25Chapter Three: No sex the train
###
Ava was late. By six minutes and thirty three seconds actually but Lucas wasn't counting.
Oh, who was he kidding?
Every second that ticked on by just added to a minute, and then another, and each minute was one extra nugget of gold Lucas could lord over his now dysfunctional partner. After that quaint little briefing in Nigel's office, he had dismissed each of them to their respective homes to pull up an appropriate wardrobe a honeymooning pair would divulge in.
Lucas didn't spend a lot of time on his packing, and it clearly showed when Ava pulled up with three luggage bags ready to burst.
"Don't look at me like that," Ava said affronted, feeling small under Godsend's piercing gaze. With an overnight bag slung over his shoulder, he couldn't look any less understanding. What could fit in that bag anyway? Three pairs of boxers and a toothbrush?
Puh-lease.
A vein in Lucas's brow ticked.
"You. Are. A. Piece. Of. Work. Did. You. Know. That?"
Ava pretended she didn't know what Lucas was talking about. "Why, thank you," she nodded politely, gesturing at the Silver Audi her co-partner was leaning upon. "I can't say the same for yourself. Hey, is that an Audi? I thought Nigel told us to take a train?"
"And how do you expect us to get there? Walk?"
"Oh."
She suddenly felt foolish, her earlier bravado on the brink of doing a disappearing act faster than a sorcerer. Although her respect for Lucas was slowly waning the more he looked at her like she was the scum beneath his shoes, he still had this uncanny ability to cut through all the bullshit, which probably was why he was standing next to her in the first place. As a senior consultant in the FBI, and a glowing report card.
He must have some determination, to get here at least. With those looks he could've easily become a porn star in Vegas and hit the big time.
Ava smirked as she filed away the compliment that could easily be turned into an insult. If she was smart enough to start building a bank of them, they would be a useful to have whenever Godsend got big for his boots.
But as Lucas turned away to duck into the car, Ava knew she would have to be very drunk to ever use them.
###
We'd done it! We managed to catch the correct train in time to Virginia!
I don't know why I'm using exclamation marks like it's a big surprise, but I think some part of my subconscious was preparing for an utter meltdown in communication between Lucas and I the moment we got in the car.
And the prize goes too...
Ava Greene!
It just happened to be our lucky day when we reached the train station, and the lady behind the desk was stifling a yawn as she stamped our tickets. There was an hairy moment when she spent an extra second than normal looking at our passports, and my grip on Lucas's bicep almost tightened painfully because I was worried she'd spot they were fake.
Come on! That picture of me looked nothing like me!
"Husband and Wife, I take it," she sighed and glanced up at the two of us and the miles of space between our bodies. Trying to portray a jealous bride just catching another woman scoping out her man, I smashed my body against Lucas's side and kissed his shoulder with pursed lips.
Never mind he winced and then tensed, not necessarily in that order.
"Baby..." I breathed. "You make me...uh...want to..."
Despite what you think, there was a reason why I was getting distracted, which came to light when Lucas followed my eye direction and saw me gazing at the guy setting up camp at the next booth. He clearly was a ticket salesman, but like Lucas, could have much richer pickings in Las Vegas if he just ripped off his clothes...and posed...
And posed...
And...
"You have a wild one there, sir. I'll let you get to it."
My attention snapped back to the lady as she pushed back our tickets over the counter with our passports, and Lucas opened up his fanny pack to store the documents inside. That was derogatory material right there (this shit writes itself, doesn't it?) but I knew Lucas wouldn't appreciate me making fun off his fanny pack. One, he'd probably insist it was a belt pack and two, as an owner of a hemhem it would insult my gender if I took the piss out of it.
Plus, maturity remember? I have to show Lucas and Nigel I have what it takes.
Ah, fuck it.
"Hey," I said once we were seated consecutively at 64A and 64B. "What's with the-" I was about to ask him about the pack, or try to at least when Lucas's cell rang and he answered his mom in a curt manner.
"Mom."
"No, it's fine. I'm fine."
"I'm fine, okay?"
"Look mom, what did you want?"
"This isn't about being a lazy, good for nothing- "
"It's legal, okay?"
"Mom-"
The furious squawking at the other end came to a halt, just as Lucas pleaded mom and cursed when he realised he wasn't getting an answer- now or never. I could sympathise with him- because as a fellow agent I knew we had to keep our job top secret from our families to avoid a contamination of identities.
It must be hard for him to let his mom continue thinking he's a tax-scrounger like that- particularly since he was on the front line in the war against terrorism, and was risking his life daily for the people of America. And they, like his mom, just go about with day-to-day life none the wiser about the hero in their midst.
Shit. Double shit. I thought I had eliminated all this propaganda stored in my head after I bumped into Lucas with that coffee. I hadn't expected it to come flooding back when I saw him on the phone with his mom of all people, hardly his finest hour.
"Lucas, I know-"
"You know nothing!"
He stood up and chucked his phone carelessly on the seat, kneeing his way past to the unisex bathroom. There was no question I had to let him blow off some steam and he would chill all he liked in the air conditioned bathroom with pink flush, whilst I boiled out here like a sardine. Lucas was already at the compartment divider when his phone went off again, this time with a SMS message.
"Lucas!" I called at his retreating back. "Your phone-!"
He vanished from view.
"Fantastic," I muttered, "That could've been Nigel for all he knew, as he's the only one I even know who uses SMS anymore and it's not even like I can check-"
Wait...why couldn't I? If Nigel sent the standard SMS texts to all his agents, then I had the password already. Excited, I keyed in the four-digit-code and waited for the message to load.
REMAIN IN CHARACTER. REPEAT, REMAIN IN CHARACTER.
That was a simple enough message, but why was Nigel reminding us of our undercover mission? He knew we had memorised (before destroying the paperwork) every detail of our counterpart's lives when he sent us home earlier this afternoon. Once we got to Virginia, we will be husband and wife...and Nigel knew we were on the train right now. The only reason he would ask us to remain in character is if he knew getting on the train would compromise our covers.
That meant...
That meant...God, what did it mean? Someone direct to our mission was on the train? A potential target, maybe?
Shit, shit, SHIT!
I needed to find Lucas, I mean my honey bunny, right now.
And I needed to take the phone with me.
###
He was staring in the mirror, his face still wet from the water running from the tap, when someone started banging impatiently on the door. I wonder if they'd be so impatient to get in here if they knew I was a federal agent capable of arresting their ass, Lucas mused.
"Peter! Open up!"
It took a several more cries before Lucas realised they were calling for him, and took out a handkerchief to clean his face as he muffled a curse. How many faces had he taken on? Brian, Lester, Gordon, Abraham, Crowley, Adam...After a while, the names had started to blur together and many a (close) time he had nearly compromised a mission by supplying a different name to a drug dealer, or a rapist, or a serial killer than the week before.
But Peter...
Peter Travis.
He dimly recollected that was the latest role he was playing, with views against government. Pretty hard when he was their secret organization's poster boy. Opening the door with lithe fingers, the last thing Lucas expected was for Ava Greene to push him back into the cubicle and slam the door behind her.
"The hell are you doing?!"
"Read it!" Ava hissed, pushing a phone under his nose. His phone.
Lucas barely got a chance to skim the characters before Ava slammed the phone shut, and poked him so hard that it hurt, through his chest. "Our mission has been compromised! There's someone out there who's crucial to our mission, and I-"
"And I-"
"I said your name!"
Ava started crying a little, fisting a bunch of his shirt and blowing her nose in it like Kleenex. Lucas winced, but patted her back awkwardly all the same, wondering why the well he was comforting her when an hour earlier, he had been longing to push her out of the car.
"There, there," he patted. "Thank God at least one of us thought to keep our names private."
In the cramped cubicle, there wasn'tmuch room for manoeuvre but Ava managed to find some to push Lucas away, that he nearly fell over the toilet. "Bastard," she breathed, feeling like her partner was asinine enough to remind her she was just a rookie, and he was a full time crook. Ava forgave the urge to sink a fist into Lucas's face, and instead ran fingers through her hair.
"It's okay...Lucas could be like a nickname, right? Like...Like, sweetcakes!"
Lucas looked murderous at the mention of sweetcakes.
"Ava, there is no point in trying to figure out who the mystery target is. It could the whole train, for all we know. What my years of experience recommend is that we get out there, start our roles imminently and-
the hell are you doing?!"
Ava had just fluffed up her hair in a provocative style, unbuttoned her shirt to show a fleshy pink bra and rolled the waistband of her jeans to reveal a band of skin. Lucas grew even more alarmed when she stuck a hand in his hair, and back-combed it so blond hair fell into his eyes, like he'd been thoroughly ravaged.
"No, no," he squeaked as she threw her arms around him, followed closely by her legs hitching around his waist.
"YES! YES!" she slammed the wall behind him with the palm of her hand, whilst Lucas battled with balancing their weights, trying not to fall into the toilet and fighting an erection at the same time. He managed two of the three tasks before the toilet door was unlocked from the outside, and a displeased attendant shouted in broken English-
"NO SEX THE TRAIN!"
As usual, inspiration hits when I'm least looking for it.
THANKS TO: LaylaSmiles-notjustink-CrazyChickadee62-RebelWithoutACause2013-L. Valdez-Witchy Mage-xXliarliarXx-Rajiya-bluehyperpixie-M. S. Saddique-JuniperRhose-Fairy Skull-naz292