summary: keeping your relationship hidden from the team can lead to arguments--fun, staged arguments.
"Pardon me," You exclaimed, reaching out to lay a hand on Mrs Abrasio's upper back as you passed her, slyly snaking the other into her purse. In the crowd of rich donors chatting amongst themselves, you managed to snag both her cash and her notepad from her purse in a second without being caught.
"Excuse me," She replied sweetly. "I shouldn't have been standing there, my apologies."
"No worries, ma'am. I really like your dress by the way!" You complimented her with a smile before continuing your walk outside to the van where Rick and the Squad were waiting for you.
Before Task Force X left Belle Reve, Waller decided that the best bet would be to send you in alone, not to draw suspicion. Events like these were dangerous--full of shady, wealthy people who may easily recognize somebody like Harley or Blackguard from previous encounters. You, on the other hand, wore a mask when you committed your crimes before Belle Reve, making you the sole candidate for this mission.
"Y/n, if I don't hear an update in the next three minutes, I'm coming in," Rick's voice cut in over the comms. He was in the front of the van, tightening the black tie around his neck as he prepared to rescue you when there was no reply to his warning. Just as he began opening the door, though, you stepped out with a deep sigh.
"Sorry I couldn't answer. Too crowded in there--someone would've noticed me talking to myself," You said as soon as the door shut and it was just the two of you outside, chatter from within the ballroom muffled now.
"Thank god," He muttered, loosening the tie before removing it completely. "You got what we needed?" The two of you walked back to the van, Rick standing unusually close to you.
"Yes, Colonel." You held out the notebook for him to examine. The cash stuffed in your handbag was yours, he didn't need to know about that. "Christ, this fabric is itchy." Your hands tugged at the fabric of the linen dress, trying to keep it from rubbing against your neck.
Rick looked up from the notebook and surveyed you up and down before shrugging off his suit jacket and tossing it to you.
"Here," He said plainly, turning his back to you so that you could change into it. You caught it and stared at it blankly for a long moment, alternating glances between the back of Rick's head and the jacket.
"That's very sweet, Rick, but I don't think this is going to cover me," You spoke to the back of his head, watching as he turned around to face you. You were holding the jacket up to your neck, showing him that it would barely brush the waist band of your underwear, nonetheless cover your ass.
"Just put it on and get in the front seat, I'll find a blanket or something to put on your legs," He said, pushing himself off of the hood of the van and moving to the opposite side to rummage through the glovebox in search of a way to salvage your decency before another member of the squad decided to take a peek.
You smirked to yourself as you put the coat on and then awkwardly tried to shimmy out of the dress while staying covered. The zipper in the back was tricky, but you managed to get it undone and slipped the dress into a pool at your feet, stepping out of it and leaving it on the ground. No way were you going to touch that fabric again. You followed Rick's orders and went to sit in the passenger's seat of the van where he waited outside the door with a loading tarp in his hands and an embarrassed blush on his cheeks.
"This was all I could find," He muttered, motioning for you to sit down as he tucked the tarp in around you.
"Thank you, Rick," You smiled, patting him on the head playfully. He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Harley's voice from the back cabin.
"Are we leavin' or what?" She banged on the divider. "I got plans, bozos!"
"What plans, Quinn? You're in prison," You shouted back, Rick's face still close to yours.
"I'm itchin to get a looksie at what you promised to bring me earlier," She called teasingly, earning you a questionable stare from Rick. Your eyes grew slightly and you let out a nervous chuckle.
"Alright, Quinn, don't get your panties in a twist!" You pounded back on the divider.
"You're the only one who makes me feel that way, dollface!" She snorted. You rolled your eyes and smiled widely, but it went away at the feeling of Rick's hand on your leg.
"You doing something I need to know about?" He asked sternly, but the glint in his eye told you that he already knew about the cash. Of course he did, how could you have assumed any differently?
"Of course not," You fiend innocence. "How could I ever betray my sweet, sweet Colonel Flag?" He watched closely as you moved to place your hands on either side of his face, arms otherwise lost in the fabric of his coat.
"I can't be serious with you," He sighed out, leaning into your touch minutely. You smiled and rubbed a thumb mindlessly over his cheekbone.
"Guess I shouldn't kiss you then, huh? Wouldn't want you to laugh in my face or anything," You said, searching his eyes despite your carefree tone.
"I think it'd be good practice," Rick whispered before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. He pulled away after a moment and leaned his forehead against yours, eyes trailing down the skin of your neck and chest.
"Eyes up here, Flag," You teased before grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling him in for another kiss. You broke it this time, pushing him away dramatically. He stumbled back from the van and furrowed his brows at you, concern painting his face. "We gotta get back to Belle Reve, Flag. Unless we want one of them seeing us," You whispered the last part.
"Y/n, are you doing something I should know about or not?" Rick shouted in his Colonel's voice, but the smile you saw on his lips betrayed him. He was putting on a show for the others, making them think that the two of you have been arguing this whole time.
"I said that's none of your business, Flag!" You kissed him one last time, grinning giddily against his lips. "If you want to know so badly then ask Waller, she's had eyes on me like a fucking hawk since I got here!"
"Maybe it's cause you're trouble, idiot!" Rick yelled back at you once he was in his seat.
"I miss regular prison," You said as you bit back a smile, slumping into your seat in case Harley or the others decided to open the view window.
"If you were in regular prison you'd have never met me," Blackguard called from the cabin and slid open the view window to face you with an offended expression. "I thought we were closer than this, Y/l/n."
"We met in high school, Hertz," You reminded him. "Go sit back down and let me yell at the Colonel."
summary: when you're sent into the club on a mission to leave with your target, Rick goes off of the plan and injects himself into the mix, causing a stir-up in your ability to act and the plan's ability to carry through.
The loud music had you seeing double on the dance floor. Your eyes were glued to the ceiling, looking up as you let your body move freely and as invitingly as possible. If you were going to attract the attention of your target, it would take standing out from the crowd in the best way possible. As much had been done by the others as possible—Harley fussed over your makeup for two hours, Waller had a dress custom-made to flatter your measurements, and Blackguard passed on three different elaborate hairstyles before deciding on the final look. Who put him in charge of hair? You had no idea, but there was no arguing the fact he had good taste.
“Look into the crowd,” Colonel Flag instructed through your earpiece. You followed command, bringing your head down and locking eyes with a girl who was already drunk out of her mind and slumped into a guy who was starting to get handsy.
“Wanna dance?!” She shouted with a bright smile. You returned the gesture, reaching for her arm as she tripped over her heels without the man to lean on anymore. Soon, she was draped over your shoulder by an arm and dropping her head into your neck.
“C’mon, let me help you out of these.” You ushered her off of the dance floor and onto the nearest seat, which was conveniently the table where Pargent—your target—was stationed. He was alone, an uncommon mistake amongst the crowd of criminals you usually sought after, but just because he was standing by his lonesome didn’t mean he was unprotected.
“Whatre you doing, Y/l/n?” Rick’s voice shouted through your earpiece. You didn’t answer, choosing to send Pargent a sorry smile instead.
“I’m so sorry, you don’t mind if she sits here for a moment, do you? I just need to help her out of these heels,” You spoke apologetically to him. Had he not been a disgusting burglar who so heinously robbed his victims of both their possessions and their lives, he would’ve been attractive. His dark skin, hair, and eyes were a beauty to behold, but underneath it all was a man so violently disturbed.
“No worries at all, doll.” Pargent smirked hungrily. Pretending not to notice, you thanked him and knelt down in front of the girl, unbuckling her complicated shoes and slipping them off of her feet. A second passed as you debated what to do with her now that she was barefoot and swaying in her seat.
“Much better,” She praised from the seat, leaning over in her chair to hug you. The smell of hard liquor filled your nose and you raised your eyebrows in surprise.
“Who’d you come with tonight?” You pulled away, but kept her arms on her elbows to steady her. Pargent had wandered away from the table, whispering into an older man’s ear as they looked at someone on the dancefloor.
“Blair!” A girl who looked like almost identical to her called out from behind you. “We’ve gotta go, Jackson just showed up. He’s looking for me, c’mon.”
The girl scooped up her friend and nodded in thanks to you as you handed her the shoes. Blair threw up down her dress and onto the entryway rug before they were able to make it out of the door, but they didn’t stop walking.
“Alright,” You said as you looked to Pargent in amusement. He had migrated back to the table and was now face to face with you, sharing the same bemused smirk. “Well, I’m sorry again for barging in, thank you for being so kind.”
You turned and walked away standing tall to show off the back of the dress as you headed back to the dance floor where you planned to signal for Rick. Before you could reach the crowd, though, a hand gripped your shoulder and turned you around. The scent of iron and lavender wafted from the clothing of Pargent, who was stood before you with a light grip on your arm.
“Why haven’t I seen you have a drink all night, doll?” His raspy voice asked. You smiled up at him, eyes narrowing in a lighthearted challenge.
“Are you offering to buy me one, doll?” You teased.
“It’s the gentleman’s honor,” He declared, moving his grip and choosing to instead rest his hand across the back of your neck as he lead you to the bar. It took everything in you not to recoil at the action, not to imagine how badly he probably wanted to squeeze the air from your body in that moment.
“Whys that?” You questioned flirtatiously, craning your neck up to look at him. It positioned his thumb across your pulse point, and you watched as he stared before moving his eyes back up.
“See a pretty girl and you offer her a drink.”
“How many times have you bought a girl a drink?” You poked, letting out a fake giggle when he turned his head away and shook as a way to refuse an answer. “That’s alright, thanks for thinking of me tonight at least.”
“What can I get for ya?” Rick asked from behind the bar, surprising you and almost making you blow your cover. You opened your mouth to speak, but Pargent answered for you. Ricks eyes watched his hand on your neck briefly, but Pargent was too busy admiring the sight for himself to notice.
“A martini for the lady and two shots of whiskey—top shelf,” He spoke proudly, finally turning to face Rick. You watched his face as he spoke, trying to seem as infatuated with him as possible.
“I’ll have that right out for you guys,” Rick smiled uncharacteristically toothily. You gave a polite grin back, but quickly shifted your focus back to Pargent, trying to forget the image of your coworker’s show-stopping smile so that you could regain focus on the mission.
The mission that Rick threw out the window by injecting himself into.
“What’s your name?” Pargent leaned down, moving his face in front of yours, leaving barely any room between the two of you. His hand moved from your neck to your waist as you sat poised on the barstool
“Blair,” You stole the name of the drunken girl, pushing him back with a finger to the forehead, but keeping the grin up the whole time. “Our drinks are here.”
He looked up to see Rick approaching the two of you. This time, you took notice of the uniform suit he was wearing. The blazer must’ve been a size small—clinging to his arms tightly. Nevertheless, he brought the two of you drinks with a bright grin, setting the martini in front of you and the two shots in front of Pargent.
“Anything else I can get for the lovely couple?” He asked, winking at Pargent boyishly. You took it upon yourself to lean over the counter and motion for him to come closer. Once he was, you positioned your nose so that it brushed against his. It was hard to keep up the confident, bold personality when his hazel eyes bore into you like that.
“What time do you get off tonight?” You whispered, trailing your fingers down his forearm while maintaining the eye contact.
“I can be out of here in ten minutes,” Rick answered enamourdly. You smiled, releasing his sleeve and nodding as you leaned back into your seat.
“I think Mr. Bartender will be joining us tonight, doll,” You grinned up at Pargent, pressing a kiss to his cheek and staying there to whisper in his ear. “It’ll be fun. That is, if you’re willing to join us. It’s okay if not, but I’ll be thinking of you either way, mystery man.”
“Alright, then,” He responded, obviously uncomfortable with the idea, but if it was what it took to get you, he’d do it. “Drink up, then. 10 minutes isn’t a very long time, and he’s quick.”
He nodded to where Rick was mixing a drink hurriedly. You laughed quietly at the sight, knowing he was desperately inexperienced. Using your long press-ons, you pushed the martini to the side before lying yourself across the bartop, earning whistles from a group of girls across the bar. You smiled at them, making sure they were watching.
“On three?” You faced him, pouring the shot glass in your mouth for him to drink. He nodded wearily, leaning over you.
“One, two, three!” The girls from across the bar counted for you and Pargent bent down, taking the shot from your lips with his, but taking it out before he drank any of it. The onlookers booed him, causing him to look around nervously. You took note of the old man from earlier watching the interaction.
“Lots of people in here killing for the chance, man,” Rick appeared from behind the bar. “Whiskey or Vodka, beautiful?”
“Your the one drinking it, baby,” Your face blushed and so did Rick’s, but it didn’t stop him from pouring Rum from the bottle into your open mouth.
“On three?” He asked quietly, eyes trailing across your face as you lay before him. You nodded, almost swallowing the liquor.
The crowd counted down and it took too long before his mouth was on yours, kissing you deeply to drink the alcohol. It continued long after it was gone, though. Wild cheers roared from the crowd and you both smiled into each other’s lips, only stopping when a real bartender rushed over to see what was happening.
“Hey! Who the hell are you?” She shouted from her station. Rick pulled away, wrapping his arms around your middle as he rolled over you and onto the floor, carrying you with him as you reluctantly grabbed Pargent’s hand and pulled him with you. Had he not been in front of you, you would’ve easily forgotten about him completely.
“Are you alright?” Rick asked once the three of you were long gone in the crowded bar. Any regular girl would’ve been more effected by that maneuver than you were letting on, and Pargent may have caught on had he not been so in his head. Rick leaned down to look at your face, meaning you were now turned away from Pargent. You nodded, staring at his lips shamelessly. You ‘recovered’, grabbing onto each of their arms lightly as you stumbled slightly.
“Sure you’re okay, Blair?” Pargent asked as he took your other arm.
“I’m sure, thank you,” You smiled gratefully. “I’m sure my lipstick is ruined, though.” A sad chuckle escaped your mouth as you played into your role.
“You look beautiful,” Rick spoke up from beside you, making you instinctually lean into him.
“I like you, Mr. Bartender,” You grinned, bringing his hand to your lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back of his palm. It was hard to pretend to be attracted to the target when Rick was right there.
“Lipstick wasn’t gonna last long anyway,” Pargent whispered into your ear. The ear he leaned into was the one where your comm feed was, meaning Rick heard it, too, as well as Waller and the squad from the tech room at the prison. Hopefully Harley wouldn’t scold you for rubbing your lipstick off. Ricks arm tensed beside you and he leant down to kiss your head. If you reacted to all his sweetly protective gestures, Pargent would catch on. So you ignored him, continuing to face Pargent.
“Let’s hope so,” You said cheekily, squeezing his arm. He pressed a short kiss to your lips and you stepped back in surprise, trying to recover quickly. “I didn’t think you had it in you, mystery man.”
“What a lucky woman I am.” Your head turned to look at the both of them, two confident men who’d earned their place by your side, although only one of them was real. Real to you, at least. Before tonight, Rick had never shared your romantic interests in him. “Mystery man and Mr Bartender on each of my arms, treating me like the only girl in the world.”
“You are,” Pargent flirted, kissing you again while you walked, much to your dismay.
As you exited the club, the music left you in an expectant silence, and the fate of this mission was suddenly reliant on whatever Rick chose to do next. Everything happening right now wasn’t a part of the plan, but if Rick jumped behind the bar, you trusted that it meant he had a plan for the rest of the night, too.
“Do you mind if I grab something from my car real quick?” Rick asked as the three of you grew closer to the van. “I gotta grab my phone.”
“Didnt bring your phone into work?” Pargent asked, eyeing him up and down suspiciously. Rick payed no mind.
“These uniforms don’t have pockets, doesn’t really leave me much of a choice, brother,” Rick said with a chuckle. He rubbed your arm before breaking away and lightly jogging to the van, hiding himself from view with the door.
“The bartender drives a work van,” Pargent pulled you close by your waist to whisper in your ear. “We could always leave him.”
“Y/n, duck,” Rick whispered into comms.
“Hold on, I can’t focus on what you’re saying,” You laughed to Pargent before bending down. “I think there’s a rock in my shoe or something. Just let me get it out real quick and then I’ll-“
A pop followed by a whirring noise passed over your head and you looked up from your shoe to see Pargent on the ground with a bullet square in his head. You stood up and rushed towards Rick, finding that he was already on his way to you, ready to embrace you tightly.
“He’s out, we’re on the way home,” Rick spoke into the earpiece before ripping it out and tossing it into the parking lot before doing the same to yours. “Oops.”
“Rick I know we need to get out of here, but was all of that fake—in there?” Your voice came out so desperate that you wanted to take it back as soon as it left your mouth.
“Not for me,” Rick took a deep breath and brought your lips to his for only a brief moment before the door to the club burst open and the old guy from inside—followed by a crowd of what must’ve been ten more men in pristine shape, all wearing formal suits without the blazers.
“Seriously?!” Rick yelled as he took your hand and began running for the van, pulling you into the drivers seat with him before slamming the door shut behind you and screeching out of the parking lot.
“I think it would’ve been easier for me to get into the car by myself, Flag,” You groaned as you crawled over the console and into the passenger’s seat, his defensive driving practically flinging you across the car on your way.
“Not the time for joking, Y/n,” He grumbled, but the look in his eyes betrayed his grumpy act.
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