Archive of Our Own

Jonathan Pine has no objections to playing a part to get the information he needs. He’s lived as so many different people he might as well be a character himself. All things considered, pretending to be Teddy Dos Santos’ extremely smitten and equally inept boy toy should be easy, sexpionage for beginners, if you may. And yet ten minutes before the two of them have to leave the hotel room, Jonathan feels like every nerve in his body is about to experience an electrical surge.

“I don’t understand what you’re so worried about,” Teddy says for the third time in an hour. “It’s just a party.”

The two of them are sitting at the edge of their respective queen sized beds. They’re very nice beds, adorned with plush duvets and a rather excessive amount of brightly-coloured pillows. The beds belong to one of the most expensive rooms in Cuba’s finest hotel. It’s a pity Jonathan isn’t able to get much enjoyment from it.

“I just don’t know if I can pull it off,” he says grimly.

“Why? I bet someone with half your skill could pull this off. I know Miguel, he’s fucking stupid. He thinks he knows everyone better than they know themselves. He’ll assume you’re an open book because you’ll make him.”

“I know.”

Teddy rises from his bed to pad over to Jonathan, setting himself down beside him with a gentle thud. “Then why are you being like this? The stakes aren’t even that high. We go to the party, figure out if we’ve really got a lead, and if not then that’s fine.”

Jonathan answers with a noncommittal shrug.

“You know what these types of parties are like. Things could easily get out of hand.”

Teddy purses his lips and tilts his head the way he’s started doing whenever he thinks Jonathan is being unreasonable. Jonathan has to fight the urge to bring his hand to Teddy’s head and tilt it the other way.

“I’d be surprised if anything got out of our control,” Teddy says. “We know that if they give you a tonne of coke you will be fine, and if they spike your drink you will also be fine.”

Jonathan sucks in a breath through his teeth. “You really have a way of comforting people, Eduardo,” he says grimly. He lifts his hand ready to rake it through his hair only for Teddy to catch his wrist and return it to his lap. The interception is accompanied by a tutting noise. Of course. Teddy had spent nearly an hour trying to give his hair the perfectly tousled look.

“Well, if there is one thing you shouldn’t be worried about, it’s us looking the part,.” Teddy says. He places his hands on Jonathan’s shoulders and guides him over to the mirror in the centre of the bedroom. He positions himself at Jonathan’s side, standing proud and tall as if they were posing for a portrait.

Teddy is wearing a red Hawaiian shirt tucked into a pair of tan khakis. His accessories, which Jonathan had recently been given a lesson on (they sell the look, you know, attention to the little things. An intelligence officer should really know better) include his usual earring, a number of golden chains of varying thicknesses, and a pair of matching aviators. He looks like a caricature of a Colombian drug lord, yet he somehow makes it work.

Jonathan is much less taken with his own attire. His trousers, a neatly pressed pair of white dress pants, are perfectly acceptable. His shirt is what he takes offence to. The garment is made of pearly white lace and not very much of it at that. The thin fibres have been woven into a delicate floral pattern that clearly wasn’t made with coverage in mind. Jonathan physically recoils when he sees himself clad in the offending item in the mirror again.

“I’m forty-four years old, Eduardo,” Jonathan says while scowling at his reflection. “You’d be better off wearing this.”

“Because I am not fourty-four?”

“Yes, and you’re…” Jonathan pauses. Two explanations come to mind, he goes with the one he thinks of second. “You’re more fashionable than me.”

“That’s right, and because fashion means so much to me, I enjoy dressing you up to my liking. It works perfectly.”

Jonathan, knowing that there is nothing he can do to change his face, simply sighs. He really has nobody to blame except himself. He’d been the one to suggest acting as Teddy’s arm candy, because what better way of getting someone to lower their guard enough for you to go looking for important information than by convincing them you lacked the capability for independent thought?

Jonathan makes a move to retreat from the mirror only for Teddy to move him back into place.

“Stay where you are. I have one last thing to add,” he says sternly.

Teddy walks over to his bedside table. He opens the top drawer and procures something small. He covers the item with both hands, preventing Jonathan from getting a good look at it, and slides up behind him. There's a quiet snap as Teddy opens what must be a box. A few seconds later, warm fingers are touching Jonathan’s neck followed by a string of cold metal.

The necklace Teddy is fastening consists of a golden chain threaded through a solid gold ring which sits proudly beneath Jonathan’s collarbones. Jonathan grabs the ring with his thumb and index finger, holding it up to the light for further inspection. A tilt to reveal the inside of the ring has a strange noise escaping his lips.

Letters spelling out Teddy’s name have been engraved into the metal in swirling cursive. It’s obvious from the clarity and precision of the letters that it had been expensive to make. Teddy must’ve had it custom ordered only hours after Jonathan proposed his plan. For a while, Jonathan can only stare at it stupidly .

Teddy eventually plucks the ring from his fingers and presses it against his throat. “I told you, it’s all in the detail. I am a rash man with money to spend and a desire to show off what is mine. It would be strange if I didn’t give you something like this.”

Jonathan’s brows come together to form a look that sits between confusion and another emotion he can’t quite name. The necklace has a simplicity to it that doesn’t exactly scream flashy drug kingpin. He decides against pointing this out to Teddy, and instead expertly schools his features into a look of playful exasperation.

“You might as well give me a kiss right here while you’re at it,” Jonathan says, tapping at the side of his neck. He tries his best to sound humorous and evidently succeeds, as Teddy laughs and claps him on the back in commiseration.

“This version of me would not. I am possessive but I am also classy. Sorry, Mateo,” Teddy says with a smile Jonathan can hear in his words. “Come on, it’s time for us to go.”

To reach Miguel’s mansion,Teddy and Jonathan first have to drive down a winding dirt path shielded by layers of dense foliage. The path eventually gives way to a huge, brick-paved driveway with a white fountain in the centre. The fountain has a modern Greek look to it, with three marble figures supporting a dish from which three jets of water spring out.

The house itself is exactly what one may think of if asked to imagine a tropical mansion. Its stone walls are covered in pristine white plaster. Set within it are a number of windows leading to large balconies. As if that weren’t enough, a veranda with more columns and arches than Jonathan can be bothered to count wraps around the entire house.

Teddy parks the car right of a young man standing near the fountain. Judging from his childish face and the dismissive look Teddy gives him, he’s a low level assistant.

“Take it to the garage. I’ll know if it’s been scratched,” Teddy says as he steps out of the driver’s seat. He walks around the front of the car to let Jonathan out, each of his steps long and purposeful.

“Of course, Mr Dos Santos. Mr Rodríguez is coming down to meet you now.”

“Good.”

Teddy tosses the keys to the boy, who fumbles with them so badly Jonathan feels physical pain. If all goes to plan, then he’ll have to check up on him in the future. He might not be able to save them all, but he’ll damn well give it a try.

In a less than subtle assertion of authority, Miguel leaves Jonathan and Teddy standing in the driveway for a good ten minutes before stepping through one of the many white arches to greet them. Miguel is a dark haired man with a classically handsome face. He’s wearing a silk shirt only partly buttoned, revealing a toned physique. He’s wearing even more chains around his neck than Teddy, and his slender fingers are covered in solid gold rings. He’s a few years younger than Teddy yet exudes pure confidence.

“Teddy, my friend, it’s been such a long time!” Miguel exclaims. He holds his arms out wide with all the love and affection of a long lost brother. He’s not a million miles off from being one. Teddy had explained that Miguel had been a reliable assistant when he’d first started transporting illegal goods. They’d parted ways on good terms and only because Miguel had dreams of running his own business.

Teddy steps into Miguel’s embrace. The two stand there for a while, leaving Jonathan to wait with his hands clasped together awkwardly; the unassertive plus one unsure of what to do without their partner at their side.

“Why did you go silent on me?” Miguel asks. “We should’ve reunited much sooner.”

“A few months ago my business got a little bit beyond me. Let’s just say I had to take quite a few steps back to move forward,” Teddy says with a genuine grimace. “What matters is that I’m here now. When your name came up in conversation I just knew I had to drop by.”

Teddy stops to drink in all the opulence surrounding them. Miguel must have come a long way since they last saw each other, as Teddy’s eyes scan the structure with real surprise. “Looks like you’ve done a lot since those days of you running things for me.”

Miguel claps his hands together once loudly. “Oh yes, big stuff, Teddy, and it’s only going to get bigger. I’m afraid I can’t tell you too much about it just yet. Come, I’m sure you’re in desperate need of a drink.”

With a lazy wave of his hand, Miguel sets the three down a stone path leading through a garden to a giant stone pool deck lit up by bright floodlights and strings of yellow LEDs up above. There are a few other people in the area holding glasses of bubbling alcohol and fat cigars. They’re all dressed in a similarly casual but flashy style.

Miguel leads the two to a cluster of chaise lounges. He lies himself down comfortably, one hand resting on his stomach, the other reaching into his pocket for his own cigar.

“Give me a light,” he says to Jonathan, acknowledging his presence for the first time. He holds out his hand without really looking at him. Jonathan does as requested. He places himself just that little bit too close to Miguel before pulling out his lighter. He stays there until he can see bright ambers dancing at the end of the cigar. When Jonathan turns away he can feel Miguel’s eyes on him. His gaze is focused, but it doesn’t seem to hold any suspicion.

When Jonathan returns to his seat he takes extra care to position himself elegantly. He drapes one long leg over the other and props himself up with an arm. The pose just happens to make his poor excuse for a shirt fall open even more. The way Miguel turns his attention back to Teddy just a little too quickly confirms Jonathan’s belief that his look wasn’t one of suspicion.

Miguel takes a long drag of his cigar. “And who’s this you have brought with you? When you said you were going to bring a companion this is not quite what I was expecting.”

“This is Mateo. I picked him up while I was doing a job in Miami,” Teddy lies smoothly. “As you will soon find out, Mateo is a very good boy. He doesn’t run his mouth nearly as much as the girls from back home do.”

Miguel throws his head back to let out a full belly laugh. Smoke comes billowing out of his mouth in one great plume of ash, dark against the soft lights. With his eyes so bright and mirthful, Jonathan can easily imagine him and Teddy pulling off some dangerous stunt together, two reckless teenagers with everything to gain and nothing to lose, ready to strike it big no matter the risk.

“Well, well, it seems like the both of us have gained some wisdom over the years. Is Mateo his real name?” Miguel asks.

Teddy shrugs. “Does it matter? I like calling him Mateo so that’s who he is.”

“Fair enough. Does he speak Spanish?”

Jonathan bites back a groan. He’d fought for his right to maintain some level of Spanish speaking, but Teddy had argued that if he spoke any Spanish he might get carried away and reveal just how competent he was. Jonathan must’ve been in a good mood when he made the concession to Teddy, as both of them know there was no real danger of him messing up like that.

Teddy gives Jonathan a very deliberate look and grins. “He has been learning for me, right? Show Miguel what you’ve learnt.”

“You know my Spanish isn’t good,” Jonathan protests. The reluctance in his words is real. Teddy had subjected him to several sessions of re-learning how to sound bad at the language. It was so painful he might as well have been a beginner taking their first oral test.

“Come on,” Teddy urges. “Miguel would love to hear it.”

To Jonathan’s surprise, when Miguel cuts in it’s to express the exact opposite.

“Hey, hey, be nice to your boy,” he says scoldingly. “That’s one thing you haven’t learnt, Teddy. When I was working for you your girls always left after a year. You remember Solana? She came to me crying one day asking me why you never showed her any love even though you said you cared for her. You need to be a little mean to keep them keen, but too mean and guess what happens?”

Teddy lifts his brows, daring Miguel to finish his little analysis of his relationships.

Miguel chooses to give his answer in Spanish. “Someone else snatches them up. That’s why you’ve got to take care of your things.”

The corner of Teddy’s lips twitch downwards just enough for Jonathan to notice, a sign of irritation brought on by something more than plain possessiveness. He quickly smooths it out and flashes Miguel that easy, playful smile Jonathan has come to both enjoy and be wary of.

“Maybe I do have a thing or two to learn from you, but not right now. You promised me a drink and I don’t see any,” Teddy says. He looks around jokingly, as if he were a character in a children's show searching for something right in front of them.

Miguel takes the cue. He stands up and pats Teddy’s shoulder heartily.

“You’re a good man, Mr. Dos Santos. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure this night is enjoyable for all of us,” he says. “Elena, come bring these gentlemen some drinks!”

Once Jonathan and Teddy have a decent amount of alcohol in their system, Miguel goes to speak with some other guests. He flits in between them with all the charm and practice of a seasoned salesman. Jonathan checks in on him intermittently. Judging by Miguel’s increasingly wild laughter, the party is slowly working its magic on him.

A few guests have come up to Teddy and Jonathan, mostly to ask how they were acquainted with Miguel. Jonathan can tell almost instantly who is or isn’t part of the man’s inner circle. So far he hasn’t encountered anyone of any particular interest, so he smiles and he plays his part while making sure the conversation doesn’t last too long.

“Mr Rodríguez really is a charming fellow,” Jonathan jokes to Teddy after a boy finishes recounting how Miguel lifted him from poverty by introducing him to the coke trade. “He takes pity on the poor and wants to save me from you.”

“He does not want to save you, trust me,” Teddy snorts. He tips back his flute, swallowing down the last few drops of bitter liquid. “I know what happened with Solana. He snapped her up pretending he was going to give her all the love in the world then treated her so bad she ran away.”

Teddy’s fingers are fiddling with the stem of his glass noticeably enough for Jonathan to make the executive decision to take it from him and place it on the ground.

“You don’t really think I took any notice of Miguel’s little tirade,” Jonathan says quietly. “You said it yourself, he’s fucking stu-, ah! Hello again, Elena.”

It seems like Elena has been tasked with ensuring that no guest made it out of the party sober, as she’s brought along two more glasses of some brightly coloured mystery concoction. Jonathan accepts his jovially and downs it in one go. He hardly feels the liquid as it slides down his throat down to the pool of alcohol forming in his stomach.

“I can see you enjoyed that,” Elena says, not bothering to hide her judgement. “Teddy, someone wants to talk to you.” She gestures to a couple of young men standing near the edge of the pool. Teddy thanks her and goes to greet them.

Just as Elena is about to leave, Jonathan reaches out for her, fingers brushing against her elbow lightly. When she turns there's a moment where she's caught in the glow of the yellow lights. She’s a beautiful woman with big eyes and perfectly curled hair pinned into a half up half down style. Her blue dress hugs her body in all the right places and rivals Jonathan’s shirt in terms of lack of coverage, and yet Jonathan doesn’t feel that spark of appreciation he would expect.

“It looks like you’re very busy. You should sit down for a little,” Jonathan says.

Elena shakes her head, causing the jewels dangling from her ears to clink faintly. “I need to get more drinks for Miguel.”

“I think the drinks can wait for a few minutes. Listen,” Jonathan bows his head and looks up through his lashes, the picture of pity. “The alcohol is wonderful, but I’ve got an itching for something else.”

“That’s not my problem. Go ask your man.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Jonathan says. He lets just the right amount of pleading into his voice. It’s such a sorry display that Elena’s hostility melts away in favour of mild distaste.

“Teddy cut me off a few weeks ago. He said it makes me ratty, which really isn’t fair,” Jonathan pushes. “It’s hard for me, especially at parties, please?”

“Fine, I will take you to the bathroom, but only because I don’t want you begging Miguel like a starved dog. He doesn’t like dogs.”

Elena leads Jonathan away from the pool to an inconspicuous side entrance. She marches ahead without sparing Jonathan a backwards glance. They end up in a small bathroom with only a toilet, sink, and cabinet. Elena unlocks the cabinet and procures a small packet of white powder. She tosses it to Jonathan with so little feeling she might as well be giving a stray dog scraps of meat.

“Here. Don’t ask me again,” she says.

To Jonathan’s relief, Elena doesn’t stick around to supervise his substance abuse. The bathroom door shuts with a quiet click. Jonathan waits for the sound of heels striking wood to fade away before getting to work.

Jonathan opens the packet of coke, dabs a little bit of it onto his nose, then wipes it away, leaving behind a trace that is both noticeable and believable. The rest of the packet gets shoved into his trouser pocket. He then slips out of the bathroom into the hallway.

Migue’s mansion is extensive enough that the only thing Jonathan can hear is the whisper of music coming from the pool. There shouldn’t be any guests wandering around ready to force Jonthan into a side quest. The only room that had opened onto the pool deck was the bar, and the door between it and the hallway hadn’t opened once during the party.

Without anyone inside, the hallway feels incredibly vast and empty. Miguel’s mansion is impressive yet sterile in a way that is normally reserved for houses advertised in magazines. Miguel must have just moved in. The lack of furnishings is paired with a far less noticeable lack of security cameras. It doesn’t really surprise Jonathan. Miguel is successful enough to feel powerful, but not enough to warrant much caution.

Jonathan finds the office in under five minutes. He kneels down to retrieve the twisted piece of metal placed inside his shoe. A couple weeks ago, Teddy had given him one of the lock picks he’d made after much trial and error. Jonathan’s first attempt at using the tool proves to be a success.

The locked filing cabinets under the desk open just as easily as the door. Jonthan flicks through them with practiced efficiency. He’s done this enough times to know what to look for. Lists, maps, scale drawings, hastily scribbled phone numbers; he snaps a photo of anything that might point to a plan. The silence surrounding him assures him he doesn’t have to be too selective with what he records.

Once satisfied, Jonathan takes care to leave everything how he found it, including the locks to both the filing cabinet and door. While he’s almost certain he could’ve gone digging for longer, there is the possibility of Elena wondering where he was if he’s absent for too long.

Jonathan is pleased with himself, in fact, he is so pleased he doesn’t check that the hallway he steps into is clear before making that step.

“You look a little lost.”

Jonathan prides himself in how he doesn’t flinch at the sound of Miguel’s voice. He doesn’t wear a look of guilt because even though doing a few lines of coke in the bathroom isn’t the most dignified thing, it certainly doesn’t warrant him repenting in front of Miguel.

“A little,” Jonathan admits sheepishly. “Elena kind of left me to wander, but earlier on she was helping me out with something. Not in that way! I promise.”

The bark of laughter Miguel lets out makes it clear he had very little concern that Mateo, in his skimpy lace shirt and wide-eyed glory, might try his hand at winning over a woman like Elena.

“Is that all?” Miguel asks. He takes a few steps forward, stopping a couple of feet in front of Jonathan.

“Yes.”

Miguel raises his brows and stares, eyes wide and unblinking, face completely motionless. Jonathan has to give it to him. If he were any less experienced he might be intimidated. He remains still until Miguel speaks again.

“I don’t believe you.”

The words make Jonathan’s blood still for a few horrible seconds. He’s certain he hadn’t left anything in the room different to how he found it. Even if he had, there’s no way Miguel could have noticed his disturbance so quickly unless there had been security cameras running and Jonathan was just too brash to consider they may’ve been well hidden.

It would appear that Jonathan had severely underestimated Miguel. After all, Teddy’s description of him had been based on old memories. A few years would be more than enough time for him to mature into someone truly capable of working with Richard Roper, and if he was such a person, then this outing may be far more complicated than Jonathan had imagined.

Jonathan chooses to let Miguel decide his verdict for him. He waits with his hand pressed against the back of his neck, slowly rubbing away the thin layer of sweat that’s formed on it.

“I don’t believe you,” Miguel repeats. Another step closer. “I think you want something from me and you don’t want Teddy to know that. It’s okay, I won’t tattle.”

The implication in Miguel’s voice is clear and it sends Jonathan’s brain into a little frenzy. Miguel didn’t know.

Despite not taking any dope, Jonathan’s mind and senses aren’t at their full capacity. He’d drunk enough that the sudden re-routing his brain has had to do makes him lag a little bit.

Miguel doesn’t seem to notice. He’s watching Jonathan with an intensity Jonathan is all too familiar with. Want; nothing more, nothing less, is written plain across his face. Jonathan meets Miguel’s eyes and forces himself to blush. It’s a skill he’s never regretted putting the time in to develop. The body never lies except for when Jonathan Pine wants it to.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jonathan says with faux coyness.

Miguel’s laughter fills the entire hall, bouncing off the plain white walls and varnished floor until it surrounds them,

“Then maybe this will make things a little clearer,” he says.

Miguel crosses the distance between them in two easy strides. With no hesitation whatsoever, he reaches out to wrap one arm around Jonathan’s waist. He uses it to draw him in close enough for their chests to touch.

“I want you to be honest with me, Mateo, do you really see a future with Teddy?” Miguel murmurs. His breath smells so strongly of alcohol that it somehow overpowers the cologne he’s sprayed all over himself. Jonathan tries not to think of the smell or of how itchy Miguel’s closeness makes him feel. Instead, he imagines he’s facing the man he’d much rather be held by. It isn’t difficult. Teddy Dos Santos never seems to leave Jonathan’s mind.

When Jonathan speaks, he sounds perfectly unsure of himself. “Yes, I do,” he says unconvincingly.

The smirk that crawls across Miguel’s face is ugly, a crack in a wall of grey concrete. Jonathan closes his eyes and Miguel disappears. In his place is Teddy, smiling from above while Jonathan lay in that pool wishing for absolution.

“I bet you haven’t even known him for a year. None of them last longer than a year.”

“That can’t be true.”

“But it is. I worked with Teddy for three years, and in those three years I have learnt there is something wrong with him.”

“But I love Teddy,” Jonathan interjects. The moment he says it, something bitter blossoms in his mouth. He’s never vocalised his love for Teddy Dos Santos. Not to the man in question or even to himself. How strange it is that the first time he does it he has to make it sound like a lie.

A good lie it is, as it sends Miguel into another fit of laughter. He shakes so much his forehead knocks against Jonathan’s.

“Why would you love him? Maybe I wouldn’t treat you much better, but at least I am capable of love. Teddy, he doesn’t like anybody. He is a lonely man and he will die a lonely man.”

For the first time this evening, Miguel’s words make Jonathan feel real, violent anger - anger that he has only a fraction of a second to extinguish completely. Jonathan has to let this play out how Miguel wants it to. He has to let Miguel pull them closer and closer until their lips are touching.

Miguel’s next words are whispered into Jonthan’s mouth.

“So just say it, admit that you’re only in it for the money. Then I will tell you that I’m about to get more money than he could ever dream of.”

And there it is. Teddy had said that back when the two of them worked together, Miguel had the tendency to let his ego get the better of him. He would brag about a job before it was done to better his image. It seemed like this particular habit of his was hard to shake off.

“Alright, then tell me what this big thing you have lined up is,” Jonathan says. His eyes are still closed and he’s still seeing Teddy. Although they have never kissed, he’s able to imagine it so well they might have done it a thousand times over.

Miguel stops kissing just long enough to share his achievement. The pride in his voice is so pure and unabashed that Jonathan feels as if he’s talking to a little boy.

“I’m going to run a few things for a very powerful man,” he says. “He is an Englishman. I knew from just looking at him that he was the one. He is true force. He will step on every back he sees to climb to the top. And as long as I can be useful to him, he will reward me for it.”

It’s all the confirmation Jonathan needs. Hearing it makes him feel sick.

Roper doesn’t need a genius at his side to achieve what he wants. In fact, someone as young, brash, and willing as Miguel would be a perfect blunt instrument. He already knew that from how well he’d used Teddy.

Jonathan swallows down the bile rising in his throat. He could see it already, and that’s why he had to hold his ground.

“Why should I believe you?” Jonathan breathes.

Just as Miguel is about to answer, Jonathan catches the sound of voices floating over from the end of the hall. Two of those voices are unfamiliar. The third is one Jonathan couldn’t be more familiar with. Jonathan can pinpoint the moment Teddy spots them from the way he cuts himself off mid sentence.

Jonathan isn’t given an opportunity to even look for Teddy, as Miguel suddenly captures him in a fierce, painful kiss, all teeth and tongue, an act of violence more than anything. He backs Jonathan up against the wall so forcefully Jonathan lets out one very loud gasp.

“I think I will tell you later,” Miguel says. There’s a wicked delight in his voice that tells Jonathan that this isn’t what he expected, but it’s exactly what he wanted. “Maybe you should go talk to Mr Dos Santos, tell him you’ve got a new arrangement.”

Teddy and the two men he was speaking with, clearly having decided what they saw wasn’t for them to see, have already left. Jonathan stumbles a little as he’s released from Miguel’s grip.

“I’ll see you then,” Jonathan says. Despite it all, he somehow manages to make it sound like another encounter is all he could ever want.

Miguel winks. “I’m sure you will.”

Crossing the threshold between Miguel’s house and the outside world feels like stepping into a cool spring day after a walk through hell. Just a few deep breaths has Jonathan feeling like his head is clearer than ever.

The guests are much less concentrated in one area. A few have gone home, some are inside the house, and a handful are still on the pool deck. Teddy belongs to the latter category.

Jonathan spots him sitting by the poolside. Teddy’s feet are dipped into the water and a cigar is clenched rather than held in his fist. He’s staring at the water with such intensity Jonathan is surprised the pool's entire contents don’t spontaneously evaporate from the amount of heat shooting from his eyes. Jonathan has to exercise great restraint in walking rather than running to him.

When Jonathan does make it to Teddy’s side, he is greeted with little more than a huff.

“Teddy, you’re not supposed to be this angry,” Jonathan says quietly. “You’re supposed to be jealous in a ‘you just bought the luxury sports car I wanted’ kind of way, not the ‘you just eloped with my wife who is the love of my life’ way.”

“I’m sorry if my acting isn’t as good as yours,” Teddy mutters. “It would seem I don’t enjoy it as much as you do.”

Jonathan’s eyes widen to a near painful size. He did think Teddy wouldn’t necessarily enjoy the acting, pretending to be different people was Jonathan’s speciality, not his, but he was also quite sure that Teddy was aware of what routes these sort of missions could lead one down. Seduction was easily the most cliche of them.

Jonathan decides to combat Teddy’s anger with an appeal to reason.

“You know what kind of things we have to do to get to Roper,” he says. “You said it yourself. Not a single moment of this was going to be easy.”

“I guess so.”

Teddy grinds the glowing end of his cigar into the poolside. It leaves behind a little burnt patch that he pokes with his finger. Jonathan sighs and against his better judgement, places a gentle hand on Teddy’s nape. He strokes the curled ends of his hair until they lay flat on his neck, held in place by a layer of sweat.

“If that’s how you’re going to be then let’s at least have this conversation elsewhere. Come on, we can go now. We’ve just got to say goodbye to Miguel. You don’t have to look happy, but you can’t look homicidal,” Jonathan says.

To Jonathan’s relief, Teddy is able to erase his visible signs of anger, and with some nudging, also dons his persona again. Each step forwards brings back some of the arrogance and nonchalance the Teddy Dos Santos that had stepped into the party sported.

Miguel spots the two of them once they enter the bar. His smile makes the bile come right back up from Jonathan’s stomach.

“Mateo is blasted out of his mind. I think he somehow got his hands on some dope. It doesn’t go well with alcohol for him,” Teddy announces without prompting. “Anways, thank you for inviting us, it was a good party. Good drinks, good atmosphere, good people.”

Miguel's smile falters then returns so quickly Jonathan can’t be sure it had even left at all.

“It was good having you, and you, Mateo.” Miguel pushes back his chair and walks over to Jonathan. His voice drops to a whisper.

“I thought Teddy would be at least a little less happy to see me, but I guess I was right about him. There you go. Do with that information what you will,” he says.

An arm loops around Jonathan’s. Thankfully it belongs to Teddy rather than Miguel. It tugs him away from the bar in the direction of the driveway a little too enthusiastically.

“I’ll do exactly that,” Jonathan says. Those four words are imbued with real weight. Jonathan knows from the tightening of Teddy’s grip that he’s caught it. The thing is, the moment Miguel’s lips met Jonathan’s, Jonathan knew they would be seeing each other in the future, probably sooner rather than later. He has to keep the door open whether he wants to or not.

“That’s good,” Miguel says in response to those words.

With that, he turns back to the bar top.

The drive back to the hotel is excruciatingly long. Teddy very conveniently falls asleep and stays asleep even when Jonathan drives over potholes so egregious they could send the car flying halfway to the moon. One bump has Teddy’s head smacking against the window incredibly hard, yet he refuses to even crack his eyes open.

The silence is disconcerting. Jonathan isn't quite sure how to deal with it beyond fiddling with the ring around his neck. He traces the swirling grooves in the metal spelling out Teddy’s name as if he were counting the beads on a rosary.

In truth, Jonathan had been so busy speculating about what Roper’s plan may be that he hadn’t put much consideration into the more practical aspects of the task, such as to how Teddy might react when he inevitably had to seduce someone for information.

With Teddy nothing was ever clearly defined and so nothing was easy to judge. Still, Jonathan stood by his assumption that it was more than understandable for him to presume Teddy knew what they’d have to do, which is what made him wonder if there was something else to it.

“We’re here,” he says once they arrive at the valet reception. Teddy doesn’t bother pretending to gradually come back to consciousness. He gets out of the car in one smooth motion and walks straight to the hotel without waiting for Jonathan.

Jonathan sacrifices some of his dignity in order to catch up to him. He wouldn’t be surprised if the hotel receptionist thinks he’s some crazy ex. He looks a mess with his ridiculous shirt, alcohol flushed face, and wild hair that’s been subjected to a hand running through it countless times.

Teddy is around the same height as Jonathan, yet Jonathan has to break into a half jog to match his pace. He only just manages to catch the door handle before it’s closed on him. He slides through the gap and continues to stalk after Teddy into the bedroom.

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” Teddy announces.

It’s clear that words won’t be enough to stop him from doing just that, so Jonathan has to make it physically impossible. His hand shoots out to grab for Teddy’s wrist. When he has it he holds on tight.

“It is not your bed time, Teddy,” Jonathan says. “The two of us are going to sit down right here on this bed and talk to one another. I want to know what I’ve done to upset you.”

For a second it looks like Teddy is going to try shaking him off. He stares down Jonathan with a long, hard look. Perhaps it’s the sheer resolution in Jonathan’s words or it’s how insane he looks, either way, Teddy relaxes and shows his concession with a small nod. Jonathan’s hand relaxes followed by the rest of him.

The two sit down at the edge of Teddy’s bed. It’s a few centimetres away from the open window through which a warm evening’s breeze floats in. That sweet breeze is accompanied by the lustre of the moon’s rays of light. One strikes the side of Teddy’s face, casting his cheek in a shield of silver. Both Jonathan nor Teddy had forgotten to turn the lights on. Jonathan doesn’t mind. He’s always thought Teddy looked his most beautiful under the moonlight.

“We’re always dancing around each other, but right now I just want to say things simply,” Jonathan begins.

Jonathan and Teddy existed in the liminal. It wouldn’t be right to say they were one thing or another, and for the two months after Richard Roper successfully delivered a magnetic pulse weapon to Jose Cabrera, what they were had only become increasingly unclear. If Jonathan didn’t make an effort to escape this dance of theirs, they’d be spinning around forever.

“The man who’s lived as more people than I even know is asking for simplicity,” Teddy says wryly. “I think that even if you wanted to be simple you wouldn’t be able to. You hardly know who you are.”

Jonathan wants to say that it isn’t right, but he can’t. He can’t risk telling Teddy something that he doesn’t wholly believe is true.

“Then let me say this. Though things aren’t and never will be simple, this evening made things a little clearer for me,” Jonathan says.

“How so?”

Jonathan’s stomach is beginning to turn the same way it had when a shot rang out in the middle of a Colombian forest and Teddy Dos Santos fell to the ground. Jonathan swallows thickly. There’s no way he’ll lose Teddy now. If they could survive that dreadful night then they could survive anything. Jonathan carries on.

“You know I was unreasonably nervous before we got to the party. I realised that’s because I really wasn’t sure I could pull it off. Not because I couldn’t pretend to be your arm candy or whatever, but because I wasn’t sure if I could hide how much I truly care about you, Eduardo.”

“Loving on Miguel fucking Rodríguez, the man who used to transport goods for me, isn’t a great way of showing your care,” Teddy bites back.

It’s such a childish answer Jonathan isn’t even sure if a good response exists. If Teddy wants to be this irrational, then there’s nothing he can do about it. Jonathan rubs his forehead with the palm of his hand and groans softly.

“I’ve said this before, you know what we have to do. It was part of the job.”

“I know that. What I mean is that you didn’t have to do it so enthusiastically given that in all that time you were Mathew Ellis you never kissed me. Then once you were Jonathan again, Jonathan ‘Oh Eduardo I will never lie about how I feel about you’ Pine, you still don’t kiss me. If anything, you feel further away. How do you think I am supposed to interpret that?”

Jonathan doesn’t realise how still he’s gone until Teddy gives him a harsh shove on the shoulder. Teddy’s eyes are bright, infused with a mixture of anger, moisture, and moonlight. Jonathan wants to reach out and wipe that moisture away. Instead he forces his hands to remain in his lap. He has no right to touch Teddy now.

“I never thought of it that way,” he admits in a small, defeated voice.

“Then what were you thinking? I know what I’ve done. I know I’m a hard person to love and I don’t think I deserve your forgiveness, but I thought you were willing, Jonathan.”

“I am willing. I always have been,” Jonathan says. And it’s the truth. His love for Teddy Dos Santos has always stood in conflict with every pain the man had caused him. A lack of willingness was the last problem he had.

“I just didn’t know if you were,” Jonathan continues. “I would never forgive myself if I took advantage of your situation and-”

Teddy shoots to his feet. The sudden shift in weight has Jonathan’s hand shooting out to catch the headboard before he can slip from the bed.

“No, I won’t have any of that. Don’t you dare treat me like I am some weak fragile thing you need to protect,” Teddy snaps.

The irony of it all is that the tears pricking Teddy’s eyes and his hands shaking with anger all speak to that very fragility he doesn’t wish to claim. Teddy has lived through more pain than one person should, but Jonathan isn’t sure he could survive anymore heartbreak after what his father did to him.

But if tenderness isn’t what Teddy wants, then Jonathan won’t give it to him.

“Okay,” Jonathan says resolutely. “If you don’t want that then I’ll start off by saying that you don’t have to put all the blame on me. A kiss takes two people, Teddy. You know how I could interpret this? You don’t fully trust me, and that’s not something I can do anything about.”

“I don’t trust you? I laid my life in your hands and nearly died for it, yet here I am now. Maybe I am not completely sure I know who you are, but neither are you.”

“Fine! I’ll give you that and I’ll admit that I misjudged the situation, though only because I’d rather be too cautious than monumentally fuck up. Why is that? Because you’re the best thing in my life, Eduardo, and that goes against all reason. Forgive me if I don’t always get things right.”

Jonathan ends his sentence with a sharp inhale. He isn’t sure where he found that burst of strength. Like a burst of adrenaline, it doesn’t stay with him for long. Once it’s left his body rapidly loses all of its rigidity. He slumps back against the headboard, head hitting the hard wood with a loud thud. The image of Teddy standing over him turns into the darkness of his eyelids. He keeps them shut until he’s taken five deep breaths.

When Jonathan opens his eyes again, Teddy is pressing a fist against his mouth in a poor attempt at concealing the smile that’s blossomed across his face. Teddy keeps on smiling as he returns to the bed. This time, when he sits next to Jonathan he places his hand over his. His fingers touch Jonathan’s with a gentleness that should be impossible for a man that has done all he’d done.

“We’re ridiculous,” he says. “My father is probably planning to topple another regime and here we are, picking apart the nuances of our romantic behaviours.”

Jonathan watches Teddy’s hands. Though his hands are pale and Teddy’s are a warm shade of tan, adorn with glistening gold, they look in harmony with one other.

“We’re idiots. I don’t know why we were calling Miguel stupid, we certainly have no right to.” Jonathan agrees. He bites his lip upon realising how thoughtless it was to bring up Miguel, though if Teddy is bothered by it, he doesn’t let it show. His expression is as bright as it had been beforehand. He even leans to one side so his head touches Jonathan’s and lets out a little hum.

“I’m sorry, I knew I was being unreasonable. I don’t deserve you, Jonathan, and that makes me act like a fool,” Teddy says. “I don’t need a kiss to know that we’re going to be with each other until the end.”

Jonathan dips his head in agreement. He slides his hand out from under Teddy’s just to place it on top of his. His fingers trace over the bump of each of his calloused joints reverently.

“But will you accept a kiss?” he asks.

Teddy's eyes flit upwards to the ceiling as if it holds all the answers to their troubles. As he waits his hand grows warm under Jonathan’s. It feels as if the two of them are melting into one another like two strokes of watercolor of different hues. The answer Teddy settles on makes Jonathan blink in surprise.

“I don’t think you’ve quite made up for it,” Teddy says. He stops the protest already forming in Jonathan’s mouth by pressing his index finger against his lips.

“Shh. I think you’ll enjoy what I have in mind,” he says. “I had fun with the little story we spun this evening.”

Teddy is watching Jonathan from across the room. He’s exchanged his party attire for black silk nightclothes. The lustrous fabric drops over the contours of his body like sheets of water. It gives his form a spectral quality.

Teddy is standing perfectly still. That stillness is what makes Jonathan’s body buzz with electricity.

It had been a while since he’d last seen Teddy like this, and while he held every iteration of him dear, he’d come to miss it.

“You disappointed me tonight,” Teddy says plainly. “You had one job and that was to look pretty so I could show you off. What do you do? You go and wander off in the arms of Miguel Rodriguez of all people. You like undermining me? You think this is a game?”

“Teddy, I’m sorry, he cornered me unexpectedly and then one thing led to another,” Jonathan flusters. Sweat is forming on his palms. He wants to wipe it away onto his trousers, but he knows that will only earn him another admonishment. Teddy had bought him the same pair of nightclothes he’s wearing but in white. They weren’t as comfortable as the worn-through T shirts Jonathan usually sleeps in, but he knew Teddy liked seeing them match.

“That’s what I thought you would say,” Teddy says disappointedly. “I don’t believe it. Your attention wasn’t on me that evening, I knew it was elsewhere, so did Miguel. He was only able to corner you because you let him.”

Teddy still hasn’t moved. Standing there bathed in pale light, he looks like a Greek marble. His figure casts one long shadow across the room. He commands the space even though he’s no more familiar with it than Jonathan. There’s a magnetism to him that inspires both awe and trepidation.

“I didn’t let him! He was the one who had eyes on me the moment we stepped on to the pool deck. He was going to do something about it regardless,” Jonathan explains. “You should come to bed. You’re obviously stressed and that’s making you see things that aren’t there. I could-”

Jonathan is cut off by one wave of Teddy’s hand. His lips press together in a show of his instinctive obedience.

“Mateo, can I tell you something?” Teddy asks. There’s something sharp in his voice. Jonathan isn’t sure if he’d mind it cutting him.

“Of course.”

“You speak too much for a pretty boy.”

Those words make the ball of heat that’s been building within Jonathan burst out from his core. The heat overtaking his body is so intense it’s nearly paralyzing. Teddy’s brows rise up to touch the curls laying across his forehead.

Jonathan’s moment of weakness gives Teddy just enough time to cross the length of the room. In a matter of seconds, he’s in front of him, hands on his shoulders, pushing him back with enough force to knock him flat on his back. Jonathan lets out a shout upon being thrown off balance. The noise earns him a sharp flash of teeth.

“We have always been better at communicating like this, no?” Teddy asks from above him. His face is close, so very close, and his breath is hot against Jonathan’s face.

A thumb presses against Jonathan’s chin just a little too hard. Jonathan can do little more than turn his head to try avoiding it. Teddy has him caged between his legs, making it impossible for him to roll out of his reach.

“Look at me, Matteo, and answer my question," Teddy demands.

The part of Jonathan that wants to do as he’s told is kicked to one side by the part of him that wants to push and push until Teddy reaches his limit. He wants to see rage.

Rather than answer, Jonathan turns his head once more. The action makes Teddy’s finger slip from his chin to his mouth. Jonathan is quick to catch it between his teeth and bite down, earning him a pained yell.

Jonathan isn’t allowed to enjoy his satisfaction for long. His disobedience has only given Teddy more incentive to have him pinned down. The two are almost matched in strength, and for a while they are caught in a tight deadlock. Jonathan tries to push at Teddy’s chest all while Teddy uses the weight of his body to stay on top of him. They’re two unstoppable forces participating in a game that must have a winner.

Jonathan isn’t sure how it happens. One moment his hands are clutching the fabric of Teddy’s nightshirt, and the next they are tight around his throat. The sweat coating Teddy’s skin is as slick as blood, and the pulsing of his artery beats under Jonathan’s fingers like the drums of war. It’s enough to make a man go mad.

Jonathan’s entire body sings with the familiar thrill of violence. He squeezes just hard enough to make Teddy wheeze and writhe in his grasp. Even contorted into a grimace, his face is lovely. The light in his eyes looks more like the rough face of a metal shard.

There’s flecks of spit dribbling out of the corner of Teddy’s mouth that land on Jonathan’s face. Still, he doesn’t loosen his grip. He squeezes until Teddy is stumbling backwards in a clumsy retreat. Jonthan pursues him with the single mindedness of an animal, closing in on him until there is nowhere else for him to go.

Teddy ends up with his back against the wall. His hands find Jonathan’s hips, but instead of pushing him away, they pull him closer.

Jonathan accepts it without a second thought. He presses his body against Teddy’s in some wild attempt at feeling every part of him or to become a part of him, he doesn’t know and doesn’t care. The only thing of any importance is the feeling of Teddy’s hands on him.

“My answer to your question is that maybe we are better like this,” Jonathan says. His hands are sliding up Teddy’s chest, pressing down on the spot where he can feel his heartbeat best. “Certainly more honest.”

Jonathan tilts his head and lowers it so his lips are level with Teddy’s neck. He isn’t sure why he hesitates. The fact that his mind has retained some of its ability for restraint comes as a shock. His mouth stays hovering just above Teddy’s skin until a hand grabs the back of his head and pushes it down impatiently.

Teddy’s skin tastes wondrous. Jonathan sucks at it with all the hunger and intemperance of a starved dog. Teddy only encourages him. His second hand migrates from Jonathan’s hips to join the other buried in his hair. Nails sink into Jonathan’s scalp every time he bites and sucks, leaving behind a sharp sting. Teddy practically falls to ruin under Jonathan’s lips. He slides down the wall as his legs grow weaker.

Jonathan follows him down because he’ll follow Teddy all the way to hell if he went there. He’s still licking and kissing and sucking, and then it hits him. A knee rams into Jonathan’s stomach so hard he instantly drops to the floor. He cries out in pain, hands flying to the clutch at the affected area.

“I make you forget yourself, don’t I?” Teddy says. The raggedness of his voice is so delightful it has Jonathan’s nails digging into his stomach. He can hardly feel it over the throbbing pain from the kick.

Teddy kneels so he’s at eye level with Jonathan. The look of triumph painted on his face is wonderful.

“You do. You always have,” Jonathan says in between laboured breaths. He tries to push himself to his feet only to give up halfway. He sits back down so his head is lying against the mattress and lets out a loud exhale.

Teddy looks down at his hands thoughtfully. “That might be true, but you got to me first. I was always weak like that. I think that at the end of the day, you will always win.”

Teddy extends a hand towards Jonathan. He’s too exhausted to be suspicious, so he takes it and lets Teddy help him up to the bed. The two end up lying side by side, bodies turned to face one another.

The intensity in Teddy’s eyes cools quickly, leaving behind a cool placidity. It reminds Jonathan of the water that had passed over his face as Mathew Ellis was washed clean in the pool. Jonathan thinks that if he looked too hard he’d find himself in that water. Not drowning, but floating, away from earth up into the darkened sky.

“I wouldn’t say I got to you first and even if you did, we ruined each other equally,” Jonathan muses. “You made me throw the first rule of sexpionage out the proverbial window.”

Teddy turns so he’s lying flat on his back. He hides his face by throwing one arm over his eyes dramatically.

“What the hell is the first rule of sexpionage? You better not have come up with that,” he groans.

“You’ll be happy to hear that Sally created the term. As for the first rule, I’d say it’s to refrain from doing practically everything I’ve done with you and because of you.”

Jonathan gently takes Teddy’s hand and removes it from his face. He brings it to his mouth so he can bestow it with a flurry of kisses. The ridiculousness of Jonathan’s behaviour makes him feel all the more giddy.

“So, have I earnt my kiss yet?” he asks into Teddy’s palm.

Teddy soon reclaims his appendage, though Jonathan doesn’t have to mourn the loss, as it’s used to cradle his cheek.

“Yes, Jonathan. Yes you have,” Teddy says and leans in close.

TWO WEEKS LATER

The next time Jonathan and Teddy meet Miguel is at a club. It’s the type of establishment Jonathan has only ever found himself in for business purposes, this trip being no exception.

The club consists of one large room lit by a number of golden chandeliers dripping white crystals like rain suspended mid air. The light is scattered every which way by a multitude of reflective surfaces. The club’s crimson panelled walls would look slightly morbid if it weren’t for those beams of bright light shining on them.

On the stage, there’s a band performing slow latin music. A woman with bright red lips and a matching dress is singing with her eyes closed and her head tossed back. There’s a small crowd of finely dressed people just below the stage, swinging and swaying to the music as one great living entity. The din is just loud enough that Jonathan has to raise his voice to be heard.

“I feel like I’m a member of the mob rather than the British Secret Service,” he says to Teddy, who’s walking beside him with a hand wrapped around his waist. Jonathan wouldn’t have thought of himself as the type to be paraded around, yet this feels all too natural. His entire body language shifts to compliment Teddy’s more assertive persona with ease.

“Maybe those two things aren’t too different. I think we’d make good mob bosses,” Teddy says. He takes one long drag of his cigar then passes it to Jonathan. When Jonathan places it between his lips, he can feel the moisture at the end of the wrapper leaf.

“You wouldn’t. You’d shoot anyone who looked at me for a little too long.” Jonathan jokes. “That’s not a good business practice.”

“You’d like to think I’d do that for you, wouldn’t you, Mateo?”

Teddy’s hand strokes Jonathan’s side idly. Jonathan can feel the smooth texture of his rings through his sheer silk shirt. It’s light blue in colour, and has so many folds and ties than Jonathan had required assistance in putting it on. The low Cuban collar draws attention to the necklace Jonathan has yet to remove since the night of Miguel’s party.

Teddy’s gaze idly drifts to the sea of people below the stage. He turns to Jonathan and brushes his lips against the shell of his ear.

“Do you remember when I last danced with you?” he asks under his breath. “At the hotel with Roxana?”

Of course Jonathan remembers. He can recall every detail of it, including how little he’d been paying attention to Roxana. He’d been transfixed on that liquid light in Teddy’s eyes, the heat of his skin dancing beneath his fingertips as if it had a life of its own, and the closeness of his lips.

“Is this your way of asking me to a dance?” Jonathan asks.

“Maybe.”

Jonathan turns so Teddy’s lips are no longer touching his ear. They brush his cheek briefly, only just missing his lips.

“I’ll have to think about it. First you’ll have to promise you won’t get all sulky when I have to dance with Miguel,” Jonathan says.

“Fine. Though if he steps out of line then I will gladly give him what he deserves.”

“How very chivalrous of you, though I’m perfectly capable of shooting him myself.”

“No, I insist. I wouldn’t want my pretty thing getting his hands dirty.”

Jonathan only just manages to bite back his grimace. He firmly plants the cigar between Teddy’s lips in the hopes that it will stop him from saying anything else that might make it difficult to keep his composure.

“It’s lovely to see you’re getting into the role, but if you call me that again I will grab the gun in your trousers and pull it on myself,” Jonathan says solemnly enough that it doesn’t sound like a wholly empty threat.

“Please don’t. You’re much too beautiful to die.”

Much to Teddy’s amusement, Jonathan isn’t given the opportunity to express his indignation as Miguel has just caught sight of him. He waves then over from a large circular table covered with glasses, both empty and full, and an assortment of illicit substances. Elena is sitting with him in addition to a couple of burly looking men.

It was clear Roper had done a thorough job of concealing what had happened with his older son. When Miguel had called Teddy and Jonathan a week after the party, he’d given no indication of knowing about their involvement with his future business partner. Still, Teddy and Jonathan knew that Roper knew they were searching. It was only a matter of time before he caught up to them. It was as inevitable as nature itself.

So Jonathan and Teddy would play the game and they’d play it well. The documents Jonathan found in Miguel’s drawer had given him access to a whole host of information, and this meeting would help piece it together.

Miguel is calling out to them. His words are completely indistinguishable from the noise, but it’s obvious he’s extremely pleased, no doubt ready to see through with the promise he’d made with Jonathan back at his mansion.

Jonathan’s blood hums with the familiar thrill of a challenge. He gives Teddy’s hand a firm squeeze before returning Miguel’s wave.

“What are we waiting for?” he says. “Let’s get to work.”