Pedro Pascal/Character

Agent Whiskey

You and Jack have to go undercover to a gala, and take out a lead drug runner. He loves you, but you don't believe his flirting, having seen him being casual with some other women.

~~

You hated undercover work. Pretending you're someone you're not didn't come easily to you, nor did lying. But Champ is boss, so here you are, dress-shopping with Ginger and Whiskey, the only female you spoke to and the man that would be accompanying you. 

You flicked your gaze over the rack of dresses. 

"Hey, sugar, what about this?" Whiskey caught your attention, holding up a scrap of fabric. You wrinkled your nose. 

"Be realistic, Whiskey." You turned away. "That's too small for me."

You didn't see the look of pure incredulity that settled across his tan features. "Sugar, your body is perfect." 

"That'd mean more if you weren't so set on sleeping with every woman you could." You rolled your eyes, reaching for a more tasteful light green dress.

"You can't wear green, it does nothing for your eyes." Whiskey called. Ginger gave an exasperated sigh.

"Sorry, I know nothing about dresses." She shrugged at your questioning gaze. "Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have him help?" 

Gritting your teeth, you turned back to Whiskey, who had a lazy smirk on his face. The smirk of someone who knew they had won. "Fine. Nothing too-revealing. I want to be able to move. I don't care if it looks good." 

"Anything on you would look good, sugar." He smiled, reaching out to brush his fingers through the hair on the side of your face. You froze up. He usually limited himself to casual flirting. This was uncharted territory and it scared you. "But I think it would look best thrown on my bedroom floor." He murmured, close to your ear, watching your cheeks go red. 

Ginger hadn't heard, and had averted her gaze, hissing something under her breath. 

"Just go find a dress." You managed, turning your face away. 

"Yes ma'am." 

~

You and Ginger spoke in hushed tones about different tactics and approaches to the mission, leaving Whiskey to cast his 'fashion' eye over the slips of fabric, concentration on his face for once, taking the task of making you happy seriously. 

Eventually, you glanced up to see him holding a dress out to you, a grin on his face, nerves dancing in his eyes. The dress was beautiful, with sleeves, and a long skirt. It didn't reveal too much of your cleavage.  Surprise was evident on your face. Ginger punched your arm. "Go try it on!" She encouraged. 

Wordlessly, you took the dress, going into one of the changing rooms. It was surprisingly easy to put on, except for the zipper that ran the length of your spine. "Little help?" You called out. You had your back to the door, expecting Ginger. 

Warm fingers easily slipped the zipper up, hands moving your hair out the way. Too large to be Ginger. But surely he wouldn't.. You half-turned, your eyes level with a pair of lips, atop which was a scuff of hair. "Whiskey!" You blurted, your fist connecting with his chest. 

He had the grace to look bashful. "I just wanted to see if it fit properly." He met your gaze. "You look stunning." 

The absence of a nickname wasn't lost on you. Usually, the nicknames meant he was being a dork, trying to get you riled up. But he was being sincere, his eyes betraying the adoration he held for you. 

~