his way over, leaning against the wall as he waited for you to come out.

As you pull yourself together, you took a deep breath, slipping back into the role of Charlotte and smiled at yourself in the mirror. You turned, making your way out of the bathroom with the same, happy go lucky smile.

You glanced over, seeing Chris push himself up from the wall with the look like he’s trying to dissect what just happened. He walks up to you, “There she is.” His eyes scan over your face, “You good now, or should I be worried about you coming after me with that straw?”

You hold your ground, trying not to let anything show through the cracks, but Chris can read you, it’s what he does for a living, you weren’t stupid.

You laugh, gently pushing his shoulder, “You’re so funny, Ryan.” You slide your hand around his arm, nudging him subtly, “Come on, let’s go mingle.”

He knew not to be dumb and say he doesn’t fully believe you, because he knew you both couldn’t afford to have you walk off again.

He laughs slightly, “Yeah, yeah, I’m hilarious.” He leads you into the crowd, keeping up the playful act, “Don’t get too comfortable with the other guests.”

You laugh, “Oh please, you know I like talking all my fancy talk with people.” You giggle, “I think I need another drink, also, Vincent Marlowe is right up there.”

Chris notices the shift in your tone when you say the targets name. He nods, laying his hand on your lower back, “Alright, alright, let’s get you that drink, sweetheart.” He leads you to the bar, leaning in to whisper, “We’ll get Marlowe in no time.”

You lean on the bar, happily telling the bartender what you wanted, “And then.” You look at Chris, “Whatever my fiancé wants, please.”

Chris orders his drink, keeping it simple before his eyes move back to study you. He doesn’t gaze long, knowing how short fused you are right now.

He just slowly grazes his thumb over your lower back as his eyes scan out over the crowd. He turns back as the bartender sets down your glasses and he picks his up.

He angles it towards yours, “To us.” He clinks his glass against yours and leans in to whisper, “And keeping up appearances.”

You smile, keeping up with the facade, “Perfect toast, honey.” You clink your glass to his and take a sip. You look around before leaning in closer to Chris, whisper into your glass, “He’s coming down here.”

Chris’ posture becomes more on alert with your words, his hand tightening around your waist as he plays the cool, collected role, “Good.” He mumbles into his glass, turning to step closer to you, “Stick to the script. We’re a happy couple. Don’t get too cozy with him. Can’t afford to throw everything off.”

You clench your jaw at his words, tilting your head slightly, but you keep the smile on your face, pretending like he didn’t just act like you don’t know what you’re doing here.

Vincent Marlowe finally approaches and there’s a shift in the air.

“Ah, the happy couple as I live and breathe.” He chuckles, eyes grazing between you and Chris as he offers his hand to Chris first.

Chris shakes it, watching as his hand moves to you. You reach out, shaking his hand and you force your smile as Vincent’s hand lingers on yours, almost like he’s taking in every detail.

“Vincent Marlowe.” He finally introduced himself, a slight bow of his head, “Charlotte and Ryan, correct?”

“That’s right.” Chris nods, and you smile, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Marlowe.” You slide your arm around Chris’ waist, “Lovely cocktail hour, is it not?”

Vincent notices your arm going around Chris and he watches, almost like he’s sizing the both of you up, “Oh, please. The pleasure is all mine, Charlotte.” He offers a smile, “It is lovely indeed.”

His attention stays on you, “You two make quite the couple.” He glances at Chris then back to you. Chris’ hand stiffens on your waist, a protective hold, “Thank you, Vincent.”

Vincent chuckles, “It’s always good to see people so well matched.“

Chris immediately steps in casually, “Thank you, we’ve been together for a while now.” He looks over, holding your gaze just enough to keep it believable before glancing back at Vincent.

Vincent nods, “quite the lovely story.” His tone tells you that’s he’s buying into your fake facade, but his demeanor screams that he isn’t a fool, “You two should join me for dinner later.”

You give him a nod with a small smile, “Dinner sounds lovely, Mr. Marlowe. Just tell us the time and the place.”

Vincent is someone who doesn’t take being turned down too lightly, your agreeance fueled the fire in his eyes, “Excellent. I’ll have my assistant send over the details.” He pauses, “It’ll be a private affair, of course, just the right atmosphere to get to know each other better.”

You and Chris can feel the game Vincent is playing, you’re both on edge, but remain calm.

“Looking forward to it.” Chris says with a nod, and Vincent nods, his gaze lingering on you and chris for a moment, “I’ll see you soon.”

He walks away, leaning you and Chris alone.

Chris doesn’t move, he just lets out a slow breath, “That went well.”

“Yeah.” I sigh, bringing my glass to my lips, “What do you think dinner is going to entail?”

Chris leans back against the bar, his eyes scanning out over the crowd as he brings his own glass to his lips for a slow drink, “It’s gonna be a game, probably. Marlowe doesn’t invite people to dinner unless he thinks there’s something to gain.” He shifts his weight slightly, his hand still pressing to your hip, “We’ve gotta play it cool. Keep up the act, make him feel like he’s in control, but he’s not someone we want to underestimate.”

His eyes flick over to you before moving back out to the crowd, “We need to be ready for anything. Stay sharp, keep him interested.”

You nod silently, your gaze meeting the floor before all of those unusual feeling rush forward at an even harder rate. You take a deep breath, pulling yourself together, “We got this.”

Chris notices your shift in your demeanor, but he doesn’t say anything. He just steps closer, his shoulder brushing against yours with a sincere tone, “Remember, we’re a team. Whatever happens in that dinner, we’ve got each other’s backs.”

He glances over at you, “let’s just make it through the night. We’re almost done.”

━━━━━━━━ 𖦏 ━━━━━━━━

As you walk up to the desk, the attendant smiles politely, “Hello. How can I help you?”

“Any messages for Ryan Bennett or Charlotte Carter?”

The attendant slides an envelope across the counter and Chris takes it, turning towards you as he opens it. Inside is a small paper, Marlowe Private Estate. Seven O’Clock. Arrive Promptly.

Chris scoffs, shaking his head. He turns back to the desk attendant, “Thank you.” He turns, walking a few steps away with you, “You ready for this?” He pauses, giving you time to answer.

You look up at him, “I don’t have a choice.” You straighten up, “I’m good.”

Chris’ eyes scan over your face before he nods, “Good. Come on. No time to waste.” He lays his hand on your back as he leads you out of the hotel and to the car.

The car ride itself was quiet.

No one said a word.

It made it feel a lot longer than it actually was.

As soon as the car stops, Chris is out and walking around to open your door. He holds his hand out and you promptly take it, allowing him to help as you step out. He leans in, whispering just for you to hear, “Let’s make this count.”

You give him a nod, a fake smile forming on your lips as you follow Chris up to the door.

“Ryan Bennet. Charlotte Carter.” The butler nods, “Good evening.” He pulls the door open, motioning for you both to walk in, “Right this way.” He walks past you and Chris, leading the way.

The interior of Marlowe’s house is rich, luxurious. Dark wood paneling, high ceilings, and perfectly arranged furniture. Every surface conveys power and wealth.

No sign of danger as of right now, but it was just the beginning of the night.

Chris hand brushed against your back as he leaned in to whisper, “Keep your guard up. He’s been known to test people, see how much he can push.”

You give him a nod, keeping your composure as you walk into a room with Marlowe and a few other guests sitting by a big fireplace.

“You look perfect.” Chris whispers, and you felt your chest tighten. It felt both genuine and for the act, which only made your feelings push harder at the dam you quickly built.

You stayed silent and Chris rubbed his thumb over your back, “Let’s just blend in and see what we can see.”

You nod, following the butler up to be reintroduced to Marlowe. He notices you immediately, “Ah, Ms Carter. Mr. Bennet.” He greets as he stands, “I’m glad you could make it tonight. It’s not every day I have such illustrious company.”

He motions to the men in the room, “Charlotte, Ryan, I’d like to you to meet a few of my good friends. This is Harry Devers. Logan Marren, and last but not least, Steven Driers.”

None of those names ring a bell for you for Chris. You both offer polite nods and nice to meet you’s.

“I trust the trip was comfortable?” Marlowe asks, and Chris responds smoothly, “Of course, Mr. Marlowe. Thank you for hosting us.”

After a while of conversation, you smile, “Everything has been perfect, thank you. We’re happy to be here.”

Vincent studies you for a moment, trying to figure out if your smile is as genuine as you’re making it out to be, “I heard quite a lot about you two.” He pauses, “A power couple, some would say.”

He picks up before either you or Chris could speak, “It’s not often I meet people who understand the weight of the game. But then again, I suspect you already do.”

Chris response, his tone and smirk full of charm, “We’re just here for the fun, Mr. Marlowe. We don’t need the spotlight.”

“A power couple, huh?” You laugh lightly, “I wouldn’t say we’re that just yet.”

“Ah, modesty. I appreciate that.” Vincent chuckles, “Well then, I do hope you both enjoy the evening. There’s plenty to see.. and plenty to learn.” He gives a nod before walking off to take you into the next part of the night.

You glance over at Chris, looking away before he notices, or maybe he already did. You didn’t care, you bring your drink up to your lips and finish what little bit of liquid you had left.

You feel the weight of the room pressing in on you, the conversations swirling around you like a dance that you feel you’re just barely keeping up with.

As you set your glass down on the nearest tray, you catch Vincent looking at you and Chris, offering him a small subtle smile in return.

As he looks away, your eyes move to Chris and he smirks, which confused you, but he’s probably just keeping up with the act, “You good?”

You keep up the act, “yeah, great.”

Chris studies you for a second, his eyes narrowing as he seems to be looking for anything that gives it away that you’re not being fully honest.

His tone tinted with sarcasm, “Good. Because if you’re going to keep playing the part, we need to make sure we’re both on the same page. Don’t want Marlowe catching on to anything, right?”

You nod, tilting your head at him, “I know, sweetheart.”

Chris keeps his eyes on you, “I know you’ve got this, but if you need me to step in, just say the word.”

You swallow, “I’m fine, I’ll be fine.”

Chris nods, “We should probably get some air.” He motions towards the balcony, “Marlowe’s not the only one with eyes on us. Let’s give them something to talk about.”

You nod, walking towards the balcony with you on his arm.

The cool air hits you as you step out, the conversation fading as you grow further away from it. You take a much needed deep breath, feeling like you can finally fill your lungs.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Chris’ words sting, but you play if off, “Can we not do this now?” You glance over at him, “I’m fine.”

“Alright, alright.” He lifts his hands from the banister, “Well talk later, I get it.”

You clench your jaw, now really wanting to say anything, you knew he was going to ask about what happened at the cocktail party prior to this.

Your eyes glance over at him as leans casually against the railing, his posture relaxed, but there’s still a watchful sense in his eyes.

You look out, taking in the city lights scattered below, and how, despite the weight of the mission, everything feels almost normal, like it’s just two people simply enjoying a moment together.

Chris breaks the silent, leaning into you, “You’re doing a hell of a job pretending, I’ll give you that. Marlowe’s eating it up.”

A small smile rests on your lips, “That’s the plan right?” You glance over at him as he continues, “We can keep playing the part until we get what we need. Then, we go from there. Deal?”

You nod, “Deal.”

“Alright then, let’s get back to the show.” Chris offers his arm and you take it, filling your lungs with the fresh air before walking back in to be swallowed by the weight of the mission.

“Get ready, this is the part where we seal the deal.” Chris whispers before you make your way up to Vincent. Chris speaks up, “Mr. Marlowe, hope you don’t mind us taking a brief breather. Just needed to catch up a bit. It’s not every day we get invited to something this exclusive.”

Vincent chuckles, pleased by the attention, “Of course, of course. It’s been a pleasure having you both here. I trust you’re finding everything to your liking?”

Chris leans in, making the moment between them private, “Absolutely. We were just talking about that dinner you said about, seems like the perfect opportunity to continue our chat, maybe discuss future plans, you know?”

Vincent seems intrigued by Chris’ words, but he’s not easily swayed.

That’s where you step in, “We were actually hoping to discuss more than just a partnership over dinner.” You begin, “I think we both see the potential in aligning ourselves with someone like you. We’ve got the connections, the influence, and I believe you’re the kind of person who takes an opportunity when it’s right in front of him.”

There’s a pause, the weight of your words settling into his mind before he nods, “I think dinner sounds like a fine idea.” Still, he’s no fool, he knows you’re offering more than just words, and yet, he’s eager to see where this leads, “Let’s make it happen, shall we?”

“Perfect, Mr. Marlowe.” You give him a smile, “Let us know when and where works for you and we will see you then.” You offer your hand to seal the deal.

He takes it, gripping it firmly, “I’ll have my assistant reach out with the details,” he says, giving a nod of approval. “Looking forward to it.”

With that, he walks away.

Chris leans in, “Nice work.” He brushes his hand against your back, “Let’s just make sure we’re ready when the dinner rolls around. This is where things get interesting.”

Chris walks forward and you follow him out to the car. As he opens your door for you, his eyes scan over your face, “So, we got his attention. What’s the next step?”

“Talk in the car.” You whisper as you get in. Chris closes the door and walks around to slip into the drivers seat.

You keep your gaze out the windshield, “So we have him on the hook.” You glance over at Chris, “How do we really sell it at dinner?”

“We play it like we’ve been playing it all along.” he says glancing at you, “We’re the picture-perfect couple. Rich, in love, completely head over heels for each other. We keep it light, keep it playful. Make Marlowe think he’s seeing the real deal.”

You nod, “Good plan.”

Chris nods, “It’s all about control. We need him to believe we’re just like every other couple chasing the next thing, playing the game, you know? The more we show him that we’ve got it all together, the more he’ll trust us.”

After a moment of silence, Chris speaks up, “You good with that? You’re in control too, you know.”

You glance over at him, “Yeah, I know. I’m fine with it, I trust you.” You look back out at the road, the weight of the day weighing heavy on you. Before Chris can say anything about it, you pull your phone out and call the Chief, filling him in on everything.

The rest of the ride to the hotel was silent after the call ended.

━━━━━━━━ 𖦏 ━━━━━━━━

Once you’re back in the room, the door clicks shut behind you, and you can finally let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding.

Chris leans up against the wall, “We did good tonight, but tomorrow’s the real test.”

You glance back at him with a nod as you kick off your heels, “we did good.” You turn, rummaging through your bag, and you were just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

After a few moments of silence, and his stare burning into the back of you, he speaks, “You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m tired.” You lie, your words a mumble, “I’m going to go for a shower if you don’t need in there.” You lay your clothes over your arm and turn to look at him.

He stares at you, almost like he wants to ask more, but he doesn’t, “Nah, you go ahead.” He steps out of the way, “I’ll be here if you want to talk later.”

You nod, making your way into the bathroom. You turn it on, stripping off your clothes from the night and you step in. As soon as the water hits you, it’s like the key to getting all of those pent up feelings out.

Chris, being a big part of them, was also having his own feelings outside. Even though you tried to keep your sobs as silent as possible, he heard them. He just chose to let you have your moment.

Meanwhile, you were going through something that’s never happened before. You have never felt so out of place on a mission before. You have never been nervous, wanted to turn away, back out, nothing, like you do right now.

Things were blurring, that line between work and play was starting to merge together, at least on your end.

Chris gets under your skin, like, really gets under your skin, but you liked it. He didn’t make it easy for you, but when he said what he said, it was like gut punch, causing you to puke up all these feelings that were just under the surface and now you don’t know what to do.

You pull yourself together, allowing yourself to calm down before you got out and started to dry off.

You took your time and got dressed, making it look like you weren’t just crying under the stream of water before walking out.

Chris is sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes flicking up to you as you walk out. You motion, “Shower’s free.”

He nods, “Thanks.”

You walk over to drop your clothes by your bag and Chris breaks the silence again, “You alright?”

Your heart drops into your stomach, but you play it cool, “Yeah, I think I just needed a shower.” You look at him, and he doesn’t look convinced but he doesn’t push. He nods, standing up to walk towards the bathroom.

He stops, “You know..” he hesitates, eyes searching the wall like he’s trying to figure out what he wants to say, “You don’t have to fake it with me.”

With that, he walks into the bathroom, the door closing and the sound of the shower fills the quiet space.

You walk over, sitting on the edge of the bed with your eyes glued to the floor. Your head, that’s normally a calm, cool, and collected place, was being ransacked by everything all at once.

Chris’ words echoed in your mind, you don’t have to fake it with me.

But wasn’t that the whole point? To fake it? To play your part so well that even you believed it?

The sound of the shower turning off snaps you back to reality and you wipe your face. You grab the tv remote and lean back against the headboard, flipping through the channels on the tv like you’re not on the verge of packing up and pulling from this mission.

“There’s nothing good on.” I glanced over at him, watching as he walks over and sits on his side of the bed. He nods, “Yeah, hotel tv is always garbage.” He leans back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows as he watches you flip through the channels, “You’re just flipping to flip now.”

You laugh slightly, tossing the remote down as you chew on your lip, thinking about what you want to say, how you want to say it.

“You don’t have to say anything, but if you do, I’m here.” Chris whispers, lying back against the headboard, his eyes are on the tv but his tone is genuine.

After a moment of silence, you finally give in, “I’m just, a mess.. I guess.”

“Yeah.” Chris acknowledges it, “You’ve been holding it together all day.” He turns his head towards you, “You don’t have to do that with me.”

His eyes stay on you, like he’s waiting for you to finally take off the mask, “Is it.. the mission? Or is it more?”

You shrug, “It’s.. everything. The mission, the luxury, the pressure, and-“ you stop before you say anything else. Your teeth gnaw at your cheek as you debate on whether or not you even want to say anything about him.

A part of you feels stupid.

Chris stays quiet, his eyes staying on you, “And?” His tone is gentle, “You don’t have to hold it all in, y/n.”

You take a deep breath, “You.” Your words are quiet, “It’s you.. and you..” I shake my head, “You telling me I wasn’t your type, was like a surprise gut punch that made me realize that I had actual feelings for you.”

You blink, “I thought we were just two people who got under each others skin for the hell of it, the fun of it, whatever, but apparently there’s more I didn’t even know was there.”

“And then the mission..” You continue, “I feel so.. out of place here. I don’t do the fancy dresses. I don’t do the luxury. I feel like I don’t belong here and every rich bitch down there was judging me and I feel like I was going to get us killed because they knew that. That dress I had on, one of the worst dresses I’ve ever put on.”

You keep going, “And then the pressure of this mission, I’m usually good with pressure, I’m good with this kind of stuff, and the fact that I’m losing my shit scares me because it’s not something that I do.”

You go quiet, your own words setting into you just like they are for Chris. He sits there silently as he processes before finally letting out a breath, “You don’t belong in that dress, y/n. You belong in your own element. You’re doing this mission better than anyone could, and I know it feels like a lot right now, but it doesn’t help that you’ve been handling it all on your own. As for the pressure, you’re not losing it. You’re just.. human.”

You glance over at him, your eyes staying on him as he pauses. His eyes moving to meet yours, “And about me..” His voice is quiet, “I’m not saying you’re not my type. What I meant was…”

He pauses, trying to find the right words, “I was trying to protect myself from what I feel for you, because this mission is dangerous enough without letting things get messy.” He shifts slightly, his words coming out with more honesty than you’ve heard from him before, “But I’m not doing a great job at it, am I?”

He chuckles slightly and you crack a smile, “We’re both not doing so hot right now.”

He shifts on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. “Look, if you need a moment to figure this all out, I get it. But don’t think for one second you’re in this alone.”

He looks over at you, “We’re in this together. All of it.”

You nod, shifting to face him more, “That’s why I’m losing it, too. I’m trying to stay professional and on top of this mission and with you in my head, it’s hard. If anything were to happen to you because I wasn’t on my A-game, I couldn’t ever live with myself.” You hold your gaze on him, “That’s why I wasn’t talking much, barely acting myself, I was holding myself together and I was scared that if I spoke, I’d break in the worst moment.”

“I get it. I do.” Chris nods, “I’m not asking you to put this mission before yourself or us. You’re not the only one struggling with this, y/n.” He leans forward slightly, his eyes never leaving yours, “I know the stakes are high, and I know how much you care about the mission, but you’re more than just a partner to me, y/n.”

You nod, “You’re more than just a partner to me, too, Chris.”

His eyes soften at your words, “And that’s what scares the hell out of me. Because I don’t want to be the reason you get distracted. I don’t want to be the one who makes you feel like you’re losing control of yourself.” He reaches over, his hand brushing against yours, “But I want you to know, no matter how much this gets to us, we’ve got each other. We’ll get through this, together. We always do.”

You glance down at his hand on yours, which lingers for a moment, as he waits for you to respond.

You turn your hand, giving his a gentle squeeze, “I think the only reason I was a mess was because I didn’t know how to tell you. I think with what you said, now knowing you were trying to protect yourself, I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same, and I’d lose you completely.”

He runs his thumb over your knuckles, giving you a nod, “You don’t ever have to worry about that.” He starts quietly, “I was just trying to keep us both safe, trying not to lose my focus and make this mission harder than it already is. But losing you? That’s not something I can even imagine. I’m not going anywhere, y/n. Not now, not ever. I feel the same way, even if I didn’t know how to say it.”

You nod, keeping your eyes on his as he squeezes your hand, “We’ll make it through this together. No more pretending, no more pushing things aside. We’ve got each other.” He pauses, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips, “And I promise, I’ll be here, every step of the way.”

You stare at him, letting the silence settle for a second.

You keep your eyes on his then move them to his lips, allowing them to linger for a second before looking back into his eyes, “How’s it feel to be the one that broke the y/n y/l/n, huh?”

You laugh slightly, making light of the situation, and he smirks as he leans in a little bit closer, “Feels pretty damn powerful, actually.” he teases before he pauses, his face softening as his eyes scan over your face, “In all seriousness, y/n. I never wanted to be the one to make you feel like this. I just.. I didn’t know how to handle it, how to say the right things when everything got so.. complicated?”

He reaches forward, slowly brushing a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lightly brushing your cheek, “But I’m glad it’s out there now, and you’re not broken.” He shakes his head, “Not by a long shot. But if I broke the y/n y/l/n, guess that means I’m the one who gets to fix her, right?”

He raises an eyebrow, his lips forming into a smile.

“Yeah I guess you’re right.” You smile, letting out a slight laugh, “You’re the only one who could piss me off and expect me to be right back there a minute later looking for another fight.”

“Guess I’m just lucky.” He smirks with a chuckle, leaning into closer, “I’ll take that as a compliment. I must be doing something right if I can keep you coming back for more.”

You nod, tilting your head, “Something’s right, that’s for sure.”

He smiles, eyes scanning over your features, “I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”

You shake your head, “Neither would I.” You lean in, closing the space with your lips on his in a gentle kiss at first, but something shifts and you move to your knees in front of him. Your lips still moving with his as your arm snakes around his neck.

Chris responds immediately, his hands moving to your waist to stable you as he moves closer to you. His hand comes up to gently caress your cheek as he mumbles against your lips, “Been waitin’ for this.”

You smirk against his lips, turning to straddle his waist, “So have I.” You whispered as you lean forward, pushing him back to lay down. Your lips trail back his jaw and he lets out a low groan, tilting his head to give you more access.

“Guess we’re both a little overdue, huh?” He slides his hand up your back, gently grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into a heated kiss, a deeper kiss.

You grind down on him, earning another groan and his grip on your hip tightens, pulling you closer.

You had his full attention.

His hands slide down, pulling at the hem of your shirt and you break the kiss just to pull it off. His eyes scan up and down your bare torso and chest as his hands slide up to your sides.

He sits up, pressing his lips to yours before leaning back slightly, “Are you sure about this?” His voice was low, asking permission before moving to do anything else.

You give him a nod, lips pressing to his, “Never been so sure about anything.”

He responds with an even deeper kiss, his hands pulling you closer before rolling you over onto your back, lips still working against yours.

“I need you.” You whisper out, tilting your head back as he trails kisses back your jaw, stopping at your ear to whisper, “I need you, too, y/n.”

He presses kisses to neck, his hand sliding down to slip into your sweats. A gasp escapes your lips as you feel his fingers press to your clit, rubbing small circles as he presses his lips to yours once more.

Your breath hitches as his pressure grows harder, “Chris, please.” Your back lifts from the bed to press your chest against his. A moan leaving your lips as his fingers slip down and curl into you, “Fuck.”

“You’re gonna be so worth the wait.” Chris mumbles against your lips, moving to kiss back your jaw.

You let out a louder moan as his fingers work in and out of you, “Shit, yes.” You breathe out, “Yes.”

He pulls his hand away, out from your sweats and he grips the sides, pulling them down. His hands move to push his own down, his eyes trailing up your body as he holds his lip between his teeth, “You’re fucking perfect.”

Your face softens at his words, reaching out for him as he leans down. His lips immediately finding yours as his arm hooks your leg over it to bend it upward.

You whimper, your breathing rapid with the anticipation of what comes next.

As he slides into you, his name leaves your lips in a pleasure filled moan, “Chris, Chris.” You gasp, pulling him closer and he groans into your neck, “Y/n.. fuck, you feel so good.”

He quickly gets into a pace, it’s slow, almost like he’s trying to feel every inch of what you’re offering to him.

Your nails dig into his back, your leg tightening around his arm, “Feels so good.” Your head tilts back, gasping out as his lips suck a mark into your skin.

His voice is low, “You have no idea how much you mean to me, y/n. You’re everything I never knew I needed.” His lips trail up your neck to your lips, moving with them in a heated motion.

His pace picks up and he groans, “Can’t get enough of you.”

“I’m-“ you gasp, back arching from the bed, “Fuck, I’m not going anywhere.”

“M’never letting you go.” He mumbles against your lips before deepening the kiss. His grip on your body tightening as his pace grows harder.

Your nails drag up his back, leaving red lines in its path, “Fuck, yes. Yes.”

You were already there, on the verge of becoming a mess under him. You weren’t sure if it was the tension building up over time, or if it was the fact that what you both wanted was finally happening, but you were there.

And Chris knew it.

With his full attention being on you, he could tell from every movement you made, every sound you made, “Come for me, baby.” He groans low, “Fuck, I can feel you’re right there, just let go for me.”

His words push you into the deep end, pleasure engulfing you as your body tenses and tightens around him, whines slipping from your lips with moans automatically following.

His eyes are glued to your face as he guides you through, watching how your eyes squeeze shut and your lips part as your breathing becomes more rapid.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers before crashing his lips onto yours, “so fucking beautiful.”

His thrusts grow sloppy and you tighten your leg around his waist, “Don’t stop.” You plead, “Fuck, don’t stop.”

“Not stopping.” He assures, his lips pressing to yours harder. He groans against them, moving to press open mouth kisses down your neck as he groans louder.

You can feel his cock twitching inside of you, giving you what you wanted most in this moment, “Fuck.” You gasp out, “Chris.”

You both stay still for a second, taking in what just happened. You hold him tighter, hand gently dragging up and down his back.

He shifts, lying next to you with his face still in your neck. His hand gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze, “You okay?”

You nod, smiling up at the ceiling as your hand moves to lay on his head, fingers gently scratching, “Better now.” You turn your head, “You?”

“Better now.” He whispers against your neck, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, “Didn’t know I had it in me to break the infamous y/n.”

You laugh, “Well, you did.” I look down at him, “So what’s next? You want to go over how we’ll get Marlowe to agree to partner with us, or do you have another idea?”

Chris smirks, his fingers gently grazing your skin, “As much as I’d love to run through our game plan, I think we’ve had enough mission talk for one night.” He raises a brows, “Unless you’re telling me you’d rather talk business than stay right here, of course.”

You smirk, “Yeah, I’ve had enough business talk for one night.” You move around, pulling the blankets up over both you and Chris.

He shifts around, pulling you to his chest and he lets out a sigh, “That’s what I like to hear.” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head, “Get some sleep. You need to shut your brain off for a bit. We’ll focus on handling Marlowe tomorrow.”

━━━━━━━━ 𖦏 ━━━━━━━━

Thank you so much for reading and thank you so much for being patient with me. I hope you liked this. Let me know. As always, I love you, catch you in the next one! 🖤

Grabbing a comb, mentally praying it was one K used for his hair, Y/I tackled her own as best she could and pulled it into a tidy bun. White-gray sections bright now that the dirt had been washed away from K tackling her at Coney Island. It pained her to not have her hair products but she made do. Come to think of it, she didn’t have anything. Toothbrush, skincare, makeup. What the fuck was she going to do for the next four days? It’s not like she can buy anything. Her credit card was a lost cause.

Exiting the bathroom the smell grew stronger. Bringing a wave of nostalgia as she breathed it in and so she followed it, glancing at the clock to find it was 7:30am. ‘God, you’d think the time travel jet lag would’ve let me get a few extra hours of sleep,’ she frowned.

Walking into the kitchen connected to the living space, Y/I came to an abrupt stop at the scene in front of her. Eyes bulging as they landed on K’s back, clad in a white t-shirt and plaid sweatpants. Toned arms and muscle, flexing each time he moved across the kitchen to grab something. A lone cigarette on an ashtray, releasing smoke from the filter each time K took a drag before putting it back to continue his work.

On the radio the soft tune of The Ronettes played, and Y/I felt herself itching further into the room, eyes still on K as she fought against the weird thoughts she was having.

“Coffee?” His voice snapped her out, the woman clearing her throat before taking claim to a barstool. 

“Yes, thank you.”

“How do you take it?”

“Black, two sugars,” the words flew out naturally, considering it’d been her stable for the last ten years. Any time K got their coffee he tended to get her the same as him, and after a while she became used to it. Occasionally Y/I treated herself to a latte or cappuccino, but nothing kept her energy going like simply black coffee with two sugars. 

She noticed K’s surprised reaction before replacing it with something unreadable. Busy himself by pouring the coffee into two mugs and dropping the sugar cubes in before mixing it up and passing Y/I hers. Thanking him again, she brought the steaming cup to her lips, letting out a sound of content, missing K’s strange expression when he took in her state. Seeing her in his clothes emerged a tingling sensation in his chest. Hiding the blush threatening to paint his cheeks. Y/I gestured to the ashtray, “Got another you can spare for a lady?”

In a flash K produced a cigarette and a lighter, the agent giving an appreciative smile as she took them. Lighting the filter, Y/I let the tobacco enter her system as she took in the apartment, then raised a brow, “Where’s my suit?” She hadn’t seen it since K gave her the spare clothes to sleep in. 

“In the dryer,” he pointed to an ancient machine that made Y/I do a double take. Of course her family had the same growing up, but it still was a shock to see after all these years. “Thought it could use a clean after yesterday.” 

His words had Y/I narrowing her brows, albeit playfully. “I wonder why.” K hid his smirk behind his mug, Y/I mirroring it. “I should be offended you tackled me, but I did ruffle you up so….” She shrugged, blowing out smoke. “I guess we’re even.” 

“I guess so,” K agreed with a chuckle. Reaching over to turn the music down, K leaned against the counter, now looking at Y/I with curiosity. “Where’d you learn how to fight like that anyway?” 

She hadn’t expected that question, placing her mug down while tapping away the ash on the cigarette, “What, trying to get some pointers, cowboy?” The comment made his eyes roll, but smirk still on his lips. “I did martial arts growing up,” she explained, propping an arm on the counter to rest her chin on her knuckles. “Then I had a personal trainer who specialized in hand-to-hand. Came in handy both with MiB and the job I had prior.” That piqued K’s interest, but he decided not to ask. Y/I took another puff, “So, I hate to be that girl….but I need a huge favor.”

K’s face became concerned, clicking his tongue, “Depends on the favor, slick.” 

“You can relax, K, I’m not asking you to steal a galaxy,” her hand waved, “but when I woke up yesterday it was not my plan to be in 1969 nearly a week so I’m gonna need to acquire some,” she waves again, “personal necessities if you will. Like a toothbrush for starters,” Y/I nods for emphasis and continues, “deodorant, perfume, and call me vain if you must, but I need face sunscreen. And some face powder and mascara.”

K thought for a moment, finishing his coffee and cigarette first before saying, “sure thing, slick. Get dressed and we’ll go.” 

Y/I straightened her posture, giving him a look before pointing to the dryer, “with what clothes?” Twenty minutes later the two were in his car, Y/I tugging at the collar of her black & white polka dot dress. “Well this isn’t what I had in mind. I haven’t worn a dress since your 65th birthday party.” The comment resulted in a baffled look from K, not wanting to picture himself at 65 just yet. Y/I held back a laugh, “Sorry, pretty boy. I forgot the most frightening thing for young people is growing up.” She looked at her attire before raising a brow, “Also whose dress was this? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

K’s attention remained on the road, a distant look in his eyes Y/I picked up on, making her regret the question. “A friend of mine left it,” was all he said. And it didn’t take a genius to know it wasn’t exactly a ‘friend’ he was referring to. Y/I understood, leaning back in her seat to stare out the window. 

They arrived at a shopping mall, K moving at a quick pace to open Y/I’s door, making her look at him aghast but accepting his hand. Careful not to trip on the pavement in her heels as she stepped out. 

The outdoor shopping mall was pretty busy for a Wednesday morning. Buzzing with young ladies and college kids. K, the generous man he was--not to mention the circumstances--paid for Y/I’s items. Since it was the 60s all the brands Y/I enjoyed didn’t exist. However she was excited to see Revlon and Besame, grabbing a red lipstick, powder, and mascara. When K questioned her whistle, staring wide-eyed at the prices she said, “Let’s just say the prices for these things in the future are not as sweet. Just these three alone cost me $30.” K returned her expression, making note to not complain anymore about the cost of items. 

Small bag in hand, the two headed to the food court for a bite to eat. “Unfortunately, I can’t pay you back till 2012,” her tone was teasing as he handed her a bagel with cream cheese and coffee, but serious nonetheless. “Hope you can understand.” All K did was chuckle, nodding as he bit into his own bagel. Escorting her to a table, the two sat and enjoyed their breakfast in silence. All while keeping watch for any suspicious activity. 

When they finished, they returned to K’s place just before 10 allowing Y/I time to freshen up. Applying the products instantly made her feel better. Once her teeth were brushed she doused herself in perfume and deodorant before going to retrieve her suit. It was then she remembered the important object in her pocket. Heart dropping slightly at the fear it was gone. Her pace increased. 

“K,” Y/I called out, catching him at the bartop reading the morning paper. His head turned to her as she strolled up to where he sat. “Quick question. I know you said you confiscated everything on me at HQ and well, did you happen to find a pocket watch? If so,” she leaned against the counter, a thin pressed smile plastered on her, “may I have it back, please?”

Her eyes were laser focused on K as he reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out the item igniting a breath of relief from the agent. Happy the watch was safe and back in her hands. Unfortunately the time jump must’ve been too much for the old gadget. The hands frozen in place. Y/I pressed it close to her chest, closing her eyes. 

Inside she was exploding. Heart aching with grief for what life would've been if her dad had stayed. She’d been so young Y/I forgot what he looked like. But she remembered how it felt to be with him. Carefree, happy. Warm like the sun’s rays or the joys of seeing a rainbow. 

She missed that feeling. Deeply. 

When her eyes opened she was met with K’s, watching her gingerly. As if reading his mind Y/I answered his unspoken question, “It was my father’s.” He made an ‘ah’ sound. Soft and empathetic. Brushing a finger over the smooth surface, Y/I’s sighed again. Letting her shoulders drop as she admired the watch. “I’m sorry if I came off harsh I was worried I’d lost it,” she held it up, closer to her face, “It’s the only thing I have left of him.”

“I take it he passed?” K gently asked, holding back his shocked reaction when she shook her head. 

“No, uh,” her throat cleared, the lump forming being forced back where it came. Praying her eyes didn’t show her feelings as she didn’t want to breach this aspect of her personal life with this K just yet. She put on a brave face, “I actually don’t know. He’s just been out of the picture for a while.” What more could she say? It was the truth and all she had. 

Excusing herself, leaving K to his thoughts, Y/I picked up her clean and ironed suit--she made a note to thank him later--and went to the bathroom to change. 

Honestly she should’ve just stayed in the comfortable clothes, because when she re-entered the room K put her on house arrest. Stating, “X is under the impression you were neuralized. If he sees you we’re both screwed.” Okay he had a point there. “I’m trusting you to stay here while I go and try to get as much info as I can. Can you do that?”

Defeated and out of options, Y/I agreed and gave a two-finger salute, watching silently as K left the apartment. Leaving her alone. For the rest of the day she entertained herself with magazines, books from his vast collection, and people watching from the terrace. At one point in her search for a book, Y/I stumbled upon a photo album dated 1960. Covered in dust which she blew off and examined with interest. 

Was it a good idea? Probably not, it felt like an invasion of privacy. K’s past was a mystery despite their long partnership. Each time Y/I attempted to learn more about him the response was, “I promised you the secrets of the universe, Y/I. Not my own.” That same voice was breaching her mind now. 

Curiosity got the better of her, however, and Y/I checked her surroundings before settling on the chair beside the bookcase. Opening the album to get a glimpse at K’s life before MiB.

With each page turn Y/I’s smile widened. Admiring the young man just entering his 20s, not having a clue what lay in store for him. Carefree and optimistic. In a year’s time he’d be stumbling on a scene unworldly, when got lost on the wrong back road. 

As she closed the album shut, Y/I felt an overwhelming sense of grief consume her. So sudden it gave her whiplash, hand coming to her chest where her heart pounded against her ribs. A volcanic eruption of turmoil she’d been holding since discovering K died. Now alone to her thoughts, the agony begging to release finally snapped. Groaning as the tears began to flow.

She sat there crying for what felt like ages but was only ten minutes. Sniffing as she pulled herself together. Her eyes now puffy and red, mascara ruined as the product of the time had yet to discover the wonders of waterproof makeup. Wiping furiously at the tears that dripped onto the album’s cover, destroying any evidence in case K were to go down memory lane in the future. 

Oh, K. How he came to be the most important person in Y/I’s life was one of history’s greatest mysteries. They were complete opposites yet fit together. K kept her grounded, and Y/I brought out a warm side of him. Agents referred to them as an old married couple with how much they bickered and took care of each other. “We’re just great partners,” Y/I always responded with, finding humor in the suggestion and brushing it off as a funny joke. Missing how the agents were actually surprised, having been fully convinced the two were a thing.

Now, with a deep, unfamiliar, emotion swarming inside, Y/I questioned that exact statement. But there was one thing for sure she knew: failure was not an option. She was going to fix the damn timeline and save K. 

Placing the album back in its right place, the agent spent the rest of the day reading 2001: A Space Odyssey, occasionally stepping out on the terrace to smoke so the smell didn’t overpower the apartment. When it got closer to five she explored what K had to offer food wise. As a 29-year-old bachelor working for a secret agency sometimes involving sixteen-hour days, his fridge and pantry definitely showed for it. 

“Gotta make the most of it,” Y/I said to herself, reaching for whatever she could find. Thankfully K had enough to make fettuccine alfredo. Y/I brought a pot of water to a boil, adding the noodles in before getting to work on the sauce. Heating the oil, butter, garlic, and cheese into a pan until it reached the perfect consistency to toss the cooked noodles in. “Thank God,” she cheered upon finding a frozen bag of broccoli in the tiny freezer, quickly steaming it to include in the pasta. 

The agent was in the middle of plating the food right as K walked through the door. Exhaustion painting his features, soon replaced with confusion as he smelled a delicious aroma in the kitchen. 

“Right on time,” Y/I chuckled, shutting off the stove. 

“Right on time for what?” K’s question was answered with a plate of pasta shoved in his hands. Brows furrowed causing the wrinkles in his forehead to become pronounced. 

“Eat,” the order came, spatula waving around but careful not to get any sauce on the man. “If there’s one thing I know about future K is he likes to skip dinner when a case becomes overwhelming. That ain’t happening on my watch.”

Stunned and at a loss for words, K accepted the fork Y/I presented and sat at the bartop. Silently eating the meal while Y/I stood at the counter facing him. The scene was rather domestic, and both agents were battling thoughts in their head at what it meant. For Y/I it was nostalgic. Thinking back to all the times she forced her way into K’s apartment with take out or bags of groceries to cook after long days at the agency. In the beginning he argued with her, told her it wasn’t necessary, but soon learned to enjoy the routine as it went on. 

For the young agent with years ahead of him until he recruits the mysterious yet vibrant woman, K was getting a glimpse into his future. An adventurous, exciting--and sometimes unorthodox--life he’ll live. So far he liked what he saw, confirmed with the feeling of butterflies in his stomach. 

‘Wait, what? Butterflies? Oh no.’

Y/I’s voice brought K out of his daydream, “So…learn anything interesting?” Too immersed in her food, she missed how a blush appeared on his cheeks. K adjusting his suit collar and giving a nod. 

“We’ve got an agent currently stationed at the Factory. I’ll make contact with him once we’re there and see what he knows.” she hummed to show she was listening. K continued, “X is still in the dark, I had O type up what we know to go over tonight. No news on Boris and where he’s hiding,” He trailed off, watching Y/I’s grip on her fork tighten. “Other than that there’s not much else. What did you do with your day?” 

“Read your books--or re-read them as I should say,” her smile lit up the room, igniting a warmth in K’s chest. “Your collection in the future is much more impressive, but It’s nice to see what your taste in literature was at this time.” 

The small talk continued over dishes. Sticking to the case mostly and Y/I doing her damn best not to let anything slip about the main reason she was in 1969. Not ready to climb that hill yet. Of course she felt guilty keeping it from K, but she kept telling herself it was for the best. 

For the sake of the future and all. 

Already the mission screwed up the second he caught her so telling K posed a greater risk. All she had to do was wait it out. Buy more time.

That should be easy…right?

Whatever happens, Y/I didn't let the fear consume her. Today, albeit boring for the most part, had no alien attacks or the agents running in circles to find clues. They had their next to the puzzle, and it was waiting for them at the Factory. 

Tomorrow, they’ll be one step closer to Boris.

The 13th of July

“There’s an event this afternoon at the Factory,” K announced the next morning, Y/I already dressed with her coffee in hand. Passing K a mug she’d already prepared, smirking at his shocked expression before he thanked her. 

“What time?” 

“Just after six.” Y/I hummed, sipping her drink as her lip jutted into a pout. 

“And what the hell are we to do in the meantime? I can’t just sit here all day while you’re at headquarters, K. I need to be working on this case. After all, I’m the one who traveled from the future to do it,” She’ll be damned if she got left behind for a second time. 

K buttoned his blazer, moving to check himself in the mirror. “I haven’t forgotten, slick. Which is why…” He trailed off, approaching with a smirk. Reaching beside her to grab an apple from the basket where a loud crunch echoed as he sank his teeth into the fruit. “We’re goin’ on patrol to pass time.” Y/I choked on her coffee, thinking she misheard him.

“Patrol?” She repeated, tone incredulous. “You mean we’re gonna sit in your car for almost twelve hours prowling the streets of New York in hope Boris or another clue just magically appears out of thin air? That type of patrol?”

K’s face lit up, eyes sparkling like diamonds, making him ten times more attractive and Y/I bit the inside of her cheek. It was so unlike his regular stoic demeanor. Made her wonder what changed him. “Exactly,” K gestured for her to follow. “Let’s get a move on.”

They pulled up to the Factory after a long day of sitting around--at which point Y/I took a bomb ass nap, waking up to the glorious sight of K singing along to The Who---and gave the exterior a once over before Y/I turned to K. “Alright, if Boris is here I’m going to kill him,” her tone was serious, “I need my gun.”

K shook his head, “No deal,” He was exiting the car before she could respond. Y/I groaned, pushing open her own door and closing it with a slam. Not in the mood to be tested. 

“Pretty boy, I hate to pull rank but I’ve been an agent for fourteen years and if I recall MiB hasn’t even hit their ten year mark so that makes me the senior agent in this case,” she stepped up to K, who was silent and stoic. “So as senior agent I am instructing you, my junior agent, to give me my gun. And if there’s one trait I took from future you is I don’t like asking a second time,” she put her hand out open-palmed, making a grabby motion. “Gun. Now. That’s an order.”

K’s expression was full of amusement, eyes sparkling as he reached into his pocket to produce a weapon, placing it in Y/I’s palm. Only when she looked down it wasn’t the blaster.

“No, no, I don’t think so. Space gun, K.” 

K smirked, walking past his partner, “You’re welcome.” Y/I exhaled, holstering the pistol in defeat and followed after him, “Didn’t say thank you, asshole.” 

Entering the building, the two raced up the stairs where they passed two beautiful women. “For such an ungainly species, they’ve really thrived on Earth.” Y/I hummed in agreement.

“Yeah I’d been an agent for a few years before I realized all models were aliens,” they reached the top of the stairs, Y/I clicked her tongue at the memory, “Found out the hard way, but it was still a great time.” K snapped his head to her wide-eyed, confirming the suspicions he had ever since he caught her checking out O and flirting with the male store clerk. 

Yes, K was surprised by the revelation, but it didn’t change the way he looked at Y/I. She was his partner and someone he grew to care for in the short time they’ve known each other. Not to mention she’ll be a big part of his future. What mattered to K was getting the job done and surviving to tell it. 

Giving the password to the bouncer, K led Y/I into the Factory, which turned out to be a big party in the middle of a fashion show. Y/I scanned the place in awe before settling on a man that made her jaw drop. “Is that Andy Warhol?”

K followed her eyesight, then shocked her by approaching the photographer. “Yep.”

“Holy shit,” Y/I walked behind him, stunned but kept her guard up nonetheless. Watching for any unusual persons. Holding back from winking at the attractive people eyeing her up. Her patience began to thin when Andy kept refusing K’s request to come with him to answer a few questions. 

She finally snapped when he said, “Why don’t you come back next week, after the happening has happened,” in his slow, monotone voice which had her move beside K to take over. Hand coming to his shoulder while the other reached to grab Andy’s forearm, “I’m sorry, Mr. Warhol, you’re talking real slow and my patience is thin. We’ve got important stuff to do and I’ve got a planet to save.” 

He struggled against her hold, Y/I dragging the renowned artist away from the party until they were away from prying eyes. Complaining the entire way. Once in the dressing room K shut the curtains and joined the two. 

Y/I’s jaw slacked as Andy’s hand raised, removing what actually was a wig on his head. “Now that’s something.” 

“Dammit, K, you tryin’ to blow my cover!” the wig flew into K’s chest, dropping onto the floor by Y/I’s feet. The glasses were removed next, K holding a hand up to calm the situation.

“Agent W, your cover is safe.”

Y/I blinked, “you mean to tell me Andy Warhol is one of us?” Now she wanted to know what other celebrities past and present secretly were MiB agents. Micheal Jackson tried once but didn’t make the cut. 

“Safe,” Andy scoffed angrily. “Are you out of your mind? I’m so out of ideas--I’m painting soup cans and bananas for Christ’s sake.” 

A few minutes later, after Y/I and W butt heads and were seconds away from fist fighting causing K to step in, the agent busied herself by surveying the place. Exchanging glances with beautiful people, humans and aliens, but unlike before none caught her attention to have a second look. Smiling instead of a flirtatious wink she usually threw to those she found attractive. 

As she migrated to the middle of the factory, a short man wearing winter clothes--severely out of place in comparison to the attendees, caught her attention. Mostly because he was grinning like a mad man at her. Still, she politely greeted him, “Hello. How’s it going?”

“Going? How’s it going? That depends,” he replied at a record speed. “For me, personally, good, things are good--.”

Y/I was about to cut him off gently to depart but then he started rambling, “Unless, of course, we’re in the possible future we’re the muscle boy near the door argues with his girlfriend,” Y/I followed the direction his finger pointed, landing on the scene he was describing. “Which causes her to storm away and bump into the guy carrying the stuffed mushrooms, who then dumps the tray on the sailors on leave. And a shoving match breaks out and they crash into the coffee table here,” Y/I watched it all play out as the man spoke, eyes widening in disbelief and turning back to see his distressed face. “In which case, I gotta move my plate. Like right now.” He grabs it in the knick of time as the sailor flashes by Y/I and falls straight onto the table. Glass shattering as the crowd watching gasps. 

Y/I stared at the now unconscious sailor in a daze, the man coming beside her. “Or if it’s the possible future in which the pastrami sandwich I’m eating causes me gastric distress,” Eyes go back and forth between him and the sailor, processing what the hell just happened while her heart starts to beat out of her chest. “But thankfully, your friend, ma’am, will offer some of the antacids he carries in his right pocket…so good.” He offers her a smile despite her staring at him like he had two heads. “I’ll be good.”

What the actual fuck? Who was this guy, and where the fuck was K? This was above her pay grade. 

He just kept going, stunning her even more “Except in the case of the possible future where I have to leave in two and a half minutes just before he has a chance to offer me the antacids. So, on the whole I’d have to say not good. I am not good.”

Yeah Y/I had no fucking clue what to say to that. This dude was spitting possible futures like nobody’s business. Frankly, it was making her worrisome. Trying not to panic in the middle of a crowd. 

“But that depends,” he spoke again, then fell silent as the agent remained dumbfounded. 

“K!!!” Her shout was useless. K was nowhere in sight, still talking to the Warhol dude. 

Suddenly the man in front of her asked, “May I see your watch?” 

Y/I hummed, pulling back her sleeve to check the time, “Oh, it’s 7:18--.” 

“No, no,” he shook his head, nodding his head to her pant pocket. “Your other watch, the one your father gave you.”

Her blood ran cold. A sickening feeling in her stomach as the noise around her became muffled. “How….how do you know about my father’s watch?” Now Y/I was really concerned. The future trick was one thing but him having knowledge of the one thing Y/I possessed from her father was another. Still, she removed the pocket watch from its place, presenting it to the man whose face drained of color. 

“Oh dear.” He sounded like one does when they're five seconds away from shitting their pants. Anxiety seeping through his words, “This is the one where Roman is dead and the gentleman at the bowling alley. So much death,” the nameless alien’s wide-eyes met Y/I’s. “Such an infinitesimally small chance for success.”

Now was the time to panic. “K!!!!”

Speaking of the devil. He finally shows his face, and he’s calm as ever. “Griffin, right?” Seeing Y/I’s alarmed face had K go, “Hey, we’re here--.”

“Because of Boris the Animal.”

“Correct. We believe he may be coming--.” Giffin cut him off again. 

“To kill me. Yes, he’ll be here in two minutes--.” Y/I’s hand went to her holster, panning a hard look to K, who held his hand up to calm her. “--unless of course we’re in the possible future where he made all the lights on Bowery and got here early and is just about to discharge a weapon from the doorway in which case, we’re all dead in two seconds.” 

Sweat coated Y/I’s forehead, staring at the door as they waited. When Boris didn’t appear they all let out a breath of relief. Griffin smiled, “Ah, good, that was a close one.” Still the threat remained, and there’s no way in hell a pistol would do damage to a ravaging alien on a homicidal rampage. 

“Alright, K, darling, now's the time. I need my space gun,” her request was ignored, the woman glaring daggers into his profile while he listened to Griffin. She was going to kick his ass. 

The alien sounded in distress, “The Boglodites consume any planet in their path. Mine, Roman’s, the Parlaxians. I tried to stop them, but if we can stop them here--if we can deny them Earth,” he paused, looking hopeful, “we can stop them forever. They’ll starve before they reach the next planet.” Suddenly they were interrupted by the sound of his stomach growling. “Pfft. Sixty-three seconds.”

“Well, how do we do that?” K cut in, right as the alien took a bite of his sandwich, “Stop them?”

“What? Oh!” Griffin placed his food back on the plate, passing it to K. “Sorry. I have something for you. A gift,” he specified, still chewing. And before Y/I had the chance to laugh at K’s reaction to being handed the plate, the smirk on her face disappeared when he shoved it towards her. “It can protect you. I had to hide it from Boris, but if you find me again, I’ll give it to you.” Griffin took back the plate from Y/I with a grin. “Thank you. What a game! Amazing! It’s a real miracle!”

He started to leave but Y/I’s hand shot out, clutching his arm in a firm grip. “Hold on, buddy. What do you mean by a miracle?”

“Thirty seconds. I have to go.” 

“Wait, no, no, no. We got you, okay,” she assured.

“Negative possibilities are multiplying as we speak,” his voice trembled, on the verge of hyperventilating. “Twenty seconds.” 

Cursing at herself, Y/I placed her hands on his shoulders to guide away from the direction he was originally going. Moving him behind the agents. “Okay, relax. I got it.” 

Griffin did not relax. “If your watch is broken and I have gastric---.” 

“Fly,” a man’s voice shouted in the distance. “Find your place in the world!” 

“Oh dear.” The group turns to find a swarm of butterflies around the man in question. Unlike the rest of the party guests, however, Griffin wanted to vomit. “This is the one where Boris is coming through that door in twelve, eleven, ten--.” K reached into his pocket for a gun. A second later Griffin shouted, “Wait!” drawing his gaze to Y/I. “Did you have chocolate milk this morning?”

The agent was flabbergasted, her face depicting it, “Wha--yeah I did.” Griffin winced, attention focused on behind her shoulder. 

“Cindy…” Screams erupted as the name left Griffin’s mouth. Y/I spun around, gun in hand as the adrenaline kicked in upon seeing Boris standing on the windowsill. Party guests shoved passed one another to escape, and Boris shot another spike in their direction. Missing embedding into a large balloon. 

“K, follow Griffin!” she yelled, watching the alien take his chance to run. People ducked to avoid the spikes, Boris aiming at both Griffin and K, but thankfully his aim was off each time. Charging toward the Boglodite, Y/I raised the pistol and fired two shots. “Dammit!” Boris leaped from the window, landing on the streets below. Without thinking she followed after, hauling herself onto the ledge. Traveling down each platform to save herself from breaking her heels. 

Huffing once on the ground Y/I launched into a sprint, climbing onto the hood of an empty car before aiming her gun. As soon as Boris got in her sights she fired. Shot after shot. The alien dodged each bullet while pedestrians seeked shelter. 

Then suddenly Y/I felt a searing pain in her right cheek. The flesh ripped open as a spike sliced across the agent's face. “Gaaah!!” It was like hot metal branding her skin. The entire right side of her face throbbing it made Y/I’s head spin. Jaw completely numb. The bitter smell of iron filled her nostrils, gun dropping to apply pressure as blood poured from the gaping wound. Staining the collar of her white dress shirt. The agent moaned, struggling to maintain her balance on the car but the sting traveled down her spine until her knees buckled. Sliding down the car, expecting to hit the harsh pavement but instead arms caught her.

“Hey, hey, I got ya,” K’s gentle tone became alarmed when he processed her state. Locking on the red color coating her face, neck and hands. Horror struck him. “Woah, woah, what the hell happened?” 

“Spike,” she stuttered out, wincing as K guided her to the stairs of the building to sit. “I didn’t see him shoot.” Based on the position of her hand, K jumped to the worst conclusion. Thinking it was her neck that’d been hit. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, eyes darting around to find something that could help them. “Okay, just--just stay here and keep pressure. I’ll be right back.” He was gone in a flash, racing to the car to retrieve the first aid kit he keeps in the back seat. “Hey!” he spotted an onlooker from the party, watching the scene unfold with a frightened stance. “Get me some napkins--or towels if you can find!” They nodded, running back inside while K went back to Y/I. Sweat beading along his hairline. “Alright darlin’, where exactly are you bleedin’? I need to know.” 

Y/I hissed, barely moving her palm off so he could see underneath. “Bastard got me on the cheek.” Relief washed over K. Happy it wasn’t her neck or anywhere close to her aorta. 

The good samaritan arrived seconds later with towels. K grabbed them as he thanked the person and with a tender hand, moved Y/I’s hand to replace it with a towel. Putting pressure as best as possible without harming her. While he did that, Y/I snatched the first aid kit and rummaged through to find everything she needed. Aware she needed stitches despite not seeing the damn rip in her face. Luckily applying her own stitches was something Y/I became a pro at over the years. First learning during her time as a detective. 

Fuck she still remembered the agony in her shoulder the first time a bullet was lodged. This, however, was ten times worse. Rivaling that of the alien stinger she took to the stomach 9 years prior. 

“What are you doin’,” K eyed her wearily as she ripped open a sterilized needle and cut a piece of thread with her teeth. 

“I don’t need a doctor to know my face needs stitches, K. I can feel it.” 

“You’re not about to do that her’ are ya?” Y/I uncapping a bottle of distilled water before proceeding to flush out the wound made him gawk. Wincing when she let out a hiss, eyes snapping shut. “We need to get ya to the hospital.”

“We can’t call an ambulance or we'll compromise the mission, and I refuse to get blood all over your car. This is the only option,” Y/I repeated the action once more.

“I can call O,” K suggested, noting how the blood flow was starting to slow. A sign of clotting. “She’ll send someone over--.”

“No, we can’t involve anyone from MiB, K, you know that. I’ll be fine once I get this cleaned. Now, please go find me a mirror.” K was hesitant but left Y/I to retrieve the item while she continued the process of cleaning the injury. Then she doused it in rubbing alcohol and was unable to contain the scream. Automatically stinging her eyes with tears. “Fuck! Fucking A, man!”

K returned with the mirror he stole from the makeup department and set it in front of Y/I. For the next twenty minutes or so they sat in silence, with the occasional whimper from the woman, as she sutured her cheek. Racing against whatever daylight they had left. 

K had to admit, he was amazed. It’s not every day one gets their cheek nearly blown off by an alien spike and manages to maintain self-control. Sure she was cursing and audibly reacting, but that’s fucking normal to the pain she was feeling. He’s seen agents with tiny injuries acting completely over the top.

By 8pm Y/I finished the stitches, cleaning the area once more and popped a couple ibuprofen in her mouth, swallowing without a chaser. Again, the act left K floored. With a clean towel Y/I doused it with water to start rubbing away the blood on her neck. It didn’t do much, but enough to not make her look straight out of a horror film. 

“You good, slick?” K patted shoulder before helping her up. Y/I stumbled but K caught her, waiting until she got her balance to let go.  nodding her head while swiping at the sweat. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. A little doozy but just give me a minute.” Y/ nodded her head while swiping at the sweat. Body still trembling, but at least the numbness was starting to fade. She bit the inside of her left cheek, pinching her face. “Damn it hurts to talk. I’m gonna need something stronger than ibuprofen.” Unfortunately that wouldn’t be available. As much as Y/I desired morphine they were on the clock. And that meant not being drugged up. 

Soon anger replaced her demeanor. Pissed off they lost Boris, and Griffin since the latter was not with K. “Dammit--we had him!”

“Relax, peach. We’ll find him.” That was the last thing she wanted to hear, Y/I moving to pick up her gun before turning back to him with scorned eyes. 

“First of all, my name is Y/I. Alright, it’s not ‘sweetheart,’, it’s not ‘slick,’, and it sure as hell ain’t ‘peach’. Look, I’m not going to relax,” She stood beside the agent, breathing heavily. “Do you not understand, we are running out of time. We are running out of clues, and there’s an invasion on its way. I need you to get that through your head,” her hands waved frantically while K sighed. Then she pointed a finger, “we did have one guy who could help. Where is he--Griffin!” Her shouting echoed, calling for the alien who was nowhere in sight. “Griffin! Where’s Griffin, K? Oh, that’s right, He’s gone! And if Boris gets to him before us that is no bueno.” 

“We need pie.”

“Excuse me?” was it the blood loss, or did she just hear K say the needed pie after the rant she just unleashed. Of all fucking things. 

K, by the grace of God, explained, “My granddaddy always said ‘if you got a problem that you can’t solve,” a finger taps his temple. “It helps to get out of your head.’ Pie. It’s good.”

“Pie,” Y/I nods, following along despite the urge to strangle K where he stood. If she weren’t so lightheaded she’d follow through on her promise of kicking his ass. 

“Yeah.”

“My cheek almost got torn off, and you’re suggesting we have pie?” Even saying the words aloud Y/I was in disbelief. Before he answered she lifted a hand, “You know what, we’ve been doing smart stuff these last few days. Real police work like following clues,” the sarcasm was strong, ignoring K shaking his head. “It might be time we do something stupid. Something that has nothing to do with what we need--you know what? Now, I want some pie, K. I want some pie.” 

She did not want pie, but needed to get the hell away from the Factory and clear her head before doing something irrational. Plus she desperately craved a cigarette. “C’mon, let’s go get some dumb ass pie.” Not waiting, Y/I turned on her heel towards the car, leaving K standing on the sidewalk. Oblivious to the smirk he bore that his plan worked out. 

“Sounds good.” 

Sitting in the diner was odd, even with the comforting atmosphere. Yes it was the same diner Y/I frequented with K, but there’s the fact it wasn’t as outdated being it had just opened a few years prior. Unlike in 2012 where the establishment was reaching its 50th anniversary. 

A menu in hand, K was deep in thought reading over the food it had to offer. Unsure which pie was more appealing. To his left, Y/I stared at his profile while the waitress’s eyes darted between the two. Unsettled and impatience coating her face by the state of Y/I and because K couldn’t decide. 

The blood stained shirt Y/I wore on full display. She kept catching the woman’s gaze flickering between the shirt and her cheek, to which Y/I offered a hesitant smile. Hoping to appease the situation. It didn’t help that the agent promised a nice tip if she refrained from calling the cops. 

That was the last thing they needed. 

Before K had the chance to ask the specials, Y/I snatched the menu out of his hands, giving it back to the waitress, “My associate will have the same thing he always has after he looks at the menu for ten minutes and asks about the specials twice. He’s gonna have a slice of apple pie with a nasty piece of cheddar on the side.” K scratched his chin, lips curling up while Y/I beamed up at the woman. “I’m gonna have the lemon-cream and since it’s my last meal I’m gonna splurge a bit,” she ended with a wink. 

It was as if the waitress couldn’t leave faster. Grimacing as she left the two agents at the countertop. Y/I chuckled, massaging her jaw to relax the muscle. “Word-class serial killer out there…and we’re having pie. I cannot wait to put this in my report.” 

As she removed her hair from its bun, letting it fall into waves on her shoulders, K smirked and said, “So what do you do in your spare time, stretch?” 

“Oh!” he laughed, pleased with her reaction. At that moment two plates of pie were presented, K thanking the waitress as she turned to leave. After the first few bites, K broke the silence, “You say we don’t talk right.”

“That’s right,” she muttered, savoring the desert as she brought a forkful to her lips. Sweet taste of lemon and cream. Shrugging as she pans him a glance, Y/I adds, “Or at least, I talk and you listen.” That really was the best description of their relationship.

“Alright, ask me a question. Anythin’ that don’t pertain to the case, I’ll answer whatever question you have.” A tempting offer. One Y/I did not want to lose after a decade of walls built up by K in which he never spoke about his past. Here was the opportunity to find out more. 

Setting down the fork Y/I turned in the seat, “How’d you recruit O?” It may have been an odd question, but Y/I was curious to know how her closest friend, besides K, got involved in alien business.

He proceeds to relay the story of his time in London surveilling Mick Jagger--yeah Y/I almost lost her damn mind--and how he and O ended the night at a pub playing darts. With each word K lit up, his personality came through causing a heartwarming feeling in Y/I. Watching K was like watching a stranger. Making her wonder what caused such a drastic change in the man in front of her. 

When K finished, Y/I whispered under her breath, “What the hell happened to you.” He wasn’t meant to hear, but he did. Shrugging his shoulders in response, “I don’t know, it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Part of me wishes it won’t,” a sad smile appeared, scolding herself for even thinking such. Still, she couldn’t help but add, “I like you like this.” 

“Like what?” His voice turned soft, setting his own fork down. 

“Just…..” the words failed to come out, Y/I shaking her head and turning back to her pie. “Nevermind.”

Sensing her dejection, K switched the subject. “You know, I’ve never seen someone get their cheek nearly ripped off and suture the damn thing like it was nothin’.” She snickered, mumbling how she was pissed off at the scar it would leave. “Where’d you learn that skill anyway?”

“Well,” she cleared her throat with a sip of water, soothing the dryness she hadn’t realized earlier. “I was a detective for ten years prior to joining MiB--and a patrol officer for five before that. Learned early on how to stitch flesh together when you’re dodging bullets left and right for fifteen years.” Since her eyes were on the pie, Y/I missed the way the gears were shifting in K’s face. “Then rolling with MiB this long has really perfected it. Gotta say, I know how to stitch some skin.” 

K’s mouth opened and closed, bewilderment splashed across his complexion. He debated whether asking the question he had was the right call, but he needed to know because the entire time he assumed Y/I was in her mid-to late thirties. She certainly looked it, and the makeup she wore was so light her actual skin was on display. And while a good part of her hair was gray/white, he thought it was just hair dye and she was following a trend popular with her time. Five or six years was what K better she had on him. Yet apparently she’s got thirty years of experience in the field. 

“I know this is a very ungentlemanly thing to ask,” his tone was apologetic, hand out in front of him as he grasped his thoughts. This could either go really good or really bad. “And please forgive me, I don’t mean any offense…but how old are you, Y/I?” K regretted asking the second the words left his mouth as Y/I started to choke on the water. Jumping from the stool to pat her back while she struggled to catch her breath. Then her laughter replaced the heaving, sending relief in the man. 

“Oh my god, that was not the question I thought you’d follow up with,” calming down, Y/I cleared her throat as she gave one last pat to the chest. “I appreciate your concern, K, but you don’t gotta worry about offending me. Especially when it comes to my age.” He relaxed his shoulders, sighing in relief as moved back to his stool. Smirking, Y/I perched her elbow on the counter to lay her good cheek on her palm. “I’m curious though, before I answer, just how old do you think I am?”

He flushed red, “Well, my guess was 35, 37. You said we’d been partners for 14 years so I assumed you were recruited in your twenties. But after hearin’ you say you’d been an officer long before….,” he made a sound, “I was completely wrong.” 

“Well I’m flattered,” Y/I teased, nudging his arm to show she wasn’t upset at all. Y/I was used to people assuming she was younger than her actual age. And each time it boosted her confidence, and ego. “Now you understand why I had to get my face products. I have not gone a day without sunscreen since I was sixteen. I’ve worked so hard to keep this face young,” she let out a disappointed sigh, “now that’s fucked up thanks to Boris.” Crossing her arms Y/l leaned both elbows on the countertop, beaming, “I’m 48, by the way.” 

“You’re lying,” K shakes his head even though he knows she’s telling the truth. And Y/I knew too.

“You know I’m not,” her laugh made him grin. It was like physically hearing sunshine. Making K want to hear it again and again to soothe the addiction simmering in him.

“Well I sure need to start following in ya steps.”

Again she laughed, “Like I said the other day, cowboy, you’re still a looker in the future,” she said with a wink. The flirty banter came naturally. Only this time Y/I had a weird sensation in her chest she didn’t understand. Affection, intrigue, endearment. 

Things she already felt for K, but were breaching a whole new concept than the appropriate way to view a friend.

Oh, wait a minute.

“So you were a youngin when you joined the boys in blue,” K commented, brow raised and unaware of the battle going on in his partner’s mind. And heart.

“Oh yeah,” she recovered quickly, distracting herself with a bite of pie. “Freshly eighteen and out of high school. College was the plan,” another piece of pie, “but after my family kicked me out and left me with nothing my options were limited.” Oh boy, that wasn’t supposed to slip out. She couldn’t stop now, “but it was a fun ride at the NYPD while it lasted. I like the uniform we wear more.”

Instead of a laugh from K, she was met with silence. An eerie silence. And when the agent looked up, she found him unsettled. Before she could question it, K beat her by saying, “Your parents disowned you?” A roughness laced his tone, surprising Y/I by how it matched his demeanor. As if it deeply upset K to hear it, which in turn sparked something in Y/I.

“Yeah,” the whisper was met with the final bite of pie. Chewing it slowly before swallowing with a sip of water to chase it down. Letting the fork clank onto the plate and push to the side. “My mom and step dad didn’t approve of my….affections to the all the beauty life has to offer.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what she referred to. K already had confirmation. But still, he stayed silent. Listening to Y/I speak. What pained him was the fact her family sought to kick her out instead of accepting her like they should have. It angered him.

“They didn’t hesitate the second they caught me in a compromising position with a girl they were under the assumption was only there to work on a school project,” she continued, after signaling for the waitress to bring her a cup of coffee. “Really it was my step dad who wanted me out, and my mom did whatever he said. He never liked,” Y/I pointed out, hands wrapping around the hot mug. “I often think he was just waiting to get rid of me. My half-siblings didn’t talk to me after--or extended family once the word got out.” The bitter taste hit her lips, Y/I sighing. 

“And since my father had left ages ago it left me with no one. I did try to find him,” she admitted, stirring the coffee with the spoon as she placed it back on the counter. “The second I became a detective I---and I don’t condone it--did use the resources to my advantage. But found nothing….it was like he didn’t even exist. I know he did.” The watch poked her thigh in its pocket. “I have his watch, his military medals, and a vague memory from when I was young that is all but a blur now.” A pregnant pause occurred, then her voice lowered, “I just wish I knew why…..”

K clenched his jaw. Everything screamed at him to do or say something, but he only had one thing to really say, “I’m sorry that happened to you, Y/I.” Something flared in the woman hearing K say her name. Her actual name and not ‘slick’ or ‘sweetheart’ or ‘ace’. It sent heat down her spine.

Shaking her head, the woman gave a small smile, “Thank you. I accepted it a long time ago. Doesn’t bother me anymore--I have all I need now,” she attempts to lighten the atmosphere with another ink, “No need to worry about little ole’ me.” 

After making sure Y/I was okay the conversation continued. They talked about K’s life before MiB, which was of great interest. Y/I learned more about K in three days than in ten years. They laughed, they teased. Told shocking stories leaving the other dumbfounded. 

Somehow the topic of past relationships came up. Y/I wasn’t sure what to make of it but found it entertaining nonetheless. Watching K skew his brows listening to her talk about the most outrageous dates and partners she’d accumulated was fascinating. 

“And now?” K asked, nursing his own cup of coffee, “You got someone waiting for you when you get home?” Y/I let out a lighthearted scoff, shaking her head. 

“No. Haven’t in a long time really,” It’d been three years since her last relationship. “Last one was an agent, but they broke it off after a few months.” 

“Did they say why?”

They did say why. And what Y/I once laughed at, panning it to be her ex upset Y/I wasn’t giving them enough attention. But thinking back, along with the unnamed feelings Y/I battled, she was beginning to think there was truth to what her ex said. Simply thinking about it made her stomach flutter.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Y/I pondered before answering, “They said it was because they were tired of feeling like a third wheel in the relationship.” Saying it out loud really put it into perspective, as did her next words, “They didn’t like how I was more devoted to being your partner, than to being theirs.”

Silence filled the space as the revelation hung in the air. Neither knowing how to follow up. Suddenly it became hot, and it wasn’t the coffee. Almost like a lightning bolt struck with how much electricity flowed between the two. Indescribable. 

Without saying a word to him, you give the bartender your order. The tension is palpable - at least, on your end. When you and Bucky agreed that Russia never happened, you didn't think he'd actually stay true to his word. You assumed you'd spend a few days apart, acting normal, and then he'd find himself unable to keep his hands off you and drag you into a closet or keep you behind after a meeting.

But he didn't.

He watched on as you qualified for Agent, barely even giving you a congratulatory word, saw as you rose through the ranks, past your more senior colleagues, and hasn't so much as brushed past you.

You suppose it's a good thing he hasn't. You wouldn't have been able to focus so hard on your work and been the youngest person to ever earn the title Special Agent if Bucky had been distracting you, so you're grateful to him for leaving you alone.

"Well done, rookie," His voice chimes out from beside you and takes you by surprise.

Turning to look up at him, you raise a brow. Flashes of the night in Russia fly through your head and you do your best to ignore them. "Thanks," Is your stoic reply. He's given you next to nothing for the past four months, so why should you give him anything?

"I didn't think it would, but it looks good on you," He begins. "Special Agent. You know it took Sharon three years to get that?"

"I'm not Sharon," You remind him, before narrowing your eyes. "You didn't think excelling in my field would look good on me?"

Is that why he's been avoiding you? Do you no longer attract him because you're no longer a fresh-faced trainee, willing to do whatever he says? Was it truly just the power play that got him hard for you - was he just getting off on how in control he was?

"I didn't mean it like that," He says, seeing the cogs turn in your head. "Don't spin this into something dark - I'm happy for you."

"So, what did you mean by that?" You push, not willing to let him off so easily. "You didn't think a young trainee would still be attractive once she qualified? How am I supposed to take that?"

"You're supposed to take it in the way that most of the Special Agents here are some of the most boring, to-the-books people I've worked with," He explains. "Sticklers for rules."

"Who says I'm not a stickler for rules?" You ask with a raised brow. "You haven't been on a mission with me since- since I qualified."

There's a sparkle in his eye when he replies. "Rules aren't something you're exactly notorious for following, rookie."

You take your drink from the bartender and turn to leave while uttering, "I'm not your rookie anymore."

The words he said to you that night still echo in your mind. The utter filth he whispered into your ear, the dark promises he made, the post-orgasm secrets he spilled.

"There's nothing like some healthy competition," Maria says as she stands at your desk. "Fight for it."

"Are you kidding?" Jenn asks her with a raised brow. "You want us to fight for a mission?"

You're pulled from your thoughts - memories of Russia - and plunged into the present. Maria came out to the bullpen and offered you a mission. Well, offered you and Jenn a mission.

"You're both capable, but it only needs one agent," Maria states while the others begin to listen in. "And I can't decide which of you should have it. Jenn, this would be a good boost in your journey to Special Agent. And Y/N, it would be good for you to add this to your repertoire."

"I think me hitting Special is a little more important than Y/N's repertoire," Jenn challenges with a quirked brow. She's grown a lot more confident since making agent, and seems to think she's untouchable. Then again, becoming the youngest ever Special Agent definitely gave you a confidence boost, too.

If it was anyone else, you'd sit back and let them have it. But Jenn's had a stick up her ass and has hated you since the day you met, so you're feeling petty.

"Y/N, your response?" Maria asks, secretly loving the competition between you. "Why should I give you this mission?"

You stand up from your chair and reply bluntly, "Because I'm better than Agent Curson."

A few gasps and stifled laughs are heard around the bullpen, but you keep your face straight. Jenn lets out a scoff. "You're such a fucking narcissist," She utters bitterly.

"It's factually correct that I'd get this mission done more efficiently and to a better quality than you," You say plainly, sick of her shit. "That's not narcissistic; it's realistic."

"Come on, Y/N," Landon says from behind you with a wince. "You're just being mean, now."

"Am I?" You question, taken aback by his words.

"Agent Hill, you know I respect every decision you make," Jenn begins. "But the only reason Y/N made Special so quickly is because she's friends with the Avengers. The rest of us are just as skilled as her."

"What are you talking about?" You ask her with a frown. "The fuck do the Avengers have to do with anything?"

"Oh, please!" She cries. "You leech onto their missions whatever chance you get-"

"That's enough, agents," Maria says lowly.

"I get assigned onto their missions; that's out of my control," You remind Jenn coldly. "The only one I sometimes say fucking 'hi' to while passing by is Steve, so how I'm friends with the Avengers is beyond me!"

"Oh, you're only friends with Captain fucking America?" She shoots back. "Some of us haven't even met him yet!"

"How is that my fault?" You yell.

"That is enough!" Maria cuts in curtly, shutting you both up before she turns to Landon. "Agent Croft, I'm assigning you to the mission. The rest of you, get on with your work."

You and Jenn continue to glare at each other for a few short moments before you grab your phone and turn to leave.

"You can deny it all you want," Jenn suddenly mumbles, making you stop in your tracks. She looks down at you, a cold look in her eyes. "I know something happened between you and Sergeant Barnes in Russia."

Your heart lurches up into your throat. "What?" You sputter. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm a very perceptive person. He barely even looks at you anymore, and he rarely ever left you alone before Russia," She says with a dirty look. "Probably regrets cheating on his girlfriend with such a piece of trash-"

"You have no fucking idea what you're talking about," You tell her coldly.

"Sure, I don't," She cuts in with a smirk. "But you do, don't you? You fucked him, didn't you? Slut."

You push her backwards and she's quick to retaliate, grabbing your arm and twisting it. A few punches and kicks are thrown between you before you're pulled away from her, by none other than Nick Fury. Fuck.

"What in God's name are you two doing?" He asks you both with rage in his eyes.

"Sorry, Director Fury," You say through deep breaths. "We were just training."

"Yeah, fucking right," He mutters bitterly, releasing your arm as he glares at you both. "Any more of that shit and you'll both be on desk-duty for three months. Got it?"

"Yes, Director Fury," You and Jenn say in unison.

He leaves with a huff. You walk away from Jenn, not trusting yourself to keep your hands off her if she makes another comment.

How the fuck could she have noticed something went on in Russia? Is she truly that good of an agent that she noticed the difference in yours and Bucky's relationship? Sure, he's barely said a word to you when usually he's all over you, but you didn't think anyone else besides you would have realized.

Fucking Jenn.

Ever since you were made Special Agent, you can't deny you've felt a little different. As though you should take your job more seriously - which has meant turning down invitations to drinks, and nights out, and office parties. When Steve gave you a pout and said nobody should spend New Year's alone, though, you couldn't help but agree to attend the company-wide party being thrown at HQ. In fact, even some of the employees from Stark Industries are here, including a certain Sergeant's girlfriend.

As soon as the expensive whiskey hits your tongue, you internally thank Steve for dragging you along. Though you aren't a fan of the way a few of the trainees are looking at you as though they only just realized you have tits, it's nice to see everyone who you don't always get the chance to work with.

"And then Cap here walks in, all casual, and he's like, 'I can do this all day," Landon recounts, making everyone laugh.

"You're such a cheeseball," You mutter with a smile as you nudge Steve's ribs.

He holds his hands up in surrender. "I can't help it," He claims.

Suddenly, there's a squeak over the sound system. "Hey, people!" Tony yells over the microphone. "It's almost midnight, and there's nowhere near enough of you dancing right now - grab a partner and make your way to the dancefloor, or else you're fired!"

"Oh, Cap, you know what you've gotta do," Landon says, patting his shoulder. "Take Agent Y/L/N and go dance!"

"Excuse me?" You ask incredulously. It's one thing attending a work party, but it's a whole other thing dancing at it. You don't want to completely lose all the fear and respect you've spent all year building up. "I don't dance."

"C'mon, sweetheart," Steve says, taking your hand. "Let's go."

His tone makes you think you don't have a choice, so you begrudgingly allow him to take you to the dancefloor. A few other couples are already swaying along as the band sings their rendition of A Little Less Conversation.

"Was Elvis around in your time?" You ask him as you rest your arms on his shoulders, not exactly clued up on Elvis or the 40s.

"Nah, he was popular after the war," Steve tells you, placing his hands on your hips as the two of you sway to the beat.

"I still can't believe you were around back then," You say, shaking your head. "It blows my mind."

"How do you think I feel?" He asks with a chuckle.

"You know what?" You begin with a smirk as you look around at all the stares you're getting. "I'm with the most eligible bachelor here. Every woman here wishes she was me. That feels good."

"You know what feels better?" Steve counters with a glint in his eye before he leans in closer and lowers his voice. "Every man here wishes he was me."

Laughing at his claim, you shrug. "I guess that makes us the hottest couple here," You say before frowning. "Wasn't there... weren't you and Agent Carter...?"

His cheeks flush pink and he looks down. "Uh, we decided to just be friends," He says, stealing a glance at Sharon who's dancing with Carol. "We tried, but... it was a little too weird, with her being related to... it was weird."

You nod slowly. "That's understandable."

As another song begins, you look across the floor to see Bucky dancing with Emma. His eyes are already on you as he gazes at you over her shoulder. His look tells you what he's thinking without you needing to ask - he's thinking about Russia. You can see it in the way his eyes have darkened, the lack of smile on his lips. Emma lifts her head and his eyes rip away from yours, and after she mumbles something to him, he gives her a soft kiss.

Maybe Jenn was right. Even though you refuse to admit it to her face, she may be right about Bucky feeling guilty because of what went down in Russia. That would explain why he's been avoiding you - but it doesn't make you feel any better about it.

Sick of how you're feeling, you decide to have a little fun with the man who isn't avoiding you. You spin around so your back is against Steve's front, the two of you continuing to dance. His hands grasp your waist and he rests his chin on your shoulder.

"Now everyone is definitely staring at us," He whispers with a chuckle.

"Good," You say, turning your head to the side towards him. "Think they're jealous?" Think he's jealous? Tell me he's jealous.

"I'd bet on it," Steve mumbles, stroking your hips. "I'm sure you're the subject of most of the other agents' fantasies. And maybe a couple Avengers, too."

"You think so?" You ask, perking up at his words.

"I can guarantee it," He says, squeezing your hip as your ass brushes against his crotch.

Turning back around to face him, you place your hands on his shoulders. "I thought you heavily disapprove of workplace relationships?" You wonder, recalling the HR meeting earlier on in the year.

Steve shrugs with an innocent smile and brings his lips to your ear before saying, "How am I supposed to stop myself from getting hard over you?"

You gasp and hit his chest. "Captain Rogers-"

"I'm kidding," He claims, looking you up and down. "It's the dress. Not you."

"Ah, sure," You tease with a grin, happily taking on the ego boost.

"Listen up, beautiful people!" The singer suddenly announces. "It's almost time for the countdown - y'all ready to bring on the new year?"

Everyone bursts into cheers and the dancefloors fills up.

"I want y'all to grab a partner and give them a nice, big kiss to welcome this new beginning, alright?" The singer orders, causing everyone to break off into pairs.

"Alright if I smooch you, Agent?" Steve asks you lowly.

"I guess," You say casually. "Seeing as I don't have any other options."

"Come on, now," He says with a smirk as he wraps his arms around you. "I'm the most eligible bachelor here, aren't I?"

"Y'all ready?" The singer asks before the lighting in the room dims. "Ten!.. Nine!"

The crowd chants along with him, you and Steve included. You look around at all your colleagues, the trainees, the agents you started with, the seniors who taught you everything you know.

And him.

Your eyes lock with Bucky's again, like moths to a flame. Emma's moving closer to him, preparing to kiss him. You look away. Back to Steve.

"Don't do anything stupid like fall in love with me, okay?" He warns you teasingly as he pulls you flush against his body.

"Impossible," You retort lightly as you squeeze his shoulders. "I have no heart."

"Two!.. One! Happy New Year!"

Steve kisses you deeply, a much more intense kiss than you were expecting. But it's New Year's, and everyone around you is making out, so why the fuck not?

By the time you both pull away, everyone else is back to drinking and dancing. Confetti continues to float from the ceiling and you pull a few pieces out of your hair and cleavage.

"Good kiss," Steve says simply, patting your ass lightly. "Happy New Year, baby."

"Happy New Year, Cap," You reply, unable to deny the flutter you feel in your pussy at his casual use of the nickname.

Stop. One super soldier at a time.

"Drinks," You say, reaching up to remove the stray confetti from his hair. "C'mon, Rogers."

The two of you have a couple of shots at the bar before you feel the alcohol get to your head. Slightly tipsy, you decide to escape to the hallway for a reprieve from the loud music.

While you're fluffing up a fake rose bush by the elevator, you hear footsteps approaching behind you. You think nothing of it, assuming someone else is also pathetic enough to leave a New Year party at ten minutes past midnight, and continue mumbling to yourself while running your fingers through the plastic plant.

"Hey, rookie," His unmistakably gruff voice calls out seconds before his hands are on your hips.

"What do you want, Sergeant Barnes?" You ask, turning your head to the side.

He rests his chin on your shoulder. "Don't call me that," He whispers, slightly whining. "You know what it does."

Ignoring the way your stomach flips, you nudge him with your shoulders. "Get off me, you prick," You mumble, not really trying very hard to get him off you.

"What's wrong?" He asks lowly.

You roll your eyes. "Don't play all coy with me, Barnes," You spit. "You're the one who's been avoiding me. Feeling guilty about what you did?"

"Rookie-"

"Whatever," You utter bitterly. "I don't care what excuse you have. It felt really shitty when you stopped talking to me. We were friends at one point, you know? We had a mutual respect, or at least I thought- what are you doing?"

His hands have slipped under the hem of your dress and are trailing up your thighs. "What else?" He asks you with a mumble. "What else you mad at me for?"

You almost lose your train of thought as he pulls your panties to the side. "Bucky..."

"Tell me," He whispers into your ear.

"You didn't pretend like Russia never happened," You say, your breath hitching in your throat as he begins to rub your clit with his vibranium fingers. "It... things were supposed to go back to normal."

"What's normal?" He asks while plunging a cold, hard finger inside you.

A whimper leaves your mouth as you wrap your hand tightly around his wrist. "Flirting," You breathe out, trying to keep calm. "Talking to me. Touching me... inappropriately."

"Yeah, you miss that?" He utters smugly.

"You're a bastard and I hate you," You spit, your words mostly fueled by the alcohol in your bloodstream. "I hate that you just left me alone after Russia. Dropped me like I'm nothing."

He adds another finger, fucking them in and out of you, curling his digits inside you.

"Fuck, Bucky," You moan, swallowing thickly. "I hate that you're still with her. She's so... boring."

"We have fun," He claims casually.

"Bullshit," You sputter. "And I hate that she doesn't suspect you at all. You should have slipped up - she should have realized what you did."

"Isn't it a good thing that she didn't?" Bucky wonders as he speeds up.

"No," You whine. "It- it shouldn't be that easy for you to stop thinking about me. To stop fantasizing about me - I'm the best you ever had, and you know it. She should know it."

"Cum for me, rookie," He mutters in your ear.

"I hate that you still call me that," You let out between heavy breaths. "I am a Special Agent."

"Cum for me."

"I hate that you're only doing this because you saw me kiss Steve," You spill as the pitch of your voice heightens. "Jealous. Trying to mark your fuckin' territory, you prick."

"Cum."

With a strangled cry, you keel over, cumming hard over his fingers as they curl and scissor in your throbbing pussy.

"That's a good girl," He purrs while you let out weak moans, your heart racing. "Just like that."

You pull his hand out from between your legs and take a few steps forwards before turning to face him. "You're insane," You breathe out. "Someone could've walked out and seen us."

His lip curls up into a smirk and he grabs your hand, pulling you closer. "Well, they didn't."

When he kisses you, you taste Asgardian ale on his tongue. You've only ever had a sip of it before, and all you remember is waking up eighteen hours later with a raging headache.

"You're drunk," You mumble against his lips. "That's the only reason you're here with me right now."

"Not true," He mutters.

"I don't give a fuck, by the way," You state firmly. "I don't care that you've been ignoring me. I'm just annoyed."

He raises a brow. "Doesn't that mean-"

"I'm just bored," You reiterate pointedly. "We used to have fun, y'know? Used to... you'd be all flirty, and fucking..."

"I'm sorry," Bucky says, seemingly sincerely as he places his hands on your hips. His boner presses against your stomach. "I, uh, I guess I've been a pussy recently. I was... scared."

You can tell how difficult it is for him to admit it, so you appreciate his vulnerability. "Scared of me?" You ask him with a frown.

"I meant it when I said I'd never slept with other girls before," He tells you. "I mean, never cheated on Em before. I'm new to this whole sneaking around thing. I didn't know how you'd react."

"For what it's worth, I'm new to it too," You point out. "If you're uncomfortable, it doesn't ever have to happen again, I just want us to go back to how we were before."

"Who said I don't want it to happen again?" He asks, resting his forehead against yours.

Your stomach flips. "Bucky..."

"C'mon, rookie," He utters. "We're good at it. Making each other feel better, I mean. It's just sex; it's not a big deal."

"Not sure Em would feel that way," You say with a raised brow.

"What she doesn't know, won't kill her," He replies casually. "Sometimes, this job can be fucking tough. Sometimes, I need a reprieve, and she isn't always here."

Your heart skips a beat and you shake your head, suddenly aware of what you're doing. "We're bad people."

"We're real people," He returns.

A thump sounds out behind him, signifying that the door to the bar has opened. You take a step back from him and he lets go of your hips. Casually, you rest against the wall, waiting for the person to walk by.

Turning to see who it is, you grit your teeth. Of course.

"Having fun out here?" She asks with a raised brow.

Fucking Jenn.

"Hey, Agent Curson," Bucky calls out to her with a nod. "Just chatting. You know what Y/N's like; she might die if she doesn't get any special attention for too long."

Her eyebrow flicks up. She's surprised he's back to how he was - back to teasingly you relentlessly. Back to flirting with you unabashedly, back to overstepping boundaries.

"Uh-huh," She replies as she continues walking over.

"I like your dress," You say, lying through your teeth.

"Thanks," She says with a nod, looking you up and down before turning her attention to Bucky. "Sergeant Barnes, I believe Miss Green's looking for you."

"She is?" He returns before nodding. "Thanks for letting me know. I'm just in the middle of a conversation with Y/N right now."

Jenn almost looks slightly nervous - as though Emma sent her out to get Bucky and told her not to return unless he was with her. "But, Sergeant, she-"

"I'm busy right now, Agent," Bucky cuts her off curtly. "I'll get back to the party once we're done here. You can go, now."

Your heart races and you do everything you can not to smirk right in Jenn's face. She clenches her jaw before turning and leaving with a half-assed, mumbled apology. Once she's gone, you grab Bucky by the collars and pull him closer to you.

"That was so hot," You utter against his lips. "I can't stand that bitch."

Bucky chuckles, stroking your ass and squeezing it. "I figured that would cheer you up. Still hate me?" He asks with a cheeky grin.

You narrow your eyes before giving him a kiss. "Put Jenn in her place a couple more times and I'm putty in your hands, Sergeant," You admit, as terrible a person as that makes you.

He kisses you again, the two of you making out wildly against the wall. Any second, someone else could walk out from the bar - Emma herself, even - but that only adds fuel to the fire.

"So fucking hard for you," He grumbles as he grinds his boner against your belly. "When you gonna let me fuck your face again, huh?"

You pull back, letting out a soft laugh. "I guess you'll have to wait until our next mission together, Sergeant," You say slyly, raising a brow. "Seeing as I'm just a reprieve for when she's not around."

Bucky grabs a fistful of hair and pulls your head back, making you cry out. "Don't act smart," He grumbles, making your stomach flip. "What are you, huh? Tell me."

You let out a shaky breath before replying, "I'm your fucktoy, Sergeant Barnes."

"That's right," He says with a smirk, thrusting gently against your stomach. "Mine. My little cumdump for when I want you. You bend over when I say so. You suck my cock when I say so. You cum when I say so."

Your eyes burn into his. You don't think you've ever been so turned on in your life.

"That means no playing with yourself when you're alone, unless I say you can," He iterates lowly, before his eyes darken. "And no letting other men fuck you. This cunt," He grabs your mound, making you whimper. "Is mine to fill. This ass," He spanks you hard. "Is mine to play with. These perfect fucking tits," He pulls your dress down suddenly along with your bra, and slaps one of your boobs before pulling on your nipple. "Are mine to suck on. Open your mouth."

You do as he says, never once looking away from him.

He puts his four flesh fingers into your mouth, stretching it out. "This pretty face is mine to fuck," He whispers, sliding his fingers in and out, making you gag. "All mine. Do you understand me, rookie? Say it."

You let out a gargled version of the words I understand around his fingers, making him smirk cruelly. He's got you right where he wants you, and the power rush he gets from having such a strong person broken down like this is beyond anything else he's ever felt.

"That's my girl," He says before pulling out of your mouth and pulling your bra and dress back up. "Now, give me your panties."

Your eyes widen. You can feel how wet they are, not only from your orgasm but from the past five minutes of Bucky's torture - surely he's not being serious.

"Are you-"

"Don't make me ask twice," He cuts in curtly, looking down at you with a firm look.

He watches as you pull them down, struggling slightly to get them over your heels, before you timidly hand them to him. Bucky takes them from you and brings them to his face for a few seconds as he inhales.

"Fuck, you always smell so good," He groans, making your breath hitch in your throat. With a wink, he stuffs them into his trouser pocket, before tapping your hip. "Let's head back in."

Unbelievably horny and unable to snap out of your daze, you shake your head. "I can't."

He knows the effect he has on you, and he relishes in it. "C'mon, Special Agent Y/N. They're waiting for us."

"I probably look a mess," You mumble, still feeling shell-shocked.

Bucky rolls his eyes and grabs your arm. "You look as gorgeous as ever, dumbass, come on. Let's go," He says, beginning to drag you back to the bar before stopping to turn to you. "Oh - and if Steve asks you to dance with him again, do me a favor and kick him in the balls."

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PART THREE >

You scoff as he climbs into the ring, raising a brow. "Great! Now I'm getting tag teamed by two super soldiers?" You ask in disbelief, slightly excited at the prospect of being manhandled by them.

"C'mon, rookie, this should be easy," Bucky says, slowly walking further into the ring. "Or at least, it will be for Steve and I."

With narrow eyes, you take a step back, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips as he shoots you a wink. "Alright," You say, putting up your fists. "You're old men, and I've beaten guys twice your size before. Let's do this."

"Them's fighting words, rookie," Bucky says with a cautionary tone. "You sure?"

"Deadly," You say gravely, ignoring the voice in your head telling you this is a bad idea.

They're nice to you, at first. Allowing you to get a couple of hits in, and Bucky even goes so far as to pretend it hurts. He does his best to limit the use of his metal arm, which you appreciate, though there's always been something about it that intrigues you. Something that, admittedly, turns you on.

And, as though he can read your mind, he suddenly wraps it around your neck, holding your body against his with your back to his front.

"Got her, Stevie," He says teasingly, slightly pressing his arm against your throat, making your legs squeeze together as your core begs for friction.

"That's not fair. I was just about to win," You utter, not even trying to pull out of his grip as you cling onto his arm, gasping when you feel his boner digging into your ass. Fuck. If only Steve wasn't here.

"Alright, I'm done," Steve says with a triumphant smile, holding his hands up as he turns around to leave the ring. "I've proved my point - I am not an old man!"

"Stop squirming so much, rookie," Bucky mumbles lowly into your ear, keeping you pinned against his body.

You can't help but let out a whimper, your panties positively soaked through as your hips uncontrollably move, rubbing your ass against his crotch. He uses his free hand to push down on your hips, forcing you to grind harder against him.

"Get some rest, Y/N," Steve calls out as he picks up his bag. "You've got an early morning tomorrow."

Just as Bucky leans down again to whisper in your ear, the door to the training room opens and in walks one of the other trainees. Bucky slowly releases you, making it seem as though him having you in a headlock with your ass directly on his dick was just a casual part of your training routine.

"Evening Captain, Sergeant," Landon says with a nod. "Uh, Sergeant Barnes, your... Miss Green's here to see you."

There should be a guilt that fills you at the mention of Bucky's girlfriend - or a fear, a nervousness at least. You should feel dirty for practically rubbing yourself on his boner, but you don't. You just look at him, give him a quick smile, and leave the boxing ring, like nothing untoward ever happened.

And he does the same.

Shelly's birthday party is a lowkey affair. She doesn't like being made a fuss of, and like you, she likes to keep her work life and private life separate, so only a few agents were invited.

The bar is nice. A lot nicer than the places you spend your birthdays. It's strictly no-phones, which works well for New York's elite. You're slightly worried about the tab you'll have to pay at the end of the night, especially when you spot a few C-List celebrities walking through, but that's not an issue you need to put any thought to right now.

Right now, you just need to concern yourself with the Irish man who has his arm around your waist.

"Your body is insane," He utters, looking you up and down. "You a, uh, fitness influencer, or something?"

With a laugh, you nod. "Mhm. That's me," You say, not bothering to correct him as explaining you work for SHIELD isn't always the biggest turn-on for men.

While he whispers in your ear, your eyes flicker up to the entrance where a few familiar faces walk in. Taken aback as you weren't expecting to see any actual Avengers attending this party tonight, and judging by the look on Shelly's face, she wasn't either.

"I invited them as a joke," You hear her hiss to her husband, who finds the whole thing hilarious.

Steve, Sam, and Bucky walk over to her with a smile as they hand her gift bags. You watch on in amusement while the man by your side - is his name Leo? - starts kissing your neck. Shelly politely accepts the gifts while her husband holds back his laughs, introducing himself to the three.

Leo whispers something in your ear about getting out of here when you lock eyes with Bucky, making your body tense up.

"Babe?" Leo mumbles.

"One sec, I'll be back," You reply half-heartedly as you make your way over to where Bucky's standing at the bar.

"Hey, rookie," He greets you with a smug look on his face, before glancing behind you at Leo. "Who's the guy?"

"He's Irish," You tell him, resting your arm on the bar. "And cute."

"Yeah? You gonna take him home?" He asks, sneakily looking you up and down with his eyes lingering on your hips. "Let him fuck you?"

You scoff in slight surprise at his question, unable to hold back the smile on your face. "I'm planning on it," You admit as your stomach flips.

"He's a lucky man," He says, leaning in. "I look forward to hearing all about it."

"Oh, yeah? You want all the gory details?" You ask with a soft laugh.

He moves closer to you, lowering his voice. "I want a step-by-step rundown," He teases, using the same terminology Steve uses after a mission before a smirk pulls at his lips. "I wanna know if he makes you cum."

Your breath hitches in your throat but you do your best to act cool. "I- he talks a big game," You say. "Might be overcompensating for his lack of skill."

Bucky tuts at your words, shaking your head. "That's no good, rookie, you don't wanna be left hanging," He says, resting his elbow on the bar and bringing his hand to your face, where he strokes your cheek. "You're gonna have to play with yourself once it's over. Make yourself cum."

Fuck. You can feel your panties soak and you know he can smell it. He swallows thickly, lowering his hand to your neck where his thumb rubs over your throat.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," You utter, unable to pull your eyes away from his.

Bucky smiles, shooting you a wink. "I wish you luck, rookie."

"What do you mean, an NDA?" Jenn asks you with narrow eyes. "The fuck do you need one of those for?"

"I just wanna know if we have someone here who can sort it out for us," You claim innocently, unable to keep the impatience out of your tone. "Or if I'll have to hire my own lawyer."

She raises a brow and says, "You'll have to speak to HR, or one of the big guys."

"What? No way!" You exclaim, feeling nauseous at the idea of talking to one of the Avengers about it.

"Why not? You're all buddy-buddy with them," She says, sounding a little bitter.

"Not on that level," You clarify. "We work together sometimes, that's all."

"Well, the next time you're put on a mission with Black Widow, flying off to Cancun to stake out a billionaire on some fancy resort, you can ask her," Jenn says before dropping her boxing gloves and storming away.

"That was one time!" You yell as she leaves the gym, before huffing and rolling your eyes. "Fuckin' A."

You continue training alone for another half hour before someone else walks in. It's none other than Sam, who greets you with a smile. You're not particularly close with Sam, but you get along. Understandably, he hardly ever has any time for agents unless he's on a mission with them, but he's nice enough.

Deciding you have no other choice, knowing how useless the HR team is here, you let out a sigh and pull out an earphone. "Hey, Sam?" You call out, causing him to put down the weights in his hand and turn to you.

"What's up?" He asks.

You walk over to him with a sheepish look on your face. "Can I just be totally candid and ask for some advice?" You request.

"Of course," He says immediately. "Whatever it is, fire away."

"Uh, it's not really to do with work, per say," You admit, rubbing the back of your neck. "It's slightly... personal."

He gives you a knowing smile and walks closer to you. "I get it. Just pretend I'm a stranger, and whatever you tell me stays between us," He promises.

"Thank you," You whisper, before clearing your throat. "Okay. So, it's not that bad, but I would like to get someone to sign an NDA."

He looks taken aback. "Oh. Okay."

"I was just wondering if it's worth it getting the help through work, or if I should just hire my own lawyer," You wonder aloud. "I know here they're busy with more important things, but you know what they say about trainee wages. I can't really afford a good lawyer."

"Mhm," He hums, nodding while processing your words. "Can I ask why you need an NDA?"

You wince, having known the question would eventually come. "Yeah, uh, I slept with someone," You blurt out. "And... I would prefer them to keep it to themselves."

"Right," Sam says slowly. "Why do you doubt they would keep it to themselves without an NDA? And is it really a big deal if they do tell someone?"

"It's just... something happened, during, that I'd much rather not see being spread on social media, or anything," You say, cringing inwardly.

"Uh-huh. How bad was it?" Sam can't help but ask.

"Bad," You answer. "I... I said someone else's name."

He raises a brow. "Is that really so bad?"

"Yes, because the person who's name I said... it's, uh... it's someone... sensitive," You say, unable to look him in the eyes. "And... if the guy goes around telling people, someone who knows them might find out... it's just gonna be messy, and awkward."

Sam nods slowly, thinking for a few moments before speaking. "Alright. Well, this guy you slept with- he's a nobody, right?"

"Pretty much," You agree.

"And is there really any proof that you did sleep with him?" Sam pushes.

"Not really..." You trail off.

"And so, if this guy was to make claims, who the fuck's gonna believe him?" He asks you with a raised brow.

You take in his words, nodding. "You're right. Ha, you're right!" Smiling widely, you pat his arm. "Thank you, Sam!"

"No problem, Y/N," He says, chuckling to himself as you walk out.

"Alright, that's all for this week. Jenn, Landon, and Y/N, can you stay behind?" Maria asks as the others begin to filter out of the meeting room.

The three of you stand before her, waiting to hear what she has to say.

"Jenn and Landon, I can see you've each only got one competency left to achieve before you can qualify for Agent status. There's a recon mission next week being headed by Agent Carter; if you're successful in your assigned tasks during said mission, you'll qualify," She tells them, causing them to whisper excitedly to each other while she turns to you. "Y/N, you still have a few competencies left to complete, but you're almost there. I'm putting you on Operation Musket."

Jenn and Landon suddenly become silent as their eyes widen. They each turn to you, shock on their features.

Your heart is racing. Not just at the notion of being alone on an assignment with Bucky, but also because of the assignment itself. Operation Musket is the biggest mission there's been all year, and it was largely understood by everyone that Bucky Barnes would be completing it alone. Any agent tagging along would be a liability, in Fury's words.

"Wha- with all due respect, ma'am, are you serious?" You ask Maria with furrowed brows.

"Deadly," She replies bluntly, no hint of humor in her tone.

Jenn steps forward. "But Director Fury said-"

"Director Fury is not in charge of my trainees," Maria cuts her off curtly. "When it comes to you completing your competencies, I know best. I also know Operation Musket inside and out, and I believe Y/N will be an asset to Sergeant Barnes. It gives her the opportunity to gain some more experience in Russia, which as you all know, is vital in qualifying for Agent status. Now, does anyone have a problem with my decision?"

The three of you stand silently, not daring to say a word.

"Good," Maria says with a tight smile. "Then this discussion is over. Off you go, trainees."

You all begin to leave, but Maria calls out just as you open the door.

"Y/N, report to the briefing room first thing on Saturday, " She directs you. "Oh, and pack a small bag. It's an overnight mission."

Fuck.

Usually, you say no to drinks with your superiors, but this time you were quick to agree to Steve's invitation. He was shocked as he's used to being rejected whenever he suggests you join them in the bar, but you need to get drunk tonight- the type of drunk you can't afford yourself.

It's not public knowledge that there's a bar in Avengers HQ. It's underground and shares a wall with one of the labs; Tony's very own speakeasy. You came for the free alcohol, but as soon as you see Bucky with Emma on his lap, you immediately regret it.

"Can I get a bottle of vodka and a shot glass?" You request Natasha who's standing behind the bar.

She raises a brow, slightly offended that you interrupted her conversation with Bruce but equally as impressed that you had the balls to do so. "Coming right up, trainee," She says, emphasizing the last word to remind you of your position and the fact that you should probably use a little more respect when speaking to her.

Snapping out of your daze, you widen your eyes. "Thank you, ma'am," You say quickly, wincing when you hear Bruce snickering under his breath.

She slides over the bottle and the glass before continuing her conversation with Bruce, and when you realize she's trying to flirt with him, you quickly move over to the couches.

"All I asked for was a burrito," Steve says to Sam and Tony. "Was I being rude?"

You silently sit next to Steve, trying not to garner any attention but also not wanting to drink alone. The three of them chat over beers while you take a few shots.

"Alright there, Y/N?" Steve asks you suddenly, making you look up at him with shock.

"Uh, yeah," You reply with a nod.

"Oh, hey," Tony says, clicking his fingers in your direction. "You're the, uh, superstar trainee, aren't ya? The prodigy?"

"Prodigy?" You reply with a frown, wondering who on Earth would have described you as that to Tony Stark.

"Maria Hill seems to like you," Steve reveals to your surprise. "She thinks you're the next... well, Maria Hill."

"She does not!" You say with a gasp, your heart fluttering at the prospect. Maria's a tough boss, and even tougher to impress, so the fact that she praises you to the Avengers themselves is insane.

"Says you're gonna go far as an agent," Tony adds with a slow nod, bringing his beer up to his lips while looking around with a frown. "Hey, why don't we invite more trainees to these things? Get some fresh blood in here."

"Maria would kill you," You tell him with a laugh. "We're not supposed to get drunk during our probation, seeing as we have training every morning."

Steve raises a brow, glancing down to the half-empty vodka bottle in your lap. "Uh..."

"Oh, this?" You ask casually. "This won't get me drunk. I have a high tolerance."

"If you say so," Steve utters, not so convinced.

In truth, you only feel a slight buzz so far. You make a mental note to take the bottle home and carry on drinking there, as you don't want someone to snitch to Maria - losing her respect, which you only just learned you actually have, would be detrimental to your career.

"It's part of my training process," You tell him. "I'm preparing for the mission this weekend."

"This weekend? You're on Musket?" Sam asks on disbelief.

"Told you Maria likes her," Tony mumbles.

"Yes, indeed," You reply to Sam with a nod. "I'll be joining Sergeant Barnes in Russia."

"Won't that be fun?" Bucky's voice suddenly chimes in from above you. You look up to see him joining the circle, along with Emma. They sit on the couch to your right while you try to relax your pounding heart.

It's not very often at all that you're around his girlfriend. Emma and Bucky have been together for the better part of two years now, and she's a familiar face around HQ. It isn't very common for Avengers to bring their partners to work, but Emma works at Stark Industries so she's somewhat involved in Avenger business.

"I thought you were doing Musket alone, Buck," Sam says with a frown.

Bucky shrugs, resting his arm around Emma's shoulders. "Fury decided I needed some help," He says simply, before his eyes land on you. "Rookie's always good to have on an assignment, so I can't complain."

"I can vouch for that," Steve agrees, nudging your arm. "I'm surprised you're still a trainee."

"You flatter me," You mumble, leaning your head back against the couch.

While the rest of them continue to talk, you drown out their voices with your thoughts. Are you being crazy? Does Bucky purposely flirt with you, or are you reading it all wrong? Is he attracted to you and unable to hide it, or is that how he is with everyone? You've caught him shooting a flirty comment Natasha's way before, but usually in an effort to grind her gears - he's never been inappropriate with another trainee or agent to your knowledge, so why you? Could it be that he genuinely feels something towards you?

And if he does have sexual attraction towards you, what the fuck is going to happen this weekend?

Missions are rarely overnight and there's a running joke among the agents that they end with sex. You're aware of the highly incestuous dating pool at work, but you've made a promise to never partake. The other trainees are like your siblings at this point, and you wouldn't want to jeopardize a mission by being distracted with feelings.

But Bucky's different. He's not just an agent you can brush off. Admittedly, there's a power difference in play, and something about his senior position is allowing you to break your own rules.

Snap out of it. You're not genuinely attracted to him - nothing will ever actually happen between you. You're just close friends who openly talk about sex and enjoy flirting with each other- there's nothing wrong with that.

"Wake up, rookie," His voice suddenly sounds out from next to you.

Your eyes flutter open and you suck in a sharp breath before turning to the left to see he's taken Steve's place. Everyone else is gone, only he remains. If you looked around, you'd see they've all congregated at the bar, but you don't, because you don't care.

"I'm up," You mumble, meeting his eyes. "You good?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm good," He replies with a smug look on his face.

A few moments of blissful silence pass by. You can hear light chatter and laughter from the bar, and the low lighting allows you to relax, which isn't something you can usually do around Bucky.

"Oh, I should warn you," He begins, stealing your attention as he lowers his voice. "A lotta poisonous plants where we're heading on Saturday. Luskey's HQ is surrounded by woods, and almost every plant is something you won't wanna touch."

"I'll keep that in mind," You mumble absentmindedly.

"Nobody warned me last time and I ended up having fuckin' hallucinations. Saw gnomes walking around," He tells you with a chuckle. "Probably one of the nicer ones to touch. Some of them can kill you."

"Sounds kinda nice. I'd love to hallucinate gnomes," You say with a soft laugh.

He nudges your shoulder and the area burns. You want him to touch you everywhere. Stop.

"Yeah, plenty of nasty things where we're going," He says, looking down at you. "But we'll have fun amongst all the deadly nightshade."

"I'm looking forward to it," You say honestly.

"I bet you are, rookie," He says with a smirk before lowering his voice. "Never got the chance to ask you. How was your night with Mr. Irish?"

Your heart skips a beat at the reminder of that night.

"Just like that, don't stop," You moaned, digging your nails into your back. "Please, make me cum, Bucky, please."

"Uh, yeah," You say flatly while trying to ignore the memory. "It was good."

"Did he do it?" He asks you with a raised brow. "Did he make you cum?"

You swallow thickly, unsure of what to say. No, Bucky, he didn't make me cum, because before he got the chance to I was moaning your name.

"I'll take that as a no," He says with a chuckle. "That's a shame. I had high hopes for you."

"Don't worry about me," You assure him with a small smile. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah? You took care of yourself?" Bucky utters lowly, stealing a quick glance at your body. "Had to finish yourself off, hmm?"

You squeeze your legs together, hating yourself for getting wet so easily. You know he can fucking smell it.

His eyes light up as he moves closer to you. "What did you think about while touching yourself?" He asks you, making your stomach flip.

With a light gulp, you sink a little lower on the couch. "I..." You trail off, wondering whether it would be too far to tell him the truth.

"Tell me, rookie," He whispers, his eyes dark and piercing. "You think about getting fucked? 'Bout someone splitting you open, railing you 'til you beg him to stop?"

Is he drunk? You take one look at the cup in his hand and instantly recognise the color. It's Asgardian ale.

"Bucky," You mumble, biting your lip. "You shouldn't be talking to me like that."

"Just a question, rook," He replies casually, raising a brow. "I'm curious. Did you think about me fucking you?"

Your breath is stolen and your eyes widen. Before you can even begin to process his question, you hear some of the others approaching. Sitting up, you turn to see Steve and Emma walking over with smiles on their faces.

"Here are the dynamic duo," Steve says with a grin as he and Emma sit on the couch opposite you. "You guys ready for the weekend?"

"You must be a pretty impressive trainee if Fury thinks Jamie's gonna need you there," Emma says with a quirked brow. "Can't say I'm convinced- Jamie's been on plenty of intense missions alone and he's been just fine."

"No, I need rookie there," Bucky claims firmly, patting your shoulder. "She's a genius with codes. We'll get it done in half the time."

"So, I should expect you back home by Saturday night?" Emma asks him expectantly.

He takes a sip of the ale before shrugging. "We'll do our best to make it quick," Bucky says, looking at you before adding, "No promises, though."

It's a tough mission, and you're glad. If there was any less stress or if the stakes weren't as high as they are, you know your mind would drift. Drift to the night at the bar, Bucky's voice in your ear saying things he shouldn't have been saying. Asking questions you didn't want to answer.

But it's a tough mission.

"Stand down, rookie," His voice comes through your earpiece. "Meet at the safe house."

You should be relieved it's over - you should be over the moon that you positively contributed to the biggest assignment of the year and that you'll likely graduate to Agent status as soon as you get back to HQ - but you don't feel relief, or joy. You're nervous.

You take the long way back. Unsure as to what will unfold when you get to the safehouse, you take your time, a small part of you hoping that he'll be asleep by the time you get back. A bigger part of you, though, hopes he's not.

He's already lying on the bed when you get in, but his eyes are open. They flicker over to you and he watches as you undress. You peel off your tactical suit, grateful when your skin can finally breathe.

"I've gotta talk to Maria about these things," You mutter mostly to yourself as you step out of the suit. "They're not breathable at all."

Bucky slowly sits up, not even bothering to hide his gaze on your half-naked body. He's in nothing but his boxers, but you're too tired to care. You step into the bathroom, deciding it's probably a step too far to get your tits out in front of him, and change into your tank top and shorts. Packing light is a must during missions, which means summer pyjamas, even in Russia.

You wonder if anyone back at HQ has realized the conundrum - the fact that the safehouse only has one bed. That was fine back when it was only Bucky on this mission, but as you were assigned to it last minute, nobody bothered looking for something more appropriate for two people. You don't blame them. It takes a long time to lock down a secure location, so you'll put up with the lack of privacy.

"Good job today," He says once you return from the bathroom. "We worked well together. It felt slick. You're damn good for a rookie."

"Not too bad yourself," You say, kneeling onto the bed before raising a brow. "Don't you take that off when you sleep?"

He glances down at his vibranium arm with a slightly confused look before looking back up at you. "No," Is his simple answer.

You mumble a nothing response under your breath as you slowly get under the covers, your heart beating a little faster the closer you get to him.

"I can take the floor, if you'd rather," He suggests, though his tone makes it seem as though he has no intention to sleep anywhere but with you tonight. It sounds like his final warning - your last chance to pull out, because you both know that tonight won't be wholesome when you're sharing a bed.

"Shut up, weirdo," You mutter, turning away from him.

"Yes, ma'am," Bucky replies. You hear him moving around, feel the bed dip a little as he gets comfortable under the duvet.

You can hear his breathing. You can smell him - he must've had a shower with the weird soap from HQ. The kind that comes in a small ball and turns into foam when you add water.

A few moments pass, he turns his body around. You aren't sure which way he turned until you feel his front pressing against your back.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Why aren't you breathing?"

Taken by surprise, you can only let out an odd squeak.

"Are you touching yourself?"

You stick your elbow out behind you but he doesn't even react as it digs into his stomach. "Shut up," You whisper.

"A little lower and that would've been nice," He mumbles.

"You want me to elbow your dick?" You ask incredulously.

"Well, if you're taking requests-"

"Go to sleep, Sergeant Barnes."

"Fuck. Don't call me that, rookie," He groans, moving closer to you. "Aren't you cold?"

"You're like a human radiator," You say, closing your eyes as though you could fall asleep when you can feel his boner against your lower back.

He places his hand on your hip, under your top. Slowly, he moves it further up, until he's cupping your bare boob. You don't know why you haven't said anything yet, but when he brushes over your nipple with his thumb, you can't keep quiet.

"You shouldn't," You mutter weakly. It makes you feel only slightly better - you feel a slight less guilt. I'm sorry, Emma. I tried to stop him. I did all I could.

"Shut up," He grumbles, pulling on it as it hardens.

"Bucky," You let out in a breath, rubbing your ass against his hard cock.

"You can't say you didn't know this was gonna happen," He says lowly as he grinds against you. "As if I could ever fuck this opportunity up."

"You're... we really fucking shouldn't-"

"Hey," He whispers, pulling your shoulder and flipping you over so you're lying on your back, looking up at him. "Don't worry. What happens in Russia..."

As he leans closer, using his knee to spread your legs apart and settling between them, you press your hands to his chest. "So, this doesn't count?" You ask him, a hint of nervousness to your tone.

"No, rookie, baby," He promises as his nose brushes against yours, his stubble scratching your skin. While speaking, he begins gently humping against you. "It's not like we're fucking, is it? Huh? I'm just... jus' touchin' you, feelin' you. Making you feel better after today. Making myself feel better. Today was tough, we need this. We're, uh - what's that shit they told us in the HR presentation? - we're looking out for each other's wellbeing while on the field. It's just part of the mission."

He's talking utter bullshit, but you don't care. It feels too good, his hard cock rubbing against your pussy feels too good for you to try and stop it. Loud moans leave your mouth; you're not bothering to pretend this isn't as sexual as it is.

"There you go," Bucky says with a smirk as he peels your top upwards, revealing your chest. "That's it. Don't worry about a thing, rookie, just, fuck, keep moaning for me, fuck."

You do as he says, moving your hands up to his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. When he leans down and wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking hard on it, you cry out his name, bucking your hips upwards. With a hiss, you move your right hand up to his hair and pull on it, making him groan.

He slips a hand under the waistband of your shorts, starts rubbing your clit. His hand is soaked in seconds.

"Other hand," You whimper, gripping his vibranium bicep. "Please."

"Fuckin' little freak, aren't ya?" He mumbles under his breath, happily doing as you say. His cold metal fingers feel like ice against your clit, making your legs shudder. "Tell me what you're into," Bucky says lowly, keeping his eyes on your face as he watches it contort in pleasure. "Tell me, rookie. What fucked up shit do you want me to do to you? Huh?" He knows this might be his one and only chance to get you like this, so he wants to make the most of it.

"Bucky," Is all you can let out, too far gone to conjure a coherent thought.

"Call me Sergeant Barnes," He orders, to which you let out a breathy laugh.

"Shut the fuck up," You say hitting his chest.

He slaps your tit in retaliation, making you whine, while sinking his hard, metal fingers into your cunt. It feels unlike anything you've ever had inside you, and your eyelids flutter uncontrollably.

"Don't take them out," You request quickly, clenching around his digits. "Oh, fuck. Bucky, please."

He slowly begins to retract them, making you cry out.

"No!" You exclaim, before letting out a frustrated huff. "Please... Sergeant Barnes."

"Atta girl," He mumbles before giving them back to you. "How am I supposed to do this without taking them out, huh?"

"Just... just move them," You suggest while pulling down your shorts, wanting to see what it looks like to have his metal limb inside you.

Suddenly, he curls his fingers, making you shudder. "Like that, rookie?"

"Fuck, yes," You respond with delight.

He shakes his hand, curling and scissoring his fingers inside you. "You like the feeling of them filling you up, huh? You dirty little slut, you think about this all the time, don't you?" He asks you smugly.

"Just keep- keep doing that, Sergeant, fuck," You utter. "I'm getting close."

"Yeah? Gonna cum for me?" Bucky's voice seems different in this moment; more personal. Like you're seeing a side to him only a select few get the chance to. As you cum around his fingers, he lets out a groan, and it's the prettiest thing you've ever heard.

"Can I tell you something?" You ask once your breathing is normal again.

"What?" He mumbles while pulling down his pants.

"I- when I was fucking that Irish guy," You begin, making his eyes narrow.

"Fuck you thinking about him right now?" Bucky's offended, appalled that you're able to focus on something other than him after he just made you cum while barely moving his fingers - let alone another man.

"I said your name," You admit, the words flowing out against your control. "While he was inside me, I..."

Bucky laughs, his eyes lighting up. "You being serious?"

"Deadly," You whisper before pulling off your tank top.

He brings his hands up to your tits, pawing at them while rubbing his thumbs over your hard nipples. You grind your hips up, desperate to feel him inside you. His cock is big, thick against your thigh. You can't help but stare down at it. Reaching for it, you wrap a hand around it, marvelling at how hard it is.

"You ever say my name?" You wonder, though you already know the answer.

"I don't think either of us would be here right now if I did," He teases, biting his lip when you begin to rub his cock, up and down.

"You fuck other girls often?"

His eyes flicker up to yours. "No," He answers. "Feel special?"

A smile pulls at your lips while he laughs at you. Pre-cum dribbles out of his cock. He takes it back from you and brings it to your pussy, rubbing it up and down your folds, pressing the tip to your clit. It feels surreal.

"We shouldn't," You say with furrowed brows. "Not sex. Not actual sex."

"What difference does it make at this point?" Bucky asks you with a scoff.

"It's different," You argue, not sure what you mean yourself.

"Well, I'm fucking something tonight," He states firmly. "Would you rather that be your face?"

He sees it - the way your eyes light up. The way your chest rises a little faster. He hears the hitch in your breath and he feels your clit throb against his cock.

Smirking, Bucky nods. "Fuckin' slut. Hang off the bed, I'll fuck your face, if that's what you want."

It doesn't take much to convince you. Within moments, your head's hanging off the side of the bed and Bucky's standing behind you. He slips his cock between your lips, holding your head in place, and doesn't give you much warning before he starts fucking in and out of your throat. Immediately, you gag, but he doesn't let up.

"That's it, fuckin' take it," He mutters through gritted teeth. "Knew you'd take my cock like a good girl. Knew you'd be such a good fucktoy for me."

Your legs squeeze together, you're wetter than ever. Your inner thighs are coated.

"Touch yourself," Bucky instructs you. "I know you wanna. Show me how you do it when you fantasize about me railing you."

He only lets you rub your clit for a few seconds before he moves your hand away. Leaning down, he replaces your fingers with his tongue, lapping at your cunt. Your toes curl as your hips move upwards, humping against his face. His nose brushes through your folds as he sucks on your clit, continuing to fuck your face.

It doesn't take you long to cum again, and he holds your shaking legs down as you do.

"Cum so fuckin' easy for me," Bucky mumbles as he stands up, pulling his cock out of your throat with a string of saliva following.

He grabs your arm and pulls you up to your knees on the bed before taking your chin in his hand and pulling your face closer to his. He gives you a deep kiss, holding your body against his, kneading your ass with his hands.

"Rookie," He utters against your lips before slapping your pussy. "Let me fuck you, baby."

You let out a groan, throwing your head back. He takes the opportunity to kiss on your neck. "Sergeant Barnes," You whisper. "It wouldn't be appropriate for you to have sex with a trainee."

"I'm teaching you," He says against your neck. "That's what I'm here for."

"I don't need to learn how to have sex," You point out.

Bucky moves back to look at you. "You need to learn how to take your Sergeant's cock when he needs you," He says bluntly. "You need to learn how to be a good stress toy for me. A nice little fleshlight for me to take on missions, use you when I need to cum."

You shouldn't be, but you're horrifically turned on by his words. His arrogance and perversion only makes you crave him more.

"Just the tip?" He asks with a whisper.

With a roll of your eyes, you wrap your hand around his throat. "Just the tip," You agree.

He lays you down on your side, facing him, and picks up your leg to rest it on his hip. Bringing his cock to your entrance, Bucky meets your eyes with his, taking in a deep breath. "I'm- I'll try my best to-"

"Just the fuckin' tip," You cut him off curtly. "Not an inch more."

"If you say so," He says with a smirk before slowly pushing his cock into you, stopping once the tip is in.

Frustrated with the lack of stimulation, you let out a huff. "A little more," You request.

He does his best to hold back a smug laugh. Giving you another couple of inches, Bucky lets out a low groan. "Fuck. Baby, c'mon," He whispers, almost whining.

"More," You say, unable to help yourself. Fuck morals. You've already gone too far. "Just- just put it all in, Buck."

He immediately gives you all of him as sook as the request leaves your mouth, stretching you open. You look down, shivering when you see him inside you, wondering if you're dreaming.

Bucky pushes you onto your back and moves on top of you, pinning your arms down. "I've thought about this a lot," He admits with a mumble, still not moving his hips. "About fucking your brains out. Railing you 'til you can't think straight."

You're pretty sure you entered can't think straight territory the second you got into bed with him. "I haven't been thinking straight since I met you," You tell him, making him chuckle.

"You're so fuckin' cute, rookie," He says, before ever so slightly pulling out and thrusting back into you again.

You suck in a gasp as your back arches up. "Are we doing this?" You ask him with a whisper.

"Isn't it too late to be asking that?" He retorts with a raised brow. "Or do you really think you'd be able to tell me to stop right now?"

You think about it. Could you? Would you be able to stop and go to sleep, like nothing happened? Like he wasn't just balls-deep in you? Do you have any self-control at all?

"Just... just the tip," You repeat, realizing how pathetic you sound.

"What's the fucking difference?" He asks with a dry laugh.

"Then it's not actual sex," You argue. "Then we haven't done anything wrong."

Bucky raises a brow. "You really think that?"

You stare up into his eyes. "Yes."

Slowly, he pulls out again, and you take a moment to savor the feeling of having him fully inside you, knowing you may never get it again.

"You're killing me, rookie," He groans as he looks down at his cock, covered in your slick. "How the fuck am I supposed to do this?"

You wrap your hand around his shaft and start stroking it, up and down.

"Can you even feel anything?" Bucky asks you between heavy breaths. "Slut like you, probably used to getting railed."

"Fuck you," You whisper.

"Let me fuck you," He requests, leaning down until you can feel his breath on your neck. "Let me fuck you 'til you can't breathe. Let me make that pussy sore, let me make you fuckin' limp back to the jet in the morning."

"Bucky," You whine lowly, knowing there's no going back. "...Fuck me."

A smirk pulls at his lips and he's relieved - a small part of him thought you might actually stop this. With your go-ahead, Bucky wastes no time. He starts moving his hips, fucking in and out of you, groaning under his breath.

"Shit," He mutters before grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach. With a spank to your ass, he settles on top of you, resting his head on your neck as he thrusts into you.

"Just like that," You cry out, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets.

"Your pussy takes me so well," Bucky groans into your ear. "Better than I imagined it."

Turning your head to the side, you laugh. "You imagined it?"

"Every fucking night," He answers you straight away.

"When you're fucking her?" You ask, nervous by the silence that follows.

His thrusts slow, but they don't stop. For a second, you're afraid you've offended him. That you've crossed some invisible line by mentioning her.

"When I'm fucking her, when I close my eyes, I imagine it's you," He says lowly, bluntly. "I fuck her throat and wonder if yours would feel like that. I eat her out and wonder how you'd taste. She rides my cock and I- I want it to be your ass bouncing on me." He flips you back over onto your back, pulls out his dick and taps it on your stomach a couple of times before slipping it back into you. "And now, I finally know what it's like."

"And?" You push, holding your breath as he fills you up.

He leans down, bringing his lips to yours and mutters, "Better."

There's passion in it. An intense passion you've never felt during sex before. You've been in love with sexual partners, you've been infatuated with them, but you've never felt this. Maybe it's because it's inherently wrong - what you're doing goes against every value you claim to uphold. Bucky's your senior; he shouldn't be taking advantage of the power he has over you. Not only that, but he's unavailable.

It makes you feel special. He's risking it all for you - his respect among the team, his relationship with the woman he supposedly loves. If it became public knowledge that Bucky Barnes was a cheater, he'd lose all the love from the people of America that he just about managed to earn.

But he doesn't care. This intimacy with you is worth more than all that - at least during this moment.

He fucks you harder, making your eyes roll back. His eyes remain burning into yours, and you know he has no plans of pulling out. You have no plans of asking him to.

"Feel so good around me," He groans lowly, stroking your hips. "Such a good girl for me. Taking it so well, making me so proud."

His words light up a spot in you that you didn't know existed. He can tell.

With a small smile, he places a soft kiss to your cheek. "That's it, baby. My good girl, fuck. Keep taking it just like that, I'm so fuckin' proud of you."

"Bucky," You gasp, feeling it build up.

"Shh, it's okay, I've got you," He coos, quickening his thrusts. "Make daddy proud."

It's all too much - the gentleness, how wrong this is - in seconds, you're cumming and there are tears pouring from your eyes.

"Atta girl, just like that," Bucky groans, cupping your face in his hands. "Ready to take my cum, baby?"

"Please," You sob, gripping tightly onto his shoulders.

"It's yours, my baby," He moans as he lets go, cumming deep inside you. "Oh, fuck. Take it all, baby, fuck."

He keeps fucking you until he can't anymore, both of you oversensitive after your highs. Bucky falls next to you and you stare up at the ceiling, breathing heavily.

A few incoherent mumbles escape his mouth as he comes down. Before you can say a word, he turns off the lamp, flooding the room in darkness. A kiss is placed to your shoulder just as exhaustion takes you over.

bucky masterlist // main masterlist

part two >

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