Jinx put her hands over her mouth. "You mean I can come?" She whispered from beneath the cage of fingers.

Owen snuffed a breath out his nose in laughter. "Yes, you can come."

She leapt off her bed and clambered down the ladder. "Oh my god! Yes!" She pumped a fist in the air and almost hit Cal in the nose. "Yes! Holy shit this is the dream! I get to go to a fancy party and sway men into revealing dark secrets oh my fucking god it's like a movie holy shit!" She cried again.

Harrison grabbed her waving hands and forced them back down to her sides. "Pump the brakes fangirl, there's a little more to it than that."

She yanked her hands out of his. "I don't care anymore! I just finally get to be a part of something that matters!" She raised her arms up in the air and jumped up and down on her tiptoes.

Harrison cracked up and watched her bounce up and down. "Going to college to arm yourself with the knowledge needed to change the world doesn't matter?"

Jinx kept bouncing, her brown braid thumping against her back and the bracelets on her left wrist getting all tangled up. "Well, yeah, but taking down a fucking terrorist is slightly more riveting than studying the long-term environmental effects of oil spills on Native American land."

"Do you have anything to wear?" I asked her.

She stopped bouncing. "I mean, I have one dress. It's not particularly spectacular or anything fit for a gala, but like... yeah no I don't have anything." She adjusted her glasses and looked down at her feet.

"I guess we'll have to fix that," Zach sighed. He snuck a glance at me, and after another couple seconds I realized that all the boys were looking at me too.

I raised my hands. "I don't know shit about fashion guys, come on, don't use the girl excuse."

"It's not like any of us can really go out in public anyway," Owen said. "So Jinx I guess you're on your own."

Jinx's face turned miserable. "Great," her voice was shallow. "Love that for me."

-

The abandoned building was dank and cold. The faint but distinctly sour smell of weed and urine clouded the air inside, filling up my lungs with its thick and heavy waves, almost misting my vision. It was crumbling to bits, large chunks of cement from the walls and ceiling were scattered about the place. The flooring was probably once a light grey but now was permanently ingrained with rain and moss and was endlessly caked in small sharp pebbles that pricked you everywhere you sat down. It was one-story and sat on the outskirts of Boston so it was a strategic spot to make camp as wanted runaways, and there was plenty of space to set up the equipment we were using to plan the mission in Tunisia, but the building's dismal atmosphere was reflecting onto us.

Beside me Blitz was diligently crafting the chemical bombs we were going to use to break down Basilone's factory. With laser-focused attention he was slowly trickling some kind of reactive substance into empty soup cans with an eyedropper. Quinn was on his other side doing the same thing, both of them with bashed up safety glasses on because "safety first" as Quinn so gleefully asserted. The Iraqi was pretty much the only one to be optimistic and cheerful during this arduous time as wanted by the national government.

It was just the two chemists, Owen, James, and I in the hideout right now. Everyone else was out gathering what they could for the mission, or out somewhere for a refreshing escape from this dispiriting hole.

James had gone and sat away from the rest of our group. He had his back leaning against the opposite wall from where we all were. Like the rest of us he was bundled up in a dark coat, the thick layers engulfing his smaller form as he fumbled with some device in his hands. He was clearly tense and contemplative. I got up and joined him.

"Jaaaaaames," I dragged out as I sat down next to him. "What's wrong?"

The 23-year old continued staring down at the bit of brass wire in his grease-stained hands. Dirt stuck into the prints of his pale fingers and had buried into the crevices of his nails. His hair was still dyed that mahogany brown color, although the brightness of his natural hair color was starting to show around his roots. He had his good leg bent up against his chest and his bad one stretched out in front of him. Cal kept suggesting that he should move around so that the dampness of our makeshift camp didn't stiffen the artificial joints up, but the ex-redhead didn't listen and instead succumbed to a quiet, disheartening lump.

"He said he loves me," he murmured.

Oh.

I scooted closer and nestled into his side. "Do you love him?"

"I--I don't know," he admitted. "I spent the last four years telling myself that I don't --I spent the last four years trying to forget he even existed. But everytime I stand up I feel leftover pain in this useless thing," he wiggled his bad leg, "and then I remember."

"Do you want to love him again?" I asked.

"I can't decide."

"I don't know if this is a thing that you can decide."

"You've decided not to love Axel, how is this any different?"

I sat up and pointed a stern mothering finger at him. "No, we're talking about your hopeless tragic romance." I crossed my arms and looked away. "And I don't love him," I added curtly.

He shook his head at me with a sigh and then ruffled his tufted hair. "Fine. But you're miserable without him, don't deny it."

"And you're miserable wallowing in your feelings over here like a pouty 6 year-old."

We stared at each other and then both broke out into muffled giggles. Across the way the residing agents turned to stare at us.

"We're such fucking messes," James rubbed his face down with a chuckle.

"We're cowards," I agreed. "You especially."

"Bitch--"

"Come on James," I tilted my head. "You know Owen, he wouldn't say that unless he really felt it. I can see it in both of you, you're both so desperate to be with each other."

The ex-redhead didn't say anything, just continued to frown at the device he was tinkering with.

"What do you want from him?" I asked.

"Honesty. Loyalty. Trust. Himself, not that stone-faced coward Flagg invented."

I ran my eyes down his tired and heartbroken eyes. I wanted to say that he could have that, that if he asked Owen I'm sure he would get the trust that strong relationships are built on but right now that seemed so unrealistic --petty, almost. We were literally hiding out in a dank and cold and dark and crumbling abandoned building from the US government. A healthy relationship seemed low on the list of priorities.

"I'm scared," he admitted. "Once this is all over --if this mission is even successful, which there is a really low chance it will be-- what then? We go back to the agency? We don't go back to the agency? We're on the run for the rest of our lives? And even if I say I love him what then? We spend the rest of our lives together hiding out under bridges? Yeah, that's super romantic." He laced his fingers through his dyed hair on both sides of his head and groaned. "Why can't we just be normal?" He bowed his head and rested his forehead on his raised knee defeatedly.

I leaned in closer and put the side of my head on his shoulder. "It isn't fair. But you've got someone who loves you and who you love too." I took his hand and he rested his head on top of mine. "It isn't fair that your love has to exist in this shitty situation of running and hiding. You guys deserve to be happy."

There was quiet between us for a while, until James sighed. "Thanks Deera."

"You know," I let go of his hands and sat up straight again. "You never told me how you guys even got together."

The 23 year-old chuckled. "Yeah no we're not doing that."

"Oh come on," I stressed. "Do you have something better to be doing?"

"It's not that fun of a story."

I rested my chin on my knuckle and pouted.

He rolled his eyes and shifted his position on the peppery ground. "I was 17, an awkward closeted gay and on my second mission ever and he was Owen Hoffmann, the most popular guy at the whole agency and the best agent ever." He frowned into space." Oh an worst of all --was also really fucking hot."

"Is."

"Umm, excuse me, back off bitch he's mine," he snapped his fingers and got in my face.

I cracked up. "Proceed."

"We were in Kawasaki. Even before my knee I was 50/50 tech and combat, so I was running tech while Owen got this USB with encrypted nuclear codes from a Japanese gang who was planning to sell it to this buyer from Belgium. Together we got the drive within half an hour and since we flew back to Denver the next afternoon, we had all evening to wait. We went back to the hotel we were staying in, and I was just gonna go to my room and sleep but then he asked if I drank."

My jaw dropped. "He invited you in for a drink? Oh my god James he wanted you!" I shook his shoulder.

"Shut up," James hissed, darting a fleeting glance over to where Owen was across the building. The German glanced up at us and then with a small smirk turned back to the laptop in his lap.

"That is the sign that he wanted you!" I whisper-yelled.

"Adira--

"I need to take a minute," I held out my hands.

James sighed at my eager face. "Yes, he 'invited me in for a drink' I guess you could say, and yeah, we drank. Just those little bottles from the hotel mini fridge at first, but then he pulled out this whole bottle of vodka he had somehow gotten from the agency before he left, probably using his popularity or something, and we drank that too. All of it."

"And then...?" I asked innocently, even though I could guess exactly what was going to happen next.

James dropped his gaze to his hands again. "And then he kissed me."

I erupted into an, "awwwww," and James lunged at me and slapped his hand over my mouth and growled at me to shut up. Too late, the boys on the other side of the broken-down building all lifted their heads up and gave us quizzical looks.

I shook his hand off me. "And then you guys did it," I nodded with my tongue out the side of my mouth.

James' pale, freckle-speckled face blushed. "Yeah."

"Was that your first time?"

Pink increasingly blotched its way up James' cheeks. "Yeah."

"Nice!" I stuck my hand up for a high five.

The ex-redhead reluctantly high-fived me in return.

"Was it good?" I asked.

A small smile crept up his lips. "It hurt."

"Oh damn he tapped you good!" I fell onto my side laughing.

"Shut up!" He relentlessly poked me in the side. "Do you want to know the rest of the story or not?"

I wriggled away from him and sat up again. "Okay okay, yeah I wanna hear it."

"So we did... it, and then he didn't speak to me the entire trip back, or once we got back to the agency and did the debrief. He didn't even look at me."

"That bitch."

"Yeah, it was a real bitch move," James admitted. "But I get why he did it, he couldn't have people thinking he was even acquaintances with me, far less friends, and never mind more than that. So we didn't speak. But apparently Flagg thought we made a good team because he sent us on another mission together. And then another. And then some more."

I nodded. "And every mission did you guys... pick up where you left off?"

"Pretty much."

"Look at you getting it on with the hottest guy in the agency," I punched his shoulder lightly. "The nerdy tech guy. Good for you honestly."

"I wasn't always tech!" He complained. "You forget that I did combat a lot as well --I was good at it too. I wasn't always pathetic." He poked at his bad knee. "But after a year of it all going on he started to pay a little more attention to me while we were at the agency. We hung out and stuff."

I wanted to say aww and be happy, but my feelings just didn't have the courage to bloom when I knew what tragedy was coming.

"And then?"

"And then I felt myself starting to... fall."

I rested my head on his shoulder again. "Did he notice?"

James snorted. "Doubt it. He may be perceptive in the ways of espionage but he had no idea I was in love with him. Or if he did he didn't care."

We sat there in silence for a bit. Blitz and Quinn's faint tinkering from across the building became the only noise, and I shifted so I was leaning more into James and let his warmth run through me.

"He was my best friend," the ex-redhead whispered.

"Owen?" I asked, surprised.

"No. The agent Flagg kicked out as a cover up for Owen." He sighed and started playing with the little machine in his hands again. "His name was Taarush Chandran. He was my age and in my dorm room and was the only person who talked to me before I started going on missions with Owen. It was a believable choice, we were friends, each other's only friends."

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "I didn't know he was your friend."

"Did they tell you where they found his body?"

I picked my head up and looked at him. "Body? I thought he got expelled."

"Flagg pushed him off one of the street buildings."

My eyes widened and I let out a small gasp. "Oh god James I'm so sorry."

The 23 year-old shrugged his shoulders up to his ears and shivered in his big sweatshirt.

"Well," I shifted, "that's in the past. He loves you. You love him. Not many people have that, and it's something to treasure."

"You have it."

"Would you shut up about that? Whatever Axel and I had doesn't matter anymore. It never did."

"Mmmhmm," James didn't break eye contact with me.

"It's true," I scowled at him. "He can go fuck himself. He's being a petty little bitch."

"Because he still likes you."

"Strider I swear to god--

"No, we can use this."

"What do you mean?"

A smirk crept up his face. "Make him jealous. Show him what he's missing."

I stared at him. "You're kidding."

"Nope," he shook his head with a grin. "Come on Deera, this is perfect. You want to make him angry --get close to one of the other guys. Flirt with Zach, that would make him uncomfortable."

"That would make everyone uncomfortable."

James suddenly covered his mouth with his hands. "Oh my god. Flirt with Harrison." He took his hands off his mouth and shook my shoulder excitedly. "Oh my god you have to flirt with Harrison!"

"I would rather get shot in the ear from a close range than flirt with Zach. Get shot in the head than flirt with Harrison."

"Okay yeah yeah fine that makes sense," James admitted. "Harrison's just 24/7 horny. And Zach," he shivered, "anyone flirting with Zach is enough to make me throw up."

"Well he may have the personality of a sour grape, but he does have a nice body," I tilted my head.

"Honestly, facts." James nodded. "He's kind of got the same body type as Owen which is a win but he's also just... rude. Kind of puts you off the biceps."

I cracked up.

"What was that?"

At the sound of the new voice my laugh caught in my throat and I jumped in surprise.

Zach was standing a few feet away from where James and I were sitting, having fucking materialized out of nowhere at literally the worst possible time.

"Hiiiii," I dragged out awkwardly. I grinned sheepishly at his tall form above us.

The Canadian stared at me for a moment and then cleared his throat and looked at James. "Can I talk to you?" He asked.

James narrowed his eyes slightly. "Don't worry Patterson, we weren't objectifying you. And you haven't been tainted by my gay gaze."

"Can I talk to you?" Zach repeated.

James hesitated. "Why?"

Owen also came up in front of us and stood by Zach. "Jay. Please?"

The 23 year-old beside me shifted uncomfortably. "Okay," he finally forced out. "Talk."

"Maybe somewhere else?" Zach glanced not-so subtly at me.

"No," James said.

Zach sighed heavily. "D'accord." He sat down on the ground in front of James and I. Owen did the same, leaning his back against the wall next to James. The German gently linked their pinky fingers together.

"I can go--

"No," James said over me.

I shut my mouth. This seemed really serious. Zach wasn't a talker. He didn't do speaking. He did repression and avoidance and projection. You know, typical toxic masculinity things.

"Begin," James waved his hand in commencement.

"Hoffmann..." Zach began. "Owen, I don't hate you."

Okay... what?

"I don't hate James," Zach continued. "I don't hate gay people either, I'm just... sad."

I am very confused.

James and I glanced at each other, clear bewilderment and perplexity written across his face.

"I didn't care that my own uncle favored you, it was never about that," Zach shook his dark-haired head. "When you started frequent missions with James I could tell something was up with you. You quieted down and you didn't act all arrogant and popular like you normally did."

"Entschuldigung, ich--"

"He's right Owen, you were kind of a dick before," James said. He smiled a little up at the German. Owen pouted.

"I noticed the pattern that after every time you came back from a mission with him you were genuinely happy," Zach started again. "Not that fake facade you put out to everyone. I put two and two together and guessed that something happened between you guys, something personal. I honestly thought that you two had just become friends, but when I finally asked you about it, you just melted and told me everything."

"So you did know about us," James narrowed his eyes.

"Yes. I never told anyone," Zach assured him. "Owen didn't ask me not to, I just would never do that."

"Mmm." James didn't look convinced.

"I wouldn't," Zach said firmly.

"Then why did you suddenly start to resent me so much?" James demanded.

"Because all he ever talked about was you," Zach said, almost... sadly? "We used to go on missions together all the time, but suddenly he started going with you. That was Flagg's decision but it just meant that you guys were a better team. And then when we did go on missions together he would just be depressed the whole time because he wasn't with you."

My heart sank a little.

"You just wanted your friend back," Owen murmured.

"Yeah."

It was quiet.

"I was an asshole," Zach sighed. "I shouldn't have taken my anger out on James, that was selfish and juvenile and just dumb of me."

"Are you high or something?" James butted in. "Because this is the most you've ever spoken to me. Or anyone."

Zach rolled his blue eyes. "No Strider, I'm not high. I'm just sorry."

James opened his mouth to say something else about how he still was not convinced that Zach was being honest, but then Owen spoke.

"I'm sorry too."

"What?" James squinted at him.

"I shouldn't have pushed you out."

"This is fucking weird," James flicked his brown eyes between the two older agents.

"You're making me want to retract everything," Zach warned him with a glare.

"You gotta admit it is weird though, y'all don't ever do this kind of thing, this touchy/feely stuff, don't you normally call this 'gay shit' Patterson?"