2LT Briar [Yuri Briar x f.Reader - SPY x FAMILY]

Ballhaus

"Here."

"What's this for?"

"It's just stuff the firm gave us that they didn't need," you lie.

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"Because I want my jacket back. You've been holding it hostage for over a week now."

"So you're trading Hungarian wine for your jacket? I should steal your things more often if this is what I get in return," she comments with a cheeky smirk.

"You try something like that again and you'll get a lot more than a bottle of red, fräulein," you warn her sternly.

"Fine," she hisses and begins fishing in her coat pocket. "Here's the ticket for the drycleaners. I was going to give it to you myself, but god only knows when you'll call me out to interrogate me next, so you might as well pick it up on your way home today."

Snatching the thin paper from her hand, you turn on your heel and head down the sidewalk. Several steps in, you look over your shoulder to see her still standing in the same place, distracted by the jewellery in the window.

"Stop wasting my time, fräulein. Walk and talk," you demand and yank her along by the wrist.

Things carry on like this until the weather is brisk and snow litters the ground. Somehow or other, you find yourself seeing that woman nearly every week. What she can gather about Loid is nearly always benign and therefore useless. But since she gets to spend infinitely more time with your sister, you indulge in listening to her recount the conversations and outings the two share.

She tells you of teaching Yor to bake those doughnuts, which you'll never admit you kept all to yourself and ate every last one of, and of taking the brat out for play dates in the park. Apparently, Yor went on a cruise for work, and you get the strong impression that this woman has no plans for the weekend. Why she insists on making this so painfully obvious is beyond you, but at least she can finally be of some use. So, when Saturday night rolls around you phone her.

"The corner of Blumenstraße by the Resi. Wear the new dress that's hanging in your wardrobe." You don't give her time to finish her question about how or when you dropped off the dress before you hang up.

"So why a nightclub this time, Mr. Briar?" is all she says by way of greeting.

"Work," is all you give her. She doesn't need to know the details of who you're here to watch or that you need a woman as a cover to get into the casino without raising suspicion.

When the two of you are seated at one of the countless booths, each with their own telephone line to call other tables, you order for both of you without asking.

"Schnapps and something light for the lady."

She doesn't complain, which is a nice change. Once the drinks are delivered, you switch them so that you can stay focused tonight.

"Are you a lightweight like your sister?" she quips as she watches you reverse the glasses.

"Shut up. You don't get to ask questions. Now, tell me what happened this week," you snap and cross your arms.

"Hmph. I'm not telling you anything unless you dance with me, Lieutenant. I didn't get all dolled up to sit in a corner."

"Don't you dare call me that here, sweetheart. And need I remind you that you're dolled up in a dress I bought you. But fine, have it your way. You can talk on the floor," you retort and yank her along by the wrist.

Hmm. She usually stumbles and drags her feet when I grab her like that, so either she's gotten used to it or she really does want to dance...

Only when you get to the ballroom do you realize that the music is a far too upbeat for close dancing, thereby making it risky to have her speak about business. The smirk she wears as you grab her waist is enough to know she counted on this happening.