Cranberry Pineapple

The Beverly Hills elite weren't exactly expecting SWAT. Which made you and Deacon the perfect undercover pair. "You've got to be kidding." Hondo grinned. "Nope." He tossed Deacon a velvet invitation before looking at you. "Congratulations. You're engaged."

Your eyebrows nearly disappeared into your hairline. "...Excuse me?" Tan burst into laughter. "It's the cover." Chris leaned against the table with crossed arms. "Rich investors. Been together three years. Looking to donate to the charity auction." Street immediately smirked. "Oh this is gonna be fun."

You shot him a glare. "I'm literally twenty." "And?" Luca laughed. "You look twenty-five in a dress." You blinked. "...I don't know whether to take that as a compliment."

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The mansion looked like something straight out of a movie. Crystal chandeliers. Live orchestra. Champagne fountains. People wearing watches worth more than your yearly salary. You adjusted the emerald-green evening gown while staring at yourself in the mirror. It hugged your figure just enough to feel dangerous.

"Ready?" You turned. And promptly forgot how breathing worked. Deacon stood in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo. Bow tie. Polished shoes. Hair slicked back. He looked… Illegal. He caught you staring. "What?" "...Nothing." "You hesitated."

"I absolutely did not." "You absolutely did." You rolled your eyes dramatically. "I was simply appreciating that you clean up well." A tiny smile tugged at his lips. "So do you."

Heat flooded your cheeks. "...Thanks."

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The first problem came almost immediately. The host greeted you both with a smile. "There they are!" Before you could react— An arm wrapped around your waist. Warm. Solid. Comfortable. Deacon.

He leaned down just enough to whisper, "Play along." Your heart immediately forgot how to function. "Oh, believe me..." You whispered back. "I'm trying."

For two hours… You danced. Laughed. Held hands. Pretended to know each other's favorite wines. Pretended you had met in Florence. Pretended you'd adopted a golden retriever named Winston. Pretended your wedding venue was already booked. The lies came easier than expected.

Mostly because… You were having fun. Too much fun.

Then the suspect appeared. The billionaire collector SWAT had been tracking. He glanced at you. Then at Deacon. "You two are newly engaged?" Your pulse skipped. Deacon didn't even blink. "I finally convinced her."

The man laughed. "What took so long?" Without missing a beat— Deacon looked directly at you. "I was waiting until I knew she wasn't going anywhere." Your stomach flipped. That… Wasn't in the briefing.

You looked at him. His expression never changed. Professional. Calm. Completely committed to the cover.

Still...Your heart refused to believe it was entirely fake.

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The mission fell apart twenty minutes later. Gunshots. Guests screaming. The suspect bolted through the gardens.

"LAPD SWAT!"

Everything happened at once. You kicked off your heels. Deacon drew his pistol. Tan and Street crashed through the hedges from the opposite side.

Within sixty seconds… The suspect was in cuffs. 

Mission complete.

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Later… Long after statements were finished… Long after the ballroom emptied… You stood alone on one of the mansion balconies. The city lights glittered below.

"You okay?" Deacon stepped beside you. "Yeah." Silence settled between you. Then you laughed. "What?" "I can't believe Winston doesn't exist." He chuckled. "He was a good dog." "The best."

Another quiet moment. Then… "I liked pretending." The words escaped before you could stop them. "...What?" You stared out at the skyline. "The cover." Your voice softened. "It felt..."

Real.

You immediately regretted saying it. "You don't have to—" "I liked it too." You looked at him. His eyes never left yours. "I know it's inappropriate." He spoke carefully. "And complicated." "Very."

"And there's an age difference." "There is." "But every time we worked together..." He smiled. "I kept finding reasons to choose you as my partner." Your heart nearly exploded.

"...Seriously?" "You notice everything." He laughed quietly. "I was hoping eventually you'd notice me." You stepped closer. "So..."

He mirrored the movement. "So."

"We're technically not engaged anymore." "I checked." "The paperwork cleared?" He grinned. "Pretty sure." You laughed. 

"I guess..." Your voice became barely above a whisper. "You'll have to ask me for real."

He stared at you for one long second. Then reached into his tuxedo pocket. Your eyes widened. "No way." He pulled out… A cheap plastic ring from the charity auction prize bags. "I was saving this."

You laughed so hard you nearly doubled over. "You are not proposing with a toy ring." "I absolutely am." He knelt anyway. "Will you go on a real date with me?" You covered your face, still laughing. "That was so unbelievably cheesy." "I've been told." 

You slipped the plastic ring onto your finger. "Then yes." He stood. "So..."  "So?" "Our first real date." "No fake fiancé cover?"  "Nope." "No billionaires?" "I hope not." "No gunfire?" "Definitely not." You smiled. "I'd like that." "So would I." For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, gently—giving you every chance to pull away—Deacon cupped your cheek. "You sure?" Instead of answering… You rose onto your toes. And kissed him. Soft. Sweet. The kind of kiss that promised there would be many more once they weren't pretending anymore.