We have another assignment for you.

"Details?"

Left it on your coffee table while you were at the gym.

Louis rolled his eyes. Headquarters always thought they were some big shit because they knew where Louis lived, and his mom's name, and whatever. But honestly, if Louis ever felt the need he could easily find out the idenities of his silent counterparts and do with them what he will. And they knew that, so the fact that they walked right into his apartment while he's not there is more of a mild annoyance than a concern.

"I'll look at it tonight." With that he hung up the phone and stashed it in his back pocket. He had his gym bag over his shoulder and sweat on his skin, but he loved the feeling of leaving the gym in better shape than when he got there. He used to hate the gym, in his former life, but with this job you're either the fittest or your fucked, so he made sure to maintain his physical peak.

The wind was slight today, just enough to cool his overheated skin. Everything was washed in a bright glow underneath the afternoon sun. The brick's looked pink instead of dark red, the concrete a milky light gray. He'd just gotten back from an assignment and wasn't supposed to take another one on until next week at least, but when Headquarters calls, you answer.

Louis walked up the front steps of his apartment building, stepping over the crack that he always caught the toe of his shoe on, and into the cool air. He checked his mailbox, mostly for show. No one knew who he was, much less where he lived, so he never got mail. Except a few paper adverts from cable and life insurance companies.

Today it was a coupon for a large two topping for $8.99. Pizza? Maybe I'll have pizza for dinner. But Louis always felt like the food he ate. And he didn't want to feel like grease and too much sauce tonight. So nix that plan. He'd probably just get a chicken salad delivered from the cafe down the street.

He trudged up the three flights of stairs to his two bedroom. The key always got stuck and Louis had to wiggle the doorknob to get it back out. He hated the color in the extra bedroom, but never got around to changing it, and now he couldn't be bothered. It wasn't a palace, but it was where he laid his head when he wasn't on the job. Which is as close to a home he's had in a decade.

He saw the envelope siting on his scratched wood coffee table but he pointedly ignored it. It could wait until he ingested something that resembled food. He opened his frig, knowing what he would find, but looking anyway. Two cold ones, half a bottle of mustard (Why do I have mustard and nothing to put it on?), and an old loaf of bread that he put in there after Googling how to make bread last longer. It didn't work, if the mold was anything to go by.

Louis opened the cabinet and took down a Cup of Soup. It wasn't even chicken flavored. He'd gotten the variety pack and eaten all the chicken ones first, so now he was stuck with beef or shrimp. He chose beef and filled it with water and sent it off to the microwave. He needed a new microwave. The three button was broken.

If anyone knew how much money Louis actually had and saw how he lived they'd probably hit him on principal. But Louis never saw the need to fix his place up. He lived there maybe six weeks out of the year so there was no point. He'd much rather spend his money on his baby, a silver 2014 Audi S5, or on his favorite Viktor & Rolf suits, instead of a shitty apartment he was rarely at.

He ate the salty noodles until his stomach couldn't take anymore of the cheap food and he decided to go shower. It took an extra minute to make sure the sketchy water temperature evened out. When it did he set it to scalding and got it. Louis let every droplet of dirty city water take a tiny bit of stress down the drain with it. He let the problems that he refused to face drop off of him and into the sewers below, never to be seen again. He didn't have room for problems in his career.

One thing Louis did invest in is fluffy towels. He's not a diva, but he can surely appreciate luxury. And fluffy towels are nothing if not luxurious. He ran one through his hair before wrapping it around his waist and padding out to the living room to finally open his assignment, only to find that it'd already been opened. The papers were spread out on the table and there was a pen laying across the folder.

Louis casually stepped over to the table on the wall and opened the drawer that held his semi-automatic, already equipped with a silencer, but his fingers only brushed against wood.

"I could have you on the floor right now, mate."

Louis sighed, half with relief, half with annoyance, at the familiar voice. He turned to see the end a barrel between his eyes. He rolled said eyes and pushed the gun out of his eyeline. "You wouldn't, though. Because then who would do all the work so you can get paid?"

"Good point."

"What do you want, Zayn?"

The dark-haired man waved the gun towards the table lazily and said, "We have to go over the details don't we?"

Louis didn't dare look back to where the papers were scattered, partner or not: trust no one. Rule number one through five thousand. Louis held out his hand, to which Zayn scoffed and handed the gun back. Louis stashed it back in its place and gave Zayn a once over. He's got clean clothing on, and his scruff couldn't be more than two days old. So he must have been back home for a little while.

"I'm going to go get dressed," Louis informed him and flicked his finger towards his room.

"Why? I like you better like this."

Louis rolled his eyes and shoved at Zayn lightly, "Not tonight, okay. I literally just got off the job yesterday."

Zayn crowded in to Louis and placed his hands on the edge of the soft towel. "So? First night off. No better way to celebrate." Zayn started fiddling with the end of the towel where it was tucked in. Louis swatted his hand away, but that only made Zayn laugh and pull Louis' towel from around him. "Just one round. Then we'll get to work. Promise," Zayn assured with a lilt to his tone.

***

Aparently just one round meant three, including Louis eating Zayn out and then Zayn riding him until he begged Zayn to Stop, fuck Zayn please I can't from overstimulation. But as promised Zayn threw Louis a pair of joggers and headed out to the living room after they finished. The papers were exactly as they left them, in a seemingly disorganized pattern. But Louis knew how Zayn worked. He was always three steps ahead during an assignment, and that started with The Package. He laid things out as he saw them going. Like steps in the plan.

Louis sat on the floor between the couch and the table and started at the left. "Madame Secretary?" Louis picked up the profile of their main target, always labeled with a red stamp that said Kill Order. "What'd she do?"

"Who gives a fuck? You always ask that Lou, and I never know the answer. Plus it doesn't matter what she did, that's not what we're paid for."

Louid huffed, "I know. It just gets me sometimes, you know? They told us way back when that everyone that is on our list deserves to be there, but sometimes it makes me wonder."

"You wonder too much," Zayn huffed a laugh, "I wonder how you even got into this business anyway. You're a softie."

Louis laughed, too loud, and reached under the couch to pull out another hand gun. He pointed it at Zayn, still standing above him by the table. Louis' laugh died instantly, "Not soft. There's no one in this world that means enough to me not to kill if it came down to it."

Zayn swallowed thickly, but then smiled and easy smile. "I know Louis. You're vicious. Heartless. The best at what you do. That's why they call us for the hard jobs. Ones like this one." Zayn sat down next to Louis, making the barrel brush against his arm. Louis let his gun drop to his lap and actually sighed a little at the familiar weight of the metal. Zayn took the piece of paper with the fifty-somthing woman's picture on it. "Let's see," Zayn looked it over, "Leslie Clarkson. Home Secretary."

"Oh God, she's the Queen's. Whatever she did, she deserves to be on the hit list. Fucking pricks." Louis picked up another paper while one hand stayed steady on his gun. "Looks like she'll be in Paris for talks this week. She'll be in a one on one with an ambassador from France on Thursday. That should be the best time to take her."

"We'll need to get into that conference. Highest clearance so we can get into the back rooms where she'll surely be meeting the ambassador. I'll get on that. Should have our invitations by tomorrow night," Zayn explained.

Louis nodded, not even doubting that Zayn would secure them two spots in private meetings with some of the richest and most influential players in the political world. That's why they were the best. Zayn was the brains. Louis was the bronze. But they were both smart and both dangerous. A force to be reckoned with. And right now, Louis felt sorry for anyone that made the mistake of getting put in a folder that would make it's way to Louis' coffee table. Louis turned back to the plan Zayn had laid out. The blueprints for the building they'd be invading. The names of all the guests going to be in attendance. The family members of Madame Secretary. Her internary for her week in Paris. Everything they'd needed to do their job.

They spent all night organizing things. By the time it was too late to continue they had flights booked, car rented, hotel booked, clothing ordered, and Indian takeout leftovers in cartons on the floor. Louis eyeslids were heavy and his hair was ruffled from running his hands through it, but he still had his gun on his lap, and let his fingers run over it every so often as a reminder of who he was. He never got too comfortable. Never let his guard down enough to be in danger. Even around Zayn, his partner for almost a decade and the only person that could pass as friend in his life. Zayn stayed the night. They were leaving in the morning for Paris and it would've been harder to have to meet up just a couple hours from now then to just use Zayn's go bag and leave from Louis' place together.

***

The airport was crowded, as Heathrow always was, with tourists and celebrities and families alike. Zayn and Louis had a small bag each thrown over their shoulders, so they didn't have to check anything. They didn't do baggage. The lady was very kind at the checkin desk. It was like she couldn't decide which one she wanted, but when Louis showed little interest she turned her attention to Zayn. Not that she was settling. Zayn looked good. Dark jeans, white tee, leather jacket, hair tall, smile laced with bad intentions. Louis didn't miss the fact that he was lucky to get to fuck Zayn, or be fucked by Zayn, basically whenever he wanted. Zayn was as fit a person as Louis had ever seen, but he didn't feel the need to be jealous. It wasn't like that. They were what they were, and sometimes Louis got pounded into the matress. It is what it is.

"Business or pleasure?" the too-blonde woman asked Zayn before she ran her tongue over her bottom lip too slowly to be for moisture purposes.

"For me, love, that's the same thing," Zayn purred, always smooth.

The woman giggled and stamped both of their passports, basically without looking. Good thing, Louis supposed, since they were in fact fake. Not that they wouldn't hold up. Those IDs had more background than his real one. But he always, no matter how many times he did this, got tiny flutters in his stomach when they would look over his picture and then to his fake name and birthdate. He sighed almost inperceptively when she handed them back along with their boarding passes, but Zayn caught it, like he always did, and gave him a reassuring nod. Zayn gave the woman one more teasing smile before leading Louis towards security with a hand on his back. Louis should've been irritated at the sign of possession, but that was Zayn, and that's just how he was.

They shuffled along the line until it was their turn. They took off their shoes and jackets and place them in bins. Zayn took a small remote out of his pocket and placed it in his bag in another bin. He put one in Louis' as well and sent both bags through the scanner. Then both boys walked through the body scan, relaxed poses and smooth faces. They retrieved their bags and thanked the security, as everyone should, because they have a thankless job and don't know any better when a small army of weapons pass under their nose. Louis always felt bad about that part too. If someone where to ever find out that at least half a dozen guns and a few knives went through the scanners undetected, he knew the security would be the first to get interegated.

Louis shrugged it off and walked with Zayn to their gate. "I don't know how you do what you do, but it's kind of beautiful," Louis offered casually.

Zayn scratched at the small hairs at the base of Louis' neck quickly before letting his hand fall back to his side and saying, "I've tried to teach you, Lou, but you never care to learn."

"Yeah because if I learned, what would I need you for?"

"And you'd miss me if I was gone," Zayn finished with a tease.

"Not quite. Mostly just that I'd hate to do one hundred percent of the work," Louis laughed, "As opposed to the ninety-five percent I already do." Zayn shoved him and Louis stumbled a couple steps before righting himself and laughing harder. "Really though, you're alright," he amended as he quieted his laughter. Zayn sent a small, genuine smile. Louis seemed to be the only person that got to see those. He's seen Zayn's public smile, his flirty smile, his sadistic smile, but he was the only one that got to see his small, shy one that let Louis know that, contrary to popular belief, Zayn wasn't in fact a robot.

The plane ride was short, not even two hours, but Louis spent it going over the next week in his head. Zayn was the opposite. Louis always saw him plug in headphones and nearly fall asleep on the flights before missions, like he'd done everything he could and now it was just a matter of time. Which it was. Louis knew that they'd done all they needed to and that things would go off without a hitch. But he obsessed anyway, even letting old mistakes run through his brain as a reminder not to fuck up.

When they landed at de Gaulle it was barely noon. They stopped at a small cafe that Zayn always stopped at when he came to Paris because he craved the ham and cheese toasties. Louis munched on a plain piece of bakery bread and sipped his tonic water while enjoying the scent and feel of Paris. He loved Paris. It was like a completely different world than London, like they went through some type of portal when they got on that plane. And how they were in this old town world where people actually smiled and ate things that had more than sixty calories per serving. But he knew there was a plastic world inside France, just like England, and he'd soon be swallowed by it. He'd have to give up the easy, casual fabrics of countyside clothing for stiff, expensive suits and slick shoes.

For now though, Zayn had cheese dripping down his chin and the sun in his eyes. Louis picked up a napkin and wiped the mess. Zayn just smiled easy, drunk off of carbs and quality, home-grown meat and cheese. Louis would always wonder how Zayn stayed so carefree after all these years. How the blood and the things they've done didn't get to him. But then again, Zayn was rarely the one to actually pull the trigger. He saw all the details when he sent in the report to Headquarters after they were done, but Louis was the one that felt the small backfire when he sent two to the chest and one to the head, all within a matter of seconds. He saw the blood pool on the floor underneath them, their clothing soak up the red sticky liquid. He always took the picture to put in that report that Zayn sent off. So maybe Louis saved him. Saved him from having to endure real death. He was okay with that. He liked that he actually got to save someone instead of end them.

Zayn was giving him that look, and Louis knew that he was straring too hard, boring holes into Zayn's mind, trying to figure out Zayn's whole existence. Louis coughed and took another sip of his water. "You always do this. Contemplate your navel right before a job. I don't know why. You have to do it, so why think about it."

Louis shook his head, "I can't help it, I guess. Since I don't have any control over my job, I'd like to think I have control over the rest of my life."

"You have control over your job. Your entire job is control."

Louis shook his head harder, "Not what I mean. I don't have a choice. So I'd like to over think the choices I do get."

Zayn worried his lip while he let that sink in. Louis waited for him, letting his own words sink in too. "I get that. But how about you try a take a breather. I hate that you get all tense when we work," Zayn leaned in, "Why do you think I always tie you up when we're on the job. Loosens you up, and you're more fun that way," Zayn winked.

Louis flicked Zayn's cheek and leaned back in his seat. "Take a breather, huh?"

"Yeah, you know. Let loose. Go to a rave or something, get smashed, like proper smashed, and take some bloke home, have your way, and kick him out in the morning before he can even ask for tea."

Louis barked a laugh and rolled his eyes. "You're impossible. You know I don't sleep around when we're on duty. Distracts me."

"How would you know? You've never done it? Maybe it'll be exactly what you need."

"Not going to happen, mate. It's not me."

Zayn sighed, slightly annoyed. "Lucky you have me, then, or you'd never get laid, and then you'd be a right twat all the time."

Louis just gave him a blank stare and a raised eyebrow, "You act like it's a punishment to sleep with me. I happen to know I'm the best you've ever had."

Zayn eyebrows shot up and his face turned to an amused smile, "Why do you say that?"

"You have a vice, my dear Zaynie," Louis reached into Zayn's bag and pulled out a small notebook, no bigger than a deck of cards, "Your journal."

Zayn's eyes went wide and he grabbed at the book. Louis laughed and kept it just out of reach. "I swear to fuck, Louis, give it back or I'll tie you up, get you hard, and leave you overnight."

Louis cackled louder at Zayn's empty promise, but handed the journal back anyway. "All I'm saying is that apparently I do this thing with my tongue that makes you weak in the knees."

Zayn was huffing now, his face bright red. "Shut up."

"You should tell me these things. Now I'll be sure to do that thing," Louis waggled his eyebrows, "more often."

Zayn was still blushing as he put his booklet back in his bag and stood up. "Can we please go. I need a shower."

Louis threw away their stuff and grabbed his own bag. Zayn was waiting on the cobblestone steps for him, so he came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Hey. You know I didn't mean anything by it." He pressed a small kiss to Zayn's shoulder. "I found it on accident, I swear. Thought it was job related, but then I couldn't stop reading when I found my name."

Zayn crossed his arms like a petulant child and kept his gaze foward. Louis came around to his front and pulled Zayn's arms around him instead. He nosed at Zayn's chest and hummed pitifully, asking for forgiveness. Zayn's sighed, loud and long, "Fine. Whatever, it's fine." He hugged Louis to him. "In case you didn't make it all the way through," he tilted Louis' head up to look at him, "I also love when you let me in after only one finger. You're so tight."

Louis scrunched his face up, a little embarrassed. "I'll remember that." Zayn went to pull away, but Louis tighten his grip around him, "Ps, I love when you let me eat you out after I come inside you." Zayn laughed, simple as anything, and kissed the top of Louis' head.

"Now I know."

Louis let him go and they walked to a main street so they could catch a cab to their hotel. They made it all the way to the door of their room, key in the lock, before Zayn added, "You're still going out while we're here. I refuse to put up with your teenage girl moodiness for a whole week." Louis harrumphed but didn't protest.

***

While we're here turned out to be the next night. They'd spent the first night setting up their laptops, confirming the rental car for the day of the conference, making sure their suits were going to be finished in time, and generally relaxing before the work really began. Zayn insisted they check out an underground exotic rave that he'd heard about. How he heard about an underground exotic rave his first day in Paris, Louis would never know, but he begrudgingly agreed on one condition: if he didn't pull (Zayn scoffed at the idea, but Louis continued) then he got to use his abnormally large vibrator on Zayn as soon as they got back to London. Zayn had no doubt that Louis would be able to snag anyone he wanted in literally one of the gayest cities on the planet, so he absently agreed.

***

They walked into a nicknack shop, through rows of porcelain dolls and postcards to the back door. It opened to a stairwell that led at least twenty feet under the ground. As soon as the door opened Louis could hear the faint thump of the bass, but as they decended the dark musty stairs the thump turned into a pounding and the walls started to vibrate with noise. The tall, thin, woman with long brown hair that was leading them, gave them a cheeky smile as she opened the door to the real party. Louis was almost pushed back a step with the force of the music. He had to cover his eyes for a second against the flashing lights, completely unsafe for anyone with epilepsy. Zayn put his mouth to Louis' ears from over his shoulder and nibbled on the soft lobe.

"Gonna be legend, mate."

Louis gave a mild hum of agreement that he knew Zayn couldn't hear, but could probably feel, as he took Zayn's hand and pulled him into the room. People were everywhere. Louis was having a hard time seeing where one body ended and the other began. It's like they were just a mass of sexual energy blending together in front of his eyes. There didn't even seem to be a bar anywhere, so he didn't know if everyone was drunk or just really instense. It was Zayn's turn to tug him along, into the crowd of people. Louis' air supply was cut in half instantly. He felt hot all of a sudden and couldn't even move his hands, much less his hips, in the space he was allowed. Zayn seemed to find plenty of room though, because he pulled Louis against him and started grinding on him. Louis loved the feeling of Zayn's body, flat planes and small curves, a body he'd learned every inch of over the years. It felt familiar in a completely foreign place. Louis melted into the soft surface of Zayn's chest and let himself be led to the beat of the music.

Too soon he was sweaty and his legs were tired. Normally if he was going to dance for hours he'd be drunk or high, or both, so he didn't feel the soreness in his limbs, or the exhaustion in his mind. Louis was about to ask Zayn for a break, when a short, surly man wiggled his way through the crowd and saddled up to Louis. "Need it?" was all he said and handed Louis two pills, one for him, one for Zayn. He gestured to Louis to take the pill, pointing between Zayn and him. Louis assumed the man only spoke French. Louis didn't feel like letting the man know he spoke the same langauge, in case he started a real conversation. So he just gave one of the pills to a still swaying Zayn and popped the other in his mouth. Zayn followed suit and the man smiled, please with his work. As soon as he appeared though he was gone, disappeared back into the throng of wild grass in the wind.

Louis let his head fall back on Zayn's shoulder and smiled at him. Zayn kissed his forehead and slowed down just enough for Louis to catch up with the beat and push back on him. Louis' eyes soon felt like they'd never close, like even if you sewed them shut they'd pop back open. He saw Zayn's eyes and figured his must look much the same, pupils huge and glassy. Louis straightened himself and tried to tame the vibrating in his blood by dancing hard and fast. Now he understood what he'd seen in the people when he first got in there, the never-ending movement, the uncontrolled twitching of limbs. Louis was rocking and pushing and moving like he didn't even know who's body he was inside of.

He moved so much that he moved through the crowd as he danced. He lost Zayn eventually and just rubbed against whoever was nearest. He had hands all over him, touching his skin, smearing the sweat that covered it. Louis wasn't sure he was breathing anymore, wasn't sure he ever would again. Then he hit a wall, luckily not literally. But someone stopped his fluid movements through the mass. Someone was moving a little bit different than everyone else. Louis couldn't stop when his body adjusted instantly to the new pace, feeling relief for the mild break. Louis pressed into the new body, wrapping his arms around their waist loosely. The body turned around in Louis' arms and Louis had to blink several times to convince himself he was still awake.

In front of him stood the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. The Most Beautiful Person Ever was wearing a blinding white smile, framed by deep indentions on either cheek, and wrapped his arms around Louis' shoulders. Louis had to lean his head up to get a better view, but then his blood rushed too fast and he just let his head fall the stranger's chest. A hand came and carded through his sweaty fringe and Louis slowed down even more. Before he knew it, him and the Stranger were basically slow dancing in the middle of a rave. The Stranger laid his head on top of Louis' and Louis could feel the ends of his curls tickle his skin. He tightened his grip around the Stranger's waist, like he was afraid they'd just float off and leave him slow and lonely.

Louis tilted his head up so his lips brushed The Stranger's ear, "Did you know that a semi-automatic M16 can fire up to sixty rounds a minute?"

The Stranger chuckled and curled his fingers in Louis' damp shirt. He pressed his lips to Louis' ear and said over the music, "I didn't know that. Are you challenging me to sixty rounds a minute?"

Louis laughed, overly excited in his state, and tugged Stranger closer by the neck, "I would take you sixty times if you'd let me. You're so fit, I'd take you once or a hundred times, if you let me."

Stranger tensed for a moment, a moment that lasted four hundred years in Louis' mind, before he whispered, "Let me take you home."

Louis sighed out a, "Thank God," and started pulling Stranger towards the door. Or so he hoped. He may have pulling him towards the ceiling for all he knew. But Stranger followed until they made it out of the crowd. Stranger must've spotted the door first because he wrapped a hand around Louis' waist and ushered him out and back up the stairs. Louis stumbled on a few steps, but kept up as they nearly ran out of the quaint store and into the night air. Louis' whole body went into shock as the cold night air froze his overheated mind. Stranger wrapped him up in his arms and they walked down the street. Louis was about to ask if Stranger knew where he was going, but then a car beeped and the lights flashed a quick yellow, making Louis' eyes shut with sensitivity. Stranger opened the passanger door of his very shiny car and sat Louis down inside it, before jogging over and plopping down in the driver's seat. The car started with a purr that had Louis moaning in appreciation. Stranger gave Louis a cheeky smirk and peeled off into the darkness of Paris backroads.

***

Louis was laughing hysterically. To be fair, it probably wasn't that funny, but Louis couldn't help the light, airy feeling in his chest and head that begged to be expressed. Stranger was trying to get himself out of some very tight, albeit sexy as hell, skinny jeans, and failing miserably. His fingers were fumbling over the button and fly until he nearly ripped them open and off. He threw them somewhere far away in a huff and then spread his arms in triumph. "Tada!"

Louis was still laughing like a loon, hard in his briefs, sitting on Stranger's bed. Stranger clumsily made his way to the bed and crawled on top of Louis. Louis felt the press of warm skin on skin contact. He pulled Stranger down on top of him and pulled his legs up so he was straddling Louis. Stranger kissed along the script across Louis' chest and then over the large set of numbers right below it. Louis let his hands roam inside Stranger's boxers, pushing them down as he went.

Louis mind was racing through the entire night. It was spinning when he flipped Stranger onto his stomach and pushed into him from behind. It was raging when he pulled Stranger to his chest as he laid down behind him so they could spoon and pushed in again. It was positively spiraling when he folded Stranger up on the edge of the bed on his knees and made him come twice before Louis did again. Compared to the rush of a few hours, sleep was a deserted ghost town, eerie and too quiet. At least he had sure hands on his chest to keep him grounded so his dreams didn't take him too far away.

***

The picture is Louis' (beautiful ass) car btw!

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