home that our feet may return
Title: Home That Our Feet May Return
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: Jaehyun/Johnny
Genre: Secret Agent AU
Word Count: 6,600
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and neither the characters nor the Universe are mine.
Summary: Lucas hires Jaehyun a housekeeper. Jaehyun is not impressed.
It’s Lucas who makes him do it. Little Lucas, whom Jaehyun’s soft spot for measures a mile wide, and whom he should never let into his house again. Control tells them to keep work and their personal lives separate, and this is probably why.
Lucas flits from his couch to his dining table, out to his untrimmed garden, and back to his horrifyingly empty kitchen, all the while making noises of despair and judgement. “Your place is a mess,” he gasps, “how do you live here?”
Jaehyun scowls at him. It’s two in the morning, they’ve just come back from Helsinki, and he really doesn’t understand how Lucas has this much energy. He’s this close to falling asleep on his feet. Oh, to be young again.
He apparently says that part out loud, because Lucas shoots him an entirely unimpressed look. “You’re only two years older than me, old man, you should still be capable of making your own bed.” Jaehyun has to blink, and wonder how he just managed to be insulted, lectured, and shamed all in the span of one sentence, as Lucas tuts at the state of his bedroom, and then meanders out to his bathroom.
“I’m kicking you out,” Jaehyun decides, and bodily pulls Lucas away from inspecting his rickety showerhead.
“Hyung,” Lucas whines, flailing in Jaehyun’s grip, “I’m trying to help. This is bad for your well-being.”
“I spend a total of five days here, in a month. Maybe less.” With how busy they’ve been, Jaehyun’s lucky if he gets to be home enough to water his cactus so that it doesn’t die. “It’s not important.”
“It is,” Lucas insists earnestly. “I decorated our cabinet with ornamental china from our last mission in-China. Ten was very happy with it.”
Jaehyun has to refrain from reminding Lucas that Ten would be happy with anything Lucas does. He also wants to point out that unlike Lucas, he lives alone, and there isn’t anyone else around to appreciate his redecorating skills. Or lack thereof. But it’s now two-fifteen in the morning, and Jaehyun really wants Lucas to let him sleep.
“Fine,” he grits out, and tries not to regret it when Lucas’ face lights up with intent. “Do what you think you need to do.”
--
“I didn’t do anything?” Ten chokes out. Jaehyun currently has his hands around Ten’s neck, because as annoyed as he currently is, strangling Lucas is out of the question, so he has to go for the next best thing.
“I nearly pulled a knife on him this morning,” Jaehyun hisses.
“But,” Lucas protests, “you can’t kill your new housekeeper!”
“My what?”
Ten perks up as well. “His what?”
“I hired Jaehyun hyung a housekeeper,” Lucas beams, proud. “His name’s Johnny!”
“You also gave him a key to my house,” Jaehyun says dangerously. “I’d like you to think about that for a second.”
“I did a background check on him first,” Lucas squeaks, arms flapping around in a panic. “He’s clean!”
“That’s great,” Ten enthuses. “You did great, Lucas.”
“I still have my hands around your neck,” Jaehyun reminds. He’d stumbled into the kitchen this morning, drawn to the sounds of crockery clinking and bacon sizzling, ready to grumble at Lucas for waking him up at ass o’clock in the morning, when he’d been brought up short by an unfamiliar giant with a spatula in his hand.
“You must be Jaehyun,” unknown stranger smiled. “Breakfast?”
Jaehyun’s not proud of this, but only the thought of Oh shit he’s hot stopped him from tackling the intruder to the ground, and pressing a kitchen knife to his neck. Ten and Lucas listen to his recollection with eyes wide and expectant.
“He cooked breakfast!” Lucas exclaims, sounding extremely pleased with himself. “This is why he had excellent references.”
“I don’t care,” Jaehyun says, dousing Lucas’ excitement with a bucket of cold water. “He can’t stay. How am I supposed to keep this-” he gestures to them vaguely, “-a secret with someone else living in my home?”
“Technically,” Ten interrupts, because he enjoys torturing Jaehyun, “he’s not living in your home. He cleans only on weekends.”
“It’ll be fine,” Lucas says eagerly. “Breakfast in bed, it’ll be worth it.”
Ten’s smirk turns devilish. “Maybe something even better in bed, too.”
“I hate you both,” Jaehyun concludes, but judging by their matching grins, it’s clear they know he’s given in.
--
Contrary to what his team members think, Jaehyun doesn’t mind coming back to the mess and clutter. It’s a place to sleep in, a safe space, and that’s really all he needs. A place to remind himself he’s human, when his sleeves are still flecked with blood. Four walls to enclose him when the disparagement and anger and helplessness threaten to overwhelm him. A quiet setting where he can lick his wounds, and count the days until his luck runs out.
He’s thankful today isn’t one of those days, but he’s still weary and raw when he steps in. It’s hard to shake the uneasy feeling that someone he barely knows has been through, but he has to grudgingly admit the place looks better. Johnny is thorough but somehow unobtrusive, in the way his things have been tidied but not rifled through.
He doesn’t feel like braving the dinner crowds on a Sunday, so he resigns himself to instant ramen. Out of habit though, he swings open the fridge door, just to stare despondently at the empty contents-
It’s full. Jaehyun blinks. He’s got eggs, milk, fruit, everything. There are containers arranged in neat rows, painstakingly labelled: Sauce, meatballs, seasoning.
Fumbling for his phone, Jaehyun dials for Johnny, who picks up after the second ring. “Are the groceries for me?” he blurts out dumbly, because really, who is this magical Mary Poppins who cleans up his home and leaves his kitchen fully stocked, is he even real-Jaehyun just has to make sure.
There’s a deep chuckle on the other end. “It’s your fridge, isn’t it?”
“Did my friends put you up to this?” Jaehyun asks, frantic now. “Because you don’t have to go out of your way, it’s far too much hassle-”
“It’s not,” Johnny interjects smoothly, like he was expecting Jaehyun to freak out like this. “It’s what I do. Meal preparations are part of the package.”
There’s nothing Jaehyun can say in reply to that, except, “I don’t actually know how to cook.”
The laugh he receives this time is full and unabashedly amused. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Yeah?” Jaehyun scoffs, but his lips are curving up, the moroseness weighing him down dissipating fractionally. “What gave it away?”
“The general state of your kitchen maybe. Also, Lucas told me.”
“That little shit.”
Johnny’s still laughing, and Jaehyun wonders if that should make him feel as good as it does. “Let’s try for some pasta today. Fifteen minutes, and you’ll have something edible in front of you. I promise.”
Jaehyun groans and complains, but he allows himself to be talked through making the food. He asks absurd questions, like “Do I really have to salt the water, isn’t that a waste of like, salt?” To which Johnny sputters incoherently, too indignant to provide a response, which Jaehyun wisely takes for as a yes, you need to salt the water goddamnit-and it’s nice. Johnny keeps his word; he’s got a steaming plate set before him fifteen minutes later, and it smells amazing, and as he hangs up and considers his first bite, Jaehyun thinks he could get used to this.
--
Sometimes shit hits the fan, and sometimes the missions they send him on actually bore him to death. He’s gathering intel, observing a business meeting of mid-level importance in a cluttered teahouse in Ankara. Mid-level because the people involved have legitimate dealings, but also indirect connections to a larger web of suspicious contacts. For now, the two men are simply reviewing a portfolio of a subsidiary company, and time passes painfully slow.
He sweeps his eyes across the room in a lazy manner, as someone people watching might do. There’s a selection of chai teas for sale near the counter, and Jaehyun’s tempted to get some for home, maybe leave some for Johnny as thanks. Mind made up, he makes his way to the front, purchasing several packets while ordering a refill for his cup. As he sifts through change for the cashier, Jaehyun keeps his gaze tipped to the back corner of the teahouse, where the two men are. They’ve pulled out a different folder now, one that Jaehyun’s not familiar with.
He meanders around a customer, choosing a route that allows him to pass their table inconspicuously. S-Tech, the file reads, and instantly, a sharp sense of urgency spikes in his gut. That’s one of the companies Control’s tracking currently, not just because of the dangerous technology they sell to a plethora of powerful bidders, but also their ever-shifting offices and high personnel turnover rate. Jaehyun memorizes as much of the document as he can without looking too hard, before he settles back into his seat. He’s alert and wary now, even though he’s careful to feign casualness. A sip of tea, and he eyes his watch for a moment, before flicking them back to the men in the corner.
Years of experience prevent him from reacting subconsciously when he meets the eyes of one of the men. They’re hard and suspicious, and there’s a knowing tell set in the furrow of his brow. Jaehyun smiles placidly, as if they’re just passing strangers, before he turns away easily and concentrates on his cup, hiding his uneasiness. Possible cover blown, he types with his hand below the table, away from sight. If Jaehyun’s right, he can’t continue surveillance for much longer. A confrontation here in the middle of the busy city square would spell disaster, so he gulps down the last of his tea, before packing up to leave.
It’s always grating when he has to walk away, despite knowing that there’s more that can be done. Biding time has never been one of his strong suits, something Taeyong chides him for on a regular basis. But there’s protocol to follow here, a bigger picture, a war to be won. For now, he comforts himself with the little knowledge he has collected, the souvenirs weighing in his hand, before boarding a flight back for home.
--
He doesn’t panic this time when he wakes up on the Saturday and hears the unmistakable sound of someone whistling cheerfully to André 3000. It’s just Johnny, Jaehyun’s mind sleepily provides, which oddly enough provides him the kick he needs to get out of bed and make himself presentable.
“You’re up,” Johnny says in greeting, bright and expectant. “Food’s just about ready.”
“Thanks,” is all he can mumble in response. It’s infuriating, how easily he’s managed to charm himself through every situation Control has thrown his way and come out on top, but somehow, he’s left floundering in encounters with his housekeeper. For goodness sakes, Lucas and Ten are going to have a field day if they find out.
So when Johnny sets down a plate before him, Jaehyun manages to blurt out an invite to stay for breakfast.
Johnny blinks in surprise. “You don’t mind?”
“Of course not,” Jaehyun says hastily, and fumbles around for an excuse. “You cook enough food to drown me in. There’s plenty for two.”
There’s an awkward pause, and Jaehyun’s just about to backpedal and retract his offer, when a slow smile makes its way on Johnny’s face. “I’d love to,” he says, soft and pleased, and Jaehyun nearly trips over himself to get a spare set of cutlery for him.
It’s nice, which is a word Jaehyun’s come recently to associate with his housekeeper. Johnny fills up the silence of his home with easy conversation, recipes he wants to make Jaehyun try, what the Covent Garden market has on sale, the latest Hip-Hop albums he’s listened to. Jaehyun finds himself relaxing, the fear of Johnny encroaching on his space and secrets dissipating. Johnny doesn’t intrude. Not even when Jaehyun hands him the tea he purchased with his housekeeper in mind.
“Turkey, huh,” Johnny hums, inspecting the packet with delight. Jaehyun waits for Johnny to ask, and prepares the inevitable lie he will have to provide. Just a business trip; a dismissive, evasive answer that will have to be enough.
But the question never comes. Instead, Johnny asks him about the glass lamps Ankara is famous for, and the kebabs that you can find on every street corner. They discuss the city’s numerous attractions, and Jaehyun regales Johnny with historical snippets he gleaned from the Museum of Anatolian. It’s altogether disarming. Jaehyun hasn’t felt this way around people for awhile now, a necessary side effect of his job.
And then Johnny cleans up, with Jaehyun hovering uselessly in the background while his housekeeper bats away any attempts to help. “We should do this more often,” Johnny says casually as he prepares to leave, but there’s a hesitancy Jaehyun can detect in his tone.
“We should,” Jaehyun agrees firmly, and watches as Johnny rewards him with a blinding grin.
--
On paper, S-Tech works on space travel and satellite operations. They’re the talk of town, routinely launching and landing final stage boosters with pinpoint control, winning them contracts from all other industries, from geoscience to military. But behind their flashy talks of routine trips to the moon for the public, Control senses an underlying threat. Their fingerprints have been found in the weapons created and sold to select wealthy organizations, and the technology they develop have sinister double-uses.
Jaehyun’s jaw is tight as he listens to the briefing on the latest run-in with their weapons. It left the team working out of Delhi with three wounded, one in critical condition, and one dead. He’d known them-briefly, maybe, but he’d still known them. Aziz was in the same training program as he was, and he remembers Mason from a mission, three years ago. He was a good agent, and the loss wrenches something ugly in Jaehyun’s chest.
“There’s an unusual increase in supply lately,” Taeyong comments, unsettled. “It’s like they’re flooding the market on purpose.”
Jaehyun jerks his head in a nod. Previously, only the large establishments had access to these advanced, high-grade weapons. Now, even the riff-raff have their hands on them, and it’s leading to a higher than ever casualty rate. More than ever, he wishes he could do more, but all Control can do with the little evidence they have is send them all small missions, with the aim to confiscate arms and track down the suppliers. It won’t be enough.
The heavy thought follows him out of HQ, even as he brushes aside Taeyong’s concern, and spurs his feet to wander. The Mason he knew was resourceful, tenacious, and tended to be a workaholic. There was a reason why they worked well with each other. A gut feeling tells him that Mason’s apartment would lend him some clues. It’s tucked away in a corner in South Bank, second floor, if Jaehyun remembers correctly; it’ll be easy to get into.
He freezes when he nears. There isn’t anybody who should be there now. But there’s a dim light in Mason’s apartment.
Jaehyun pauses, breathing deep, aware that his senses are homing in, that he’s already planning a route in and out, a course of attack. He should call for back up. He should wait. It might just be a false alarm. It might not be.
But the loss of one of their own cancels out his self-control, snaps at his heels, and Jaehyun finds himself moving forward. He swings up via the steel staircase, fiddling with the back-window lock for a moment, before slipping in quietly. He’s certain he’s walked into company now, judging by the sound of rifling paper and shifting footsteps. They’re ransacking the apartment, Jaehyun surmises, and the audacity threatens his anger to a boil.
He barely dodges a blow coming in from behind, only made known by the creak of the floorboards bearing his assailant’s weight. Jaehyun curses wordlessly, ducking away from the man’s fists. That was careless of him. He dodges out of range once more, before thrusting his knee into an unprotected belly. His opponent grunts, air punched out of him, and Jaehyun cracks his knuckles against his temple, knocking him out cold.
The second unknown assailant comes in from his right, armed this time, and ready. He swipes at Jaehyun with calculated strokes, and Jaehyun realizes with sinking certainty that this isn’t a fight he’d walk away from unscathed. He leaps back, out of reach, bringing his arms up in a defensive position. The man’s fast and skilled, but Jaehyun can use his own momentum against him. When his opponent swings at his head with an outstretched arm, Jaehyun ducks, shifts inward, slamming his body weight into the man’s chest, and causing him to lose balance. He targets the man’s right wrist, twisting it viciously and making him drop the knife.
Jaehyun barely has a second to think, before he drops low to the ground, just as a shot goes off. Great, the guy has a gun too. Probably hadn’t wanted to use it so as not to draw attention from the neighbours, but now that Jaehyun’s taken his knife, the man’s left with no choice. Jaehyun flings himself to the side again, just as the man fires another shot. It grazes his left shoulder, and he hisses in pain as he feels warm wetness seep out.
He kicks out, targeting the man’s shin, and hears the impact crunch with satisfaction. His opponent topples back, and Jaehyun sees his opening, propelling forward to sink the knife in.
Jaehyun’s shaking as he shuffles back, adrenaline still pumping through him. His fingers are trembling as he dials for HQ.
“Clean up,” he rasps out.
“Location, agent?”
Jaehyun rattles off Mason’s address, while considering his options. He could go back to HQ, get patched up, but he doesn’t think he can stand his team’s worried faces right now. Doesn’t think he can stand their disapproval of how he deliberately went and put himself in danger. He strips off his jacket, stained with red now, and finally, feels the weariness hit him like a train. Home, he decides blearily. I’ll go home.
--
The makeshift bandage is soaked through by the time he stumbles into his apartment. His head is spinning-blood loss, his brain very unhelpfully provides, like no shit-
Jaehyun nearly drops to his knees in surprise when he spots Johnny in the dining area, staring at him with shell-shocked eyes.
“Jaehyun,” Johnny gasps, moving towards him. “Are you alright?”
“What are you,” Jaehyun manages, swaying a little. Johnny launches forward to steady him. He tries not to linger on how comforting Johnny’s arms around him are, and focusses on the important things. “What are you doing here?”
“I was supposed to stay for dinner, remember?”
Oh yes. Shit, yes. He’d asked Johnny last week.
“You didn’t show up, and you weren’t answering your phone,” Johnny continues, leading him to a chair. “I wanted to wait.”
“Sorry,” Jaehyun says helplessly. He doesn’t know what else to say, can’t think up anything believable that would explain his absence and state.
“None of that,” Johnny says firmly. “Where are you hurt?”
“It’s nothing,” Jaehyun blurts out, panicking. “I just, uh, fell.”
“Right,” Johnny says flatly, and manages to sound just shy of incredulous. He whips out the first-aid kit stuffed in the back of the cupboard - and just how had he known it was there, Jaehyun would have to revisit that later - and pulls out some antiseptic and a roll of gauze. Jaehyun forces himself to sit obediently, despite his desire to fidget and pull away. Johnny’s mouth is pressed in an unhappy line as he cleans Jaehyun’s wound, and his eyes dart to Jaehyun’s face for any signs of discomfort as he wraps Jaehyun’s shoulder up with sure but gentle fingers. The air between them is tense, and Jaehyun can’t quite understand why.
“Thank you,” he mumbles when Johnny’s done, and then, because he can’t stand the silence that follows, “sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” Johnny says, a little curt, and Jaehyun flinches. “I’m not mad,” he amends, softer now. “I’m just-” He clears his throat, “Worried. How do you feel?”
“Fine,” Jaehyun insists. “Really, it’s only a superficial wound. It’ll heal up in few days.”
Johnny looks at him, and Jaehyun tries not to feel stripped bare. “That’s not what I meant,” Johnny admonishes, “and you know it.”
Jaehyun swallows, tries to dredge up a flippant dismissal that’ll push Johnny away, because god forbid he pulls his housekeeper into the mess that is his life; it’s not fair, and he won’t do it. But Johnny leans forward and settles both hands on his knees entreatingly. “Jaehyun,” he pleads, “I don’t care what this is about. I just want to know if you’re okay.”
Jaehyun’s unsure if he could even begin to explain; his work, his relationships, his life-it all feels as if he’s building a house of cards, fingers poised above so still and tense that they ache, in the hopes that when he lets go the entire structure will stay standing. But sometimes, no matter how hard he tries, his hand slips, and things crumble, and it leaves him so, so tired.
At the end of the day, they can pretend all they want, but death and violence are all agents know, and you’d think he’d be immune to this shit by now. But he isn’t, and he doesn’t think he ever will be.
“I’m not,” he finally chokes out. “Not right now.”
“Alright,” Johnny says carefully. “Do you need to do this alone?”
“No,” Jaehyun allows, because the thought of spending the night alone sends chills spiking across his already aching frame.
“Good,” Johnny says, relief bleeding through. He takes Jaehyun’s hand, grip warm and firm and comforting, and Jaehyun has to try hard not to weep. “Good.”
--
Lucas gives him an earful the next day, when he trudges back to HQ to make his report. Jaehyun hears you worried me sick and how could you just go without telling anyone and with no back-up too, are you an idiot, so he winces and takes the lecture obediently, all the while looking appropriately contrite. Ten gives him a wry, sympathetic smile, because he’s really in no position to be chastising Jaehyun about running off on solo missions, and at least Jaehyun has someone to stand in solidarity with on this matter.
Because Taeyong’s glare is murderous, and he’s going to need all the support he can get.
“By the book from now on, I get it,” Jaehyun mumbles when Taeyong threatens him with suspension if he gets any more interesting ideas. Which generally means waiting around for Control to get moving first, something Jaehyun’s not very good at doing, but any agent worth their salt knows how to pick their battles.
Mason’s apartment turns up a lead (what a surprise, Jaehyun mutters, ignoring Taeyong’s very, very unimpressed look), files on possible high-profile members of S-Tech situated in various parts of the world under aliases. It’s individually researched information that Mason kept to himself due to shaky evidence. But with the escalation of S-Tech’s recent actions, Control green lights the case. Their team’s focus is on the few members currently residing in London. Mark and Jungwoo are assigned research, and the rest of them split up to observe the targets in their daily routine.
It’s tedious, slow work, made worse by the itch under Jaehyun’s skin, a sense of uneasiness about the entire situation. But any misstep now will trigger S-Tech’s retaliation, something they aren’t able to afford with how much clout the company has. So Jaehyun braces himself and plods along.
And the truth is, it isn’t so bad. On past missions, he’d drive himself stir crazy staying at HQ until three in the morning, poring for a lead in a case. Now, he forces himself away from his desk at a little past eight.
Ten’s smirk is knowing, as it always is.
Johnny will have dinner ready for him. They’ll eat together, and Johnny will continue rambling about Drake’s latest albums and the spices he wants to try in a new curry. He’ll ask about Lucas, and Jaehyun will roll his eyes and answer, same old, still in love with Ten. Johnny will grin at him with a twinkle in his eye, and Jaehyun’s pulse will staccato. They’ll clear up together, and Jaehyun will fret all over again that his housekeeper’s going above and beyond what he has to do, because aren’t you only supposed to cook for me on weekends? Johnny will ignore his protests, and they’ll repeat the routine the next day.
Johnny treats each bare space in the apartment as if they’ve personally offended him, and sometimes Jaehyun will come back to random new things decorating the apartment, like a dorky-looking windchime that Johnny picks up from a thrift store, or a brand-new showerhead.
“A brand new showerhead,” Jaehyun says in disbelief, and Lucas dissolves in delighted laughter, patting himself on the back for having chosen the best housekeeper ever.
“I wouldn’t know about being the best,” Johnny demurs, but he can’t quite hide his pleased smile when Jaehyun relates Lucas’ praise.
“You are,” Jaehyun insists, with all the sincerity he can muster, because there’s been no one like Johnny, no one who’s been able to pull himself out of the fragile bubble he’d tried to encase himself in, no one who could’ve made his home feel quite like home. “The best,” he repeats again, and watches with no small amount of satisfaction as Johnny flushes.
--
Mister Leon Dinis is a predictable man. He wakes up at quarter to nine every morning and goes out to the diner just around the corner for breakfast. And then the park for a walk, and then the Café down by Tenth Avenue for lunch, where he sits there for an abysmally long amount of time. Sometimes he brings his camera, and he wanders around the city taking photographs while people watching. It’s all very innocent. Except for the part where he’s managed to lose Ten’s tail three times over the course of two weeks.
“He’s hiding something,” Ten concludes, frustrated, and Jaehyun can’t help but agree.
“Home invasion,” he decides. It’ll be easy to slip in while Dinis is out for one of his rambling walks and check out his apartment. And maybe it’s petty, but Jaehyun thinks it as payback of sorts, for what they did to Mason. “I’ll bring you guys along this time,” he hurriedly adds at Taeyong’s sidelong glower.
Lucas gets assigned guard duty, because he’s the only one who wouldn’t bite Jaehyun’s head off for suggesting it. They make their entry at a little past eleven, when Dinis is well and truly out of the area, having meandered toward the direction of City Center with his camera. The apartment’s regular looking enough, and a quick check confirms they’re alone.
Jaehyun heads impatiently for the master bedroom, while Taeyong and Ten fan out to cover more ground and install bugs. He rifles through the drawers, but finds nothing useful; some loose change, a loyalty card for the grocery store, a pamphlet on Kensington Gardens. But he’s uneasy, the room’s normal-almost too normal. The walls are bare, and Jaehyun would have expected for such an avid photographer to hang some of his masterpieces up.
“I’ve got his laptop,” Ten calls from outside, and Jaehyun gives one last glance at the bedroom before striding out.
“Password?” Taeyong asks.
“Nothing too hard,” Ten mutters, fingers tapping quickly away. “There, name of diner he eats at everyday.” Ten shakes his head, as the lock screen blinks out. “Really, gramps?”
Google is opened to Trafalgar Square on the laptop, but it’s easy enough to assume that’s a decoy. Ten clicks through the files Dinis has. Photos is inconspicuous enough, but Jaehyun frowns when he realizes it’s full of thousands of images. They won’t have time to go through them all. “I’ll take a copy,” Ten pulls a flash drive from his pocket. “We’ll analyze it back at HQ.”
They’re interrupted by an unexpected ding on the computer. A new image appears in the folder, timed at eleven thirty-seven, current date. “He’s set his camera to automatically upload from a remote location,” Taeyong surmises. “That’s a little-”
“Suspicious,” Jaehyun grits out. “It’s a little suspicious.”
“Wait,” Ten cuts in sharply. “Jaehyun, isn’t that near your place?”
Jaehyun blinks at the new images being added. His gut sinks when Ten clicks through them. They’re photos of his apartment building, no doubt about it. They’re clinical, informative photos with a clear agenda, not ones that a semi-retired photographer would take due to a whimsical interest in architecture.
“He’s looking into me,” Jaehyun exhales heavily. “They’ve clocked me.”
“Why you?” Taeyong questions, even as he moves quickly to pack up their equipment. No one needs to be told twice that they have to move out, now. “Ten’s been his tail. If anybody, it should be-”
“Turkey,” Jaehyun realizes, and wishes with a vengeance he had confronted the two men in that teashop then. “They clocked me in Turkey.”
“Jaehyun,” Ten says, voice strung even tighter now. “Is that…?”
Everything seems to slow, and Jaehyun hears his breath stutter. “Johnny,” he chokes out, as the latest image reveals a blurred silhouette of a person in Jaehyun’s dining room. “He’s there right now.”
Oh god, he’s there right now.
“Wait, Jaehyun wait!”
But Jaehyun’s already tearing out of the apartment, ignoring their shouts. He brushes past a bewildered Lucas, and gets into one of their cars and peals off. He trusts his team, and he knows they’ll do what is necessary. They’ll contact Control, inform them of this new development, and get back-up sent to Jaehyun’s apartment. Jaehyun doesn’t have to worry about them.
But Johnny-fuck.
His hands are clenched tight around the wheel. Jaehyun swerves into a back alley to avoid pedestrians, speeding as fast as traffic will allow. Rationally, he knows Johnny’s probably fine. Dinis’ photos suggest they had been taken from another building around the same eye level. It could just be a scout, and there’s no reason to assume a break-in to Jaehyun’s apartment would ensue. It’s too risky, and it offers no benefit he can think of to the other party.
But there’s a gnawing in his mind; a niggling hunch that with S-Tech’s recent boldness, they might decide to risk a confrontation. They’ve realized MI6 is on their case, and they’re taking steps in retaliation, whether the end goal be to extract information from Jaehyun or take him out entirely. S-Tech were clever enough to identify him just from the brief encounter in Ankara, resourceful enough to perform research on him, and adept enough to determine his address. They’re dangerous.
“Please,” he whispers to himself, even as he bolts out of the car and into his apartment lobby. He takes the stairs up to his apartment, three at a time, heart pounding in his chest. “Johnny please be alright, please please-”
--
In his time as an agent, Jaehyun has seen a lot of things. He’s not infallible; the past few months have proven that. But he’s seen enough to say that very few things scare him anymore. Danger is merely an adrenaline shot to the vein. Fear has been out of the equation for a long time.
It isn’t now. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight before his eyes. He’s terrified. It doesn’t feel like he can breathe properly. Please, he wants to beg, but he doesn’t think he can even speak.
There is an unknown man in his living room, pointing a gun at his housekeeper.
“Don’t move,” the man intones, “or I shoot him.”
Jaehyun doesn’t move. God, he wishes so much he could apologize to Johnny. He wishes so much he never invited Johnny in.
The man swivels his attention wholly on Jaehyun, leaving the gun trained on Johnny. “Let’s talk,” the man begins, but he doesn’t get far.
Because in that moment the man turns his back to Johnny, his housekeeper moves.
Moves like a fluid blur, lunging forward under the man’s raised arm, and snapping the gun out of his hands in a flawless, practised attack. The man grunts out in surprise, but Johnny doesn’t pause to give him time to react. He whips his elbow down into the man’s temple, the solid thwack sounding disproportionately loud in the living room. The man stumbles, disoriented, and lashes out blindly with his fists. Johnny dodges them with ease, trapping one of his flailing arms, and throwing him smoothly to the ground. Jaehyun stares, uncomprehending, as Johnny crouches over the man, delivering a brutal rabbit punch to his face, knocking him out instantly.
And then his housekeeper gets up, and turns to him slowly.
It takes two seconds for Jaehyun to kick his body into gear.
He launches himself at Johnny, ignoring the surprised gasp of pain. They land on the ground, Jaehyun atop, a knee placed carefully in the vulnerable space where Johnny’s ribcages meet, and his forearm pressed down firmly on Johnny’s throat.
“Who are you,” Jaehyun snarls. Because there’s no way a mere housekeeper could’ve done what Johnny’s just done. That’s the movement of a trained, highly skilled agent, someone used to close combat and handling weaponry. Jaehyun doesn’t know what to think. Johnny could be a bloody S-Tech spy for all he knows. “Who the fuck are you!”
“Jaehyun,” Johnny gasps, struggling under him, “please, I can explain.”
“Was this your plan,” Jaehyun spits out, furious and ashamed and wounded all at once. Something in his chest hurts so very badly, but Jaehyun doesn’t have time to tend to that right now. “Get close to me, cook for me, pretend to care while spying on me? My god I was such a fool to trust you, I was such a fool to care-”
Johnny flinches like he’s been struck, hurt bleeding into his expression. He falls still under Jaehyun, as if Jaehyun’s comment leeched all the fight from him. “Jaehyun,” he pleads. “This isn’t what you think.”
Jaehyun takes a deep breath, shuddering. He’d let his guard down so badly, choosing to be blind the entire time. It makes sense now, Johnny’s efficiency with first-aid, how cleverly he had navigated all their conversations to put Jaehyun at ease, his lack of questions at Jaehyun’s long periods of disappearance.
But Johnny wraps a hand around Jaehyun’s forearm, and the gentle touch startles Jaehyun from his thoughts. “Jaehyun,” he says again, and maybe it’s the way Johnny says it, aching and raw. “It’s just me, Johnny.”
Ever so slowly, Jaehyun lifts his arm. He pulls back and folds into a heap on the ground. Like a goddamn house of cards.
Fuck, he’s pathetic.
Johnny sits up, massaging his throat gingerly. Guilt worms its way into Jaehyun despite himself. “Ask me anything,” Johnny says hoarsely, desperation lining his injured voice. “Ask me and I’ll answer.”
--
Johnny makes them both a cup of tea, and Jaehyun wants to snort at the parody of normalcy the action implies. He takes a gulp anyway, feels the hot liquid burn down his throat. Chai, his favourite.
“You work for S-Tech?”
“No,” Johnny says firmly. Jaehyun searches his face for deception and finds nothing. He nods his acceptance, and Johnny relaxes.
“You know what I am?”
Johnny hesitates. “Yes, but you don’t understand.” He reaches forward carefully, as if Jaehyun were a wounded animal, and places a hand on his knee. “We are good at recognizing our own kind.”
Jaehyun blinks, thrown for a loop. “You. What-?”
“Ex-CIA.” He gives Jaehyun a tired, wry smile. “One of their best.”
There’s again no lie to be found in that statement, and Jaehyun stares at Johnny in equal parts bewilderment and awe. “What happened?”
“Injury.” Johnny’s smile dims. “I can’t move like I used to.”
Jaehyun scoffs. “Yeah, right, and what you did just now was a fluke.”
Johnny lets out a small breath of laughter. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
“No,” Jaehyun says. Realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “I guess I haven’t.”
Johnny hunches in on himself. “I wanted to say something. But I couldn’t tell you, because-”
“You couldn’t tell me,” Jaehyun finishes. In the same way, Jaehyun had to, or at least tried to, hide chunks of his life, and watch as the secrets festered between them both. “I get it.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
They sit in a suspended bubble of silence, sipping their tea. Johnny’s hands are clenched tight around his mug, guilt lining every inch of his frame. Jaehyun can’t bear it. “So, housekeeping?”
“Pays the bills. And I’m good at it.”
Jaehyun nods, absently. “The best,” he says, before he can stop himself.
Johnny snaps his gaze up to him, as if he can’t decide if Jaehyun’s being sincere. “I didn’t want to intrude,” he mumbles. “I know what privacy means to people like us. But I saw you, I saw what the work was doing to you, and I couldn’t keep away. I wasn’t going to pretend as if I knew what was going on with your life. Because I didn’t, and that was fine by me. I just wanted to-” Johnny stops, swallowing as if the words were physically hurting his throat. “Be there for you.”
Johnny looks away again, unsure of himself like Jaehyun’s never seen before. And Jaehyun hates it, hates S-Tech all-consumingly for bringing them to this place, hates his work and his oaths and all this secrecy, hates that they’re back to square one, where Jaehyun doesn’t even know if he can ask Johnny to stay for dinner because he doesn’t know where to go from here.
He deserves better than this, agent or no. And he’s braver than this. Johnny bid him to ask, so he does.
“Would you use my secrets against me?” They both know what that means. Would you stab me in the back, would you leverage me, would you endanger me, would you hurt me because you can.
“No,” Johnny says, unwavering and resolute. “Never, Jaehyun.”
Jaehyun takes a breath, takes a plunge. “Okay. Do you want to stay?”
Johnny stares at him in shock. Jaehyun’s never noticed before; there’s a tiny scar above Johnny’s left eyebrow, and he’s got three freckles by his right eye, and goddamn, he’s beautiful. Slowly, a hopeful smile spreads across Johnny’s face, and Jaehyun falls all the harder. “Yes.”
“Then that’s good enough for me.” He leans forward, and presses his lips to his housekeeper’s.
--
(“I’m just saying, we should recruit him,” Lucas insists, stubborn-and ludicrous-as ever. “We have room for one more in the team.”
Jaehyun cuffs him on the back of his head, even though the idea sends a spark down his spine. It could work, technically. But that would mean pulling Johnny out of retirement. And for now, what they are is good enough for them. “Pass,” he decides. For now.
“But why,” Lucas whines.
“One pair of lovebirds in this group is enough for me, thank you,” Taeyong snorts.
“Pot,” Lucas gasps, “meet kettle!”
Taeyong glowers and chases Lucas around HQ. Jaehyun doesn’t have the energy to join in, but he takes pleasure in watching the scene of chaos unfold before him, with Ten jumping in to fend Taeyong off, and Mark and Jungwoo placing bets behind their computers.
Just another day at the office. It’s a quarter past eight, and he’ll go home soon. Johnny will have dinner ready.)
----
1. FYI this was supposed to turn out sad. But I couldn't do it lol.
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: Jaehyun/Johnny
Genre: Secret Agent AU
Word Count: 6,600
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and neither the characters nor the Universe are mine.
Summary: Lucas hires Jaehyun a housekeeper. Jaehyun is not impressed.
It’s Lucas who makes him do it. Little Lucas, whom Jaehyun’s soft spot for measures a mile wide, and whom he should never let into his house again. Control tells them to keep work and their personal lives separate, and this is probably why.
Lucas flits from his couch to his dining table, out to his untrimmed garden, and back to his horrifyingly empty kitchen, all the while making noises of despair and judgement. “Your place is a mess,” he gasps, “how do you live here?”
Jaehyun scowls at him. It’s two in the morning, they’ve just come back from Helsinki, and he really doesn’t understand how Lucas has this much energy. He’s this close to falling asleep on his feet. Oh, to be young again.
He apparently says that part out loud, because Lucas shoots him an entirely unimpressed look. “You’re only two years older than me, old man, you should still be capable of making your own bed.” Jaehyun has to blink, and wonder how he just managed to be insulted, lectured, and shamed all in the span of one sentence, as Lucas tuts at the state of his bedroom, and then meanders out to his bathroom.
“I’m kicking you out,” Jaehyun decides, and bodily pulls Lucas away from inspecting his rickety showerhead.
“Hyung,” Lucas whines, flailing in Jaehyun’s grip, “I’m trying to help. This is bad for your well-being.”
“I spend a total of five days here, in a month. Maybe less.” With how busy they’ve been, Jaehyun’s lucky if he gets to be home enough to water his cactus so that it doesn’t die. “It’s not important.”
“It is,” Lucas insists earnestly. “I decorated our cabinet with ornamental china from our last mission in-China. Ten was very happy with it.”
Jaehyun has to refrain from reminding Lucas that Ten would be happy with anything Lucas does. He also wants to point out that unlike Lucas, he lives alone, and there isn’t anyone else around to appreciate his redecorating skills. Or lack thereof. But it’s now two-fifteen in the morning, and Jaehyun really wants Lucas to let him sleep.
“Fine,” he grits out, and tries not to regret it when Lucas’ face lights up with intent. “Do what you think you need to do.”
--
“I didn’t do anything?” Ten chokes out. Jaehyun currently has his hands around Ten’s neck, because as annoyed as he currently is, strangling Lucas is out of the question, so he has to go for the next best thing.
“I nearly pulled a knife on him this morning,” Jaehyun hisses.
“But,” Lucas protests, “you can’t kill your new housekeeper!”
“My what?”
Ten perks up as well. “His what?”
“I hired Jaehyun hyung a housekeeper,” Lucas beams, proud. “His name’s Johnny!”
“You also gave him a key to my house,” Jaehyun says dangerously. “I’d like you to think about that for a second.”
“I did a background check on him first,” Lucas squeaks, arms flapping around in a panic. “He’s clean!”
“That’s great,” Ten enthuses. “You did great, Lucas.”
“I still have my hands around your neck,” Jaehyun reminds. He’d stumbled into the kitchen this morning, drawn to the sounds of crockery clinking and bacon sizzling, ready to grumble at Lucas for waking him up at ass o’clock in the morning, when he’d been brought up short by an unfamiliar giant with a spatula in his hand.
“You must be Jaehyun,” unknown stranger smiled. “Breakfast?”
Jaehyun’s not proud of this, but only the thought of Oh shit he’s hot stopped him from tackling the intruder to the ground, and pressing a kitchen knife to his neck. Ten and Lucas listen to his recollection with eyes wide and expectant.
“He cooked breakfast!” Lucas exclaims, sounding extremely pleased with himself. “This is why he had excellent references.”
“I don’t care,” Jaehyun says, dousing Lucas’ excitement with a bucket of cold water. “He can’t stay. How am I supposed to keep this-” he gestures to them vaguely, “-a secret with someone else living in my home?”
“Technically,” Ten interrupts, because he enjoys torturing Jaehyun, “he’s not living in your home. He cleans only on weekends.”
“It’ll be fine,” Lucas says eagerly. “Breakfast in bed, it’ll be worth it.”
Ten’s smirk turns devilish. “Maybe something even better in bed, too.”
“I hate you both,” Jaehyun concludes, but judging by their matching grins, it’s clear they know he’s given in.
--
Contrary to what his team members think, Jaehyun doesn’t mind coming back to the mess and clutter. It’s a place to sleep in, a safe space, and that’s really all he needs. A place to remind himself he’s human, when his sleeves are still flecked with blood. Four walls to enclose him when the disparagement and anger and helplessness threaten to overwhelm him. A quiet setting where he can lick his wounds, and count the days until his luck runs out.
He’s thankful today isn’t one of those days, but he’s still weary and raw when he steps in. It’s hard to shake the uneasy feeling that someone he barely knows has been through, but he has to grudgingly admit the place looks better. Johnny is thorough but somehow unobtrusive, in the way his things have been tidied but not rifled through.
He doesn’t feel like braving the dinner crowds on a Sunday, so he resigns himself to instant ramen. Out of habit though, he swings open the fridge door, just to stare despondently at the empty contents-
It’s full. Jaehyun blinks. He’s got eggs, milk, fruit, everything. There are containers arranged in neat rows, painstakingly labelled: Sauce, meatballs, seasoning.
Fumbling for his phone, Jaehyun dials for Johnny, who picks up after the second ring. “Are the groceries for me?” he blurts out dumbly, because really, who is this magical Mary Poppins who cleans up his home and leaves his kitchen fully stocked, is he even real-Jaehyun just has to make sure.
There’s a deep chuckle on the other end. “It’s your fridge, isn’t it?”
“Did my friends put you up to this?” Jaehyun asks, frantic now. “Because you don’t have to go out of your way, it’s far too much hassle-”
“It’s not,” Johnny interjects smoothly, like he was expecting Jaehyun to freak out like this. “It’s what I do. Meal preparations are part of the package.”
There’s nothing Jaehyun can say in reply to that, except, “I don’t actually know how to cook.”
The laugh he receives this time is full and unabashedly amused. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Yeah?” Jaehyun scoffs, but his lips are curving up, the moroseness weighing him down dissipating fractionally. “What gave it away?”
“The general state of your kitchen maybe. Also, Lucas told me.”
“That little shit.”
Johnny’s still laughing, and Jaehyun wonders if that should make him feel as good as it does. “Let’s try for some pasta today. Fifteen minutes, and you’ll have something edible in front of you. I promise.”
Jaehyun groans and complains, but he allows himself to be talked through making the food. He asks absurd questions, like “Do I really have to salt the water, isn’t that a waste of like, salt?” To which Johnny sputters incoherently, too indignant to provide a response, which Jaehyun wisely takes for as a yes, you need to salt the water goddamnit-and it’s nice. Johnny keeps his word; he’s got a steaming plate set before him fifteen minutes later, and it smells amazing, and as he hangs up and considers his first bite, Jaehyun thinks he could get used to this.
--
Sometimes shit hits the fan, and sometimes the missions they send him on actually bore him to death. He’s gathering intel, observing a business meeting of mid-level importance in a cluttered teahouse in Ankara. Mid-level because the people involved have legitimate dealings, but also indirect connections to a larger web of suspicious contacts. For now, the two men are simply reviewing a portfolio of a subsidiary company, and time passes painfully slow.
He sweeps his eyes across the room in a lazy manner, as someone people watching might do. There’s a selection of chai teas for sale near the counter, and Jaehyun’s tempted to get some for home, maybe leave some for Johnny as thanks. Mind made up, he makes his way to the front, purchasing several packets while ordering a refill for his cup. As he sifts through change for the cashier, Jaehyun keeps his gaze tipped to the back corner of the teahouse, where the two men are. They’ve pulled out a different folder now, one that Jaehyun’s not familiar with.
He meanders around a customer, choosing a route that allows him to pass their table inconspicuously. S-Tech, the file reads, and instantly, a sharp sense of urgency spikes in his gut. That’s one of the companies Control’s tracking currently, not just because of the dangerous technology they sell to a plethora of powerful bidders, but also their ever-shifting offices and high personnel turnover rate. Jaehyun memorizes as much of the document as he can without looking too hard, before he settles back into his seat. He’s alert and wary now, even though he’s careful to feign casualness. A sip of tea, and he eyes his watch for a moment, before flicking them back to the men in the corner.
Years of experience prevent him from reacting subconsciously when he meets the eyes of one of the men. They’re hard and suspicious, and there’s a knowing tell set in the furrow of his brow. Jaehyun smiles placidly, as if they’re just passing strangers, before he turns away easily and concentrates on his cup, hiding his uneasiness. Possible cover blown, he types with his hand below the table, away from sight. If Jaehyun’s right, he can’t continue surveillance for much longer. A confrontation here in the middle of the busy city square would spell disaster, so he gulps down the last of his tea, before packing up to leave.
It’s always grating when he has to walk away, despite knowing that there’s more that can be done. Biding time has never been one of his strong suits, something Taeyong chides him for on a regular basis. But there’s protocol to follow here, a bigger picture, a war to be won. For now, he comforts himself with the little knowledge he has collected, the souvenirs weighing in his hand, before boarding a flight back for home.
--
He doesn’t panic this time when he wakes up on the Saturday and hears the unmistakable sound of someone whistling cheerfully to André 3000. It’s just Johnny, Jaehyun’s mind sleepily provides, which oddly enough provides him the kick he needs to get out of bed and make himself presentable.
“You’re up,” Johnny says in greeting, bright and expectant. “Food’s just about ready.”
“Thanks,” is all he can mumble in response. It’s infuriating, how easily he’s managed to charm himself through every situation Control has thrown his way and come out on top, but somehow, he’s left floundering in encounters with his housekeeper. For goodness sakes, Lucas and Ten are going to have a field day if they find out.
So when Johnny sets down a plate before him, Jaehyun manages to blurt out an invite to stay for breakfast.
Johnny blinks in surprise. “You don’t mind?”
“Of course not,” Jaehyun says hastily, and fumbles around for an excuse. “You cook enough food to drown me in. There’s plenty for two.”
There’s an awkward pause, and Jaehyun’s just about to backpedal and retract his offer, when a slow smile makes its way on Johnny’s face. “I’d love to,” he says, soft and pleased, and Jaehyun nearly trips over himself to get a spare set of cutlery for him.
It’s nice, which is a word Jaehyun’s come recently to associate with his housekeeper. Johnny fills up the silence of his home with easy conversation, recipes he wants to make Jaehyun try, what the Covent Garden market has on sale, the latest Hip-Hop albums he’s listened to. Jaehyun finds himself relaxing, the fear of Johnny encroaching on his space and secrets dissipating. Johnny doesn’t intrude. Not even when Jaehyun hands him the tea he purchased with his housekeeper in mind.
“Turkey, huh,” Johnny hums, inspecting the packet with delight. Jaehyun waits for Johnny to ask, and prepares the inevitable lie he will have to provide. Just a business trip; a dismissive, evasive answer that will have to be enough.
But the question never comes. Instead, Johnny asks him about the glass lamps Ankara is famous for, and the kebabs that you can find on every street corner. They discuss the city’s numerous attractions, and Jaehyun regales Johnny with historical snippets he gleaned from the Museum of Anatolian. It’s altogether disarming. Jaehyun hasn’t felt this way around people for awhile now, a necessary side effect of his job.
And then Johnny cleans up, with Jaehyun hovering uselessly in the background while his housekeeper bats away any attempts to help. “We should do this more often,” Johnny says casually as he prepares to leave, but there’s a hesitancy Jaehyun can detect in his tone.
“We should,” Jaehyun agrees firmly, and watches as Johnny rewards him with a blinding grin.
--
On paper, S-Tech works on space travel and satellite operations. They’re the talk of town, routinely launching and landing final stage boosters with pinpoint control, winning them contracts from all other industries, from geoscience to military. But behind their flashy talks of routine trips to the moon for the public, Control senses an underlying threat. Their fingerprints have been found in the weapons created and sold to select wealthy organizations, and the technology they develop have sinister double-uses.
Jaehyun’s jaw is tight as he listens to the briefing on the latest run-in with their weapons. It left the team working out of Delhi with three wounded, one in critical condition, and one dead. He’d known them-briefly, maybe, but he’d still known them. Aziz was in the same training program as he was, and he remembers Mason from a mission, three years ago. He was a good agent, and the loss wrenches something ugly in Jaehyun’s chest.
“There’s an unusual increase in supply lately,” Taeyong comments, unsettled. “It’s like they’re flooding the market on purpose.”
Jaehyun jerks his head in a nod. Previously, only the large establishments had access to these advanced, high-grade weapons. Now, even the riff-raff have their hands on them, and it’s leading to a higher than ever casualty rate. More than ever, he wishes he could do more, but all Control can do with the little evidence they have is send them all small missions, with the aim to confiscate arms and track down the suppliers. It won’t be enough.
The heavy thought follows him out of HQ, even as he brushes aside Taeyong’s concern, and spurs his feet to wander. The Mason he knew was resourceful, tenacious, and tended to be a workaholic. There was a reason why they worked well with each other. A gut feeling tells him that Mason’s apartment would lend him some clues. It’s tucked away in a corner in South Bank, second floor, if Jaehyun remembers correctly; it’ll be easy to get into.
He freezes when he nears. There isn’t anybody who should be there now. But there’s a dim light in Mason’s apartment.
Jaehyun pauses, breathing deep, aware that his senses are homing in, that he’s already planning a route in and out, a course of attack. He should call for back up. He should wait. It might just be a false alarm. It might not be.
But the loss of one of their own cancels out his self-control, snaps at his heels, and Jaehyun finds himself moving forward. He swings up via the steel staircase, fiddling with the back-window lock for a moment, before slipping in quietly. He’s certain he’s walked into company now, judging by the sound of rifling paper and shifting footsteps. They’re ransacking the apartment, Jaehyun surmises, and the audacity threatens his anger to a boil.
He barely dodges a blow coming in from behind, only made known by the creak of the floorboards bearing his assailant’s weight. Jaehyun curses wordlessly, ducking away from the man’s fists. That was careless of him. He dodges out of range once more, before thrusting his knee into an unprotected belly. His opponent grunts, air punched out of him, and Jaehyun cracks his knuckles against his temple, knocking him out cold.
The second unknown assailant comes in from his right, armed this time, and ready. He swipes at Jaehyun with calculated strokes, and Jaehyun realizes with sinking certainty that this isn’t a fight he’d walk away from unscathed. He leaps back, out of reach, bringing his arms up in a defensive position. The man’s fast and skilled, but Jaehyun can use his own momentum against him. When his opponent swings at his head with an outstretched arm, Jaehyun ducks, shifts inward, slamming his body weight into the man’s chest, and causing him to lose balance. He targets the man’s right wrist, twisting it viciously and making him drop the knife.
Jaehyun barely has a second to think, before he drops low to the ground, just as a shot goes off. Great, the guy has a gun too. Probably hadn’t wanted to use it so as not to draw attention from the neighbours, but now that Jaehyun’s taken his knife, the man’s left with no choice. Jaehyun flings himself to the side again, just as the man fires another shot. It grazes his left shoulder, and he hisses in pain as he feels warm wetness seep out.
He kicks out, targeting the man’s shin, and hears the impact crunch with satisfaction. His opponent topples back, and Jaehyun sees his opening, propelling forward to sink the knife in.
Jaehyun’s shaking as he shuffles back, adrenaline still pumping through him. His fingers are trembling as he dials for HQ.
“Clean up,” he rasps out.
“Location, agent?”
Jaehyun rattles off Mason’s address, while considering his options. He could go back to HQ, get patched up, but he doesn’t think he can stand his team’s worried faces right now. Doesn’t think he can stand their disapproval of how he deliberately went and put himself in danger. He strips off his jacket, stained with red now, and finally, feels the weariness hit him like a train. Home, he decides blearily. I’ll go home.
--
The makeshift bandage is soaked through by the time he stumbles into his apartment. His head is spinning-blood loss, his brain very unhelpfully provides, like no shit-
Jaehyun nearly drops to his knees in surprise when he spots Johnny in the dining area, staring at him with shell-shocked eyes.
“Jaehyun,” Johnny gasps, moving towards him. “Are you alright?”
“What are you,” Jaehyun manages, swaying a little. Johnny launches forward to steady him. He tries not to linger on how comforting Johnny’s arms around him are, and focusses on the important things. “What are you doing here?”
“I was supposed to stay for dinner, remember?”
Oh yes. Shit, yes. He’d asked Johnny last week.
“You didn’t show up, and you weren’t answering your phone,” Johnny continues, leading him to a chair. “I wanted to wait.”
“Sorry,” Jaehyun says helplessly. He doesn’t know what else to say, can’t think up anything believable that would explain his absence and state.
“None of that,” Johnny says firmly. “Where are you hurt?”
“It’s nothing,” Jaehyun blurts out, panicking. “I just, uh, fell.”
“Right,” Johnny says flatly, and manages to sound just shy of incredulous. He whips out the first-aid kit stuffed in the back of the cupboard - and just how had he known it was there, Jaehyun would have to revisit that later - and pulls out some antiseptic and a roll of gauze. Jaehyun forces himself to sit obediently, despite his desire to fidget and pull away. Johnny’s mouth is pressed in an unhappy line as he cleans Jaehyun’s wound, and his eyes dart to Jaehyun’s face for any signs of discomfort as he wraps Jaehyun’s shoulder up with sure but gentle fingers. The air between them is tense, and Jaehyun can’t quite understand why.
“Thank you,” he mumbles when Johnny’s done, and then, because he can’t stand the silence that follows, “sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” Johnny says, a little curt, and Jaehyun flinches. “I’m not mad,” he amends, softer now. “I’m just-” He clears his throat, “Worried. How do you feel?”
“Fine,” Jaehyun insists. “Really, it’s only a superficial wound. It’ll heal up in few days.”
Johnny looks at him, and Jaehyun tries not to feel stripped bare. “That’s not what I meant,” Johnny admonishes, “and you know it.”
Jaehyun swallows, tries to dredge up a flippant dismissal that’ll push Johnny away, because god forbid he pulls his housekeeper into the mess that is his life; it’s not fair, and he won’t do it. But Johnny leans forward and settles both hands on his knees entreatingly. “Jaehyun,” he pleads, “I don’t care what this is about. I just want to know if you’re okay.”
Jaehyun’s unsure if he could even begin to explain; his work, his relationships, his life-it all feels as if he’s building a house of cards, fingers poised above so still and tense that they ache, in the hopes that when he lets go the entire structure will stay standing. But sometimes, no matter how hard he tries, his hand slips, and things crumble, and it leaves him so, so tired.
At the end of the day, they can pretend all they want, but death and violence are all agents know, and you’d think he’d be immune to this shit by now. But he isn’t, and he doesn’t think he ever will be.
“I’m not,” he finally chokes out. “Not right now.”
“Alright,” Johnny says carefully. “Do you need to do this alone?”
“No,” Jaehyun allows, because the thought of spending the night alone sends chills spiking across his already aching frame.
“Good,” Johnny says, relief bleeding through. He takes Jaehyun’s hand, grip warm and firm and comforting, and Jaehyun has to try hard not to weep. “Good.”
--
Lucas gives him an earful the next day, when he trudges back to HQ to make his report. Jaehyun hears you worried me sick and how could you just go without telling anyone and with no back-up too, are you an idiot, so he winces and takes the lecture obediently, all the while looking appropriately contrite. Ten gives him a wry, sympathetic smile, because he’s really in no position to be chastising Jaehyun about running off on solo missions, and at least Jaehyun has someone to stand in solidarity with on this matter.
Because Taeyong’s glare is murderous, and he’s going to need all the support he can get.
“By the book from now on, I get it,” Jaehyun mumbles when Taeyong threatens him with suspension if he gets any more interesting ideas. Which generally means waiting around for Control to get moving first, something Jaehyun’s not very good at doing, but any agent worth their salt knows how to pick their battles.
Mason’s apartment turns up a lead (what a surprise, Jaehyun mutters, ignoring Taeyong’s very, very unimpressed look), files on possible high-profile members of S-Tech situated in various parts of the world under aliases. It’s individually researched information that Mason kept to himself due to shaky evidence. But with the escalation of S-Tech’s recent actions, Control green lights the case. Their team’s focus is on the few members currently residing in London. Mark and Jungwoo are assigned research, and the rest of them split up to observe the targets in their daily routine.
It’s tedious, slow work, made worse by the itch under Jaehyun’s skin, a sense of uneasiness about the entire situation. But any misstep now will trigger S-Tech’s retaliation, something they aren’t able to afford with how much clout the company has. So Jaehyun braces himself and plods along.
And the truth is, it isn’t so bad. On past missions, he’d drive himself stir crazy staying at HQ until three in the morning, poring for a lead in a case. Now, he forces himself away from his desk at a little past eight.
Ten’s smirk is knowing, as it always is.
Johnny will have dinner ready for him. They’ll eat together, and Johnny will continue rambling about Drake’s latest albums and the spices he wants to try in a new curry. He’ll ask about Lucas, and Jaehyun will roll his eyes and answer, same old, still in love with Ten. Johnny will grin at him with a twinkle in his eye, and Jaehyun’s pulse will staccato. They’ll clear up together, and Jaehyun will fret all over again that his housekeeper’s going above and beyond what he has to do, because aren’t you only supposed to cook for me on weekends? Johnny will ignore his protests, and they’ll repeat the routine the next day.
Johnny treats each bare space in the apartment as if they’ve personally offended him, and sometimes Jaehyun will come back to random new things decorating the apartment, like a dorky-looking windchime that Johnny picks up from a thrift store, or a brand-new showerhead.
“A brand new showerhead,” Jaehyun says in disbelief, and Lucas dissolves in delighted laughter, patting himself on the back for having chosen the best housekeeper ever.
“I wouldn’t know about being the best,” Johnny demurs, but he can’t quite hide his pleased smile when Jaehyun relates Lucas’ praise.
“You are,” Jaehyun insists, with all the sincerity he can muster, because there’s been no one like Johnny, no one who’s been able to pull himself out of the fragile bubble he’d tried to encase himself in, no one who could’ve made his home feel quite like home. “The best,” he repeats again, and watches with no small amount of satisfaction as Johnny flushes.
--
Mister Leon Dinis is a predictable man. He wakes up at quarter to nine every morning and goes out to the diner just around the corner for breakfast. And then the park for a walk, and then the Café down by Tenth Avenue for lunch, where he sits there for an abysmally long amount of time. Sometimes he brings his camera, and he wanders around the city taking photographs while people watching. It’s all very innocent. Except for the part where he’s managed to lose Ten’s tail three times over the course of two weeks.
“He’s hiding something,” Ten concludes, frustrated, and Jaehyun can’t help but agree.
“Home invasion,” he decides. It’ll be easy to slip in while Dinis is out for one of his rambling walks and check out his apartment. And maybe it’s petty, but Jaehyun thinks it as payback of sorts, for what they did to Mason. “I’ll bring you guys along this time,” he hurriedly adds at Taeyong’s sidelong glower.
Lucas gets assigned guard duty, because he’s the only one who wouldn’t bite Jaehyun’s head off for suggesting it. They make their entry at a little past eleven, when Dinis is well and truly out of the area, having meandered toward the direction of City Center with his camera. The apartment’s regular looking enough, and a quick check confirms they’re alone.
Jaehyun heads impatiently for the master bedroom, while Taeyong and Ten fan out to cover more ground and install bugs. He rifles through the drawers, but finds nothing useful; some loose change, a loyalty card for the grocery store, a pamphlet on Kensington Gardens. But he’s uneasy, the room’s normal-almost too normal. The walls are bare, and Jaehyun would have expected for such an avid photographer to hang some of his masterpieces up.
“I’ve got his laptop,” Ten calls from outside, and Jaehyun gives one last glance at the bedroom before striding out.
“Password?” Taeyong asks.
“Nothing too hard,” Ten mutters, fingers tapping quickly away. “There, name of diner he eats at everyday.” Ten shakes his head, as the lock screen blinks out. “Really, gramps?”
Google is opened to Trafalgar Square on the laptop, but it’s easy enough to assume that’s a decoy. Ten clicks through the files Dinis has. Photos is inconspicuous enough, but Jaehyun frowns when he realizes it’s full of thousands of images. They won’t have time to go through them all. “I’ll take a copy,” Ten pulls a flash drive from his pocket. “We’ll analyze it back at HQ.”
They’re interrupted by an unexpected ding on the computer. A new image appears in the folder, timed at eleven thirty-seven, current date. “He’s set his camera to automatically upload from a remote location,” Taeyong surmises. “That’s a little-”
“Suspicious,” Jaehyun grits out. “It’s a little suspicious.”
“Wait,” Ten cuts in sharply. “Jaehyun, isn’t that near your place?”
Jaehyun blinks at the new images being added. His gut sinks when Ten clicks through them. They’re photos of his apartment building, no doubt about it. They’re clinical, informative photos with a clear agenda, not ones that a semi-retired photographer would take due to a whimsical interest in architecture.
“He’s looking into me,” Jaehyun exhales heavily. “They’ve clocked me.”
“Why you?” Taeyong questions, even as he moves quickly to pack up their equipment. No one needs to be told twice that they have to move out, now. “Ten’s been his tail. If anybody, it should be-”
“Turkey,” Jaehyun realizes, and wishes with a vengeance he had confronted the two men in that teashop then. “They clocked me in Turkey.”
“Jaehyun,” Ten says, voice strung even tighter now. “Is that…?”
Everything seems to slow, and Jaehyun hears his breath stutter. “Johnny,” he chokes out, as the latest image reveals a blurred silhouette of a person in Jaehyun’s dining room. “He’s there right now.”
Oh god, he’s there right now.
“Wait, Jaehyun wait!”
But Jaehyun’s already tearing out of the apartment, ignoring their shouts. He brushes past a bewildered Lucas, and gets into one of their cars and peals off. He trusts his team, and he knows they’ll do what is necessary. They’ll contact Control, inform them of this new development, and get back-up sent to Jaehyun’s apartment. Jaehyun doesn’t have to worry about them.
But Johnny-fuck.
His hands are clenched tight around the wheel. Jaehyun swerves into a back alley to avoid pedestrians, speeding as fast as traffic will allow. Rationally, he knows Johnny’s probably fine. Dinis’ photos suggest they had been taken from another building around the same eye level. It could just be a scout, and there’s no reason to assume a break-in to Jaehyun’s apartment would ensue. It’s too risky, and it offers no benefit he can think of to the other party.
But there’s a gnawing in his mind; a niggling hunch that with S-Tech’s recent boldness, they might decide to risk a confrontation. They’ve realized MI6 is on their case, and they’re taking steps in retaliation, whether the end goal be to extract information from Jaehyun or take him out entirely. S-Tech were clever enough to identify him just from the brief encounter in Ankara, resourceful enough to perform research on him, and adept enough to determine his address. They’re dangerous.
“Please,” he whispers to himself, even as he bolts out of the car and into his apartment lobby. He takes the stairs up to his apartment, three at a time, heart pounding in his chest. “Johnny please be alright, please please-”
--
In his time as an agent, Jaehyun has seen a lot of things. He’s not infallible; the past few months have proven that. But he’s seen enough to say that very few things scare him anymore. Danger is merely an adrenaline shot to the vein. Fear has been out of the equation for a long time.
It isn’t now. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight before his eyes. He’s terrified. It doesn’t feel like he can breathe properly. Please, he wants to beg, but he doesn’t think he can even speak.
There is an unknown man in his living room, pointing a gun at his housekeeper.
“Don’t move,” the man intones, “or I shoot him.”
Jaehyun doesn’t move. God, he wishes so much he could apologize to Johnny. He wishes so much he never invited Johnny in.
The man swivels his attention wholly on Jaehyun, leaving the gun trained on Johnny. “Let’s talk,” the man begins, but he doesn’t get far.
Because in that moment the man turns his back to Johnny, his housekeeper moves.
Moves like a fluid blur, lunging forward under the man’s raised arm, and snapping the gun out of his hands in a flawless, practised attack. The man grunts out in surprise, but Johnny doesn’t pause to give him time to react. He whips his elbow down into the man’s temple, the solid thwack sounding disproportionately loud in the living room. The man stumbles, disoriented, and lashes out blindly with his fists. Johnny dodges them with ease, trapping one of his flailing arms, and throwing him smoothly to the ground. Jaehyun stares, uncomprehending, as Johnny crouches over the man, delivering a brutal rabbit punch to his face, knocking him out instantly.
And then his housekeeper gets up, and turns to him slowly.
It takes two seconds for Jaehyun to kick his body into gear.
He launches himself at Johnny, ignoring the surprised gasp of pain. They land on the ground, Jaehyun atop, a knee placed carefully in the vulnerable space where Johnny’s ribcages meet, and his forearm pressed down firmly on Johnny’s throat.
“Who are you,” Jaehyun snarls. Because there’s no way a mere housekeeper could’ve done what Johnny’s just done. That’s the movement of a trained, highly skilled agent, someone used to close combat and handling weaponry. Jaehyun doesn’t know what to think. Johnny could be a bloody S-Tech spy for all he knows. “Who the fuck are you!”
“Jaehyun,” Johnny gasps, struggling under him, “please, I can explain.”
“Was this your plan,” Jaehyun spits out, furious and ashamed and wounded all at once. Something in his chest hurts so very badly, but Jaehyun doesn’t have time to tend to that right now. “Get close to me, cook for me, pretend to care while spying on me? My god I was such a fool to trust you, I was such a fool to care-”
Johnny flinches like he’s been struck, hurt bleeding into his expression. He falls still under Jaehyun, as if Jaehyun’s comment leeched all the fight from him. “Jaehyun,” he pleads. “This isn’t what you think.”
Jaehyun takes a deep breath, shuddering. He’d let his guard down so badly, choosing to be blind the entire time. It makes sense now, Johnny’s efficiency with first-aid, how cleverly he had navigated all their conversations to put Jaehyun at ease, his lack of questions at Jaehyun’s long periods of disappearance.
But Johnny wraps a hand around Jaehyun’s forearm, and the gentle touch startles Jaehyun from his thoughts. “Jaehyun,” he says again, and maybe it’s the way Johnny says it, aching and raw. “It’s just me, Johnny.”
Ever so slowly, Jaehyun lifts his arm. He pulls back and folds into a heap on the ground. Like a goddamn house of cards.
Fuck, he’s pathetic.
Johnny sits up, massaging his throat gingerly. Guilt worms its way into Jaehyun despite himself. “Ask me anything,” Johnny says hoarsely, desperation lining his injured voice. “Ask me and I’ll answer.”
--
Johnny makes them both a cup of tea, and Jaehyun wants to snort at the parody of normalcy the action implies. He takes a gulp anyway, feels the hot liquid burn down his throat. Chai, his favourite.
“You work for S-Tech?”
“No,” Johnny says firmly. Jaehyun searches his face for deception and finds nothing. He nods his acceptance, and Johnny relaxes.
“You know what I am?”
Johnny hesitates. “Yes, but you don’t understand.” He reaches forward carefully, as if Jaehyun were a wounded animal, and places a hand on his knee. “We are good at recognizing our own kind.”
Jaehyun blinks, thrown for a loop. “You. What-?”
“Ex-CIA.” He gives Jaehyun a tired, wry smile. “One of their best.”
There’s again no lie to be found in that statement, and Jaehyun stares at Johnny in equal parts bewilderment and awe. “What happened?”
“Injury.” Johnny’s smile dims. “I can’t move like I used to.”
Jaehyun scoffs. “Yeah, right, and what you did just now was a fluke.”
Johnny lets out a small breath of laughter. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
“No,” Jaehyun says. Realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “I guess I haven’t.”
Johnny hunches in on himself. “I wanted to say something. But I couldn’t tell you, because-”
“You couldn’t tell me,” Jaehyun finishes. In the same way, Jaehyun had to, or at least tried to, hide chunks of his life, and watch as the secrets festered between them both. “I get it.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
They sit in a suspended bubble of silence, sipping their tea. Johnny’s hands are clenched tight around his mug, guilt lining every inch of his frame. Jaehyun can’t bear it. “So, housekeeping?”
“Pays the bills. And I’m good at it.”
Jaehyun nods, absently. “The best,” he says, before he can stop himself.
Johnny snaps his gaze up to him, as if he can’t decide if Jaehyun’s being sincere. “I didn’t want to intrude,” he mumbles. “I know what privacy means to people like us. But I saw you, I saw what the work was doing to you, and I couldn’t keep away. I wasn’t going to pretend as if I knew what was going on with your life. Because I didn’t, and that was fine by me. I just wanted to-” Johnny stops, swallowing as if the words were physically hurting his throat. “Be there for you.”
Johnny looks away again, unsure of himself like Jaehyun’s never seen before. And Jaehyun hates it, hates S-Tech all-consumingly for bringing them to this place, hates his work and his oaths and all this secrecy, hates that they’re back to square one, where Jaehyun doesn’t even know if he can ask Johnny to stay for dinner because he doesn’t know where to go from here.
He deserves better than this, agent or no. And he’s braver than this. Johnny bid him to ask, so he does.
“Would you use my secrets against me?” They both know what that means. Would you stab me in the back, would you leverage me, would you endanger me, would you hurt me because you can.
“No,” Johnny says, unwavering and resolute. “Never, Jaehyun.”
Jaehyun takes a breath, takes a plunge. “Okay. Do you want to stay?”
Johnny stares at him in shock. Jaehyun’s never noticed before; there’s a tiny scar above Johnny’s left eyebrow, and he’s got three freckles by his right eye, and goddamn, he’s beautiful. Slowly, a hopeful smile spreads across Johnny’s face, and Jaehyun falls all the harder. “Yes.”
“Then that’s good enough for me.” He leans forward, and presses his lips to his housekeeper’s.
--
(“I’m just saying, we should recruit him,” Lucas insists, stubborn-and ludicrous-as ever. “We have room for one more in the team.”
Jaehyun cuffs him on the back of his head, even though the idea sends a spark down his spine. It could work, technically. But that would mean pulling Johnny out of retirement. And for now, what they are is good enough for them. “Pass,” he decides. For now.
“But why,” Lucas whines.
“One pair of lovebirds in this group is enough for me, thank you,” Taeyong snorts.
“Pot,” Lucas gasps, “meet kettle!”
Taeyong glowers and chases Lucas around HQ. Jaehyun doesn’t have the energy to join in, but he takes pleasure in watching the scene of chaos unfold before him, with Ten jumping in to fend Taeyong off, and Mark and Jungwoo placing bets behind their computers.
Just another day at the office. It’s a quarter past eight, and he’ll go home soon. Johnny will have dinner ready.)
----
1. FYI this was supposed to turn out sad. But I couldn't do it lol.