#ghostwhiskey

1

“Anyone in here know a thing or two about suits?”

Gareth could not count the amount of times he’d walked past the Statesman building over the years, but he rarely ever gave them a second thought. At least not until a certain Western fashion disaster sauntered into his Fifth Avenue shop all swagger and misplaced charm. He’d wanted to throw the man out immediately, but something about the way he looked around the shop made him pause.

And that was when the names of Jack and Gary were passed between them and Jack and Gary they would be for years to come.

2

“Y’sure you won’t reconsider the denim?”

Gareth did not like Jack. He did not like how he swaggered into his shop time and time again, throwing absurd amounts of green bills down to get his coats fitted. He did not like what the man wanted for his bespoke. He did not like his mustache.

Still, the more the man walked into the life of his civilian cover, the more intrigued he was. There were Tells in their business and though Jack was good, he was not that good to hide from a Kingsman. 

So he invited Jack in, all strained smiles and light banter. He even accepted the misplaced flirtations from time to time, hoping through their words, he could find out more from the man that was definitely Not Just Jack. 

But the harder he tried, the more routed he felt. 

3

“C’mon. You gotta unwind sometime.”

He accepted an invitation for a friendly drink with Jack. He normally would not, but considering he was a regular client at the shop and their friendly banter, it was only a matter of time before he went out with drinks with the guy. 

One drink led to another and as frustrations mounted and bars whizzed by, Gareth suddenly found himself in an embrace he definitely did not expect to be reciprocated. Though he did not have his glasses on, he could already hear Felix screaming at him to not sleep with the target so soon.

A pity Gareth never listened to his handler.

4

“Hope none of those gents were customers of yours. I expect Kingsman tailors to have more discernin’ tastes.”

The next time he crossed paths with Jack outside of the shop, it was in a crumbling facsimile of a temple. Gareth had not expected to see the man, much less be saved the trouble of mowing down the guards and extracting the data chip by the guy that insisted he was just a Brewery executive with a penchant for all things Western.

Eventually no one stood between them and both their sunglasses laid shattered on the floor. The data chip was still somewhere, but Gareth realized as he lost his gun to the electric lasso, there was no real reason to hold back against a man that he had suspected of being a Spy all this time. 

So knives flew. Whips cracked. Bullets darted. 

He’d managed to knock the lasso away and the whip, but then came the knife and the swipe that caught his jacket. 

Their bodies crushed when Gareth threw his weight on Jack and for a moment, as they got tangled in bespoke, he was ready to click his heels when all of a sudden there was a very audible crunch.

And then the two froze, not sure why such a sound was even present until Jack looked down and saw colorful wrappers literally falling out of the inner lining of Gareth’s jacket.

The whooping yell and laugh that came from Jack would be burned into his memory for years to come.

Gareth did eventually get that data chip, but only with the promise that his next jacket for Jack would be made with such secret pockets...amongst others things neither mentioned in their mission report.

5

“Well shit, Gary...”

There was no need to hide their weapons from one another anymore. The first stage of their vague game had ended the moment the ended up on the dusty ground of that fake Nevada temple. 

Still, neither would admit what the other knew. No, that would be Unprofessional.

Colliding clumsily onto the upscale Manhattan penthouse’s outrageous bed, the two thought little of their business and covers as clothes and weapons were cast aside in favor of a bit of late-night fun.

At least that was the intention until their balcony lit up all of a sudden in a flash of flames.

The first to show any sign of alarm was Gareth and for good reason. He’d chosen the hotel within sight of his shop and said shop was...

Pushing Jack off, he went straight for the window, face draining of any color as the familiar skyline was suddenly obscured with flame and smoke.

And just as quick as he was to disrobe, he was back in his suit again, adjusting his cuffs whilst stomping his sunglasses into oblivion whilst Jack watched, expression unreadable.

“You ain’t stiffing me with the bill for this place are you?”

Gareth rolled his eyes, but offered Jack a final look before he opened the door.

“My family owns this hotel, idiot.” 

And with that, he disappeared. Possibly for good.

+1

“You sure made yourself at home...”

Kingsman was in tatters. Statesman was cleared as friendly rather than hostile. Gareth was in no hurry to rebuild his shop and it just happened the Statesman building he used to hate was was more than accommodating. 

Leaning back in the seat of his new office, Gareth cocked his head to the side at the sight of a newly recovered Agent Whiskey with a smug smile. A smug smile that quickly faded when Whiskey kicked the door shut and locked it.