Three and Ten have to pretend to be a couple and it gets increasingly awkward.
Will is, to say the least, fuming.
“I know that I said ‘next time I get to seduce the rich guy’… but I wasn’t being serious!” He mutters, and Benji grins.
“This isn’t seduction of the rich guy, this is assisting our good friends at the FBI with a complex undercover operation.”
“Remind me why someone who actually knows this guy can’t do it?”
“Well he’s kind of rogue at the moment, on what they’ve called a ‘temporary suspension’, basically his CI took off and is a wanted fugitive, so the only cases he’s on at the moment are the ones he’s closing up before his suspension actually kicks in.”
“And he needs someone to pose as his boyfriend?”
“Well, his CI was going to do it but then he fled the country. You’ve got blue eyes, you’re about the same height and we’ve even managed to get you into a fedora. Seeing as the only details that Agent Burke gave about his… boyfriend… were the blue eyes and the fondness for the fifties, I’d say we’re safe.”
“Benji, you better hack into every server we have and delete every single detail of this case once it’s over.”
“Yeah, I’m not going to do that. I need something for blackmail material.”
“I hate you!” Brandt muttered, but stopped talking to his techie when an older man, in his early forties, perhaps, walked into the room, running a hand through his thinning hair.
“You must be Will.”
“Yes, and you’re Peter. Nice to meet you.” Will held out a hand to shake Peter’s and was pleasantly surprised that there was no hesitation from the Fed, though his expression was a little guarded.
“So, do you want to tell me how I got roped into this, or is that need-to-know?” Will asked, dropping Peter’s hand and shoving his own into the pocket of his pants.
“I have no idea what your clearance level is, Will, but if you’ve been informed of the circumstances, well… I’ll guess that you know why I chose to incorporate Neal into my cover story.”
“…you mean we are actually dealing with people who are, essentially, the gay mafia?” To say that Will is incredulous is probably an understatement, but he didn’t get to be an IMF agent by showing everything that he was thinking on his face.
“Much as I hate to phrase it like that, yes. It does appear so.”
“Well, then, we better get this show on the road. Good thing I’m in a Devore… and you’re in, what, Hugo Boss?”
“2011 Collection, and thank god the FBI is picking up the tab, this thing cost more than my first car.”
“So how long have you two been together?”
“Five… no, six years now. But we’ve known each other for almost a decade.” Will was glad that they’d been able to come up with a cover story that was easy to remember - that and they’d discovered quite a few parallels in their personal and professional lives. By ageing Peter down a couple of years and Will up a few they put themselves into the same age bracket, and were able to build a story of them meeting when they were both working for the same accounting firm - well, Peter was working for them, Will was bought in as an external analyst and they hit it off.
They were also very fortunate that they did in fact have a lot in common, not the least their affinity for sports, so they were able to create a solid cover with little time to prepare.
The touching thing, however, was a little more problematic.
Peter was unaccustomed to anyone besides Elizabeth and, on occasion, Neal, touching him in any way more familiar than a handshake. And Will’s years of honed instincts meant that unexpected physical contact had him tensing up like a coiled spring.
So they sat next to each other at the long dining table and Will kept one hand below the level of the tablecloth, resting on the edge of Peter’s chair, the side of his pinkie finger barely brushing against the older agent’s leg, and they let the rest of the men gathered think that his hand was on Peter’s knee.
They’d stuck to real names, it was easier than remembering aliases, but it was when dessert was served things got a little awkward, because the men in charge decided that it was time for small glasses of very sweet wine and a little show of affection.
“Let us raise our glasses to the men who make us happy.” the man at the head of the table announced, winking at Peter even as Will tried to turn his eye-roll into something less rude, attempting to make it look as if it were a private joke between himself and Peter.
Then, before either of them could really gather their thoughts, each couple at the table was toasting the other and then a silence fell, because every man at the table… except Peter and Will… was kissing his partner.
Of course, this drew attention.
Not the kind of attention they were after, but it did draw attention.