[ oh, she remembered the cases vividly. she can't help being on edge, surrounded by so many notorious weapons traffickers, a twinge of anger in the back of her mind to see so many people responsible for or at least facilitating so many different kinds of violence that were here, enjoying a party and sipping champagne instead of rotting in jail.
that hardly sits right with her. ]
I could handle Mr. Rivera, if you'd like to mingle with other familiar faces. Maybe catchup a bit.
[ she turns that smile on him again, finally loosening her grip on his arm. he's extra lucky he's got that suit on, because her nails are neatly manicured and sharp to complement the rest of her outfit.
splitting up, at least temporarily, might be convenient, and it could let her get a closer look at those side halls with the steadily rotating guards. if she's close enough to observe, she can figure out the timing as they move between postings, choose the best moment to sneak down one of said hallways.
(...and it would also give her a chance to break away from being pressed so close to faraday. she can tell she's going to need a breather soon if she has to keep up the appearances of doting wife.
"make it work," she reminds herself, however begrudgingly.) ]
[ While he and Emma didn't know each other very well on a personal level, Faraday does know her work ethic, knows the sort of focus that goes in to seeing justice be done. Whatever fire burns in her that guides that determination, Faraday recognizes it as both useful and dangerous.
So when she steps away, he gives a nod, wears that sort of distantly amused look on that face – more "Mr. Brennan" than Faraday. But there's a slight sharpness in his eyes that he directs to her – Faraday speaking, then, and not his character. ]
Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
[ Which is as close as Faraday ever gets to saying be careful. ]
And don't wander too far, either. [ A small, teasing little smile. ] I'd like a few dances before this night is over.
[ she feels far more in her element as soon as she isn't clinging to faraday's arm, and she just tosses him an easy (or at least seemingly so) smile over her shoulder. ]
What kind of party would it be without at least a dance or two?
[ lord save her from actually having to dance with faraday. she hopes he's kidding, playing up the role, and that he won't insist it's good for their cover to participate in some of the aforementioned dancing.
she blows him a quick kiss (and if that doesn't show her dedication to the act and her job, she doesn't know what will), and then she's turning to leave and further explore the party. her attention is focused on rivera, where he stands chatting and laughing with a few of the other attendees, a small ring of men all finely dressed with champagne flutes in hand. her eyes flicker from rivera to the hallway he stands near, watching as the bored-looking guard standing by the entrance checks his watch.
it's not hard for emma to put on her sweetest smile, the most alluring lilt her voice can manage as she approaches rivera, and she's all sugar and charm as she oh-so politely interrupts the men's conversation. they don't seem especially put out to have a beautiful woman's regard, making it almost painfully easy for her to chat them up with the right combination of flirtation and flattery.
not even a challenge, she thinks blandly as she focuses more intently on rivera, but she takes very precise note of the rotation of the guards, how frequently they switch out and change station. it's not hard to discern their pattern, committing it all to memory to report back to faraday. finding the right opportunity to get lost in the crowd, to just slip unnoticed down a momentarily unguarded hall is going to be a whole lot easier than she expected, and she has absolutely no problems with that. ]
[ It’s a convincing act, all things considered (those “things” being Emma’s impatience and outright disdain for Faraday and everything he stands for), and Faraday allows himself the briefest second to flash her a bright, impressed little smile. It seems to say, Touché, Cullen.
When she steps away, he spends a few seconds tracking her progress through the crowd toward Rivera – a quick, visual confirmation that she reaches her destination, of course; not that he’s worried or anything. Once she reaches the little ring of men, he nods to himself before stepping away. While she focuses on Rivera, Faraday wanders the crowd, flitting from one conversation to the next. Despite his usual dealings with Emma, where he tries his level best to be as infuriating as possible, Faraday can actually be charming when he has reason to be, and he turns up the charisma tonight. He quietly invites himself into a conversation, and when he feels he’s received any information he could, he drifts away, ensuring his departures are never awkward; he moves around the room with the grace of a socialite making the usual rounds.
As he wanders, he overhears snippets of conversation, hears names crop up now and again. McKenna. Cole. Lee. Bogue. Alvarez. Names he recognizes from the case files that crossed his desk – rich, successful men who coasted along the edges of these illicit deals but never involved themselves deeply enough for the agency to pin anything on them.
Hopefully that will change, after this assignment is over.
One champagne glass gets emptied, exchanged for another, and this second glass is half-drained by the time he drifts a little closer to Emma and Rivera. Far enough to show he’s still allowing Emma to continue pressing for information, but close enough to signal that he’s ready to discuss his findings when she is. ]
[ rivera is an easy enough target, emma's come to realize, with just a few sweet smiles and indulgent laughs, he's focuses almost entirely on her. it's only after she sees faraday start to drift towards them in the periphery of her vision that she decides she's gathered up everything she needs, and she offers rivera an apologetic smile. ]
I'm sorry to run, but I need to make sure my husband hasn't been getting into any trouble without me.
[ (she inwardly applauds herself for holding any grimace in check at the mention of her "husband.")
rivera just laughs and waves her off with a good-humored smile, and emma drifts away towards faraday. she probably should slide her arm through his again, but she instead sips at her champagne, settling at faraday's side again. ]
Any old friends?
[ she surveys the room with a distant smile, keeping her expression neutral as she glances again towards the dark hall. ]
[ As he waited for Emma to finish up, he had matched the names to faces, scanning the room in easy, idle glances to avoid drawing suspicion. Cole, an older, pudgy man, wandering on the edges, sauntering up to every young, pretty woman he happened to spot. Alvarez, a middle-aged man with dark hair and a well-kept beard, seated at a table and enjoying a heated discussion with a handful of others, including Lee, some gaunt-looking man just approaching his forties. McKenna, a younger woman with her blonde hair impeccably coiffed, making quiet conversation in a far corner, nursing a glass of red wine. Bogue, a thin, balding man, flanked by three personal guards – a display of power most would find tasteless at a party like this, though none would say as much to his face.
Any of them could be involved with the arms deal he and Emma are tracking; hell, all of them could have some hand in it, just as easily as none of them could. Hard to tell, and harder still to discuss it while in a crowded room filled with some of the shadiest folks in the entire world. ]
[ her accent slips a touch as she takes another delicate sip from her champagne, careful not to smudge her lipstick terribly. her eyes follow faraday's as he surveys the heavy hitters in attendance, though her grip tightens almost imperceptively when she sees bogue off with his guards, looking so self-important as he droned on about something or other to another partygoer.
she doesn't say a word about it, forcing her eyes back to the others in the room, before she glances up at faraday again. ]
Though if we were to, say, get a bit lost, the ideal window will be in another three minutes.
[ she says it ever so casually, her voice soft and her expression unfazed. they'll need to slip away soon, because she knows just as well as he does what other dealings will go on in those back rooms, and if they can get a bug inside of them, maybe find something more concrete, they'll be doing their jobs up right. ]
[ That brief break in character is enough to elicit a small, near imperceptible frown from Faraday. Faraday is good at his job (damn good), but there are some aspects that (reluctantly. begrudgingly.) he had to admit Cullen had him beat on. Keeping her eyes on the goal, for instance, and maintaining her cool while the world went to shit around them.
And apparently that calm had slipped, and even as brief as it was, it’s enough to make Faraday start feeling the slightest inklings of concern.
The mask snaps back in place as quickly as it slipped, though, and Faraday files the moment away to discuss later. Now’s not the time, despite how the questions burn in his throat, and he nods mildly at her instruction. Three minutes to bide their time and wander over to the hallway she spotted. Very doable. ]
I wouldn’t mind slipping away. [ While there was always the chance one of the guests could let slip a few choice pieces of information, their best chance at getting any good intel was planting those bugs.
Faraday drains the last of the champagne in his glass, leaving the empty flute with a server as she passes. He could probably have a third (or a fourth. or a seventh.) and not feel it, but he cuts himself off there. He’d prefer not to suffer Emma’s baleful looks for that particular vice. ]
[ emma's attention is on faraday, on the room at large and the mission in front of them, and she refuses to keep looking at bogue, to even acknowledge his presence — lest she lose her focus to a special kind of anger she's kept pinned in place until now.
leaving her half-full flute with another passing server, emma reaches up to smooth a stray piece of hair back behind her ear, her smile carefully in place as she turns her eyes up to faraday. any other occasion, and she would never smile at him like that (in fact, she rarely smiles in her daily life, and wrangling a laugh out of emma cullen is practically a herculean trial, so much so that it's become a joke around the agency). ]
Then should we take a walk?
[ if they time it just right, they won't be noticed even a little, easily lost in the mingling crowd to the sound of laughter and drinking and schmoozing.
she should probably take his hand or his arm like a loving wife would, but she can't quite bring herself to do it, as much as she's trying to "make it work." ]
[ It seems this assignment is revealing new depths to one Emma Cullen, Faraday thinks, though it could all just as easily be an act, some character she's dredged up and will quickly pack away again like a winter coat.
(There's a brief second where he thinks, That's not such a bad smile. And quickly on the heels of that, Wouldn't be too bad to see it more.
And Faraday is quick to set fire to both of those thoughts and stomp on the ashes.)
He returns the smile easily enough, though without any of Emma's artful arrangement. A quick smile, something he slips on as easily as breathing, and he nods his agreement.
The two of them should keep playing to their roles, should act as though they're joined at the hips, but he knows Emma can only be pushed so far before she starts pushing back. For now, he contents himself with leading the way through the assembled guests at a leisurely pace, letting their arms brush against one another in a way that speaks of comfort and familiarity. (He wonders if Emma might slap him for that later. He wonders if she might actually kill him after all is said and done. Faraday makes a mental note to put in a request for time off to Chisolm in order to briefly go into hiding.)
Sure enough, there's a gap in the guards' patrol, and when that gap presents itself, Faraday casually steps into the darkened hall, rounding the corner to hide them from view.
They should get to work while they have this chance, should immediately head to the first of the rooms they've marked out as possible meeting points, but instead, he stops their progress, turning and ducking a little to get into her line of sight. ]
What's going on? [ No preamble. No beating around the bush. A tad brusque, perhaps, and while concern brushes against the back of his mind, his tone is purely professional. He doubts Cullen would appreciate it if he sounded worried, but that slip up, apparently, was still fresh on his mind. ]
[ content to follow faraday down the hall, emma lets him lead the way. she's mentally mapping it out as they go, remembering which rooms in particular they need to bug first, where they need to check in. she's especially good at this part of their fieldwork, because she's all about the planning aspect of missions. she's fine in action, too, but she likes to be prepared, prefers when things follow a set course — which, unfortunately, happens a whole lot less often than she'd like with her partner.
however, when faraday suddenly stops them before the first room, she nearly runs right into him. halting quickly, she turns her eyes up to him in obvious question, and then—
what's going on?
damn it.
she'd thought (hoped) he wouldn't notice her slip, near imperceptible as it would have been to almost anyone else, but given the amount of time they've spent together, the hours dedicated to learning the ways they both operate, she should've been prepared for him to catch on.
emma doesn't manage to keep a small frown off of her face before she forces her expression to smooth into that usual unimpressed look of hers. ]
Nothing that will get in the way tonight.
[ she doesn't want to explain herself to him, not here and not now (probably not ever), and given the constraints on their time, she'd rather push ahead with the mission — and avoid this conversation with faraday. ]
Everything is fine.
[ her voice is firm and unwavering, and she finally steps around faraday to approach the first room, intent on getting a move on.
she doesn't need to tell him about bogue right now, she decides, doesn't need him to know more than he ought to about the circumstances surrounding her history with that despicable man. they're here to find evidence on him (among others), and emma will do her damnedest to claim that victory. ]
[ She brushes past him, and he raises a hand, intent on holding her back, wanting to ask her to lay it all out for him, because there was clearly something wrong, here. Clearly something that had rattled her, and if it happened once, it could happen again, and—
But the moment passes, and he lets her step around him, lets his arm drop to his side. He murmurs, ]
If you say so.
[ though he hardly sounds convinced. He watches her retreating back with a frown for a second or two. Not enough time to suss out what had bothered her. Maybe in the privacy of their hotel room, he could poke her for answers, but not now.
He trails after her after the moment of reflection, glancing over his shoulder every now and again to keep an eye on their backs while she leads the way. As they head to the first room in silence, Faraday, of course, is the one to break it: ]
[ now is hardly the time or the place to talk about this — not even taking into account the fact that emma doesn't think this is any of faraday's business (but it probably should be, if she's honest; anything that affects her affects faraday by extension, and if it will impede her performance, it matters).
but emma won't let it. this is too important for her to get distracted by her emotions, and despite the roiling ball of anger sitting in her chest, she's determined to ignore it.
emma is in the middle of searching for the best places to bug the room when faraday speaks up again, and she goes tense all over, turning her head to look at him with a barely restrained expression of indignation. ]
Agent Faraday, I assure you I'm more than capable of handling this mission.
[ her eyes narrow, and she looks away to return to concealing a near imperceptible microphone. ]
I'm not nearly as compromised as you seem to think I am.
[ The tone she takes with him hardly helps to convince him any more than her previous assurances did, but he knows better than to disagree with her right now, pressed for time as they are. Still, though, the use of his name while they're on the job makes him wince, and he looks over his shoulder from where he's keeping watch. ]
Richard Brennan.
[ The name he's adopted for their assignment, and the one he intends to use while they're still on the clock; the correction comes out sharply, and he looks her over once more before turning back to keep an eye on the hall. All things considered, it was a minor slip-up, and it was just as well that it happened now, rather than while the two of them were mingling in the party. But it was also a rookie mistake, and one liable to get them into hot water, if that name and that title drifted past the wrong ears. ]
[ emma bristles at the correction, but not because he's wrong. it was a slip, something she shouldn't have said when they're not in any kind of safe environment right now — not the place for it. she likes to think she wouldn't have let either out while they were in the wrong company, but still, outside of the comfort of their hotel room, this wasn't the time. ]
It won't.
[ she sounds determined, and the truth is that she's grasping at her usual focus, trying to nail down the way she always handles their missions. the most frustrating thing for her is that she doesn't make these mistakes; small things, certainly, but these are significant enough, compared to how she operates.
shaking away that train of thought, she turns her attention back to the room itself, finishing up with the bugs and running a quick test. everything seems to be in order, and she straightens back up, glancing over her shoulder at faraday. ]
[ At her word, he spends another quick second to look her over, looking for tells, for signs of discomfort, for signs that she might be breaking.
He thinks she might be. He thinks he sees fine cracks in her usual pristine veneer, and he wonders how far those breaks go. Pretty far, if he had to wager a guess, considering the slip of her mask from earlier, the use of his name just then, the anger she's just barely keeping a lid on right now. ]
You'n'I are gonna need to have a chat after this.
[ He says it lowly – a threat or anything of the sort, but certainly a promise that he intends to bring this conversation up again once they're not at risk of getting caught with bugs up their sleeves.
But he checks the hallway again – no one approaching still, and he nods them back out, heading to the next room they'd marked out. ]
emma's really looking forward to that (not). she's already mentally compiling ways to dodge any questions he may try to bring up, how she's going to shut him down if he even so much as thinks about bringing this up. maybe if she just swallows her pride and manages to apologize for being distracted, he'll leave well enough alone.
that would be appreciated.
pursing her lips in clear disagreement, she at least doesn't argue, not now, and follows faraday out of the room and back into the hall. she lets him lead the way, and the second room is fortunately just as empty and just as easy to thoroughly bug; emma doesn't speak to him, focusing instead on what she's doing, and it's only after they're about to head out again that she glances over at faraday. ]
Rea—
[ the sound of muffled voices down the hall makes her stop cold, her entire body going stock-still. this is not the right place to be discovered, would make it even more difficult to pass off with a quick lie about getting lost when it's so inconvenient to otherwise even get down this hall.
she hears a door open outside, more voices, and the door closes again as she looks expectantly at faraday. she's not sure if they should bolt, try to put some distance between them and the others in the hall, or just see how likely it is that they'll get out of it with apologies and one of faraday's disarming grins. ]
[ Even as she thinks of dodges, Faraday starts organizing his questions. He doesn't delude himself into thinking that she'll make this conversation easy for either of them, but neither does he delude himself into thinking he deserves the entire truth. The two of them have never been close, not even in a professional capacity, but as her partner he at least deserves some sort of explanation.
But apparently Emma's distraction is a two-edged sword, because Faraday doesn't hear the voices until they're practically upon them. If they run, they'll surely be seen, and two people bolting down a hall isn't exactly a normal sight – triply so, given who's in attendance at this party. Staying as they are is no better, considering they've been wiring the rooms for sound, and if they're simply standing there, that leaves them open to questions. As much of a charming son of a bitch as Faraday can be, he's not sure if he can talk them out of this. Not as they currently are, at any rate.
Faraday freezes as Emma turns to him, mind racing, and—
While Emma thinks logically, comes at their assignments with five plans of attack at the ready, Faraday has always worked best shooting from the hip. Improvising. Cobbling together a solution with shoestring and a piece of gum.
He turns, using one foot to kick the door – not enough to slam it shut, but enough so that it's mostly closed over. He loosens his tie, lets it hang from his neck, and undoes the top couple of buttons of his shirt. He rips off his jacket and tosses it over the back of a nearby chair. ]
Don't kill me.
[ which is all the warning Emma gets before he lifts her bodily, depositing her on the edge of the nearby conference table. He cups her jaw with one hand, his other hand resting on the small of her back. A smile that looks like more of a wince is all that stands as an apology – and it'll have to do, because not a half-second later, he surges forward to claim her lips with his in a desperate kiss. ]
[ ...of all the ways to solve this new problem, of all the things he could have done, this is the least expected. her mind is still reeling with questions as he loses his jacket, loosens his tie, and—
oh. no.
she realizes what he has planned as soon as the words leave his mouth. ]
Don't you d—
[ she's caught off guard by the all-too easy way he lifts her, sets her onto the table, and her mind reels with protests, with alternate plans that weren't this, but his face is far closer than she's used to it being, and given the severity of the situation, she's having trouble parsing out her thoughts. the next thing she's aware of, he's kissing her, and her brain just completely shortcircuits.
she can smell him — cologne and champagne and a hint of smoke — and the heat of his rough palm on her face, the pressure of his hand on her back, it's a whole mess of sensation she hasn't experienced in a long time, and certainly never with faraday. he's the last person she'd be doing this with (voluntarily, at least), and as much as she wants to just bite him and shove him off, she realizes that it's the easiest cover, the last thing anyone bursting into the room would want to question, but this is faraday.
make it convincing.
god. damn. it.
emma makes a soft sound — part grumble, part growl — but she reaches up, curls a hand in his unbuttoned shirt, the other finding his hair in a particularly rough grip (convincing, and also a little satisfying), and she finally kisses him back, pressing her lips to his and dragging him closer to her. it needs to look good, she tells herself, needs to really pass so that whoever sees them isn't going to ask too much of them — because isn't it embarrassing enough to interrupt a couple in the throes of...whatever it is they're doing in a dark, empty room? ]
[ Even with his (admittedly lackluster) warning, Faraday still expected Emma to shove him off, to clock him, to do any number of things, really, to separate them. Would've been funny in retrospect, assuming getting caught in this back room uninvited didn't land them in any more trouble than a slap on the wrist.
Given some of the partygoers, though, Faraday doubts any punishment for being found trespassing would be as light as that.
But he should've given Emma more credit, because despite her sense of panic and the way her surprise makes her freeze, and also despite the fact that she hates his guts, she doesn't flip him onto his back and beat the tar out of him. Too clever for that, he supposes. And instead of enacting some form of physical violence on his person, she responds in kind, pulling him in close, moving against him, and— she's not bad, actually. Faraday had always sort of wondered, honestly – because of course he would. Emma Cullen was a beautiful woman, even if she spent most of their time together despising him (not that he blamed her), and, yes, he had always been a little curious. It's at least a little gratifying, then, that under pain of capture or discovery, she could set aside her near mortal hatred of Faraday and let loose. It's surprisingly good and in a second or two, Faraday nearly forgets the voices down the hall, starts losing himself to the sensation of her mouth on his, her hand against his bare skin, her fingers tangling in his—
Oh.
Alright. The tight grip she has on his hair catches him off-guard entirely, and he inhales sharply, surprised. But the rough little tug as she drags him toward her throws him off even more, made obvious by the (frankly mortifying) sound he makes – little more than a quietly voiced exhale, but there was definitely something pleased in it.
... He'll say it was part of the act, some distantly logical voice at the far, far, far back of his mind decides. He'll say it was part of the show, if she brings it up. Because there is no fucking way in hell he wants Emma Cullen to know a single thing about him or his sex life, including the fact that he might actually like it a little rough.
In the here and now, though, his attention is split. Part of it on trying to listen for the noise of approaching footsteps or voices, trying to figure out how many and how close. And the other part on kissing Emma, licking tentatively into her mouth, faintly tasting the champagne she had nursed earlier. Make it convincing, Chisolm had said, and while it was mostly directed to Emma (whose disgust was practically another presence sitting at the table with them), a little flick toward Faraday here and again said the impetus was as much on him as it was on her.
So he makes it work. He has quite a bit of practice in these affairs, in a manner of speaking.
He draws himself out of their kiss, though a small (tiny. miniscule. microscopic) part of him is reluctant to break contact for any amount of time. He does it anyway, though, and redirects his attentions to mouth the side of her neck, to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. ]
[ she's going to murder him. absolutely, completely kill him for this, and she's not even going to feel remotely bad, because, oh, he deserves it. for starting this in the first place, for being such an insufferable jackass, for—
oh, hell.
that little sound out of him is exhilarating in a way emma absolutely refuses to acknowledge, because, she tells herself, it's just that she's thrown him for a loop that's satisfying — that's it. not the reaction itself and whatever that could've meant for faraday's predilections (because while she's curious in this moment, she will absolutely never, never ask joshua faraday about his sex life. full stop.). she's also definitely not going to think about the way it makes her heart pound, that the way he kisses her leaves her breathless and a little lightheaded — nerves, she tells herself. it has to be how anxious she is about being caught, about trying to pass this off the right way.
it has to look good, just like the rest of their inconvenient cover, and as faraday finally pulls away from her lips, she thinks there's no way this won't be solid enough to ward away suspicion. she's almost surprised (not disappointed) when he stops kissing her, a flicker of confusion on her face that quickly melts away. ]
Wh—oh—
[ she will absolutely never, not in a million years, own up to the breathy, near-moan that slips out of her as the heat of his mouth slides across her oh-so sensitive throat. part of the act, she'd say, if she ever has to explain herself. she's just— that good an actress, obviously, and certainly not affected by the way faraday drags her into him, her curves pressed right up against his chest, every inch of her body practically molding to his.
she's trying to listen for the footsteps down the hall, trying to pick out the sound of other doors being opened, but as her breathing hitches, she slides her free hand under the open material of faraday's shirt, her nails digging into his shoulder — a little extra roughly each time she shudders against him. she still clings to his hair, and she will absolutely die before she admits that a particular shift of his mouth makes her whimper.
just an act. a very, very good act, because this makes holding his arm look like child's play. ]
[ Those quiet, seemingly involuntary sounds she makes, the way she presses into him, moves against him – it all sends heat through his veins, and he hums encouragingly against her throat, breathless and laced with—
(need. pleasure.)
—something even Faraday can’t quite place.
His own breath hitches the first time he feels her nails dig into his skin, and the prickle sends a flare of heat through him, sets the tips of his fingers tingling. He takes it for a fluke, that first time, as he does the second, but around the fifth time, he decides he just does not give a single shit about intention or not, because it’s good. Those little pinpoints of pain (that far away part of him wonders if it might leave a mark? if he can drive her to enough of a frenzy that she might lose herself and actually draw blood?), the rough sting of her fingers tangled in his hair – it’s damn good, and— ]
Fuck—
[ hissed out, thready with want. He can’t help it, because shit, the warmth of her body against his, the quiet noises she’s making, each shuddering movement, pours something molten into his gut, sends wave after wave of heat through him. He claims her lips again – greedily, this time. Desperately. One of his hands slips beneath her thigh, skin exposed by the slit of her skirt, and he tries to pull her closer, his own hips canting towards hers, and—
He thought he heard something.
… Probably nothing. And anyway, who gives a fuck? Faraday slips his tongue into her mouth again, licking past her lips and teeth—
No. No, he definitely heard something, that time.
Startled, Faraday pulls away, turning to see a youngish man in a suit just a hair too small for him. There’s an unmistakable redness to his face as he clears his throat again – this time to actually find his voice, whereas the first and second times had been to tactfully capture the couple’s attention. Faraday looks past him to see another man hovering in the doorway, who tries and utterly fails to smother his grin. The first man straightens, and he attempts to imbue his voice with some authority – though he misses the mark. Discomfited, probably. ]
Access to this room is restricted. I’m going to have to ask you to return to the ballroom.
[ Faraday pulls away from Emma, wastes a second with staring at her, before another quiet cough finally spurs him to action. Faraday nods to the guard, offers a grumbled apology, before he scoops up his jacket and slips it on. He doesn’t bother with straightening himself up just yet, nor does he move to wipe off the lipstick that’s surely smeared on his face; apparently beating a hasty retreat is much more important, considering the slow burning embarrassment in his gut. Not an act, that embarrassment, and Faraday silently prays for the floor to open up beneath him and swallow him for letting that little act go as far as it did.
(and for wanting so badly to pick up where they left off.)
He offers Emma a hand down from the table before he quickly shuffles past the two guards. He also buries the desire to punch out the grinning guard, whose shoulders shake with the strain of holding back his laughter – which, Faraday feels, should warrant some kind of reward. ]
[ act though it may have been, emma's going to be impossibly humiliated when she has a chance to think about what she and faraday had done; she shouldn't be letting it affect her so much, shouldn't be so swept away, but she feels like her mind has just gone blank, until the only thing she's focusing on is faraday and his lips and the heat of his hands, and—
—and then they're interrupted just like she expected them to be.
however, what she didn't expect was how mortified she feels when she sees the two guards watching them. this had been the entire purpose of kissing faraday in the first place, to be walked in on and pass off their presence as a pair of overeager lovers, but— god, she doesn't even want to think about how overeager she'd really been.
with color high in her cheeks, she's quick to slip off of the table with her hand in faraday's, ducking her head and following faraday out of the room.
well, it had worked perfectly, that's for sure; there hadn't been any questions, they hadn't been detained, and no one seemed to suspect a thing (if the near-guffawing guard was any indication), but her body is still thrumming with, god, whatever that had been, and she absolutely hates how flushed she feels, her heart still pounding, breath unsteady.
anxiety. just anxiety. that's all it could have been.
she makes it down the hall with faraday, not quite back to the ballroom, before she finally looks up at him. there certainly is lipstick smeared across his mouth, and she's sure it's even worse on her own face, and his hair is mussed all to hell, his shirt rumpled with partially exposed skin, and—
oh, dear god.
there's a few harsh, red marks on his shoulder, leading down his chest near his clavicle, and those sure are tracks from her nails. she reaches up to touch her own neck in a moment of sudden uncertainty, her eyes narrowing slightly at faraday. ]
Did you mark me anywhere?
[ this is an important question, and she decides not to mention the marks she can see on him. ]
[ Each step away from the room helps to cool him down, helps to lighten how heavy his heartbeat had become, but it does nothing to lessen the flush of embarrassment at how quickly he had gone from "this is an act" to— to—
That. Whatever the hell that had been.
And he's not sure if Emma's silence was a signal of that same embarrassment, or if she's merely allowing him to gather his wits about him, because— admittedly, the whole thing had worked him up, had made his pulse pound in his ears, had lit up his skin until it made every touch feel practically electric. The cold wash of reality helps to bring him back down, though. And the mortification has a hand in that, too.
Because— because fuck, that had been good. And given his "experience," that had been good. And— hell, he can't keep thinking about this. He cannot keep thinking about this with his partner, who still found him insufferable and impossible to deal with and hated him at least 95% of the time.
He stops when she does, finally setting to work to make himself presentable. A quick adjustment of his hair, straightening it as best as he can without a mirror. A cursory wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to clean off the lipstick smeared there. Once his hand starts coming away clean, Emma finally breaks the silence that had fallen between them.
... God. Of all the fucking questions—
Clearing his throat, he turns to take a better look, and— the breath leaves him all at once. ]
No.
[ Relief. Because if he had left a goddamn hickey on Agent goddamn Cullen, she might actually kill him. ]
You're fine.
[ He apparently hasn't noticed the marks on his own skin just yet, hasn't noticed the quiet sting in light of the shitstorm of shame swirling through him, but they're certainly still on display for the moment. He waves a hand at his face, gaze fixed on some point over her shoulder to avoid looking directly at her. ]
[ emma is absolutely hitting the denial phase of this experience, because she is not going to spend her time thinking about exactly how much she'd reacted to faraday. he's— faraday, for god's sake. her partner. another agent. the most obnoxious person she works with, hands down.
he's far and away not the kind of man emma would find herself tangled up with, couldn't be more different from her late husband if he tried, and if she'd gone for anyone...
there's no way it would have been him.
couldn't have been.
but if she's focused on the way her body felt, the way he'd touched her and kissed her and—
no. it has to have been a reflection of how long it's been since she's gotten laid, not because of this particular man. maybe if she refuses to think about it, if she refuses to acknowledge exactly how much she'd been enjoying it, then it'll just— go away. because that is absolutely what this needs to do.
she breathes a notable sight of relief when he assures her that she's gone unmarked, because she's not sure how she'd live it down if joshua faraday had left her with a hickey. by hiding his body, that's how.
smoothing her dress back into place, she tries not to think about how his hand had been on her thigh just moments ago, and she looks up at faraday's face, giving a small nod. ]
Good enough.
[ they don't look anywhere near as pristine as they did before, that's for sure, but if they're going to sweep through the ballroom, try not to draw attention to themselves, they shouldn't look too out of place. ]
But you should— cover that.
[ she gestures to the exposed red marks, clearing her throat and looking away to fix her hair as best she can. she doesn't want to discuss exactly what she'd done with her nails, doesn't want to acknowledge what more she could and probably would have done, given the opportunity— because, damn it, that particular "opportunity" is not an option. ]
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[ oh, she remembered the cases vividly. she can't help being on edge, surrounded by so many notorious weapons traffickers, a twinge of anger in the back of her mind to see so many people responsible for or at least facilitating so many different kinds of violence that were here, enjoying a party and sipping champagne instead of rotting in jail.
that hardly sits right with her. ]
I could handle Mr. Rivera, if you'd like to mingle with other familiar faces. Maybe catchup a bit.
[ she turns that smile on him again, finally loosening her grip on his arm. he's extra lucky he's got that suit on, because her nails are neatly manicured and sharp to complement the rest of her outfit.
splitting up, at least temporarily, might be convenient, and it could let her get a closer look at those side halls with the steadily rotating guards. if she's close enough to observe, she can figure out the timing as they move between postings, choose the best moment to sneak down one of said hallways.
(...and it would also give her a chance to break away from being pressed so close to faraday. she can tell she's going to need a breather soon if she has to keep up the appearances of doting wife.
"make it work," she reminds herself, however begrudgingly.) ]
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So when she steps away, he gives a nod, wears that sort of distantly amused look on that face – more "Mr. Brennan" than Faraday. But there's a slight sharpness in his eyes that he directs to her – Faraday speaking, then, and not his character. ]
Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
[ Which is as close as Faraday ever gets to saying be careful. ]
And don't wander too far, either. [ A small, teasing little smile. ] I'd like a few dances before this night is over.
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What kind of party would it be without at least a dance or two?
[ lord save her from actually having to dance with faraday. she hopes he's kidding, playing up the role, and that he won't insist it's good for their cover to participate in some of the aforementioned dancing.
she blows him a quick kiss (and if that doesn't show her dedication to the act and her job, she doesn't know what will), and then she's turning to leave and further explore the party. her attention is focused on rivera, where he stands chatting and laughing with a few of the other attendees, a small ring of men all finely dressed with champagne flutes in hand. her eyes flicker from rivera to the hallway he stands near, watching as the bored-looking guard standing by the entrance checks his watch.
it's not hard for emma to put on her sweetest smile, the most alluring lilt her voice can manage as she approaches rivera, and she's all sugar and charm as she oh-so politely interrupts the men's conversation. they don't seem especially put out to have a beautiful woman's regard, making it almost painfully easy for her to chat them up with the right combination of flirtation and flattery.
not even a challenge, she thinks blandly as she focuses more intently on rivera, but she takes very precise note of the rotation of the guards, how frequently they switch out and change station. it's not hard to discern their pattern, committing it all to memory to report back to faraday. finding the right opportunity to get lost in the crowd, to just slip unnoticed down a momentarily unguarded hall is going to be a whole lot easier than she expected, and she has absolutely no problems with that. ]
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When she steps away, he spends a few seconds tracking her progress through the crowd toward Rivera – a quick, visual confirmation that she reaches her destination, of course; not that he’s worried or anything. Once she reaches the little ring of men, he nods to himself before stepping away. While she focuses on Rivera, Faraday wanders the crowd, flitting from one conversation to the next. Despite his usual dealings with Emma, where he tries his level best to be as infuriating as possible, Faraday can actually be charming when he has reason to be, and he turns up the charisma tonight. He quietly invites himself into a conversation, and when he feels he’s received any information he could, he drifts away, ensuring his departures are never awkward; he moves around the room with the grace of a socialite making the usual rounds.
As he wanders, he overhears snippets of conversation, hears names crop up now and again. McKenna. Cole. Lee. Bogue. Alvarez. Names he recognizes from the case files that crossed his desk – rich, successful men who coasted along the edges of these illicit deals but never involved themselves deeply enough for the agency to pin anything on them.
Hopefully that will change, after this assignment is over.
One champagne glass gets emptied, exchanged for another, and this second glass is half-drained by the time he drifts a little closer to Emma and Rivera. Far enough to show he’s still allowing Emma to continue pressing for information, but close enough to signal that he’s ready to discuss his findings when she is. ]
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I'm sorry to run, but I need to make sure my husband hasn't been getting into any trouble without me.
[ (she inwardly applauds herself for holding any grimace in check at the mention of her "husband.")
rivera just laughs and waves her off with a good-humored smile, and emma drifts away towards faraday. she probably should slide her arm through his again, but she instead sips at her champagne, settling at faraday's side again. ]
Any old friends?
[ she surveys the room with a distant smile, keeping her expression neutral as she glances again towards the dark hall. ]
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A few, I think.
[ As he waited for Emma to finish up, he had matched the names to faces, scanning the room in easy, idle glances to avoid drawing suspicion. Cole, an older, pudgy man, wandering on the edges, sauntering up to every young, pretty woman he happened to spot. Alvarez, a middle-aged man with dark hair and a well-kept beard, seated at a table and enjoying a heated discussion with a handful of others, including Lee, some gaunt-looking man just approaching his forties. McKenna, a younger woman with her blonde hair impeccably coiffed, making quiet conversation in a far corner, nursing a glass of red wine. Bogue, a thin, balding man, flanked by three personal guards – a display of power most would find tasteless at a party like this, though none would say as much to his face.
Any of them could be involved with the arms deal he and Emma are tracking; hell, all of them could have some hand in it, just as easily as none of them could. Hard to tell, and harder still to discuss it while in a crowded room filled with some of the shadiest folks in the entire world. ]
And Mr. Rivera? How was he?
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[ her accent slips a touch as she takes another delicate sip from her champagne, careful not to smudge her lipstick terribly. her eyes follow faraday's as he surveys the heavy hitters in attendance, though her grip tightens almost imperceptively when she sees bogue off with his guards, looking so self-important as he droned on about something or other to another partygoer.
she doesn't say a word about it, forcing her eyes back to the others in the room, before she glances up at faraday again. ]
Though if we were to, say, get a bit lost, the ideal window will be in another three minutes.
[ she says it ever so casually, her voice soft and her expression unfazed. they'll need to slip away soon, because she knows just as well as he does what other dealings will go on in those back rooms, and if they can get a bug inside of them, maybe find something more concrete, they'll be doing their jobs up right. ]
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And apparently that calm had slipped, and even as brief as it was, it’s enough to make Faraday start feeling the slightest inklings of concern.
The mask snaps back in place as quickly as it slipped, though, and Faraday files the moment away to discuss later. Now’s not the time, despite how the questions burn in his throat, and he nods mildly at her instruction. Three minutes to bide their time and wander over to the hallway she spotted. Very doable. ]
I wouldn’t mind slipping away. [ While there was always the chance one of the guests could let slip a few choice pieces of information, their best chance at getting any good intel was planting those bugs.
Faraday drains the last of the champagne in his glass, leaving the empty flute with a server as she passes. He could probably have a third (or a fourth. or a seventh.) and not feel it, but he cuts himself off there. He’d prefer not to suffer Emma’s baleful looks for that particular vice. ]
It’s getting a bit crowded in here, anyway.
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leaving her half-full flute with another passing server, emma reaches up to smooth a stray piece of hair back behind her ear, her smile carefully in place as she turns her eyes up to faraday. any other occasion, and she would never smile at him like that (in fact, she rarely smiles in her daily life, and wrangling a laugh out of emma cullen is practically a herculean trial, so much so that it's become a joke around the agency). ]
Then should we take a walk?
[ if they time it just right, they won't be noticed even a little, easily lost in the mingling crowd to the sound of laughter and drinking and schmoozing.
she should probably take his hand or his arm like a loving wife would, but she can't quite bring herself to do it, as much as she's trying to "make it work." ]
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(There's a brief second where he thinks, That's not such a bad smile. And quickly on the heels of that, Wouldn't be too bad to see it more.
And Faraday is quick to set fire to both of those thoughts and stomp on the ashes.)
He returns the smile easily enough, though without any of Emma's artful arrangement. A quick smile, something he slips on as easily as breathing, and he nods his agreement.
The two of them should keep playing to their roles, should act as though they're joined at the hips, but he knows Emma can only be pushed so far before she starts pushing back. For now, he contents himself with leading the way through the assembled guests at a leisurely pace, letting their arms brush against one another in a way that speaks of comfort and familiarity. (He wonders if Emma might slap him for that later. He wonders if she might actually kill him after all is said and done. Faraday makes a mental note to put in a request for time off to Chisolm in order to briefly go into hiding.)
Sure enough, there's a gap in the guards' patrol, and when that gap presents itself, Faraday casually steps into the darkened hall, rounding the corner to hide them from view.
They should get to work while they have this chance, should immediately head to the first of the rooms they've marked out as possible meeting points, but instead, he stops their progress, turning and ducking a little to get into her line of sight. ]
What's going on? [ No preamble. No beating around the bush. A tad brusque, perhaps, and while concern brushes against the back of his mind, his tone is purely professional. He doubts Cullen would appreciate it if he sounded worried, but that slip up, apparently, was still fresh on his mind. ]
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however, when faraday suddenly stops them before the first room, she nearly runs right into him. halting quickly, she turns her eyes up to him in obvious question, and then—
what's going on?
damn it.
she'd thought (hoped) he wouldn't notice her slip, near imperceptible as it would have been to almost anyone else, but given the amount of time they've spent together, the hours dedicated to learning the ways they both operate, she should've been prepared for him to catch on.
emma doesn't manage to keep a small frown off of her face before she forces her expression to smooth into that usual unimpressed look of hers. ]
Nothing that will get in the way tonight.
[ she doesn't want to explain herself to him, not here and not now (probably not ever), and given the constraints on their time, she'd rather push ahead with the mission — and avoid this conversation with faraday. ]
Everything is fine.
[ her voice is firm and unwavering, and she finally steps around faraday to approach the first room, intent on getting a move on.
she doesn't need to tell him about bogue right now, she decides, doesn't need him to know more than he ought to about the circumstances surrounding her history with that despicable man. they're here to find evidence on him (among others), and emma will do her damnedest to claim that victory. ]
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But the moment passes, and he lets her step around him, lets his arm drop to his side. He murmurs, ]
If you say so.
[ though he hardly sounds convinced. He watches her retreating back with a frown for a second or two. Not enough time to suss out what had bothered her. Maybe in the privacy of their hotel room, he could poke her for answers, but not now.
He trails after her after the moment of reflection, glancing over his shoulder every now and again to keep an eye on their backs while she leads the way. As they head to the first room in silence, Faraday, of course, is the one to break it: ]
Listen. If you need me to take point on this...
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but emma won't let it. this is too important for her to get distracted by her emotions, and despite the roiling ball of anger sitting in her chest, she's determined to ignore it.
emma is in the middle of searching for the best places to bug the room when faraday speaks up again, and she goes tense all over, turning her head to look at him with a barely restrained expression of indignation. ]
Agent Faraday, I assure you I'm more than capable of handling this mission.
[ her eyes narrow, and she looks away to return to concealing a near imperceptible microphone. ]
I'm not nearly as compromised as you seem to think I am.
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Richard Brennan.
[ The name he's adopted for their assignment, and the one he intends to use while they're still on the clock; the correction comes out sharply, and he looks her over once more before turning back to keep an eye on the hall. All things considered, it was a minor slip-up, and it was just as well that it happened now, rather than while the two of them were mingling in the party. But it was also a rookie mistake, and one liable to get them into hot water, if that name and that title drifted past the wrong ears. ]
Don't let that happen again.
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It won't.
[ she sounds determined, and the truth is that she's grasping at her usual focus, trying to nail down the way she always handles their missions. the most frustrating thing for her is that she doesn't make these mistakes; small things, certainly, but these are significant enough, compared to how she operates.
shaking away that train of thought, she turns her attention back to the room itself, finishing up with the bugs and running a quick test. everything seems to be in order, and she straightens back up, glancing over her shoulder at faraday. ]
Finished here. Can we move on?
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He thinks she might be. He thinks he sees fine cracks in her usual pristine veneer, and he wonders how far those breaks go. Pretty far, if he had to wager a guess, considering the slip of her mask from earlier, the use of his name just then, the anger she's just barely keeping a lid on right now. ]
You'n'I are gonna need to have a chat after this.
[ He says it lowly – a threat or anything of the sort, but certainly a promise that he intends to bring this conversation up again once they're not at risk of getting caught with bugs up their sleeves.
But he checks the hallway again – no one approaching still, and he nods them back out, heading to the next room they'd marked out. ]
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emma's really looking forward to that (not). she's already mentally compiling ways to dodge any questions he may try to bring up, how she's going to shut him down if he even so much as thinks about bringing this up. maybe if she just swallows her pride and manages to apologize for being distracted, he'll leave well enough alone.
that would be appreciated.
pursing her lips in clear disagreement, she at least doesn't argue, not now, and follows faraday out of the room and back into the hall. she lets him lead the way, and the second room is fortunately just as empty and just as easy to thoroughly bug; emma doesn't speak to him, focusing instead on what she's doing, and it's only after they're about to head out again that she glances over at faraday. ]
Rea—
[ the sound of muffled voices down the hall makes her stop cold, her entire body going stock-still. this is not the right place to be discovered, would make it even more difficult to pass off with a quick lie about getting lost when it's so inconvenient to otherwise even get down this hall.
she hears a door open outside, more voices, and the door closes again as she looks expectantly at faraday. she's not sure if they should bolt, try to put some distance between them and the others in the hall, or just see how likely it is that they'll get out of it with apologies and one of faraday's disarming grins. ]
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But apparently Emma's distraction is a two-edged sword, because Faraday doesn't hear the voices until they're practically upon them. If they run, they'll surely be seen, and two people bolting down a hall isn't exactly a normal sight – triply so, given who's in attendance at this party. Staying as they are is no better, considering they've been wiring the rooms for sound, and if they're simply standing there, that leaves them open to questions. As much of a charming son of a bitch as Faraday can be, he's not sure if he can talk them out of this. Not as they currently are, at any rate.
Faraday freezes as Emma turns to him, mind racing, and—
While Emma thinks logically, comes at their assignments with five plans of attack at the ready, Faraday has always worked best shooting from the hip. Improvising. Cobbling together a solution with shoestring and a piece of gum.
He turns, using one foot to kick the door – not enough to slam it shut, but enough so that it's mostly closed over. He loosens his tie, lets it hang from his neck, and undoes the top couple of buttons of his shirt. He rips off his jacket and tosses it over the back of a nearby chair. ]
Don't kill me.
[ which is all the warning Emma gets before he lifts her bodily, depositing her on the edge of the nearby conference table. He cups her jaw with one hand, his other hand resting on the small of her back. A smile that looks like more of a wince is all that stands as an apology – and it'll have to do, because not a half-second later, he surges forward to claim her lips with his in a desperate kiss. ]
no subject
oh. no.
she realizes what he has planned as soon as the words leave his mouth. ]
Don't you d—
[ she's caught off guard by the all-too easy way he lifts her, sets her onto the table, and her mind reels with protests, with alternate plans that weren't this, but his face is far closer than she's used to it being, and given the severity of the situation, she's having trouble parsing out her thoughts. the next thing she's aware of, he's kissing her, and her brain just completely shortcircuits.
she can smell him — cologne and champagne and a hint of smoke — and the heat of his rough palm on her face, the pressure of his hand on her back, it's a whole mess of sensation she hasn't experienced in a long time, and certainly never with faraday. he's the last person she'd be doing this with (voluntarily, at least), and as much as she wants to just bite him and shove him off, she realizes that it's the easiest cover, the last thing anyone bursting into the room would want to question, but this is faraday.
make it convincing.
god. damn. it.
emma makes a soft sound — part grumble, part growl — but she reaches up, curls a hand in his unbuttoned shirt, the other finding his hair in a particularly rough grip (convincing, and also a little satisfying), and she finally kisses him back, pressing her lips to his and dragging him closer to her. it needs to look good, she tells herself, needs to really pass so that whoever sees them isn't going to ask too much of them — because isn't it embarrassing enough to interrupt a couple in the throes of...whatever it is they're doing in a dark, empty room? ]
Mmn—
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Given some of the partygoers, though, Faraday doubts any punishment for being found trespassing would be as light as that.
But he should've given Emma more credit, because despite her sense of panic and the way her surprise makes her freeze, and also despite the fact that she hates his guts, she doesn't flip him onto his back and beat the tar out of him. Too clever for that, he supposes. And instead of enacting some form of physical violence on his person, she responds in kind, pulling him in close, moving against him, and— she's not bad, actually. Faraday had always sort of wondered, honestly – because of course he would. Emma Cullen was a beautiful woman, even if she spent most of their time together despising him (not that he blamed her), and, yes, he had always been a little curious. It's at least a little gratifying, then, that under pain of capture or discovery, she could set aside her near mortal hatred of Faraday and let loose. It's surprisingly good and in a second or two, Faraday nearly forgets the voices down the hall, starts losing himself to the sensation of her mouth on his, her hand against his bare skin, her fingers tangling in his—
Oh.
Alright. The tight grip she has on his hair catches him off-guard entirely, and he inhales sharply, surprised. But the rough little tug as she drags him toward her throws him off even more, made obvious by the (frankly mortifying) sound he makes – little more than a quietly voiced exhale, but there was definitely something pleased in it.
... He'll say it was part of the act, some distantly logical voice at the far, far, far back of his mind decides. He'll say it was part of the show, if she brings it up. Because there is no fucking way in hell he wants Emma Cullen to know a single thing about him or his sex life, including the fact that he might actually like it a little rough.
In the here and now, though, his attention is split. Part of it on trying to listen for the noise of approaching footsteps or voices, trying to figure out how many and how close. And the other part on kissing Emma, licking tentatively into her mouth, faintly tasting the champagne she had nursed earlier. Make it convincing, Chisolm had said, and while it was mostly directed to Emma (whose disgust was practically another presence sitting at the table with them), a little flick toward Faraday here and again said the impetus was as much on him as it was on her.
So he makes it work. He has quite a bit of practice in these affairs, in a manner of speaking.
He draws himself out of their kiss, though a small (tiny. miniscule. microscopic) part of him is reluctant to break contact for any amount of time. He does it anyway, though, and redirects his attentions to mouth the side of her neck, to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. ]
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oh, hell.
that little sound out of him is exhilarating in a way emma absolutely refuses to acknowledge, because, she tells herself, it's just that she's thrown him for a loop that's satisfying — that's it. not the reaction itself and whatever that could've meant for faraday's predilections (because while she's curious in this moment, she will absolutely never, never ask joshua faraday about his sex life. full stop.). she's also definitely not going to think about the way it makes her heart pound, that the way he kisses her leaves her breathless and a little lightheaded — nerves, she tells herself. it has to be how anxious she is about being caught, about trying to pass this off the right way.
it has to look good, just like the rest of their inconvenient cover, and as faraday finally pulls away from her lips, she thinks there's no way this won't be solid enough to ward away suspicion. she's almost surprised (not disappointed) when he stops kissing her, a flicker of confusion on her face that quickly melts away. ]
Wh—oh—
[ she will absolutely never, not in a million years, own up to the breathy, near-moan that slips out of her as the heat of his mouth slides across her oh-so sensitive throat. part of the act, she'd say, if she ever has to explain herself. she's just— that good an actress, obviously, and certainly not affected by the way faraday drags her into him, her curves pressed right up against his chest, every inch of her body practically molding to his.
she's trying to listen for the footsteps down the hall, trying to pick out the sound of other doors being opened, but as her breathing hitches, she slides her free hand under the open material of faraday's shirt, her nails digging into his shoulder — a little extra roughly each time she shudders against him. she still clings to his hair, and she will absolutely die before she admits that a particular shift of his mouth makes her whimper.
just an act. a very, very good act, because this makes holding his arm look like child's play. ]
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(need. pleasure.)
—something even Faraday can’t quite place.
His own breath hitches the first time he feels her nails dig into his skin, and the prickle sends a flare of heat through him, sets the tips of his fingers tingling. He takes it for a fluke, that first time, as he does the second, but around the fifth time, he decides he just does not give a single shit about intention or not, because it’s good. Those little pinpoints of pain (that far away part of him wonders if it might leave a mark? if he can drive her to enough of a frenzy that she might lose herself and actually draw blood?), the rough sting of her fingers tangled in his hair – it’s damn good, and— ]
Fuck—
[ hissed out, thready with want. He can’t help it, because shit, the warmth of her body against his, the quiet noises she’s making, each shuddering movement, pours something molten into his gut, sends wave after wave of heat through him. He claims her lips again – greedily, this time. Desperately. One of his hands slips beneath her thigh, skin exposed by the slit of her skirt, and he tries to pull her closer, his own hips canting towards hers, and—
He thought he heard something.
… Probably nothing. And anyway, who gives a fuck? Faraday slips his tongue into her mouth again, licking past her lips and teeth—
No. No, he definitely heard something, that time.
Startled, Faraday pulls away, turning to see a youngish man in a suit just a hair too small for him. There’s an unmistakable redness to his face as he clears his throat again – this time to actually find his voice, whereas the first and second times had been to tactfully capture the couple’s attention. Faraday looks past him to see another man hovering in the doorway, who tries and utterly fails to smother his grin. The first man straightens, and he attempts to imbue his voice with some authority – though he misses the mark. Discomfited, probably. ]
Access to this room is restricted. I’m going to have to ask you to return to the ballroom.
[ Faraday pulls away from Emma, wastes a second with staring at her, before another quiet cough finally spurs him to action. Faraday nods to the guard, offers a grumbled apology, before he scoops up his jacket and slips it on. He doesn’t bother with straightening himself up just yet, nor does he move to wipe off the lipstick that’s surely smeared on his face; apparently beating a hasty retreat is much more important, considering the slow burning embarrassment in his gut. Not an act, that embarrassment, and Faraday silently prays for the floor to open up beneath him and swallow him for letting that little act go as far as it did.
(and for wanting so badly to pick up where they left off.)
He offers Emma a hand down from the table before he quickly shuffles past the two guards. He also buries the desire to punch out the grinning guard, whose shoulders shake with the strain of holding back his laughter – which, Faraday feels, should warrant some kind of reward. ]
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—and then they're interrupted just like she expected them to be.
however, what she didn't expect was how mortified she feels when she sees the two guards watching them. this had been the entire purpose of kissing faraday in the first place, to be walked in on and pass off their presence as a pair of overeager lovers, but— god, she doesn't even want to think about how overeager she'd really been.
with color high in her cheeks, she's quick to slip off of the table with her hand in faraday's, ducking her head and following faraday out of the room.
well, it had worked perfectly, that's for sure; there hadn't been any questions, they hadn't been detained, and no one seemed to suspect a thing (if the near-guffawing guard was any indication), but her body is still thrumming with, god, whatever that had been, and she absolutely hates how flushed she feels, her heart still pounding, breath unsteady.
anxiety. just anxiety. that's all it could have been.
she makes it down the hall with faraday, not quite back to the ballroom, before she finally looks up at him. there certainly is lipstick smeared across his mouth, and she's sure it's even worse on her own face, and his hair is mussed all to hell, his shirt rumpled with partially exposed skin, and—
oh, dear god.
there's a few harsh, red marks on his shoulder, leading down his chest near his clavicle, and those sure are tracks from her nails. she reaches up to touch her own neck in a moment of sudden uncertainty, her eyes narrowing slightly at faraday. ]
Did you mark me anywhere?
[ this is an important question, and she decides not to mention the marks she can see on him. ]
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That. Whatever the hell that had been.
And he's not sure if Emma's silence was a signal of that same embarrassment, or if she's merely allowing him to gather his wits about him, because— admittedly, the whole thing had worked him up, had made his pulse pound in his ears, had lit up his skin until it made every touch feel practically electric. The cold wash of reality helps to bring him back down, though. And the mortification has a hand in that, too.
Because— because fuck, that had been good. And given his "experience," that had been good. And— hell, he can't keep thinking about this. He cannot keep thinking about this with his partner, who still found him insufferable and impossible to deal with and hated him at least 95% of the time.
He stops when she does, finally setting to work to make himself presentable. A quick adjustment of his hair, straightening it as best as he can without a mirror. A cursory wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to clean off the lipstick smeared there. Once his hand starts coming away clean, Emma finally breaks the silence that had fallen between them.
... God. Of all the fucking questions—
Clearing his throat, he turns to take a better look, and— the breath leaves him all at once. ]
No.
[ Relief. Because if he had left a goddamn hickey on Agent goddamn Cullen, she might actually kill him. ]
You're fine.
[ He apparently hasn't noticed the marks on his own skin just yet, hasn't noticed the quiet sting in light of the shitstorm of shame swirling through him, but they're certainly still on display for the moment. He waves a hand at his face, gaze fixed on some point over her shoulder to avoid looking directly at her. ]
Did I miss anything?
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he's far and away not the kind of man emma would find herself tangled up with, couldn't be more different from her late husband if he tried, and if she'd gone for anyone...
there's no way it would have been him.
couldn't have been.
but if she's focused on the way her body felt, the way he'd touched her and kissed her and—
no. it has to have been a reflection of how long it's been since she's gotten laid, not because of this particular man. maybe if she refuses to think about it, if she refuses to acknowledge exactly how much she'd been enjoying it, then it'll just— go away. because that is absolutely what this needs to do.
she breathes a notable sight of relief when he assures her that she's gone unmarked, because she's not sure how she'd live it down if joshua faraday had left her with a hickey.
by hiding his body, that's how.smoothing her dress back into place, she tries not to think about how his hand had been on her thigh just moments ago, and she looks up at faraday's face, giving a small nod. ]
Good enough.
[ they don't look anywhere near as pristine as they did before, that's for sure, but if they're going to sweep through the ballroom, try not to draw attention to themselves, they shouldn't look too out of place. ]
But you should— cover that.
[ she gestures to the exposed red marks, clearing her throat and looking away to fix her hair as best she can. she doesn't want to discuss exactly what she'd done with her nails, doesn't want to acknowledge what more she could and probably would have done, given the opportunity— because, damn it, that particular "opportunity" is not an option. ]
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