"You are mine now. Don't look at anyone else." Marcoace?
He knew he’d fucked up immediately. Like a fucking rookie or something, making eye contact with the target across the coffee shop.
They weren’t supposed to make contact, just observe and gather intel and stay fucking inconspicuous because they were professionals on the easiest possible mission and Marco managed to fuck it up. The continued fucking it up by holding eye contact, watching the target grow more nervous by the second, but he couldn’t look away.
He was aware of how poorly all of it was going and yet couldn’t help it.
Ace’s fingers, warm and harsh, gripped at his chin and turned his head so Marco was facing Ace again across their table. He’d never been so grateful for Ace’s composure and quick thinking like in that moment. They needed to get the hell out of there without being suspicious, and Marco was feeling exceptionally useless at thinking of a way how to do that just then.
“You are mine now,” Ace said, loud enough that people at the tables around them could hear. “Don’t look at anyone else.”
Marco spluttered for a moment, but finally gathering his fucking wits to do his job.
He shoved Ace’s hand from his face. “What the fuck?” he asked with as much indignation he could muster while he stood and grabbed Ace’s own glass of water from the table between them.
People around them, including their target, were looking at them with barely hidden interest. The interest only grew when Marco threw the water at Ace’s face, a collective gasp going through the crowd while Ace moved back, dripping wet and completely indignant.
“You can fuck off,” Marco said loudly before grabbing his jacket and storming towards the door, making sure to check out the target again just to make the argument believable.
It took about five minutes for Ace to reach their rendezvous point three blocks away; a full five minutes for Marco to analyze what the fuck was up with him to mess up something so simple.
“The water was a bit much, don’t you think?” Ace asked as he made it through the door. “I had to walk back like this.”
“Going with a couple’s argument scene was a bit much,” Marco said without looking at Ace. “You know I hate those.”
“I threw up in my mouth a little while saying that,” Ace told him and Marco could hear the wet thwap of his shirt hitting the floor of the safehouse bedroom. “I’m pretty sure at least four people were ready to punch me for being a possessive creep.”
“That one’s completely on you,” Marco said and finally looked up to see Ace walking back towards the couch.
Of course, he hadn’t bothered with a new shirt.
“I blame it on Deuce, actually,” Ace said then sat down next to Marco. “It was from one of his romance novels.”
Marco snorted at that, having been subjected to Deuce reading those out loud at the worst times and getting dumb shit stuck in his head. He said nothing though, letting Ace settle in, waiting for the inevitable questions.
“So,” Ace started and Marco was surprised he lasted a full three minutes before broaching the subject. “What happened?”
With a sigh, Marco closed his eyes, leaning forward so he could prop his elbows on his knees and hide his face in the palms of his hands so he wouldn’t be tempted to look up.
“I think I need to retire,” he said, not missing the snort coming from Ace, “or get a new partner.”
He wouldn’t say it out loud, but Marco fully expected Ace to punch him for that.
“Why,” he said, not even posing it as a question, and that was much worse than a punch to the face. Much fucking worse, and he was not ready for that.
The couch dipped a little as Ace got up, and Marco still couldn’t look at him.
“Why the fuck, Marco,” Ace said, rightfully angry, and Marco really wished he could skip the explanation.
“I blew the easiest recon mission because you said something I can’t even remember anymore and I barely talked myself out of kissing you right there and ended up so distracted I didn’t even notice I was staring at the target until it was too late.”
He still couldn’t look up, because looking up meant facing Ace, after all, that word vomit. Ace, as usual, didn’t give a shit about Marco’s crisis and was much faster on the uptake.
Ace pushed at his shoulders until he leaned back into the couch, still avoiding eye contact, until Ace moved to straddle him, sliding his hands along Marco’s jaw.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” Ace said so fondly, Marco’s heart ached for a moment until Ace pressed their lips together and made him forget that he actually was an idiot.
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