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Next day at work would hopefully feel a lot less of a drag now that (Y/N) had something she could work at, even if it had to be undercover. When her and Peggy arrived at the office in the morning, everything looked exactly the same, yet so different at the same time. Tensions were high all around the bullpen where every agent was concentrated on their paperwork, all focused on the main case.

The women passed by Agent Sousa's desk and (Y/N) quickly noticed the photographs and the papers all displayed on the table. Sousa was slouched in his chair with a cup of coffee in his hand, but the thing that caught her attention the most was that he was wearing the same clothes from yesterday.

"You know, you are expected to go home at night," Peggy broke the silence.

Sousa didn't even lift his eyes from the desk to see who it was. He grabbed the cup of coffee and drank from it. "Most fugitive cases are solved in the first 72 hours. If Stark's sailing into the sunset, maybe this is where he starts."

(Y/N) and Peggy exchanged a look. Sousa was getting close and not even a full day had passed since the case was announced. Without further thought, the brunette stared off at the black and white photograph on the table, most specifically the one where Howard had his arms around a woman in a boat. (Y/N) tried to resist the urge to scoff at the absurd sight in the pictures, since she had seen thousands of them with him wearing the same smug smile.

"He must have really liked that girl," Peggy muttered in an innocent tone with her eyes on the photograph.

"Hmm?"

"There's no other reason why he'd get in a boat," she answered his doubt. "I'm sorry, Daniel, but Stark hates water. He can't even swim."

"Really? How do you. . .?"

(Y/N) figured what she was trying to do and jumped in to add detail to the story. "He tried to kiss me on V-E Day. I pushed him into the Thames. We had to get frogmen to fish him out."

Sousa stayed quiet at the confession. His cup was still gripped tightly in his hands, trying to take in the new information. (Y/N) would've thrown a mental celebration at this, since she created doubt in his investigation, but at the same time, she felt guilty about lying to a respected coworker. Even though part of her story wasn't an absolute lie.

Suddenly, two men passed right behind them and shared incoherent mutters between themselves as they headed toward the briefing room. That's when (Y/N) was able to finally notice the three other presences inside the room, which were visible through the open blinds.

"Something's up," Peggy spoke first.

"Thompson's working on his next medal," Sousa explained with a sour tone. "Got word of a fence trying to sell one of Stark's inventions. Club owner named Spider Raymond."

"Where's it happening?"

"Need to know only." Sousa answered, his eyes moving back to the closed briefing room door. "Gives you a warm feeling, doesn't it?"

"Get you a refill?" Peggy grabbed the cup out of Sousa's hands before walking away without another word.

Sousa was left with an empty hand in the air, quite shocked from the unexpected action.

"I, actually, I'm still. . .drinking that."

Sousa turned around to face (Y/N) with raised eyebrows, as if she held the explanation to Peggy's behavior. All (Y/N) did was chuckle and run after her friend to know what she had in mind, leaving the man more confused than he already was. When she reached Peggy at the other side of the bullpen, she found her placing four identical cups into a tray along with the steaming coffee pot.

The brunette turned around with the tray in her hands, already sensing the other's presence behind her. "In you go."

"What?" (Y/N) couldn't help but frown.

"Take the coffee to the briefing room," Peggy replied like it was obvious.

(Y/N) knew the reason why, the only thing she was confused about was why did Peggy want her to do so. Especially since she already had the tray in her hands.

"You were a waitress, were you not?" she questioned and did not wait for an answer, still holding out the tray. "It'll be more natural."

"All right."

"I'll be near the door at all times."

(Y/N) sighed and took the tray from Peggy's hands, adjusting a firm grip on it so the cups wouldn't clang with each other. She walked toward the briefing room, which was on the left side of the bullpen. She carefully opened the door with her foot since the door didn't have a handle, and from the corner of her eye she saw Peggy trailing a few feet behind to not raise suspicion.

She could feel the agents' and the chief's eyes on her as she entered the room, but they didn't say anything when they saw her with the tray. She placed the tray on the table without making a sound and grabbed the pot. It had been a while since (Y/N) had served tables and poured hot coffee into mugs, but she hoped she still remembered the old tricks to do so. Meanwhile, her ears were alert in order to hear everything the men were discussing with subtlety.

"— I'll call O'Dwyer, get you some uniformed backup."

"Too showy. Raymond's paranoid." Thompson jumped in to defend Chief Dooley's words. "Only things he lets slide are beautiful women and money."

(Y/N) took a mental note of that and continued pouring the coffee into the mugs as slow as she possibly could to buy more time. Her eyes trailed over to the case file on the corner of the table, with a photograph slipped inside it with the name of club that Sousa had mentioned earlier.

"If we want to grab Raymond and his buyer with whatever it is that Stark is selling, then I go in light and fast," Thompson continued, raising his voice in the process. Behind him stood a bulletin board with the map of Brooklyn on it, along with many pictures of their main suspect. "We want everyone feeling real comfortable. Two men, sidearms only."

"That how you did it in Okinawa?"

"Sometimes. Other times, we brought a tank," Thompson told him in a lower tone. "Figured we'd save that for later."

"Okay, Thompson, this is your play," Chief Dooley chuckled. He didn't remove his eyes from the floor before continuing. "Grinding beans over there, Dewitt? This is field agents only."

(Y/N) didn't stop her movements so it wouldn't look like she got caught doing something she wasn't supposed to do. Her hand kept holding onto the pot and the other held out the cup she was pouring the coffee into.

"It's okay, chief. Let her stay," Thompson said in that same, irritating tone. "Maybe she'll learn something."

(Y/N) flashed a sarcastic grin but didn't bit back a remark. "Thank you, agent, but I already have."

"What do you really want?" Chief Dooley asked in a suspicious tone.

"I wonder if I might request a sick day."

"What's the matter? Got a headache?"

"That amongst something else," (Y/N) answered. She pressed her lips into a thin line and took an uncomfortable pause before she spoke again to add dramatics into it. "A woman thing."

"Oh, geez."

Chief Dooley closed his eyes as he groaned in disgust. Thompson avoided meeting her eyes and found on the details on the board interesting. Krzeminski and another agent huffed out a breath to show their uncomfortableness, and (Y/N) only stood there innocently watching the reactions she had hoped to suffice.

"Yeah, sure, take the day," Chief Dooley responded after a long minute. "Go shopping, whatever makes you feel better."

"Thank you for your understanding," she flashed an uncharacteristic wide grin, playing with her fingers. "Enjoy your coffee."

She walked out of the room with that being said, resisting the urge to laugh then and there. Peggy, just like she promised, was leaning her back against the window with a smile on her red lips. She moved out of her spot once (Y/N) walked outside and they walked away from the scene so they wouldn't risk anyone hearing them.

"Nice job," she congratulated.

"I swear, if I have to hear Thompson say another word for the rest of the day, I will kick him in the face," (Y/N) said in a promising tone.

"I suggest you keep those impulses until we're done with all this." Peggy advised. Her eyes searched for someone close enough to eavesdrop, but when she found no one, she proceeded. "So, what did you hear?"

(Y/N)'s mind was somewhere else. There was a lot to unpack from what she heard inside the room, but before they pulled this stunt, she needed to confirm something.

"Do you still have that stash of wigs in your room?"

"Of course, why?"

"I think we'll need some for this."

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Later in the evening, Peggy and (Y/N) found themselves arriving at the doorstep at the club called La Martinique. Its name was displayed in a bright, golden sign that would've left anyone blind if they stared at it for a long time. The man at the entrance offered to take their coats and keep them with the rest, and once their coats were off their shoulders, it was as if they were embracing the roll they would be playing for the night.

(Y/N)'s wig cascaded her shoulders like a waterfall, the color being the complete opposite to her natural hair. Her satin, wine red dress fell all the way down to the floor, the light reflecting against it. The soft fabric trailed behind her, in an elegant yet subtle way to add a tail to the dress. She had accompanied her dress with simple button earring as accessories, along with the small clutch bag in her hands. Peggy was beside her admiring the dancing crowds, wearing a glimmering sequin dress with a blonde wig styled down to her chest.

Thousands of people were all over the dance floor, laughing amongst themselves as they swayed and danced to the beat. Everything from the blasting, live music on the stage to the loud laughing crowds was starting to make (Y/N)'s eardrums to hurt. She closed her eyes for a few seconds before ignoring the pain and moving forward.

"You look like ladies looking to dance," an unfamiliar man with a cigar approached them.

Peggy turned around with a flirty smile, responding to the man in an American accent. "I'm afraid I'd only step in your toes."

"Another time, perhaps."

The man placed the cigar back in his lips and walked away without another word. (Y/N) wanted to thank whoever above that the man didn't insist and started making uncomfortable advances toward either of them.

Their objective was still clear in their minds and their eyes inspected the crowds for any sort of hint for where Mr. Raymond could be. There, a few feet away, stood a guard in front of the staircase that led to the second floor, blocking the entrance for two protesting men. Bingo.

(Y/N) and Peggy walked alongside one another in the direction of the staircase, trying not to turn too many eyes. At some point, they were forced to turn their heads to the other side to avoid having their picture taken by a photographer. Once they made it to the staircase, (Y/N) came across the stoic face of the unimpressed guard.

"We're looking for Mr. Raymond," she spoke up this time, doing a Southern accent this times "We have something we'd like to sell."

The man flickered his eyes up and down her figure. "First door on the right."

"Thanks, sugar," Peggy shot him a wink.

They passed the guard on their way up the staircase, feeling his eyes on the back of their heads. There was a long hallway on the top of the stairs, and as they remembered the previous instructions on how to get to their destination, both women decided on a plan. Peggy would enter Mr. Raymond's office while (Y/N) stood guard outside. The brunette even got the chance to stain her lips with her own Sweet Dreams lipstick before knocking on the door.

"Mr. Raymond, is this a bad time?" Peggy peeked her head inside the room.

"We'll only know after it's over," Mr. Raymond's voice said from the other side of the door. "Bring the rest of you in here."

Peggy followed his instruction and walked inside the room, shutting the door behind her. (Y/N) was left alone in the eerie quiet hallway, telling herself not to make a single sound so no one, especially Raymond inside, to grow suspicious. She hoped that whatever Thompson had planned for today wouldn't get them up here in the second floor and risk herself and Peggy getting caught.

A few uneventful minutes after, she heard slight grunts coming from the inside of the room. She hoped it wasn't what she thought it was, but she stopped hearing them as quick as they came, she suspected otherwise. She decided to risk it and turn her attention back on the room behind her.

"That was a bit premature."

(Y/N) opened the door to see Spider Raymond unconscious on his chair, a red stain on his lips.

"A little desperate, wasn't he?" she asked.

"Aren't they all?" Peggy retorted with a roll of her eyes, her original accent returning to her voice.

(Y/N)'s eyes fell on the safe hidden inside the wooden drawer on the left side of the room. She pulled out the old wristwatch from her clutch bag, holding out for Peggy to take. She carefully removed the dial from the rest of the watch and glued it against the safe door, waiting for it to do its magic. In just a few seconds, the dial clicked as its clock hands spun around to decipher the password, turning the lock around in the process.

The lock clicked in place, so Peggy took this as a chance to grab the handle and pull the safe open. They were received by a yellowish glow on the inside, and (Y/N) did not have a clue of what it was.

"Crikey O'Reilly."

She extended a hand forward to grab one of the spheres inside to get a closer look. It looked like an ordinary grenade besides its glass structure and the glowing contents inside it. Peggy found her gaze in the middle of their shock and an understanding flashed between them. (Y/N) grabbed the phone and dialed the number on the old business card from before, hoping to get an answer.

The phone rang for a couple of times before the familiar, British voice appeared on the other line. "Jarvis Residence."

"They weaponized it," she spoke up first.

She didn't have the telephone pressed to her ear and instead held it out for both of them to hear what he had to say.

"Miss Dewitt?" Jarvis sounded confused by the sudden confession. He guessed the other half of the duo was there too. "Miss Carter?"

"Do you know anyone else handling high explosives at this time of night?"

"As a matter of fact, no," he answered in a soft tone. "It's just that I promised my wife a soufflé, and if I don't get it in the oven by — "

Peggy leaned forward to speak over the phone. "Mr. Jarvis, what was once a theory is now a bomb, so apologies to your wife, but dinner will have to wait."

"No, you're quite right. Mr. Stark left a note. Hold the line."

"Oh, you must not be — "

She heard the sound of the phone clang against a surface, indicating that he had placed it down. The faint sound of the radio playing an unrecognizable tune was heard through the other line, and (Y/N) was about to lose her patience when his voice returned once again.

"Is the nitramene, by any chance, glowing?"

"Yes."

"Oh, that's not ideal." He expressed casually. He stayed silent before he read out of the note. "'An orange glow would indicate the nitramene has reached peak volatility and should be handled with caution. Cracking its shell would result in an implosion with a blast radius of — ' Oh. 500 yards."

"Great."

"'Render it inert with a solution of sodium hydrogen carbonate and acetate'," he read out. "Where you're going to find that at this time, I have no idea."

(Y/N) tried to think of a solution, speaking up before Peggy could. "Leave that to me."

"There's one last note here." His voice returned. "'Avoid touching the core to the containment ring. Touching the core will result in — "

"Death?" Peggy guessed out loud.

"I was going to say 'core overload', but yes."

Suddenly, another voice was heard in the background of Jarvis's line. "Edwin, I'm home!"

"Uh, I won't be a moment, Anna!" Mr. Jarvis tried to cover the phone, but his cry was still heard. He focused back on the call. "If that will be all?"

Peggy sighed before taking charge of the phone call again. "Mr. Jarvis, you do realize that this job will have certain after-hours requirements."

"So does my wife, Miss Carter." Mr. Jarvis answered. "Miss Dewitt, good night."

(Y/N) placed back the phone into its rightful spot. Her eyes trailed back to the nitramene bomb on the table, thinking back to the solution that Jarvis had spoke about earlier.

"I'll take it," she offered.

Peggy's eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?"

"The bomb," she clarified, even though she knew that wasn't what she meant. "I'll render it at home."

"That would be madly reckless of you."

"It would be a lot more reckless if you brought it home to Colleen."

Peggy let out a sigh since there was no arguing that statement. (Y/N) lived alone, so there was no risk in having someone mistakenly grabbing it. Unlike Peggy, who had a sick roommate back home.

Already having everything in check, (Y/N) carefully placed the bomb inside her clutch bag and made her way to the door with Peggy on her tail. Before she could grab the handle, the door opened by itself from the outside, revealing the guard from before. His eyes were alert, but they widened when he noticed his boss unconscious on his chair.

"What?"

(Y/N) reached out for the closest object in her hands, which was a stapler on the table. She bashed it against the man's face, making him groan in pain. He didn't even get a chance to retaliate before she hit him again across and above his head. Within a few seconds, he dropped unconscious on the floor. Peggy helped (Y/N) in dragging in inside before closing the door behind them and leaving the room behind.

(Y/N) and Peggy tried to remain calm as they walked through the same hallway before walking down the same flight of stairs. As they made their way downstairs, they passed an unfamiliar man that was making his way up to the second floor. (Y/N) didn't get the chance to see him that clearly, but she felt an uneasy feeling as he passed right on her side.

Back in the dance floor, she easily spotted Krzeminski between the crowds talking to strangers. Panic ran through her veins at the sight of her colleague, but it increased a lot more when she saw Thompson readjusting his hat on the farthest corner of the room. Peggy had a quick solution and jumped in the arms of the man from earlier, who seemed quite enthusiastic about having her come back to him.

(Y/N) didn't have that same luck, but she skimmed the area for a lone man near the dance floor so she could do the same. A few feet away, she spotted a man swaying to the beat of the music with no woman in his arm to accompany him. She grinned and made her way over, grabbing the man's hand.

"Hey, doll."

She tried not to internally cringe at the nickname. "Mind a new partner for tonight?"

"Not at all," he smirked down at her.

(Y/N) distractedly swayed to the music in the unknown man's arms, her eyes focused on Thompson on the other side of the room. His eyes were trailing all over the dance floor, and her heart raced inside her chest out of panic at the thought of him recognizing her in the crowd.

"Dip me," she told the man.

"What?"

(Y/N) turned both of them around and dipped herself down, hoping that she escaped Thompson's eyes. She got back up just as quickly as she did the move, searching the crowd for Peggy amongst the groups of people.

"Thanks, darling," she smiled at the man. "We should try it again some time."

She removed herself from the man's grasp and escaped the dance floor. Peggy reached her side a few minutes later, her own appearance being out of place due to the sudden dancing movements. (Y/N) spared one last look at the dance floor to check if they weren't being followed or someone had an eye on them, but she couldn't see anything or anyone.

They made it out of the club by the back door from the kitchen, doing their best to avoid the weird glances their way. They grabbed a cab and fled the scene, already tired from their first field operation in their newest mission. Hopefully the next ones to come won't be that panic-inducing.

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When (Y/N) got back home, the majority of the lights in people's windows were already off. The apartment building was shining in its wonderful gloomy, downward nature, and it was more evident at this time of day. The lobby lights were flickering on and off as she made her way to the elevator, only to find it out of order again.

Her key made a jingling sound as she inserted it against the keyhole and opened her apartment door, being welcomed by nothing but loneliness and darkness. She made her way to her small kitchen in just two steps and opened the cabinet doors in search of the products she might need to render the bomb inside her clutch bag. She grabbed the bicarbonate and white vinegar, the last of a bourbon scotch bottle and a bowl to mix it all in.

She figured the best way to contain the odor that would surely suffice from her solution was by locking herself in the bathroom. She hoped that the nitramene bomb hadn't been damaged inside her bag, and she was relieved to find it completely intact. She pulled the bomb out with careful fingers, placing it on top of the toilet's lid where the rest of the products were.

A wet cloth was covering her mouth and nose for protection, since she didn't have any sort of gloves or lab coat that could protect her. She uncapped the lid to the bicarbonate bottle and spilled it in the bowl, followed by the vinegar and bourbon scotch. She emptied a bottle of an old perfume for it to store her newest solution.

(Y/N) grabbed a pair of tweezers from her bathroom cabinet and used them to carefully lift the metal handle of the bomb. She made sure she had a good grip before pulling on it and revealing the smoking core out of the container. The core made a hissing noise and poured out smoke as it spent more time out of the container, so (Y/N) wasted no time in spraying her solution on it. It didn't take long before it took effect and this burned the core down.

By the time the core stopped glowing, the smoke had covered the entirety of the room. Silence filled her entire apartment, and she removed the cloth out of her face now that the danger was gone. A relieved breath escaped her lips, but it halted when she heard a thud outside.

She stayed quiet in order to hear it again, and the thud returned, although a lot quieter this time. (Y/N) mentally cursed herself by leaving her gun outside in her living room, but she figured she had to confront whatever was outside at any given moment. With silent movements, she opened her bathroom door and expected to be jumped at, but there was no sign of anyone out there.

She walked out into her main living area, where the purse she took to work laid on the table. Without thinking too much of it, she reached out and pulled the gun out. Everything was a lot more creepy when the night was up, so (Y/N) figured her mind was tired and playing tricks with her.

But then, she felt something trail around her leg. She yelped in surprise and lowered her head down to see what it was, only to be received by a white kitten with its long tail wiggling in the air.

"Tuna! You scared me!" she cried out.

The kitten meowed in response, and (Y/N) reached out to pull him into her arms. Tuna was the neighbor's kitten, having been with them by just a few weeks. She knew little about the feline creature, but he always found the chance to sneak inside her own home whenever he got the chance.

"It's a little too late for visitors — " She stopped talking when realization hit.

The window needed to be open for him to sneak inside, and (Y/N) was completely sure she had left all windows closed before leaving earlier in the evening. She kept calm and knew better than to ask whomever was out there to come out. Tuna slipped from her grasp and scattered through the apartment, leaving her alone.

She held out the gun in front of herself as she started taking a look throughout every corner of her home. Her apartment wasn't that spacious, but there sure were plenty of spaces where anyone could hide in plain sight. She started with her coat closet and found it empty, then searching under the table no matter how ridiculous it could be. She even searched through the bathroom, even though she would've already noticed if someone had hid in there.

She left her own bedroom for last and that's when she saw the open window. "That's how you got in, Tuna?"

She kept talking to the kitten in order to maintain herself composed. (Y/N) crossed the room and closed the window with a loud shut, one that probably echoed in her neighbor's quarters. Her eyes trailed to the several perfume bottles displayed on her vanity and she didn't hesitate in grabbing and placing them on top of the windows. That way, if someone tried to get in through the window, the noise might wake her up.

(Y/N) didn't relax yet. She walked out of her room to return back to her main living area and scanned the place for a way to solve this problem. A few minutes later, she decided to drag her only table and press it against the door. She grabbed a glass bottle from the kitchen and placed it right at the edge of the table so it would fall and break if someone pried the door open.

(Y/N) pulled one of her chairs and aligned it perfectly with the door, taking a seat with the gun in her hand. She turned off the last light in her whole apartment before placing her full attention on the door across from her.

If she had to stay up all night, so be it. Nobody was going to enter her home on her own watch.

any criminal minds fans that caught my reference at the end please rise. no? okay.
this is probably the longest chapter i've written so far in this book and it's barely the first episode of the series bear with me.

-see you soon, bex <3