Fic: Whereabouts Are Now Unknown by bergann
Title: Whereabouts Are Now Unknown
Author: Janne (bergann)
Pairing: Mike Carden/Kevin Jonas
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2 810
Summary: Team Bean is always ridiculous and definitely not the real world. That's probably why Kevin likes it there so much.
Author's Note: This is for black_trillium, who's always ready with the pompoms ♥ It was agony trying to keep this secret, and I didn't even succeed completely. I am helpless without her, okay. /o\
It's also technically for the least romantic Valentine's Day, but I don't know how 'least' this is. It could definitely have been 'more' though.
"How long are you going to be gone for this time?" Kevin asks, his fingers curled around Mike's neck.
Mike presses another kiss to his lips, sweet and lingering, the sort of kiss meant to be remembered, before he answers. "Shouldn't be more than a quick trip. Little over a week tops."
"That long? What if I find someone else by then?"
Mike smirks. "It took you three months to even realize I was flirting. Are you really trying to tell me your game has gotten significantly better lately?"
"Oh yes," Kevin says, "You've taught me a lot. I'm now totally ready to go out into the world and seduce bigger fish with better haircuts and less crazy eyes an--"
For a long moment the only sound in the world seems to be the small growl in Mike's throat. Sadly, the illusion is shattered by the blare of a car horn, bringing with it traffic and the couple in 3b fighting again.
"I'll miss you," Kevin says, when they break apart. "And your stupid hair. Even your crazy, crazy eyes." Mike laughs, nosing Kevin's neck even as Kevin lets his legs drop down from around his waist. "Your cab is waiting."
"Fuck, you play dirty," Mike says, but after a last kiss and the slow removal of his hands from where they've crept beneath Kevin's shirt, he's out the door.
Kevin goes over to the window and stays there until the cab disappears down the street. With a sigh, he lets the curtain fall back, and goes to get ready for work.
*
"K2, my man," Brendon says, holding his fist up for a bump. "How's it going?"
"Same as always," Kevin replies, glancing at the screens. "Any movement?"
"Nah, not really," Brendon sighs, "Dead as road kill since I came on duty. Frank reported some excitement over the bruiser's imminent return, but that's probably the most we're gonna get until he's actually there. Just once I wish they'd let themselves talk about work."
Kevin nods, settling down at his own station. It's the same old story; their target spend ages in the bugged living room, discussing all kinds of shit, but never anything of actual value for them to step in. Business is done in places they haven't been able to bug, not yet. "Just tap me when you need a break," he says, and Brendon nods absently, fingers already back to flying over the keys of his computer.
Kevin cracks his neck and follows suit, starting with the window for the newest tracking device. Once it's set up and he's assured it's working, he keeps it up in a side-window while he starts one of the many other boring things that must be done to keep Upstairs happy.
He's not really surprised when the tracker suddenly goes dead three hours later in an alley in Salt Lake City.
He notes down the details for the future report before shutting the window down, and continuing where he left off.
*
Over the headphones two days later, placed there absently by Frank as he disappeared for lunch, there's a fascinating discussion going on about which is better; Starbucks or Costa. Kevin is momentarily distracted by the blasphemy he's being forced to listen to, mouth open to argue even if they can't hear him, but it's thankfully cut short by the arrival of the bruiser. A round of greetings go up, general long-time-no-sees and how-you-doings, and Kevin is frowning petulantly at the password protected file in front of him, when someone -- the leader and thus mastermind, or maybe it works the other way around -- says, "And how was the wife?"
"Fucking perfect like always, man," the bruiser replies, "Certainly better than hanging out with your sorry asses."
There's general laughter, and Kevin continues listening with half an ear as he starts searching through the e-mail accounts belonging to their suspects for possible clues. At the table, the half of the team not out to lunch are sorting through the massive pile of transcripts for anything they might have accidentally missed since they can't actually listen 24/7, no matter how much coffee they drink.
"Anything interesting?" Frank asks as he drops back into his chair.
"Bruiser's back," Kevin says, holding out the earphones, "but after that, no."
"Aw shit, I missed it? That was going to fucking be, like, the excitement of my day." Frank says, slipping them back on. "These motherfuckers need to fucking go do their job before I die from fucking boredom doing mine."
"Hey, look," Kevin says, a little while later, pointing to the screen. "Suspicious e-mail activity."
"What, really?" Frank asks, perking up. "What is it?"
"An opened e-mail concerning cheap Viagra." He frowns at the computer, considering. "Do you think he actually needs it, was pranked or just found the subject line of 'your rod will be a faultless weapon' just too irresistible?"
"Fuck, Kev," Frank pouts dramatically, clutching over his heart. In the background, Kevin can hear the others cackling, no doubt grateful for the momentary respite from the transcripts. "Why you got to be so cruel, motherfucker?"
Kevin grins as he shrugs. "This case, we make our own excitement."
*
Bob Bryar is scary. Nice, but scary. Kevin has seen Bryar make experienced field agents cry, but they've never been on Bryar's team, which is why Kevin isn't paralyzed with fear right now as he stands in front of Bryar's desk.
He feels a little like throwing up, but he's definitely not frozen to the spot. Always focus on the bright side.
"How are you liking it here?"
"Good," Kevin says, bobbing his head. He feels dread pooling in his stomach. Technically, he's only a temporary replacement until someone more experienced can be found, but it's been nearly a year. He'd kind of thought this could be the one, but he's had a lot of 'we've finally decided on our permanent replacement, and it's not you' talks starting this way. "The team is great. I really like working with them."
Bryar raises an eyebrow. "You've been here eight months," he says, "You haven't thrown anything potentially lethal at Iero's head or shouted about how silence is a wonderful thing you would chop off your arm to have just another sweet, brief taste of."
"No?" Kevin says, and wonders if this is a test. "Should I have?"
Bryar grins and pushes a folder across the desk. "We're on shit duty right now with this surveillance case, but Iero and Urie haven't broken you, Asher hasn't taken your balls for her trophy case, and you haven't reported Wentz to IA. To be honest with you, Jonas, if you don't accept the position permanently, I may have to kidnap you and keep you chained in the office anyway." Kevin stares at Bob for a long time, until he sighs and taps the folder in front of Kevin. "Just consider it."
"No, no," Kevin says hurriedly, "I want the job. I just wasn't expecting it now. In the middle of the case."
Bryar snorts. "We wouldn't have kept you around this long in the first place if we weren't going to keep you. Take the folder, have a department lawyer check it out with you if you want, and just have it back to me, signed or not, by the end of the week."
It'll be on Bryar's desk by tomorrow, unchecked by the Alexes, and Kevin won't be surprised if Bryar already knows that.
He heads back outside into the Zoo, as the door leading into the main room proclaims with sparkles and glitter, and Pete takes one look at the folder in Kevin's hand before dramatically exclaiming, "Are you fucking hesitating to work with us, Paul Kevin Jonas II?"
"He didn't agree at once?" Brendon says, looking equally wounded. "But Team Bobcat is awesome!"
"He hasn't agreed because I don't want him committing himself to you guys without actually thinking about it first." Bryar says, appearing in the doorway, "And Urie, that is not my codename no matter how many times you say it is."
"But it should be," Brendon protests, "Bobcat is a genius codename."
"Yeah," Bryar snorts, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. "I feel better than ever about the decision to never let you think up the codenames for my team."
"As though Pete's was any better!" Brendon protests, with the voice of one who's already gone through this argument countless times but is ready to try it again.
"The forms are just a formality anyway, at this point," Victoria interrupts, not looking up from her magazine. She has the headphones on one ear, notebook and pen within easy reach in case anything interesting is said and should be noted down outside of the transcripts. "We've named him, given him a corner and fed him. He's already ours."
"He's even added a stain to our carpet," Frank says, not actually looking up from his work.
Bryar smiles at this, like he agrees that you can't leave a team once you've bled on their carpet, but doesn't say anything before disappearing back into his office.
Kevin turns to Brendon after a while and says, "I think Bobcat is an awesome codename."
Pete cackles and tackles Kevin to the floor.
*
"There's been a robbery," Bryar informs them.
Brendon squeaks in surprise, as does Kevin, but thankfully Brendon's louder. "I thought we agreed you weren't going to do that sneaky-ninja thing anymore," Brendon says, voice full of reproach.
There’s the smallest hint of a pleased smile on Bryar's face, before he turns serious again. "They got away with 10 million."
"Shit," Pete says, whistling appreciatively. "And they say crime doesn't pay."
"Money doesn't help you in prison," Bryar says.
"The system is fucking corrupt, and I say that as a minion for the Man," Frank says, "So it really kind of fucking does."
"Anyway," Bryar continues, ignoring Iero with practiced ease. "I want you all prepared to move out in case we get wind of their location."
"You don't think they've scattered?" Victoria asks, eyebrow raised. She's the only girl Kevin has ever remotely considered having sex with; although he's never been entirely sure if this is because she's just that hot or because he really is curious enough about whether or not she eats her mates after, like everyone says she does. In the context of the real world, it seems ridiculous and unlikely, but Team Bean is always ridiculous and definitely not the real world.
"They just all got together, since our bruiser took his sweet time getting there," Bryar says, "These guys are not just going to split up again already."
"Even with the cash?"
"Even then. They'll probably hole up and lie low instead." Bryar says, "Jonas, get on their location -- I don't care what you do, legal or not, just get it and lie to me later. Wentz, light a fire under the local LEOs. They're going to be more focused on putting on a show for the press. Don't you fucking dare let them. Urie, you help Asher set up the van. The minute Jonas gets the location, I want us on the move even if it's four days from now."
"What about me, motherfucker?" Frank asks, pouting exaggeratingly.
"You ready firepower," Bryar says, "Prepare for everything just in case, but don't put us in danger of accidentally having Urie blow up the van. Again."
"Hey!" Brendon says, and Kevin tunes the rest of it out. The banter is routine; finding the location is much more important.
Though apparently not important enough to stop Frank from poking at a curl. "Machine or man?" he wonders loudly, "Or is he merely Kevin Jonas, bionic agent?"
"Iero, fuck off and do your job," Bryar growls. Frank disappears out of the room with a giggle.
Kevin doesn't really notice.
*
"Got it," Kevin says, then coughs and tries for it again in a voice that sounds more human, "I got their address. They're going to stay put for a while, it seems."
"Really?" Bryar says, and he actually sounds kind of surprised. "That fast?"
Kevin frowns. "How long has it been?"
Bryar makes a face. "Shit, you're making me guilty. I'm forcing you to take a few days off if all goes well. Fuck, we all should take some days off. But to answer your question, it's been seventeen hours."
"Oh," Kevin says, and considers the fact that the past couple of months of investigation and surveillance have up until now lead nowhere. "I guess that in this case that's pretty quick."
Bryar snorts. "Yeah, no kidding."
Victoria makes a noise. "Seriously? You were riding our ass earlier about how we needed to move at once Ostrich got the address, and you're chit-chatting?"
"I'm the boss," Bryar says, then he's on his feet and quickly reassembling his gun and holstering it. "Let's move."
Kevin bounces to his feet, feeling anticipation thrum through his blood already as he quickly slips his cell phone into his pocket. "Fuck," Bryar says, "My back hurts just watching that."
"Go go go!" Frank cackles, and they do.
*
Kevin is sent to guard the back entrance, leaving Brendon in the van with the technology, Pete's on the front and the others are creeping up to the apartment along with extra backup.
Technically, Kevin should be in the van, but Brendon's very possessive about the van. They have a 'bond'.
"Besides," Frank had said, "Like anyone is going to get by this wall of agents."
Kevin had to agree with that assessment. In a warehouse or some other building that doesn't have their suspects on the third floor furthest away from the stairs, there'd actually be a need for someone on the back door.
Kevin's just there to cover the bureaus ass in the unlikely event something does go wrong. He appreciates it -- the fact that he hasn't been out of the office in two days is catching up with him, so the opportunity for fresh air, even back alley air, doesn't go unappreciated.
This is why he’s totally not expecting it when someone drops down from the fire escape. "Shit," the guy says, righting himself up. "You startled me."
Kevin feels like that should be his line, but he's an agent of the law, so instead he says, "You're under arrest for robbery."
The guy grins, taking a step towards him. "Look at that, they've given you your own pair of cuffs and everything."
"I have a gun," Kevin says, and Mike laughs.
"So you're not happy to see me?" He asks, leering, and kisses Kevin.
"You're still under arrest," Kevin says, when they break apart. He can hear Bryar's voice in his ear, there's not a lot of time left.
Mike glances down at his hands. "I guess that explains my new fashion accessory."
"I've got the bruiser, Bean," Kevin says into his microphone. "Walking him out the alley now."
"I should probably look like I put up a fight," Mike says thoughtfully, "Uphold my cover and all."
"Okay," Kevin says, and socks him.
*
The sound of the front door snapping shut wakes him. He doesn't reach for his gun, because he's nowhere near ready to become a paranoid agent of the law so young, but his eyes dart to the dark outline of it and judges the distance, just in case.
"You've got one hell of a right hook, I'm surprised. But I suppose this is payback for almost breaking your nose that first week."
"Prison life not agree with you?" Kevin asks as the shadow slips into the room, lit up from behind by the hallway light, t-shirt already half-off. "Or should I be expecting a prisoner escape alert?"
"Funny," Mike says, stretching out next to him. He sounds as exhausted as Kevin feels. "An FBI agent with a sense of humor, the criminal underworld would brand me a fucking liar."
"They clearly haven't met our team," Kevin says. "I don't think criminals have as much fun on the job as Brendon, Frank and Pete do."
"Less paperwork though, so it's not all bad." Mike counters.
"And yet you keep adding to your paperwork by going undercover," Kevin points out.
Mike makes an affirmative noise and laughs, low and throaty. "It's the only way of escaping the original Demon Trio for a little while. Wait, our team?"
"It's official," Kevin says, and he smiles, tracing the tender flesh around Mike's eye. "I confirmed my position on the team with Bob and Upstairs before going home. Getting rid of me will now require an extra mountain of paperwork."
The kiss doesn't entirely line up due to matching smiles, but it hardly matters.
Tomorrow there'll be a new case, another day in the office, and most certainly a brutal re-do of their last sparring match in the mat room.
For now, there's this.
Oh, and: Bob's codename is Bean, because Bob Bryar loves Mr. Bean (fact!) and Pete's a douche with a weird sense of humour.
Author: Janne (bergann)
Pairing: Mike Carden/Kevin Jonas
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2 810
Summary: Team Bean is always ridiculous and definitely not the real world. That's probably why Kevin likes it there so much.
Author's Note: This is for black_trillium, who's always ready with the pompoms ♥ It was agony trying to keep this secret, and I didn't even succeed completely. I am helpless without her, okay. /o\
It's also technically for the least romantic Valentine's Day, but I don't know how 'least' this is. It could definitely have been 'more' though.
"How long are you going to be gone for this time?" Kevin asks, his fingers curled around Mike's neck.
Mike presses another kiss to his lips, sweet and lingering, the sort of kiss meant to be remembered, before he answers. "Shouldn't be more than a quick trip. Little over a week tops."
"That long? What if I find someone else by then?"
Mike smirks. "It took you three months to even realize I was flirting. Are you really trying to tell me your game has gotten significantly better lately?"
"Oh yes," Kevin says, "You've taught me a lot. I'm now totally ready to go out into the world and seduce bigger fish with better haircuts and less crazy eyes an--"
For a long moment the only sound in the world seems to be the small growl in Mike's throat. Sadly, the illusion is shattered by the blare of a car horn, bringing with it traffic and the couple in 3b fighting again.
"I'll miss you," Kevin says, when they break apart. "And your stupid hair. Even your crazy, crazy eyes." Mike laughs, nosing Kevin's neck even as Kevin lets his legs drop down from around his waist. "Your cab is waiting."
"Fuck, you play dirty," Mike says, but after a last kiss and the slow removal of his hands from where they've crept beneath Kevin's shirt, he's out the door.
Kevin goes over to the window and stays there until the cab disappears down the street. With a sigh, he lets the curtain fall back, and goes to get ready for work.
*
"K2, my man," Brendon says, holding his fist up for a bump. "How's it going?"
"Same as always," Kevin replies, glancing at the screens. "Any movement?"
"Nah, not really," Brendon sighs, "Dead as road kill since I came on duty. Frank reported some excitement over the bruiser's imminent return, but that's probably the most we're gonna get until he's actually there. Just once I wish they'd let themselves talk about work."
Kevin nods, settling down at his own station. It's the same old story; their target spend ages in the bugged living room, discussing all kinds of shit, but never anything of actual value for them to step in. Business is done in places they haven't been able to bug, not yet. "Just tap me when you need a break," he says, and Brendon nods absently, fingers already back to flying over the keys of his computer.
Kevin cracks his neck and follows suit, starting with the window for the newest tracking device. Once it's set up and he's assured it's working, he keeps it up in a side-window while he starts one of the many other boring things that must be done to keep Upstairs happy.
He's not really surprised when the tracker suddenly goes dead three hours later in an alley in Salt Lake City.
He notes down the details for the future report before shutting the window down, and continuing where he left off.
*
Over the headphones two days later, placed there absently by Frank as he disappeared for lunch, there's a fascinating discussion going on about which is better; Starbucks or Costa. Kevin is momentarily distracted by the blasphemy he's being forced to listen to, mouth open to argue even if they can't hear him, but it's thankfully cut short by the arrival of the bruiser. A round of greetings go up, general long-time-no-sees and how-you-doings, and Kevin is frowning petulantly at the password protected file in front of him, when someone -- the leader and thus mastermind, or maybe it works the other way around -- says, "And how was the wife?"
"Fucking perfect like always, man," the bruiser replies, "Certainly better than hanging out with your sorry asses."
There's general laughter, and Kevin continues listening with half an ear as he starts searching through the e-mail accounts belonging to their suspects for possible clues. At the table, the half of the team not out to lunch are sorting through the massive pile of transcripts for anything they might have accidentally missed since they can't actually listen 24/7, no matter how much coffee they drink.
"Anything interesting?" Frank asks as he drops back into his chair.
"Bruiser's back," Kevin says, holding out the earphones, "but after that, no."
"Aw shit, I missed it? That was going to fucking be, like, the excitement of my day." Frank says, slipping them back on. "These motherfuckers need to fucking go do their job before I die from fucking boredom doing mine."
"Hey, look," Kevin says, a little while later, pointing to the screen. "Suspicious e-mail activity."
"What, really?" Frank asks, perking up. "What is it?"
"An opened e-mail concerning cheap Viagra." He frowns at the computer, considering. "Do you think he actually needs it, was pranked or just found the subject line of 'your rod will be a faultless weapon' just too irresistible?"
"Fuck, Kev," Frank pouts dramatically, clutching over his heart. In the background, Kevin can hear the others cackling, no doubt grateful for the momentary respite from the transcripts. "Why you got to be so cruel, motherfucker?"
Kevin grins as he shrugs. "This case, we make our own excitement."
*
Bob Bryar is scary. Nice, but scary. Kevin has seen Bryar make experienced field agents cry, but they've never been on Bryar's team, which is why Kevin isn't paralyzed with fear right now as he stands in front of Bryar's desk.
He feels a little like throwing up, but he's definitely not frozen to the spot. Always focus on the bright side.
"How are you liking it here?"
"Good," Kevin says, bobbing his head. He feels dread pooling in his stomach. Technically, he's only a temporary replacement until someone more experienced can be found, but it's been nearly a year. He'd kind of thought this could be the one, but he's had a lot of 'we've finally decided on our permanent replacement, and it's not you' talks starting this way. "The team is great. I really like working with them."
Bryar raises an eyebrow. "You've been here eight months," he says, "You haven't thrown anything potentially lethal at Iero's head or shouted about how silence is a wonderful thing you would chop off your arm to have just another sweet, brief taste of."
"No?" Kevin says, and wonders if this is a test. "Should I have?"
Bryar grins and pushes a folder across the desk. "We're on shit duty right now with this surveillance case, but Iero and Urie haven't broken you, Asher hasn't taken your balls for her trophy case, and you haven't reported Wentz to IA. To be honest with you, Jonas, if you don't accept the position permanently, I may have to kidnap you and keep you chained in the office anyway." Kevin stares at Bob for a long time, until he sighs and taps the folder in front of Kevin. "Just consider it."
"No, no," Kevin says hurriedly, "I want the job. I just wasn't expecting it now. In the middle of the case."
Bryar snorts. "We wouldn't have kept you around this long in the first place if we weren't going to keep you. Take the folder, have a department lawyer check it out with you if you want, and just have it back to me, signed or not, by the end of the week."
It'll be on Bryar's desk by tomorrow, unchecked by the Alexes, and Kevin won't be surprised if Bryar already knows that.
He heads back outside into the Zoo, as the door leading into the main room proclaims with sparkles and glitter, and Pete takes one look at the folder in Kevin's hand before dramatically exclaiming, "Are you fucking hesitating to work with us, Paul Kevin Jonas II?"
"He didn't agree at once?" Brendon says, looking equally wounded. "But Team Bobcat is awesome!"
"He hasn't agreed because I don't want him committing himself to you guys without actually thinking about it first." Bryar says, appearing in the doorway, "And Urie, that is not my codename no matter how many times you say it is."
"But it should be," Brendon protests, "Bobcat is a genius codename."
"Yeah," Bryar snorts, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. "I feel better than ever about the decision to never let you think up the codenames for my team."
"As though Pete's was any better!" Brendon protests, with the voice of one who's already gone through this argument countless times but is ready to try it again.
"The forms are just a formality anyway, at this point," Victoria interrupts, not looking up from her magazine. She has the headphones on one ear, notebook and pen within easy reach in case anything interesting is said and should be noted down outside of the transcripts. "We've named him, given him a corner and fed him. He's already ours."
"He's even added a stain to our carpet," Frank says, not actually looking up from his work.
Bryar smiles at this, like he agrees that you can't leave a team once you've bled on their carpet, but doesn't say anything before disappearing back into his office.
Kevin turns to Brendon after a while and says, "I think Bobcat is an awesome codename."
Pete cackles and tackles Kevin to the floor.
*
"There's been a robbery," Bryar informs them.
Brendon squeaks in surprise, as does Kevin, but thankfully Brendon's louder. "I thought we agreed you weren't going to do that sneaky-ninja thing anymore," Brendon says, voice full of reproach.
There’s the smallest hint of a pleased smile on Bryar's face, before he turns serious again. "They got away with 10 million."
"Shit," Pete says, whistling appreciatively. "And they say crime doesn't pay."
"Money doesn't help you in prison," Bryar says.
"The system is fucking corrupt, and I say that as a minion for the Man," Frank says, "So it really kind of fucking does."
"Anyway," Bryar continues, ignoring Iero with practiced ease. "I want you all prepared to move out in case we get wind of their location."
"You don't think they've scattered?" Victoria asks, eyebrow raised. She's the only girl Kevin has ever remotely considered having sex with; although he's never been entirely sure if this is because she's just that hot or because he really is curious enough about whether or not she eats her mates after, like everyone says she does. In the context of the real world, it seems ridiculous and unlikely, but Team Bean is always ridiculous and definitely not the real world.
"They just all got together, since our bruiser took his sweet time getting there," Bryar says, "These guys are not just going to split up again already."
"Even with the cash?"
"Even then. They'll probably hole up and lie low instead." Bryar says, "Jonas, get on their location -- I don't care what you do, legal or not, just get it and lie to me later. Wentz, light a fire under the local LEOs. They're going to be more focused on putting on a show for the press. Don't you fucking dare let them. Urie, you help Asher set up the van. The minute Jonas gets the location, I want us on the move even if it's four days from now."
"What about me, motherfucker?" Frank asks, pouting exaggeratingly.
"You ready firepower," Bryar says, "Prepare for everything just in case, but don't put us in danger of accidentally having Urie blow up the van. Again."
"Hey!" Brendon says, and Kevin tunes the rest of it out. The banter is routine; finding the location is much more important.
Though apparently not important enough to stop Frank from poking at a curl. "Machine or man?" he wonders loudly, "Or is he merely Kevin Jonas, bionic agent?"
"Iero, fuck off and do your job," Bryar growls. Frank disappears out of the room with a giggle.
Kevin doesn't really notice.
*
"Got it," Kevin says, then coughs and tries for it again in a voice that sounds more human, "I got their address. They're going to stay put for a while, it seems."
"Really?" Bryar says, and he actually sounds kind of surprised. "That fast?"
Kevin frowns. "How long has it been?"
Bryar makes a face. "Shit, you're making me guilty. I'm forcing you to take a few days off if all goes well. Fuck, we all should take some days off. But to answer your question, it's been seventeen hours."
"Oh," Kevin says, and considers the fact that the past couple of months of investigation and surveillance have up until now lead nowhere. "I guess that in this case that's pretty quick."
Bryar snorts. "Yeah, no kidding."
Victoria makes a noise. "Seriously? You were riding our ass earlier about how we needed to move at once Ostrich got the address, and you're chit-chatting?"
"I'm the boss," Bryar says, then he's on his feet and quickly reassembling his gun and holstering it. "Let's move."
Kevin bounces to his feet, feeling anticipation thrum through his blood already as he quickly slips his cell phone into his pocket. "Fuck," Bryar says, "My back hurts just watching that."
"Go go go!" Frank cackles, and they do.
*
Kevin is sent to guard the back entrance, leaving Brendon in the van with the technology, Pete's on the front and the others are creeping up to the apartment along with extra backup.
Technically, Kevin should be in the van, but Brendon's very possessive about the van. They have a 'bond'.
"Besides," Frank had said, "Like anyone is going to get by this wall of agents."
Kevin had to agree with that assessment. In a warehouse or some other building that doesn't have their suspects on the third floor furthest away from the stairs, there'd actually be a need for someone on the back door.
Kevin's just there to cover the bureaus ass in the unlikely event something does go wrong. He appreciates it -- the fact that he hasn't been out of the office in two days is catching up with him, so the opportunity for fresh air, even back alley air, doesn't go unappreciated.
This is why he’s totally not expecting it when someone drops down from the fire escape. "Shit," the guy says, righting himself up. "You startled me."
Kevin feels like that should be his line, but he's an agent of the law, so instead he says, "You're under arrest for robbery."
The guy grins, taking a step towards him. "Look at that, they've given you your own pair of cuffs and everything."
"I have a gun," Kevin says, and Mike laughs.
"So you're not happy to see me?" He asks, leering, and kisses Kevin.
"You're still under arrest," Kevin says, when they break apart. He can hear Bryar's voice in his ear, there's not a lot of time left.
Mike glances down at his hands. "I guess that explains my new fashion accessory."
"I've got the bruiser, Bean," Kevin says into his microphone. "Walking him out the alley now."
"I should probably look like I put up a fight," Mike says thoughtfully, "Uphold my cover and all."
"Okay," Kevin says, and socks him.
*
The sound of the front door snapping shut wakes him. He doesn't reach for his gun, because he's nowhere near ready to become a paranoid agent of the law so young, but his eyes dart to the dark outline of it and judges the distance, just in case.
"You've got one hell of a right hook, I'm surprised. But I suppose this is payback for almost breaking your nose that first week."
"Prison life not agree with you?" Kevin asks as the shadow slips into the room, lit up from behind by the hallway light, t-shirt already half-off. "Or should I be expecting a prisoner escape alert?"
"Funny," Mike says, stretching out next to him. He sounds as exhausted as Kevin feels. "An FBI agent with a sense of humor, the criminal underworld would brand me a fucking liar."
"They clearly haven't met our team," Kevin says. "I don't think criminals have as much fun on the job as Brendon, Frank and Pete do."
"Less paperwork though, so it's not all bad." Mike counters.
"And yet you keep adding to your paperwork by going undercover," Kevin points out.
Mike makes an affirmative noise and laughs, low and throaty. "It's the only way of escaping the original Demon Trio for a little while. Wait, our team?"
"It's official," Kevin says, and he smiles, tracing the tender flesh around Mike's eye. "I confirmed my position on the team with Bob and Upstairs before going home. Getting rid of me will now require an extra mountain of paperwork."
The kiss doesn't entirely line up due to matching smiles, but it hardly matters.
Tomorrow there'll be a new case, another day in the office, and most certainly a brutal re-do of their last sparring match in the mat room.
For now, there's this.
Oh, and: Bob's codename is Bean, because Bob Bryar loves Mr. Bean (fact!) and Pete's a douche with a weird sense of humour.