Agent Blind. Call me Ace, and I might call you a friend. Otherwise? Get out.

This shit? It's a classified warzone.

wont-disappoint:

He watches Ace lean on the counter for a moment, head in palm. About to answer, slowly answer without really knowing how to answer. A lot of the time he did nothing, maybe catch a movie, go to a bar, nothing too important unless he was busied with a mission.

He lets his tongue graze his bottom lip, staying there with his eyes drifting downward. He was caught between humor and a bit of an off bashful expression. “Sometimes I see movies, go on dates, dinner.” He looked back up at him, eyes following the paper that was being waved in the air. “You know I don’t fuck every woman I get the number of, right? Sometimes I take them to dinner.” He shrugs. “Having sex on the first night tells them I’m interested in sex, but not in a relationship.”

He swallows hard when he’s leaned over again, which seemed to become a habit for the other agent, obviously wasn’t in the way the first time.

He didn’t want a relationship, anyone could see that… There were deeper reasons to why, but no one really caught his interest more than a night.

“Relax kid,” Ace chuckles, “I was only kidding.”

The burn as he swallows runs down the back of his throat. His fingers feel heavy against his glass and the sound it makes when he thumps it lightly against the counter seems to resonate. Ace drops the card, leaning back and watching the timer on the oven go down.

“It must get lonely,” The words are out of his mouth before he even thinks about it. Ace tries to look nonchalant, pass it off as something he’d been meaning to say the whole time (as everything else is) but he has to wonder if it really works. 

The kid’s damn good at noticing things when he wants to be.

“I better-,” Out of the corner the agent sees the oven’s alarm go off, and he’s off the seat and over to the appliance a second later. He can’t help but brush against Darwin as he opens it, taking the food out. Grumbling mentally about how the other agent takes up the whole goddamn kitchen, he sets the steaming chips down.

“I’d say dig in but they’re a little hot.”

wont-disappoint:

He rolls his eyes and and watches while Ace movies around the kitchen, passing him and walking around him to get the things he needed, a nice sized bowl to put the contents in, and ignored that look he gaze him at the music. He really couldn’t be annoyed at his choice, it was the classic mix of the Beatles, Stones, Chilli-Peppers, it was good music. Unless he’d rather something softer. He didn’t know, and really didn’t want to ask.

“Yes, I’ve heard of salsa,” at that he goes to find the chips, getting out two bags, one of original Doritos and the other just regular tortilla chips. He stands there near the fridge after and lets Ace lean over him, brushing against each other a bit and left the agent trapped against the counter with mixed signals and feelings. 

He tried to shake it off. Coughing a little and leaned against the counter, eyes moving down the other agent’s neck and back till he emerges back out from rummaging through the fridge. “I’m fine with anything, this sounds perfect.” 

“Good,” Ace grunts, before moving through the kitchen. Ingredients arc through the air, thrown precisely to their allocated bowls, and it’s less than five minutes later that the mix is in the oven.

“So, Agent,” Blind spares Darwin a glance, head resting on his palm, “What does a man like you do on a Saturday night?”

A beat, and then, “Other than jerking off or -” He looks at the papers on the bench, spying several numbers in girlish scrawl, he picks one up and waves it in the air, “Well…”

It takes a second for him to realize that unlike every other night he’s been here, there’s currently no alcohol sitting in front of him. Something that’s gotta be remedied ASAP. Ace grabs a glass, leans over Darwin yet again (this is starting to become a goddamn habit) and pulls out his own scotch. It seems it pays to leave back ups at your friends house.

He waits for Darwin’s reply, although he doesn’t really need it. “Hm?”

wont-disappoint:

Chris follows with a roll of his eyes. combing his fingers through his hair before fixing it, taking a short moment to pause in the hall mirror that was on the way to the kitchen. 

They get there and Chris hovers around Ace, watching what he was getting out, arching a brow and eyeing some of the things that were now being set on display on the counter top. He did as he was ordered, got the butter, even though Ace could have easily gotten it himself. “I have no idea what you’re making… Or what I should do, do we really need all of this?” He picked up a few items and then set them down again. Chris was a little distracted, but it was nothing he couldn’t overcome. 

He swiftly moved passed the other man to the small bowl that had keys and change in it near the oven, getting out the small remote and aimed it at the living room, music coming on, loud and obnoxious but Darwin quickly fumbled to turn it down and to a better group of songs that he knew Ace would like as well. 

“Of course,” Ace responds to the question he knew was coming curtly. His lip quirks, “Unless you’d like to be mixing it with your hands?”

He moves around the kitchen, rolling his eyes at Darwin’s choice of music and giving him a pointed stare before he acquiesces, gesturing to the fridge, “You’ve heard of salsa, right?”

Darwin’s body is warm as Ace leans over him, blood thrumming through his neck. He shifts, roots through the fridge and ignores the scent of the other agent’s cologne, silently sending a ‘what the hell are you doing?’ to himself. Problem is, he doesn’t quite know.

“I figured something light would do the trick,” Ace shrugs off the awkwardness, raising an eyebrow, “Unless you’d rather something heavier?”

wont-disappoint:

Ah, there is was. Chris stepped forward to grab it but he knew Ace probably wouldn’t hand it over. Why must they play these games…? No matter how fun they were. “What, you think I’m not clean! I have those replaced and cleaned all the time! Jesus, Blind.” He shakes his head, looking over at the bed.

He rolls his eyes to the ceiling at that comment. Yeah yeah.

He watches Ace as he comes over, listening to the pops and cracks, smirking that half mouthed grin. “Old man.” He mocked pointedly. His body moves a bit, the hand weighting heavy on him. They were about the same size, Ace was a bit bigger, taller and more muscularly built.

“Dinner. Fine. What will you make?” He tilts his head a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m a good cook, not like you’ll teach me anything new, you’ve taught me a lot already.”

“Damn straight I have,” Ace shoots Darwin a look over his shoulder as he walks, bare feet padding across the warm (how is it warm?) floor. He can almost feel the other agent walking behind him, it must be killing him to follow rather than lead and Ace gets a sort of smug satisfaction out of it. “Any preferences?”

The kitchen’s clean, that alone surprises him. He moves a couple of items around on the bench to give it more of the cluttered aura that he’s become used to and bends over, back popping as he stretches. “Butter,” Ace barks out, reaching into the cupboard and pulling out exactly what they’ll need.

The implements, everything sits perfectly on the bench, lined up like an army -if making food could be considered war games. Blind nods, satisfied and turns to the other man, steadfastly ignoring how close he is and how the mere presence of him seems to buzz along his skin. 

Now’s not the time for whatever the hell’s affecting him to come to light. Not now. “I’ll take it you know what to do?” His lip quirks and Ace raises an eyebrow, gesturing to the spread on the kitchen surface.

wont-disappoint:

He sets the gun down on the desk after the words spoken from the other agents mouth, narrowing his eyes and looked up at him. “Ass, if you’re really thinking I’m compensating I’ll show you right now!” He didn’t shrug off the hand, but stood and then gave a friendly smile, making up for the things he just said.

“Oh yeah the TV I need to show you!” He smiles broadly, that stupid grin to show off his perfect pearly whites. “It’s on the ceiling, and it’s fucking brilliant. So when I want to watch TV, all I have to do is lay there, I don’t have to prop myself up. I should put the microwave in the closer and a box of popcorn.” He smirks, chattering away casually, knowing he’d be teased for it, but it was all for fun.

He grabs Ace’s hand and pulls him along to the bed like a child would drag a parent to the toy section in the store. “See. I made sure it wouldn’t fall either. I mean, look at this face, I don’t want to get rid of it so soon because the TV fell off the ceiling.” He lets the other man go and looks around for the remote. “We can watch a show here, or down stairs, drink, whatever. Eat. I have lots of food.” He waves his hand and scowls, looking around his bed for the damned remote.

“Looking for the remote?” Ace holds it loosely between his fingers, expression deadpan. “If you think I’m gonna snuggle up or what have you on those sheets.”

He looks at the bed, back at Darwin’s face, and up to the TV (on the fucking ceiling, seriously). The other agent’s still as he rubs his chin, “I’m a little attached to my face too, for the most part.”

Ace almost smiles, but doesn’t, “Even if I don’t use it for the same reasons you do.”

Walking over to the other man, he sighs, rolling his shoulders and rotating his neck. It cracks, clicks, reminds him that he’s getting old. Gonna be hearin’ more of those sounds as the years go by. A heavy hand hits Darwin’s shoulder and he stares up at the ceiling, the moving figures dancing across an LCD floor. “Sit down, kid, I’ll make dinner.”

The remote hits a pillow as he drops it, Darwin’s body heat warms his palm and makes him second guess the bags that decorate the skin (however marginally) under the other man’s eyes. He’s almost giving off energy, “On second thought, come. You might learn something.”

If Ace feels a little smug about the possibility that he knows Darwin’s kitchen almost as well as the other agent, he doesn’t show it.