“And what about you?”
“I can take care of myself.”
Syler sighed, knowing full well there was no sense in arguing with the man on that point and frankly perfectly happy to let him stay as close as he wanted until they’d caught their target. Having a death wish was a prerequisite for field agents not operations officers, thanks. He collected his Sigs, strapping the concealed belt and ankle holsters into place before putting on his jacket and turning towards Arthur. “Come on then. Let’s get this over with.”
Thirty
Syler had barely made it through the entrance of the convention center, Arthur tucked up closely behind him in what could only be described as ‘full asset protection mode,’ before he had caught sight of at least a half dozen familiar faces milling around the sign in table. Of those, it just figured that the first person to notice him would be his ex. Because of course it was.
“You know,” said asshole called, and oh god Syler hated everything ever. Behind him, Arthur stiffened imperceptibly. “I distinctly remember you swearing on your mother’s grave that you’d never subject yourself to another convention so long as you lived.”
“Marcus.” He scrunched his nose, both at the reminder of where he was and the other man’s existence. “My employer had other plans. I’m obligated. Excuse me, I need to sign in.” He made to brush past the other man, still just as irritating as he’d been in their university days.
The lanky brunette grinned, and really what had he seen in him? Mediocre sex hadn’t been worth the present day secondhand embarrassment. “Oh come on, is that any way to greet an old friend? And who’d you bring with you? I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Syler snorted at his flirtatious tone, eyes rolling heavenwards. His agent remained stalwart behind him. “What was it you said to me the last time we spoke, Marcus? ‘We’re better off going our separate ways. Our lives just aren’t headed in the same direction.’ Let’s continue that trend.”
The look on the other man’s face was priceless, although whether it was because he’d insulted him or because Arthur had taken the opportunity to slip an arm around his waist was unclear. Either way, Syler suspected he’d relish this particular memory for years to come, beautifully captured by the camera in his glasses. What came out of his agent’s mouth only added to the perfection of the moment. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get signed in.”
Marcus’s face took on a fish-like quality. Arthur neatly extricated them both, steering them towards the check in table as Syler shot a jaunty wave over his shoulder that could’ve just as well been a middle finger. God, he could kiss the man. He was going to engineer him whatever his heart desired when they were done with this disaster of a weekend.
“So would you say I’m a step up or a step down?” The blond inquired blandly from his position leaned back against the sign in desk. Syler paused in filing out their registration forms to take in the subtle glare Arthur was directing towards the main entrance.
“Don’t insult yourself like that. You’re a step up in both looks and capacity for destruction. It’s why we get along.” Arthur grinned, unabashedly pleased, and accepted the name tag that was passed to him only to shove it in his pocket instead of putting it on properly. The engineer shook his head enviously, clipping his to the bottom of his jacket where he could mostly pretend it didn’t proudly declare him a doctorate holder. Fucking academia.
“So how many more of him are there in here?” Syler winced in lieu of a reply. Arthur chuckled, resuming his position at Syler’s right side as they entered the main conference room for the meet and greet. It would be sweet if the younger man didn’t know it was entirely born of a need to keep his firing arm free forS emergencies.
“Would you two please stop flirting and get on with it?” Miranda chimed in, previously silent on the comms. Syler flushed instantaneously, suddenly understanding why Arthur and the other agents so frequently muted their comms during lulls. Arthur snorted from his position beside him, apparently reading his mind.
“I take it back,” he muttered. “Maybe we could do without comms.”
“I’ll notify you if any of the attendees trigger facial recognition,” she replied, line going quiet again. The younger man squared his shoulders back, resolving to get this over with if only to minimize the damage to his dignity.
As soon as they entered, Syler was inundated with old colleagues, all of them just as interested in what he’d been up to and who he’d brought as Marcus had been. The problem with dropping off the face of the planet to join the CIA when you’d previously been part of a tiny community of techie gossips, he mused, was that they were as nosy as distant old relatives when you finally resurfaced. Possibly worse, given that they had the ability to keep digital tabs on damned near everyone. His disappearance must’ve been quite the talking point.
“Syler!” A blur of blonde hair tackled him around the middle. “Where the hell have you been!?” Beside him, Arthur looked startled. Apparently, the petite woman in a neon patchwork cardigan and elephant earrings had completely flown under his radar. Well that was Emily for you…
“Working, shockingly enough,” he replied, patting the bundle of energy that was his former robotics research partner on the back heartily.
She grinned up at him. “And you couldn’t answer a damned text? That’s cold, Perrin. Real cold.” She glanced slyly to his right.
