Notes: I had this idea that the men of Orbital should do a calendar photo shoot, and then I had to contrive why. (In which Bryan and Finola are two oblivious idiots agents partners in love.)
“I’m never playing cards with you again,” Bryan vowed to Mallory.
“That’s what you said last time,” the younger agent said with a smirk.
They stood talking in the shelter of a makeshift tent that Orbital had set up as a temporary work site. Last night, in the very same tent, out of boredom for her and insomnia for him, the two colleagues had decided to play poker to pass the time. During their game, Mallory had brought up the subject of a charity calendar, and now she was collecting on the promise she had extracted from Bryan as the wager they had made on their final hand.
Now, in the light of day, he didn’t respond to her comment, choosing instead to sulk. “This is a dumb idea. We’re a top-secret government coalition.”
“An international one,” she pointed out. “That means a lot of eyeballs. And all the money’s going to good causes.”
“Don’t make me dress up,” he half-warned and half-pleaded, his eyes wide with trepidation. He pictured himself wearing nothing but the yellow pants and red suspenders of some cheap knockoff of a fireman’s uniform and suppressed a shudder.
“Of course not,” Mallory reassured him. “The clothes you usually wear are fine.”
“Except I’ll be shirtless,” he muttered.
She grinned. “Exactly.”
-*-*-*-
“These are really good,” Finola murmured a few weeks later. She stood with Bryan in a quiet, out-of-the-way spot in a wooded area, slowly leafing through the calendar in her hands.
Bryan closed his eyes. “Don’t show it to me. I don’t want to know.”
“They started off with Gibson. Have you met him?” At Bryan’s nod, she continued her report. “Muntz is next.”
He snorted derisively. “The shortest month of the year? Why am I not surprised?”
“Now it’s Ahmed... Grace has a really good eye.” Jones flipped to the next page and let out a chuckle. “Oh, Lester,” she murmured. “He played it like comic relief,” she explained, not looking up from the calendar page.
While Bryan tried to figure out exactly what that meant, Finola continued through the calendar.
“I don’t know most of these men... I’m at November now, and it’s Tom…wow…” Jones’ voice was soft and sounded thoughtful, making Bryan crack one eye open.
She had fallen silent but he heard her turn to the next page in the calendar. When he didn’t hear anything else, he sighed with relief and opened his eyes again.
“You reached the end.”
“It’s you,” she said.
“What?”
“You’re the month of December. In the calendar.” She still didn’t seem able to meet his gaze.
He started to smile. “Yeah, I know what the last month of the year is, Finola.”
She didn’t respond to his bait, but she closed the calendar and used it to fan herself, making his smile broaden into a grin.
“I guess I look good, huh?” he asked, seeing a telltale blush spread across her skin.
“Well, you might say they saved the best for last. Better watch out... What’s the expression? You’ll be beating them off with a stick after this.”
He slid his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Nah. I saw Kazemi this morning, and she said something weird to me. She told me, and I quote, ‘Don’t worry. Everyone knows you’re taken.’”
“They know you’re…? Since when? By who?”
He shrugged. “Damned if I know.” He tilted his head upwards to stare at the sky, deciding to leave the subject there. It seemed pointless for him to tell Finola of all people that he didn’t have time to date anyone. She was the person he spent the most time with, after all.
The MI6 agent nodded slowly, still mystified by what could have motivated that latest rumor about Bryan. She snuck another glance at the December page of Orbital’s charity calendar and made a mental note to compliment Grace on her photography skills the next time she saw her.
Everything that I'm about to tell you is going to make no sense. Every word of it is going to feel wrong. You're gonna think it's insane and that I am clearly in psychological danger, but that is not the case. We've located a piece that is causing shifts. Cascades of fractures into space-time. <... > I am not the Bryan Beneventi that belongs here.
