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Love and Other Mission Anomalies, MI4, Hunt/Brandt, 4/4
"...and, we're clear," Benji says over comms, and Ethan knows he isn't the only one who's stifling a sigh of relief that this op has gone off exactly as intended, with their team nothing but back-up. Not even Plan B, more like Plan F or G, so far down as to be nothing more than window dressing for the alpha team. Of course, they're only here because the previous back-up team had run into their own Plan G, so they were all still on their game but at least they haven't had to do anything but stand around the casino and blend in. "Breaking down the van and heading for extraction," Benji says. "Catch you at the motherhouse."
"Ditto," Jane murmurs in Ethan's ear. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of the swirl of sapphire blue that's this evening's gown, already halfway out of the main hall. They've done three quick, sharp ops in a row, no downtime between them at all, and then came straight into this with no prep; Ethan's already informed the director's office that they're only to be brought online in the case of World War III or the potential for a global pandemic , so he only says, "Save us some of the good coffee at debrief."
"That depends entirely on how annoying the paperwork turns out to be," Jane says, and then she's gone, too, and it's down to Ethan and Will and Monte Carlo in August.
The evening's potential is definitely on the upward trend, Ethan thinks, watching Will make his way across the floor to where Ethan's standing at the bar. He moves easily, no sign of the eight months of rehab it had taken to dig back out from under everything the Romanian mission had dumped on him. He's never going to be one hundred percent back to where he'd been before, but he's closer than any of them--especially Will himself--had realistically expected. He doesn't have the explosive power he once had, or the quick reversals, but what he does still have is honed to an edge so sharp there are times that even Ethan, who sparred with him so often it's like he's an extension of Ethan himself, doesn't see a hit coming before it's put him on the mat.
"You're staring," Will says in a long-suffering tone, coming up to lean on the bar next to Ethan. He nods to the bartender for a tonic and lime, projecting a very credible air of jaded boredom, except for the lightest of flushes high across his cheekbones.
"Enjoying the view," Ethan corrects, smiling as that flush deepens. He doubts anyone in the room--hell, in the city--would notice, but it's like a blinking neon sign between them.
"Is that all you're planning on enjoying tonight?" Will casually removes his earwig, dropping it in the pocket of his dinner jacket. Ethan follows suit, a low hum of Private Now starting up in his head. It's Will's turn to smile, as though he knows exactly what Ethan's thinking. Knowing Will, he does.
"They say you can't come to Monte Carlo and not play baccarat," Ethan says. He's come up with better banter, but it's been a long month and he's more than a little distracted by all the little things he doesn't let himself see when he and Will are together but working, the flex of Will's throat when he swallows, the curve of his hand as he cradles the solid, heavy glass, the perfect fit of his dinner jacket across his shoulders.
"Of course," Will murmurs gravely, just low enough that Ethan has to lean in a bit to hear him, and his smile--intimate, indulgent, for Ethan alone--pulls Ethan in closer still for all that he recognizes the play. "Is that the game you want tonight, Ethan?"
He says it lightly, but with unexpectedly serious eyes, and Ethan reaches for his drink, takes the extra few seconds that finishing off the Scotch gives him to make sure he's reading Will right. There's the game on offer, of course--Will as seducer, Ethan as seduced--and they've played it before, both ways, with great attention to detail and commensurate explosiveness. There's more in Will's eyes, though: anything Ethan wants, if Ethan has it right, and not just any game, but anything. Everything.
"No," Ethan says, just as quietly, just as intimately. "No games tonight." Will's smile slides into something true and open, and the difference is spectacular in its promise. Ethan finally makes himself look away just long enough to catch the bartender's eye, and as quickly as he signs for the drinks, Will is still managing to communicate how beyond impatient he is to be done with the public part of the evening. Ethan blames that for how he finds himself out of the casino and waiting for the car to be brought around with no clear memory of how they got there, only the certain knowledge that he's had his hand on Will--on his shoulder, his arm, low on his back--the entire time. It would bother him, except that the part with Will is the important part of the trip, and he can't bring himself to care about the rest.
"No Ferrari, Ethan?" Will quirks an eyebrow at him as the car arrives. "Who knew you could exercise such restraint?"
Ethan opens his mouth to point out that it's not only his idea half of the time, that Jane is every bit as bad as he is when it comes to the cars, and Will himself is ridiculous about the electronic toys, but the way Will is smiling at him is worth any amount of needling, so he only points out that it is a '61 Alpha, restored to perfection, right down to the proper grade of leather for the seats. "She's a classic--I thought you of all people would know that surface gloss isn't everything, Brandt."
"So, what you're saying is that they stuck you with it," Will says. There's a certain level of glee in his eyes--completely unprofessional in Ethan's estimation, no matter that his assessment is entirely correct.
"They had no idea what they were giving away," Ethan answers, with as much dignity as possible. He shifts the transmission into gear and whips out of the curved drive in front of Le Grande Casino, the engine growling like the race car she'd been in her first life. The road runs down along the coast, sheer drop to the ocean on one side, rocky outcroppings on the other. Ethan keeps his focus on the pavement in front of them, rocketing through the twists and turns almost before the headlights can pick them out. The speedometer inches up and holds steady to the right of 100, one long swooping run until he has to ease off as they get into town, and when he looks over, Will is laughing at him.
"You're so easy, Hunt," Will says, but he drops his hand on top of Ethan's on the stick shift and leaves it there until they get to the Hermitage and he has to let go to get out of the car.
*
They're in a room, not a suite, which would have been problematic if they'd needed to cram the entire team in--Ethan really doesn't give a shit if it is August in Monte Carlo or that they were a last minute addition to the mission, somebody needs to be paying better attention to logistics--but since Benji and Jane are probably halfway to Charles DeGaulle and their flights, it's less of an issue. It's still feels small, though, even with just Will and Ethan edging around each other in a dance that they're still working out no matter that they've been practicing it for months. Ethan flips idly through the room service menu while Will goes through his end-of-the-day routine, emptying his pockets and dropping his cufflinks on the dresser, both of them letting the adrenaline rush fade a little and seeing what's left under it. The room is done up in a style that would have Jane rolling her eyes at the excessiveness of ot all, but balcony overlooks the harbor, the wind fresh off the water and the lights of Monte Carlo spread out around them. Ethan's not at all surprised that they end up out there, both of them leaning on the railings, still too wired to actually sit at the small table, but coming down a little at at time. They've been pushing right to the edge for the last few weeks; they're lucky this last thing turned out to be nothing.
It's quiet until Will unexpectedly shakes shakes his head and says, "Hell of a difference from a year ago."
"Three hundred and sixty-eight days," Ethan corrects without thinking, but it's been on his mind, especially lately.
"Not that you're counting," Will says dryly.
Ethan shrugs, because yes, he has been keeping count, right from the very start, from when it'd been a day, and the doctors weren't saying anything; and then a week, and they were talking about white blood cell counts and restraints that were necessary due to the fever-induced hallucinations; and then a month, and the only good news was that they hadn't had to amputate, but no one was making any promises about rehab. He doesn't say anything, though, because for all they might yell at each other daily, the only real fight they've ever had, ugly and vicious and cruel, was all about Romania on the surface, but underneath it was Ethan's need to fix things and Will's need to be more than something to be fixed. Ethan is still amazed--and grateful--that they not only got past it far enough to be able to work together, but also to know that whatever it is between them goes deep enough to have taken what should have been a critical flaw and forged it into something strong enough to let Will turn his head now and accept Ethan's kiss.
Ethan is almost positive it's something strong enough to take on the information on the flash drive in his pocket, too, the one that was couriered to him right as they got the call for this mission. He can't not give it to Will, but that doesn't mean he doesn't wish it had missed them in Bangkok and that he didn't officially know it existed right this second, especially not with how Will is watching him, as though he knows there's something going on.
"You should see this," Ethan says, dropping the drive into Will's palm. For a brief second, he thinks Will might put it away and deal with it later, but that's patently ridiculous, complete wishful thinking. Anyone who knows Will Brandt knows that, so Ethan isn't at all surprised when Will nods once and reaches for the small data reader they all carry. Ethan makes himself take a step back and say, "I'm gonna..." He gestures toward the bathroom and the overwrought shower. If nothing else, at least there won't be a lack of hot water. Will nods, guarded now, but if Ethan has learned anything in the last few months, it's that they do much better if he gives Will some space.
There is, indeed, no lack of boiling hot water. That's never a guarantee after a mission, so Ethan gets himself into the shower and lets the high pressure jets beat down on him. The files are detailed financial statements of everyone the IMF could find involved with the cartel, every single one of them showing complete reversals in the last year. The three most powerful, the ones who'd been holding the leashes of the thugs in Romania, are completely ruined. One of them already put a bullet through his brain; the other two probably won't last the year without the funds to run their own personal armies. A year ago, Ethan would have thought he'd be setting off fireworks at the news, but now, he's mostly just focused on Will, and he has no idea what seeing the news will bring down on him. Ethan doesn't think there's any kind of closure to be gained, but maybe it's one less thing Will has to expend energy on.
There are a half-dozen scenarios Ethan can see playing out, some worse than others; having Will walk into the bathroom already half-undressed is one Ethan really hadn′t even let himself entertain as possible.
"Hey," Ethan murmurs as Will presses up close behind him. Ethan braces himself on the wall and takes as much of Will's weight as he'll allow, and it's hard not to think about that night and the increasing heaviness of Will against him.
"Hey." Will drops his forehead down to rest against Ethan's back, right at the base of his neck, and Ethan loses track of how long they stay like that. Will doesn't lift his head when he says, "All the shit I can't remember, and then clear as day, I know one of the bodies. His mother probably wouldn't recognize what's left of him, but my fucking brain decides it's time to work again." The cartel had finally figured out what the destruction raining down on them had been tied to; one of the files has photos of what was left of the low-level grunts who'd taken Will, their bodies left out as a last-ditch offer of appeasement.
"What do you need?" Ethan asks. He wonders if it'd be appropriate to describe this moment to the IMF shrinks, the ones who've spent the last few months repeating, through clenched teeth on several occasions, that asking is far better than presuming to know and a hell of a lot less condescending at the same time. They were right and he was wrong and knowing that he's actually helping now is enough to wash away most of his irritation. The rest would be helped immeasurably by being able to mention he'd put their advice into practice while naked.
"Fuck if I know," Will mumbles, and Ethan is moving, turning around so he can face Will, before he even thinks about it, because he may have finally gotten the idea through his head that he needs to back off, but he still has limits and the defeated tone in Will's voice has him so hard up against them he can barely breathe.
"Okay," Ethan says. "I'll just... wing it from here." Will huffs out a small, but real-sounding laugh, at which point a metric fuckton of weight rolls off Ethan's chest. "Sound off if I screw up."
"Have at it," Will says, tipping his head back under the spray and letting Ethan move him around to take proper advantage of the waterfall shower. Ethan doesn't really intend anything beyond another point of contact when he brushes a kiss across Will's collarbone, but Will makes a small, pleased noise and pulls Ethan closer, and they spend another indeterminate amount of time making out while the water beats down on them. "Bed," Will finally says, and they half fall out of the shower trying to move that way without stopping the kisses.
The door to the balcony is still open, and the air moving in off the water is winning out over the air conditioning. It's warm enough that Ethan knows it's not temperature that's making Will shiver against him. He lays Will out on the bed and crawls up over him, taking his time just because he can, because it's just him and Will in this world. He has the time to kissbite a small bruise on top of Will's collarbone, and another under his jaw, and take even more to tease at his nipples, the inside of his thighs. Will lies back and lets Ethan set the pace, kissing Ethan when he can, ghosting his hands over Ethan's arms and shoulders and sides if he can reach. His breath shudders out in a not-quite moan when Ethan licks across the head of his cock, and he threads his fingers through Ethan's hair, but only to hold on, as though he needs an anchor. Ethan takes his time there, too, sucking Will until he's writhing under Ethan, legs spread wide and head thrown back, before Ethan sits back and reaches for the small bottle of lotion.
Will never looks away as Ethan spills some of it over his hand, and when Ethan reaches back to open himself up, Will hums low in his throat and leans up enough to kiss Ethan hard. Ethan knows he's thinking about the last time they fucked, too, before this round of missions, when Ethan had sat on the edge of their bed, watching Will undress, playing along with Will's quiet No touching even as Will, on his hands and knees, had fingered himself until he was ready to take Ethan's cock.
"Slow," Will says against Ethan's mouth, which is exactly what Ethan had said to him that last time, too. Ethan nods, and Will kisses him again, swallowing down the desperate noise Ethan makes when he feels Will's fingers teasing at him, blunt nails catching on his rim even as he's scissoring his own fingers, stretching himself wide. It's almost unbearably intimate, even before Will presses his own fingers in alongside Ethan's and Ethan's hips stutter at the sudden burn.
There are times when the sex between them is all about wearing down the jagged edges left after a mission, a challenge thrown down to see who can hold out the longest, who can break whom, how much energy they can dissipate before they crash. There are other times when it's to prove they're alive and whole, not so beaten up by their lives that they can't drive each other to the brink of insanity. Those are the times when they come away scratched and bitten and bruised, every mark a promise made and fulfilled. There are jagged edges waiting to be smoothed here, and more than a little proof of life needed, but the only challenge is how close they press themselves, how long they can stay together.
Will holds tight to Ethan's hips, forcing him to take Will's cock slowly, each fraction of an inch claiming Ethan that much more, until Will is so deep inside him Ethan loses track of where he ends and Will begins. He leans forward enough that Will can kiss him, the soft, cool kisses a head-spinning contrast to the heat and hardness inside him. Even when Will lets go of Ethan's hips, Ethan doesn't move, and they stay still, balanced in and around each other, breathing the same air until they're dizzy.
"Ethan," Will says, rough and lazy, and Ethan manages an affirmative sort of noise, one that slides into a low moan as Will wraps his hand around Ethan's cock. "I want to feel you come like this." He strips Ethan's cock with an unhurried rhythm, firm and sure for all its aching slowness, and Ethan's left shaking, caught between Will's hand on his cock and Will's cock in his ass, nothing to do but press closer to Will and take it, let Will's hand, his cock build on each other, forcing Ethan higher, higher, until it sweeps over him in a flash, one wave after another after another. Ethan has just enough presence of mind to stay upright through it all, ride it out and bring Will along with him.
*
Not unexpectedly, Will dreams almost constantly during what's left of the night, jerking awake already fighting time after time. Ethan thinks they get maybe an hour of sleep before the sun rises. Will is prickly and withdrawn, but he only rolls his eyes when Ethan wants to take the car out one last time, and later, when they're boarding the plane, he doesn't bitch when Ethan insists on taking the aisle seat so that he's between Will and the rest of the world.
"Subtle, Ethan," he says, but Ethan doesn't miss how his hand is always somewhere on Ethan, or how he ignores the pillow the flight attendant brings him in favor of Ethan's shoulder; and Ethan certainly doesn't miss that once he falls asleep, it only takes Ethan saying his name to soothe him back down when he wakes.
AO3