Work Text:
Things were different without the ICA. Working together as independent assassins meant a higher workload for both of them.
Diana was patient enough to help him get used to doing research her way. He’d been meticulous with it, back when he was forced to work without her, but her methods were more refined, and they were what had kept him safe for twenty years, so he didn’t mind doing it her way.
Not that he’d ever minded listening to her, or following her directions. She knew what she was doing; he trusted her, and, most importantly: if her methods were keeping him safe, they would also keep her safe.
Working independently also meant that they would often be in the field together, which was thrilling but also terrifying. What if anything happened to her? He would never recover from losing her.
After countless nights in front of their screens, and many days of him scoping out the area to learn the lay of the land and the target’s daily habits, their mission seemed easy enough.
Their target was located in the small office area above a large mall, where a handful of small and medium-sized businesses were based. In that environment, the likelihood of anyone noticing an unknown face was low. Even better, intel showed that he would usually work late, even after everyone else had left the office.
There was security, but the guards only started doing their rounds after the target had left the building, and resorted to simply watching the monitors until then.
Diana suggested using all of that to their advantage; all they needed to do was wait until he was alone, manipulate the surveillance system to show looped footage of him sitting at his desk, and they could gain access when no witnesses were around. 47 would kill the target, preferably in a non-bloody manner, Diana would access his computer to upload some sensitive files to their own server, before wiping them from the hard drive, and they could leave just in time for dinner.
The prospect of having dinner with Diana lifted 47’s spirits remarkably. Perhaps they could get takeaway and enjoy their food in the comfort and safety of the cheap hotel they were staying at. It’d be nicer than having to watch their backs in public, even though the chances were slim that anyone had followed them around the globe. His habits had kept him safe for twenty years, and they would keep her safe as well.
Things didn’t go as planned. Diana had looped the footage, 47 had acquired the target and stored his rapidly cooling body in the bathroom stall, but while she was busy with his computer, two armed security guards entered the office. Someone must’ve heard something, or maybe they were sloppy when disabling the alarm system, or the guards had the habit of making their rounds early once or twice a year.
47 barely managed to dodge the taser one of the guards aimed at him, and to his horror, he had to watch as the other guard drew his handgun and pointed it at Diana.
She was quick, luckily, and threw one of the old office chairs at the guy, causing him to stumble back against the other guard.
They should’ve dealt with them, get rid of witnesses to protect themselves, but chances were high that reinforcements were already on the way, so they decided to flee instead.
Their steps echoed too loudly in the stairwell, but the steps coming up from downstairs were even louder. Shit. Now they wouldn’t be able to leave through the garage, and had to leave their car behind.
47 took Diana by the arm to lead her back towards the main area, and he was horrified to feel the warm, wet spot on her sleeve and hear her pained gasp.
“It’s nothing,” she whispered as he silently closed the door behind them. “I cut myself on that stupid chair. Let’s hope I didn’t leave DNA behind, that would be a hassle to wipe from the database.”
47 nodded, unsure what to do. They couldn’t leave, but she was bleeding, and he needed to help her somehow.
“Don’t look at me like that, it’s fine.” She put on a big smile, playing her part of their cover as a happy couple on their Friday evening trip to the mall. Diana gestured towards the cinema, where a rather sizeable crowd was forming after one move had ended, and the next was about to begin.
He led her in, arm in arm, to hide the bloodstains on her light blue blouse, and the group of people in front of the popcorn stand served as the perfect hiding spot while three guards hurried past the entry hall.
47 bought an extra large bucket of popcorn, so Diana could use it to hide the bloodstains on her sleeve from her wound on her arm and the transferred blood on her belly, and after hesitating for a moment, he also bought two slushies, just so he had a reason to let her carry the popcorn. That was what a gentleman would do, on a date with his beautiful wife.
They slipped past the ticket control, pretending to have just left the theatre they were already in, to get the snacks they’d forgotten, and it was believable enough because the movie had already started.
It was one of these romantic movies people loved, but 47 couldn’t quite understand why. Not that it mattered. They weren’t there to watch a romcom, they were here to hide from armed men who knew exactly what they looked like. He tried to focus on sounds that would foreshadow impending danger, but from the corner of his eyes, he kept watching Diana. Was she really okay? What if she misjudged the severity of her injury?
She leaned in, and her warm breath tickled his ear when she whispered, “relax, I’m really fine.” As if to prove it, she grabbed a small handful of popcorn and began to eat.
That wasn’t how he’d expected their promised dinner to go, but he had to agree that it was best to settle in, just in case the guards were not giving up on roaming the mall. He took a sip of his slushy; too cold and with an artificial flavour that had nothing to do with cherries. To his surprise, he liked it anyway.
After roughly half an hour, Diana deemed it safe enough to leave the theatre for a few moments to clean up her wounds in the bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered, but 47 held her back.
“You can’t go alone. What if they ambush you?”
“What is your plan, joining me?” Even in the darkness, he could see the incredulous look on her face.
“I will wait outside, just in case,” he whispered back. “I have to make sure you’re safe.”
She smiled and patted his arm, and she looked even more surprised when he told her to wait one more moment and started to undress; shrugging out of his black suit jacket and his gun holster before loosening his tie and unbuttoning his dress shirt.
“What are you doing, 47?”
“You’ll need something clean to wear.” He tried to smooth the silken shirt a bit before handing it to her, and put the holster and the jacket back over the white t-shirt he always wore under his dress shirt. He also handed her his tie, in case she needed a bandage, but she declined, worried that she’d ruin it.
She was also worried about ruining his expensive shirt, but he didn’t mind. There were more important things in life than his possessions, and Diana had the highest priority for him.
Just as he’d promised, he stood watch in front of the door, their slushies placed on the narrow table next to him, his left hand gripping his silverballer, concealed by the slightly less full bucket of popcorn they took with them, because neither of them would ever leave their food unattended, and because Diana needed something to conceal the increasingly large blood stains.
The faint lipstick marks on the tip of her straw were fascinating to him. Would she leave the same amount of lipstick on his cheek if she kissed him? He had to fight off the urge to wipe the lipstick from the straw to admire the way it would look on his skin. There was no point in indulging this fantasy.
With a sigh, he forced himself to look away from their slushies and focused on the corridor instead.
Nobody came close, and no sign of the guards, but 47 was relieved either way when she emerged from the restroom, wearing his shirt. He shouldn’t think of her like that, but he couldn’t help but notice that his shirt looked good on her, in a way that had nothing to do with fashion. It was familiar, almost intimate. He knew he would remember it, trying to imagine her wearing his shirt in the morning, after having spent the night with him. Just a dream. Just a fantasy.
“Shall we go back for the rest of the movie?” Diana suggested. “Just to make sure we don’t run into them?”
He felt caught, and the heat rose to his cheeks. Hopefully, she didn’t think he was staring at her; but she smiled, and so 47 nodded, agreeing. It wasn’t how he’d hoped to spend the evening. It was almost better.
They were only blending in to hide, he knew that, but as they sat there and pretended to watch the movie, she was laughing at a few scenes. Was this what being on a date with her would feel like?
Perhaps he could understand why people liked those kinds of movies, even though they always heavily relied on overdone clichés. Was there anything wrong with it, if it made Diana laugh, if it meant she was having a good time with him, after everything had gone wrong that night?
When their hands touched as they both reached for the popcorn, Diana laughed quietly, and 47 almost smiled.
They kept holding hands for the rest of the movie, and when the heroine and her love interest kissed each other for the first time, she leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. Her lipstick must’ve transferred, even if only slightly, and it was at that moment when he finally smiled.
Nothing wrong with overdone clichés.