Fic: Know For Sure There is Evil Out There To Fight by bergann
Title: Know For Sure There Is Evil Out There To Fight
Author: Janne (bergann)
Pairing: Mike Carden/Kevin Jonas
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3 052
Summary: "I don't know where to look," Pete says with what could be real distress. "With excitement at Mike ready to, like, explode and tear you limb from limb or appreciatively at our very own Princess Thermopolis."
Author's Note: Another instalment in the kind-of-pointless-but-it-keeps-me-entertained FBI AU. Sequel to Whereabouts Are Now Unknown. Be aware unrealistic scenes and a very flirty FBI department. Also sillyness. There must be something in the water.
This is for black_trillium who wanted to see Mike Carden being stupidly overprotective of Kevin, only without the outcome he'd expect from it. Enjoy!
"Is anyone else seeing the hilarity of Ostrich being our only option for this?" Pete asks, leaned so far back on his chair it's probably just a matter of time until it tips.
"Brendon was an option too," Bob says. "But then I actually thought about it for more than three seconds, and no."
"Hey!" Brendon protests. "Why are you dissing my skills with a zee?"
"Brendon," Bob says patiently, "The last, and only, two undercover assignments you've been activated on, you've ended up with the informant as your new boyfriend."
"Did it have any effect on the job?" Brendon demands. "No, it didn't, and nothing outside of absolute professionalism happened until after we'd closed the cases."
"In the eyes of the FBI, dating anyone related to open cases is still a huge fucking no-no," Bob says.
"I never dated either of them," Brendon says, "Jon and Spencer are friends. I mean, yes okay, there was that one drunken kiss with Jon, and Spencer does have a lovely beard for a male lesbian, but they are my friends and nothing more. You want to know why, Bob? It's because I am professional to a fucking fault, ok? You're just jealous, Bob, jealous of my charm and the fact that you're not getting a piece of this hot bod."
"Am I going to get a piece?" Pete asks curiously, leering.
"Only your wife is there too," Brendon graciously agrees with an exaggerated leer, and Pete hits the floor hard.
"You fucking loser," Frank laughs, hitting Pete square in the forehead with a pen. "With skills as smooth as those, it's a wonder you fucking got a wife in the first place."
"Bob kicked out the legs!" Pete protests, "It was sabotage!"
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Bob says, cool as a fucking cucumber. "For the slander of your superior."
"It's not slander if it's true, motherfucker!"
"Hold on a fucking minute," Brendon says, pointing an accusing finger at Bob. "Pete is not a Gryffindor."
"Fuck you."
"Like I said, only if your wife is there," Brendon says and turns to Frank. "Why isn't he getting that part?"
"I don't know, Brenny-baby, but I would certainly get and appreciate any part you'd be willing to share with me."
The voice comes from the main door -- the door that's supposed to be impossible to open silently, although there is a certain art to it that only two people in the building know and Mike is one of them -- and the majority of the room startles like a spooked cat.
Bob, however, groans like he's been shot, and Mike would be doing the same, except that'd be to admit defeat, which no fucking way he's doing that.
"I have returned your new plaything," Gabe announces grandly, stepping aside to reveal Kevin in a pair of tight, leopard striped, blue shorts and a black shirt so tight it actually look like he's only capable of severely restricted movement. He's blushing furiously, clearly wishing for a convenient crevasse to open nearby so he can leap into it, and nearly jumps out of his skin when Gabe's hands land on his shoulders.
Mike growls without thinking, low and territorial, and Gabe, predictably, laughs at him.
"Saporta," Bob says, tone long-suffering. "Really?"
"You wanted him to fit in and draw attention," Gabe begins, but is cut off by Frank.
"Mission fucking accomplished."
"Thank you, Signor Iero," Gabe says, bowing his head with a grin, before turning back to Bob. "I merely did my job as you instructed, grand sir, and might I say, what a pleasure my job is. Truly, the best assignment I've had yet."
"I don't know where to look," Pete says with what could be real distress. "With excitement at Mike ready to, like, explode and tear you limb from limb or appreciatively at our very own Princess Thermopolis."
"Seriously?" Brendon asks, eyebrows raised. "You're making a Princess Diaries reference? Now?"
Kevin is so embarrassed it looks like he might actually start to cry, and Mike growls, "Fuck this," before he snatches Kevin out of Gabe's clutches and drags him into Bob's office.
"You fuck in there, I'm going to make you replace every goddamn piece of furniture in there before I fire you," Bob shouts after them.
Mike kicks the door closed, and doesn't let go of Kevin's wrist until they're facing each other completely in the silent room. "You okay?"
"Somewhere," Kevin says, "my mother is crying and she doesn't even know why."
"Hey," Mike says, "It's just a job. It doesn't change anything and nothing is going to happen. They're just acting like assholes because it's your first time under and they're worried in their own douche-y ways."
"I thought it was just their default state," Kevin says, with the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.
Mike snorts and nods. "That too. Just ignore the words they're spouting and focus on the tone they're using."
"That...doesn't sound like you," Kevin says. "Are you mangling Better Off Ted quotes at me?"
"You'll feel vulnerable like a fawn in the woods," Mike says, keeps his face completely serious, "but just remember that you're tough, like a fawn in the woods with a machine gun."
Kevin starts to laugh, just a little at first until his entire body is shaking with it, all the embarrassment and nerves finding an alternate release.
"But it does remind me of something," Mike says, once he's got the laughter back under control. "Like where the fuck is your gun hidden and how are you supposed to wear a wire unnoticed?"
"The gun is in my boot," Kevin says, gestures at his knee high black leather boots. "And I'm not the one wearing the wire?"
"How am I supposed to know?" Mike asks, but he steps closer and lifts up the edge of Kevin's shirt enough to verify that Kevin really isn't wearing a wire. "If you're not wearing it, then who the fuck is?"
"The informant," Kevin says, and Mike appreciates him toning back the 'duh'.
Mike snorts. "Yeah." he stares at the fabric for a moment longer, kind of thrown, before his gaze flicks down to Kevin's boots. "Can you reach it fast enough?"
"Yes," Kevin says, although his movements are suspiciously jerky as he lifts his arm up to Mike's neck, thumbs stroking under his ear. Mike's hands go to his waist. "Thank you."
"For?"
"Calming me down," Kevin says, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Not killing agents of the law out of misplaced jealousy."
"I wasn't jealous," Mike denies, because his image as a hard-ass has suffered drastically lately and he feels there's something he should cling to. "Let me time how long it takes you to reach your gun."
Kevin's eyebrows rise. "Are you serious?"
"You look like you can barely move," Mike says. "I just want to make sure you can reach it if things go bad."
"Trust me," Kevin says, "I can."
He slips out of Mike's arms and around him, opening the door and walking back into the bullpen, by all appearances back to his usual self.
"Loss of stamina? It happens at a certain point in relationships," Gabe says sympathetically. "Just come to me instead, baby, I could treat you right."
"Gabe, go back to your basement," Bob says, "We've got a briefing to do."
"Yeth, Mather," Gabe says, and with an exaggerated hunch, he lurches out of the room dragging his left foot behind him.
"I thought we just got him to stop doing that," Brendon says, "There was that memo from Upstairs and everything."
"Not our problem anymore," Bob says, "Now all of you shut up if you want this job to be done by tomorrow. I am not granting overtime on this."
*
William is a mix between delighted and amused when he meets Kevin. "He's so precious!" he says, waving his hands out towards where Kevin's standing, nearly hitting Frank in the process. "Gabe always does give the best presents."
"Watch it, Bill," Frank says, "The owner's in the corner and armed. You technically don't have to be unharmed for this mission."
"Noted," William says, flashing a grin in Mike's direction. "I'll move on to business then. You're sure he's able to pull this off?"
"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Kevin cuts in, "After all, I'm right here."
William laughs. "Feisty too," he says, "I do approve. And no offense, young one, but this is your first time. In the interest of my own health, I'd rather have these guys confirm that you will be able to get this guy before he gets me."
"Fine," Kevin scowls, shrugs back into the FBI windbreaker, "I'll go check in with Brendon then."
He leaves the room with a hurt look at Mike that nearly makes him groan. He knows nerves are high before a mission like this, and maybe he did overreact a little, but seriously. Kevin's supposed to get him by now, and he should definitely know that Mike is an asshole as much as the others.
"Trouble in paradise?" William inquires, eyebrow raised. "I have a friend who works magic through couples therapy --"
"Shut the fuck up, Bill," Mike says, "Just get this fucking job done."
"When don't I?" William asks, offended. "All the times we've done this, when have I not gotten you your man in the end?"
"None," Bob says, coming into the room. "And we'd like to keep it that way. Now, are you ready?"
"Simba, testing," Frank says, leaning towards William's chest, "You hearing this?" He listens for a moment, head tilted to the side, then nods and steps back. "Brendon says we're good to go."
"Great," William says, "Now where did my bodyguard go? We have an important meeting to make."
Bob rolls his eyes. "Careful, Beckett," he says, "I want to keep this one."
"Don't worry," William says, "I'll be gentle with him."
Bob stares at him for a moment before he chuckles, shaking his head. "Yeah," he says, still amused as he heads out the door, "You do that."
"What just happened?" William asks, looking slightly disturbed. "Bryar does not laugh or chuckle or show signs of amusement, does he?."
"Don't worry," Frank says, clapping him on the back on his way out the door. "It's usually a sign he likes you."
"Or thinks you're going to die," Mike adds, "but I wouldn't worry about that."
"Not funny, Mike Carden. I have known you since you were eight; I can call your bluffs." William says, but he knows that Mike makes his living conning his way into the good graces of the scum of Chicago to bring them down, so Mike just smiles and doesn't answer.
*
The plan is relatively simple, considering who's behind it.
William's managed to set up a business meeting with the current asshole in Chicago with drug deals going on in all directions and the most literal skeletons in the closest. The meeting is going down in a gay club with pretty specific requirements for entry, a place this asshole frequents a lot, and the fatality rate for potential business partners who go in alone is alarmingly high. This is where Kevin comes in. In theory, he looks harmless enough that they'll let him in without any problems, but also more than capable of providing William with protection should he need it.
The deal will go down, recorded through the wire William's wearing. William and Kevin will exit, and once the asshole leaves the club, an FBI team will be waiting outside to arrest him without any fuss.
If nothing goes wrong, it should be a cakewalk.
Except Mike can't let go of the thought that Kevin's never done a job like this. Kevin's FBI, sure, and he graduated the Academy with high praises, but he's like Brendon -- primarily a tech, and only in the field when necessary. He was never meant to be alone in the field, especially not on a job like this.
It's all running through his head again while he's waiting in the van with the others, but he keeps his mouth shut. Bob's had it pointed out to him from all of them before, and doing it again only means he'll risk being asked if he's sure he isn't 'too emotionally compromised' for the job.
Which -- no way is Mike gonna let Bob even consider those words are in any way applicable to him.
*
Mike's not even sure when the deal started going south, because over the wire it sounded the same as every other deal they've sat in on has. It doesn't really matter though, because one moment, William is laughingly joking about the horrors of running a business with your boyfriend, and the next, he's going, "A fashion choice that really should be brought back is the codpiece, don't you agree?"
Pete and Brendon stare at each other in the darkness of the van. "Did he just --?"
"Go," Bob says over the comms, but Mike is already wrenching the van door open. "Fucking go, they're in trouble."
"I've got the alley," Mike shouts to Pete and doesn't stop to make sure he heard him, just continues running.
"Shots fired," Brendon reports through the comms, and he can hear Frank calling in for an ambulance, possible man down, before he tunes everything else out and puts on an extra burst of speed for the last couple of feet to the door.
Before he has a chance to get the alley door open, however, it swings open and lands him flat on his ass, gun falling out of his hands. Mike identifies the man stepping out of the door immediately as the asshole they're here to bring down, but it's a lot less pressing than the fact that the asshole has one hand pressed over Kevin's mouth and the other holding a gun to his chin.
"What the fuck," the asshole says, eyes darting up and down the alley. "Are Feds like rats or some shit? You get one, you get a whole fucking nest?"
"Let him fucking go," Mike says, and since the guy doesn't actually have a gun trained on him, he takes the chance to sit up. His gun is still lying too far out of reach for him to get it without risking Kevin's life, but some more time, and he might make it. "Just don't make me listen to some cliché fucking bad guy speech."
"Shut the fuck up and stay put," the asshole says, forcing Kevin a couple of steps forward and kicking Mike's gun underneath a dumpster. "You sit there and fucking shut up, while I go for a little walk with your partner here down the block, okay?"
Mike raises an eyebrow. "You're stupider than a shoe if you think we don't have men all up and down this neighborhood."
"In that case, no reason why I shouldn't shoot you now, is there?" the asshole says, smiling as he swings his gun on Mike.
The second the gun is no longer pressing against his jaw, Kevin's a blur of motion. His elbow goes into the asshole's stomach as a shot rings out, and he crouches down as he spins, his back to Mike, followed by another gun shot that makes the asshole crumple completely with a pained shout.
"Christ," Mike says, one hand pressing against the asshole's shoulder wound, "You okay, kid?"
Kevin laughs, shaky. "Seriously?" he says, "I just saved your life, and you're asking me if I'm okay?"
"You're bleeding," Mike says, reaching up to press his thumb to a cut on Kevin's eyebrow. "I'm not."
"Dude pistol whipped me," Kevin says, shrugging. "It's nothing."
"That's usually my line," Mike says, "But fine. I'll let it go. Come on, asshole, let's get moving."
"Fucking shit," the asshole says, "That smarts."
"Not as much as it would have if I'd shot you," Mike promises him, just as Pete enters the alley. "Still operating under the 'better late than never', I see."
"Shut it, Carden," Pete says, "Your ear bud fell out. We had no fucking idea where you were, and there are three wounded indoors. You seem to have handled yourself just fine."
"Kevin got him," Mike agrees, pushes the guy towards Pete. "Here, I gotta go find my gun."
"This is brilliant," Pete says, "Mike Carden: Damsel in Distress. I never thought I'd live to see the day."
"You might not live through it if you don't shut up," Mike says, but it's half-hearted. He knows there's nothing he can do to stop the teasing and jokes that are bound to arise from this.
"How's William?" Kevin asks, "He's alright, isn't he? I didn't see how bad it was before I got dragged out of there."
"He's fine," Pete says, and delivers a small kick to Mike's ankle as he walks past, holstering his gun. "He's an agent same as you, takes more than this to shake him. He did get a small graze from a bullet, but that's nothing a band-aid won't fix. Frank and Bob are in there now, calming everyone down."
"Okay," Kevin says, "Okay, good."
"You saved the fucking day, Kevin Jonas." Pete says, "C'mon, let's head out front, so Brendon can stop having fucking kittens over the fucking comms."
"Hey," Mike says, touching Kevin's elbow lightly as Pete starts walking the asshole down the alley. "I acted like an asshole earlier when I doubted you could get to the gun in time."
Kevin smiles tiredly at him. "I know you didn't mean it like that," he says, "I was nervous and I had enough of that kind of insinuations about my abilities at the Academy, so I kind of snapped."
"I'm sorry," Mike repeats, and Kevin smiles at him, warmer this time. Now that the moment's over, Mike suddenly notices that Kevin's still in the stupid clothes Gabe outfitted him with, and without asking, he shrugs out of his own jacket and drapes it around him.
Kevin darts in to press a quick kiss against his lips, accompanied by a soft, "Thanks."
Mike doesn't answer, just bumps his shoulder against Kevin's and heads down the alley after Pete. They still have work to do.
Download the awesome mix by pseudo_catalyst by clicking on the cover above.
Author: Janne (bergann)
Pairing: Mike Carden/Kevin Jonas
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3 052
Summary: "I don't know where to look," Pete says with what could be real distress. "With excitement at Mike ready to, like, explode and tear you limb from limb or appreciatively at our very own Princess Thermopolis."
Author's Note: Another instalment in the kind-of-pointless-but-it-keeps-me-entertained FBI AU. Sequel to Whereabouts Are Now Unknown. Be aware unrealistic scenes and a very flirty FBI department. Also sillyness. There must be something in the water.
This is for black_trillium who wanted to see Mike Carden being stupidly overprotective of Kevin, only without the outcome he'd expect from it. Enjoy!
"Is anyone else seeing the hilarity of Ostrich being our only option for this?" Pete asks, leaned so far back on his chair it's probably just a matter of time until it tips.
"Brendon was an option too," Bob says. "But then I actually thought about it for more than three seconds, and no."
"Hey!" Brendon protests. "Why are you dissing my skills with a zee?"
"Brendon," Bob says patiently, "The last, and only, two undercover assignments you've been activated on, you've ended up with the informant as your new boyfriend."
"Did it have any effect on the job?" Brendon demands. "No, it didn't, and nothing outside of absolute professionalism happened until after we'd closed the cases."
"In the eyes of the FBI, dating anyone related to open cases is still a huge fucking no-no," Bob says.
"I never dated either of them," Brendon says, "Jon and Spencer are friends. I mean, yes okay, there was that one drunken kiss with Jon, and Spencer does have a lovely beard for a male lesbian, but they are my friends and nothing more. You want to know why, Bob? It's because I am professional to a fucking fault, ok? You're just jealous, Bob, jealous of my charm and the fact that you're not getting a piece of this hot bod."
"Am I going to get a piece?" Pete asks curiously, leering.
"Only your wife is there too," Brendon graciously agrees with an exaggerated leer, and Pete hits the floor hard.
"You fucking loser," Frank laughs, hitting Pete square in the forehead with a pen. "With skills as smooth as those, it's a wonder you fucking got a wife in the first place."
"Bob kicked out the legs!" Pete protests, "It was sabotage!"
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Bob says, cool as a fucking cucumber. "For the slander of your superior."
"It's not slander if it's true, motherfucker!"
"Hold on a fucking minute," Brendon says, pointing an accusing finger at Bob. "Pete is not a Gryffindor."
"Fuck you."
"Like I said, only if your wife is there," Brendon says and turns to Frank. "Why isn't he getting that part?"
"I don't know, Brenny-baby, but I would certainly get and appreciate any part you'd be willing to share with me."
The voice comes from the main door -- the door that's supposed to be impossible to open silently, although there is a certain art to it that only two people in the building know and Mike is one of them -- and the majority of the room startles like a spooked cat.
Bob, however, groans like he's been shot, and Mike would be doing the same, except that'd be to admit defeat, which no fucking way he's doing that.
"I have returned your new plaything," Gabe announces grandly, stepping aside to reveal Kevin in a pair of tight, leopard striped, blue shorts and a black shirt so tight it actually look like he's only capable of severely restricted movement. He's blushing furiously, clearly wishing for a convenient crevasse to open nearby so he can leap into it, and nearly jumps out of his skin when Gabe's hands land on his shoulders.
Mike growls without thinking, low and territorial, and Gabe, predictably, laughs at him.
"Saporta," Bob says, tone long-suffering. "Really?"
"You wanted him to fit in and draw attention," Gabe begins, but is cut off by Frank.
"Mission fucking accomplished."
"Thank you, Signor Iero," Gabe says, bowing his head with a grin, before turning back to Bob. "I merely did my job as you instructed, grand sir, and might I say, what a pleasure my job is. Truly, the best assignment I've had yet."
"I don't know where to look," Pete says with what could be real distress. "With excitement at Mike ready to, like, explode and tear you limb from limb or appreciatively at our very own Princess Thermopolis."
"Seriously?" Brendon asks, eyebrows raised. "You're making a Princess Diaries reference? Now?"
Kevin is so embarrassed it looks like he might actually start to cry, and Mike growls, "Fuck this," before he snatches Kevin out of Gabe's clutches and drags him into Bob's office.
"You fuck in there, I'm going to make you replace every goddamn piece of furniture in there before I fire you," Bob shouts after them.
Mike kicks the door closed, and doesn't let go of Kevin's wrist until they're facing each other completely in the silent room. "You okay?"
"Somewhere," Kevin says, "my mother is crying and she doesn't even know why."
"Hey," Mike says, "It's just a job. It doesn't change anything and nothing is going to happen. They're just acting like assholes because it's your first time under and they're worried in their own douche-y ways."
"I thought it was just their default state," Kevin says, with the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.
Mike snorts and nods. "That too. Just ignore the words they're spouting and focus on the tone they're using."
"That...doesn't sound like you," Kevin says. "Are you mangling Better Off Ted quotes at me?"
"You'll feel vulnerable like a fawn in the woods," Mike says, keeps his face completely serious, "but just remember that you're tough, like a fawn in the woods with a machine gun."
Kevin starts to laugh, just a little at first until his entire body is shaking with it, all the embarrassment and nerves finding an alternate release.
"But it does remind me of something," Mike says, once he's got the laughter back under control. "Like where the fuck is your gun hidden and how are you supposed to wear a wire unnoticed?"
"The gun is in my boot," Kevin says, gestures at his knee high black leather boots. "And I'm not the one wearing the wire?"
"How am I supposed to know?" Mike asks, but he steps closer and lifts up the edge of Kevin's shirt enough to verify that Kevin really isn't wearing a wire. "If you're not wearing it, then who the fuck is?"
"The informant," Kevin says, and Mike appreciates him toning back the 'duh'.
Mike snorts. "Yeah." he stares at the fabric for a moment longer, kind of thrown, before his gaze flicks down to Kevin's boots. "Can you reach it fast enough?"
"Yes," Kevin says, although his movements are suspiciously jerky as he lifts his arm up to Mike's neck, thumbs stroking under his ear. Mike's hands go to his waist. "Thank you."
"For?"
"Calming me down," Kevin says, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Not killing agents of the law out of misplaced jealousy."
"I wasn't jealous," Mike denies, because his image as a hard-ass has suffered drastically lately and he feels there's something he should cling to. "Let me time how long it takes you to reach your gun."
Kevin's eyebrows rise. "Are you serious?"
"You look like you can barely move," Mike says. "I just want to make sure you can reach it if things go bad."
"Trust me," Kevin says, "I can."
He slips out of Mike's arms and around him, opening the door and walking back into the bullpen, by all appearances back to his usual self.
"Loss of stamina? It happens at a certain point in relationships," Gabe says sympathetically. "Just come to me instead, baby, I could treat you right."
"Gabe, go back to your basement," Bob says, "We've got a briefing to do."
"Yeth, Mather," Gabe says, and with an exaggerated hunch, he lurches out of the room dragging his left foot behind him.
"I thought we just got him to stop doing that," Brendon says, "There was that memo from Upstairs and everything."
"Not our problem anymore," Bob says, "Now all of you shut up if you want this job to be done by tomorrow. I am not granting overtime on this."
*
William is a mix between delighted and amused when he meets Kevin. "He's so precious!" he says, waving his hands out towards where Kevin's standing, nearly hitting Frank in the process. "Gabe always does give the best presents."
"Watch it, Bill," Frank says, "The owner's in the corner and armed. You technically don't have to be unharmed for this mission."
"Noted," William says, flashing a grin in Mike's direction. "I'll move on to business then. You're sure he's able to pull this off?"
"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Kevin cuts in, "After all, I'm right here."
William laughs. "Feisty too," he says, "I do approve. And no offense, young one, but this is your first time. In the interest of my own health, I'd rather have these guys confirm that you will be able to get this guy before he gets me."
"Fine," Kevin scowls, shrugs back into the FBI windbreaker, "I'll go check in with Brendon then."
He leaves the room with a hurt look at Mike that nearly makes him groan. He knows nerves are high before a mission like this, and maybe he did overreact a little, but seriously. Kevin's supposed to get him by now, and he should definitely know that Mike is an asshole as much as the others.
"Trouble in paradise?" William inquires, eyebrow raised. "I have a friend who works magic through couples therapy --"
"Shut the fuck up, Bill," Mike says, "Just get this fucking job done."
"When don't I?" William asks, offended. "All the times we've done this, when have I not gotten you your man in the end?"
"None," Bob says, coming into the room. "And we'd like to keep it that way. Now, are you ready?"
"Simba, testing," Frank says, leaning towards William's chest, "You hearing this?" He listens for a moment, head tilted to the side, then nods and steps back. "Brendon says we're good to go."
"Great," William says, "Now where did my bodyguard go? We have an important meeting to make."
Bob rolls his eyes. "Careful, Beckett," he says, "I want to keep this one."
"Don't worry," William says, "I'll be gentle with him."
Bob stares at him for a moment before he chuckles, shaking his head. "Yeah," he says, still amused as he heads out the door, "You do that."
"What just happened?" William asks, looking slightly disturbed. "Bryar does not laugh or chuckle or show signs of amusement, does he?."
"Don't worry," Frank says, clapping him on the back on his way out the door. "It's usually a sign he likes you."
"Or thinks you're going to die," Mike adds, "but I wouldn't worry about that."
"Not funny, Mike Carden. I have known you since you were eight; I can call your bluffs." William says, but he knows that Mike makes his living conning his way into the good graces of the scum of Chicago to bring them down, so Mike just smiles and doesn't answer.
*
The plan is relatively simple, considering who's behind it.
William's managed to set up a business meeting with the current asshole in Chicago with drug deals going on in all directions and the most literal skeletons in the closest. The meeting is going down in a gay club with pretty specific requirements for entry, a place this asshole frequents a lot, and the fatality rate for potential business partners who go in alone is alarmingly high. This is where Kevin comes in. In theory, he looks harmless enough that they'll let him in without any problems, but also more than capable of providing William with protection should he need it.
The deal will go down, recorded through the wire William's wearing. William and Kevin will exit, and once the asshole leaves the club, an FBI team will be waiting outside to arrest him without any fuss.
If nothing goes wrong, it should be a cakewalk.
Except Mike can't let go of the thought that Kevin's never done a job like this. Kevin's FBI, sure, and he graduated the Academy with high praises, but he's like Brendon -- primarily a tech, and only in the field when necessary. He was never meant to be alone in the field, especially not on a job like this.
It's all running through his head again while he's waiting in the van with the others, but he keeps his mouth shut. Bob's had it pointed out to him from all of them before, and doing it again only means he'll risk being asked if he's sure he isn't 'too emotionally compromised' for the job.
Which -- no way is Mike gonna let Bob even consider those words are in any way applicable to him.
*
Mike's not even sure when the deal started going south, because over the wire it sounded the same as every other deal they've sat in on has. It doesn't really matter though, because one moment, William is laughingly joking about the horrors of running a business with your boyfriend, and the next, he's going, "A fashion choice that really should be brought back is the codpiece, don't you agree?"
Pete and Brendon stare at each other in the darkness of the van. "Did he just --?"
"Go," Bob says over the comms, but Mike is already wrenching the van door open. "Fucking go, they're in trouble."
"I've got the alley," Mike shouts to Pete and doesn't stop to make sure he heard him, just continues running.
"Shots fired," Brendon reports through the comms, and he can hear Frank calling in for an ambulance, possible man down, before he tunes everything else out and puts on an extra burst of speed for the last couple of feet to the door.
Before he has a chance to get the alley door open, however, it swings open and lands him flat on his ass, gun falling out of his hands. Mike identifies the man stepping out of the door immediately as the asshole they're here to bring down, but it's a lot less pressing than the fact that the asshole has one hand pressed over Kevin's mouth and the other holding a gun to his chin.
"What the fuck," the asshole says, eyes darting up and down the alley. "Are Feds like rats or some shit? You get one, you get a whole fucking nest?"
"Let him fucking go," Mike says, and since the guy doesn't actually have a gun trained on him, he takes the chance to sit up. His gun is still lying too far out of reach for him to get it without risking Kevin's life, but some more time, and he might make it. "Just don't make me listen to some cliché fucking bad guy speech."
"Shut the fuck up and stay put," the asshole says, forcing Kevin a couple of steps forward and kicking Mike's gun underneath a dumpster. "You sit there and fucking shut up, while I go for a little walk with your partner here down the block, okay?"
Mike raises an eyebrow. "You're stupider than a shoe if you think we don't have men all up and down this neighborhood."
"In that case, no reason why I shouldn't shoot you now, is there?" the asshole says, smiling as he swings his gun on Mike.
The second the gun is no longer pressing against his jaw, Kevin's a blur of motion. His elbow goes into the asshole's stomach as a shot rings out, and he crouches down as he spins, his back to Mike, followed by another gun shot that makes the asshole crumple completely with a pained shout.
"Christ," Mike says, one hand pressing against the asshole's shoulder wound, "You okay, kid?"
Kevin laughs, shaky. "Seriously?" he says, "I just saved your life, and you're asking me if I'm okay?"
"You're bleeding," Mike says, reaching up to press his thumb to a cut on Kevin's eyebrow. "I'm not."
"Dude pistol whipped me," Kevin says, shrugging. "It's nothing."
"That's usually my line," Mike says, "But fine. I'll let it go. Come on, asshole, let's get moving."
"Fucking shit," the asshole says, "That smarts."
"Not as much as it would have if I'd shot you," Mike promises him, just as Pete enters the alley. "Still operating under the 'better late than never', I see."
"Shut it, Carden," Pete says, "Your ear bud fell out. We had no fucking idea where you were, and there are three wounded indoors. You seem to have handled yourself just fine."
"Kevin got him," Mike agrees, pushes the guy towards Pete. "Here, I gotta go find my gun."
"This is brilliant," Pete says, "Mike Carden: Damsel in Distress. I never thought I'd live to see the day."
"You might not live through it if you don't shut up," Mike says, but it's half-hearted. He knows there's nothing he can do to stop the teasing and jokes that are bound to arise from this.
"How's William?" Kevin asks, "He's alright, isn't he? I didn't see how bad it was before I got dragged out of there."
"He's fine," Pete says, and delivers a small kick to Mike's ankle as he walks past, holstering his gun. "He's an agent same as you, takes more than this to shake him. He did get a small graze from a bullet, but that's nothing a band-aid won't fix. Frank and Bob are in there now, calming everyone down."
"Okay," Kevin says, "Okay, good."
"You saved the fucking day, Kevin Jonas." Pete says, "C'mon, let's head out front, so Brendon can stop having fucking kittens over the fucking comms."
"Hey," Mike says, touching Kevin's elbow lightly as Pete starts walking the asshole down the alley. "I acted like an asshole earlier when I doubted you could get to the gun in time."
Kevin smiles tiredly at him. "I know you didn't mean it like that," he says, "I was nervous and I had enough of that kind of insinuations about my abilities at the Academy, so I kind of snapped."
"I'm sorry," Mike repeats, and Kevin smiles at him, warmer this time. Now that the moment's over, Mike suddenly notices that Kevin's still in the stupid clothes Gabe outfitted him with, and without asking, he shrugs out of his own jacket and drapes it around him.
Kevin darts in to press a quick kiss against his lips, accompanied by a soft, "Thanks."
Mike doesn't answer, just bumps his shoulder against Kevin's and heads down the alley after Pete. They still have work to do.
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