Broken: Harrison Osterfield x reader

Chapter Three

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think!
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Harrison clenched his jaw.
"You want me to what?" He growled.
His superior blinked. "You're assigned to the PPD for the American senator visiting in a couple of days."
"Why me?"
"You're young compared to the other men here," His superior answered. Fletcher Cunningham was the highest ranking man in the Prime Minister's PPO detail. He was in charge of distributing tasks among the other officers, leading operations and responded to a lot of the media's coverage requests after the public got word of an attack on the Prime Minister. Harrison was in his office, one of the top floors in the massive building. The room had one wall that was all windows, overlooking London. Cunningham stood and crossed his arms. His large, muscular frame obscured most of the view from Harrison, casting a slight shadow over the desk in front of him. The man gave Harrison an even gaze. "They didn't want to be on the PPD for a girl ten years or so younger than them."
"Why can't Tom or Jacob do it?" Harrison asked. "You said she's what, 20? Tom's 23 and Jacob's 22."
"They're both on the local detail," Cunningham answered. "And, given your recent interaction with Mrs. Gardner at the gala last night, I thought it wise to assign you somewhere else."
Harrison groaned quietly at the mention of the Prime Minister's wife.
"You're reassigning me because she hit on me?"
"Are you trying to get fired, Osterfield?" There was a slight edge to his voice. Harrison gulped a little.
"No, sir."
"Then shut up and take the file." The older man held out the manila folder. Harrison took it, opening it to scan its contents. The first thing that caught his eye was the photo of you. It was one that was probably for some sort of identification card since you were facing the camera straight on. Your smile was bright and your eyes held barely-contained excitement. Harrison could tell that just by looking at you that you were incredibly intelligent. He licked his lips and inhaled. He never really liked women that were smarter than him. He pushed the thoughts out of his head.
"What type of assignment is it?" Harrison asked, finding himself staring at your photo.
"Undercover."
Harrison glanced up. "Under... Cover?"
"Yes." Cunningham sat back down in his chair, focusing his attention on his computer screen.
"What... What type of cover?" Harrison asked. He closed the file. "What... Cover? Under cover?"
"Yes, undercover," Cunningham confirmed again, slight irritation in his voice. "And we didn't set anything. Whatever you deem best?"
Harrison let out a little sigh of relief. "Good. Because I thought you were going to tell me I had to be her boyfriend or something."
"If that's the cover that works best." Cunningham shrugged. He began to sort through some papers on his desk.
"Wait..." Harrison held up the file. "Are you telling me I have to do that?"
Cunningham sighed. "Are you not listening to me, Osterfield? I said whatever cover works best. If it works out best for you to be her boyfriend, then be her boyfriend. Or be her long-lost cousin, escort, whatever you deem fit."
"I'll be her escort who's also her cousin."
"Osterfield."
Harrison sighed. "Understood, sir."
"Good."
"You said she arrives in a few days?"
Cunningham nodded. "Yes. She, Senator Evans and some other members of his team arrive at Heathrow at midnight on Tuesday. You and the other people assigned to their detail will meet them at the terminal. You'll stay on the detail until they get back on their jet and head back to the US."
"How long are they here, sir?"
"Eight days," Cunningham answered. "They're here to meet with Parliament to discuss gun control laws and gain international support, so the stay could be shorter. Although, we are talking about a group of politicians, so it most likely will be longer than that."
"I will get overtime pay if it lasts more than eight days, right?"
Cunningham glared at Harrison.
"Understood, sir," Harrison answered, a bit irritated. "Is there anything else, sir?"
"No. Go bother someone else."
"Thank you, sir." Harrison turned and left the office, closing the door behind him. He fought the urge to punch the wall and walked past Cunningham's assistant.
"Have a good day, Mr. Osterfield," She said brightly. He ignored her, not wanting to deal with her impossibly cheery mood. He stomped down the large office space to his cubicle. He slammed the file on his desk and fell into his chair, sighing loudly. He clenched his fist when he saw a couple shadows fall over his desk.
"What's up, man?" Jacob asked. Harrison glanced up. He saw Tom and Jacob peeking over the cubicle walls. All three of their desks were right now to each other, with Harrison squished in the middle. It wasn't uncommon for the two boys to pop their heads over the cubicle walls and throw pens at Harrison, or ask what he wanted for lunch.
"I got a new assignment," Harrison growled.
"Fun!" Tom said cheerfully. "What is it?"
"Nothing fun," Harrison snapped. He pointed to the file and glared at it. "Private detail for some dumb intern."
"You're on the PPD for an intern?" Jacob asked. "No wonder you're pissed."
"An intern?" Tom asked doubtfully. "You're too good for that."
"That's why I'm pissed." Harrison saw Tom reach for the file. Harrison swatted his hand away. Tom gasped.
"Rude!" He said, rubbing his hand. Harrison sneered at Tom. Harrison saw movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Jacob reaching for the file. Harrison pushed his hands away, but Tom slipped in and grabbed it, quickly pulling the file over the cubicle wall before Harrison could grab it. Harrison fought back more irritation and sighed when Tom and Jacob cheered. The two young men gave each other a high five. Tom opened the file and cleared his throat.
"All right," Tom said, mimicking a spokesperson. "Ladies and gentleman, Mr. Osterfield as won the PPD assignment for... Miss Y/L/N!"
"Miss?" Jacob repeated. He waggled his eyebrows.
"Shut up," Harrison grumbled. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.
"20 years old," Tom continued, "With gorgeous Y/E/C eyes and Y/H/C locks. She's a genius with an IQ of 170-"
"That's not in the file," Harrison interrupted.
"Oh, you've already memorized the whole thing?" Tom smirked. Jacob oohed. Harrison rolled his eyes.
"She has not one, but two degrees from university. She's got an associates in law and policy and a bachelors in political science." Jacob oohed louder. "She's currently pursuing her masters degree in public administration, and has been interning for Senator Christopher R. Evans for the past nine months."
"She sounds awesome!" Jacob said, a bright smile on his face.
"You say that about everyone," Harrison responded.
"That's because everyone is awesome," Jacob replied.
Harrison rubbed his hands over his face.
"She looks pretty, too," Tom chimed in. "Look." Harrison peeked through his fingers to see Tom holding the photo of you up to Jacob.
"Oooh, she is pretty!" Harrison snatched the photo from Tom's fingers and yanked the file towards him.
"Knock it off!"
"Someone's a bit touchy," Tom said.
"Already feeling protective, I see," Jacob teased.
"Shut. Up," Harrison snarled. Tom and Jacob chuckled. Tom shot him a wink before he and Jacob disappeared into their cubicle. Harrison ran his hands through his hair and sighed. Why him? It should've been Tom. Tom was the man everyone wanted. Jacob was a ball of sunshine, even in the face of danger. No one wanted Harrison. How was he supposed to pull off an undercover operation with an American girl? He rested his chin in his hands and stared at the photo. Your face smiled back. Harrison clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to grin in return.
***
It was 11:59 pm on Sunday night. You were set to land in Heathrow in two minutes. The plan was, remarkably, on time. Harrison was standing on the tarmac with the other agents tasked with protecting the senator and his team. He heard the sound of an engine and turned, seeing an agent dressed as an airport employee pushing a set of stairs that would allow the private jets' passengers to descend onto the tarmac.
"Subjects in bound," A voice over Harrison's earpiece said. "ETA one minute."
"Copy," The agent standing next to Harrison said. "You ready, Osterfield?"
Harrison sighed. "As I'll ever be."
The agent chuckled. "That's the spirit. Who're you assigned to?"
"The intern," Harrison answered, not wanting to make conversation. But, Tuwaine kept pushing.
"The girl?" Tuwaine smiled. "Nice. I heard she's pretty."
Harrison gave a half-shrug. "She's all right."
"I got tasked with the senator's PR man," Tuwaine said. "Quite excited, if you ask me."
"Of course," Harrison said.
"I also hear he's a partier," Tuwaine added.
"He'll be on duty," Harrison responded. "I doubt you'll have any fun with him."
Tuwaine cocked an eyebrow. "Have you ever met an American that doesn't party?"
Harrison sighed in agreement. "You're right."
A loud jet engine rumbled overheard. Harrison glanced up and spotted the plane, the silhouette visible only because of the runway lights.
"Here we go," The agent shouted over the noise.
"Subjects have arrived," The voice over the intercom said. The jet's wheels squeaked and the engines roured as they touched down and decelerated. After a few moments, the jet stopped a hundred yards from Harrison and the other agents. The agent with the stairs pushed forward, meandering across the tarmac.
"Clear?" The voice on the intercom asked.
"Clear," A new voice answered. "Nothing on the rooftops."
"Clear," Another voice said. "Nothing in the boarding area."
"Clear," A third voice added. "Nothing at the front entrance."
"Clear," The agent with the stairs said. "Nothing on the tarmac."
"Then proceed," The first voice ordered. A series of "copy" echoed through the earpiece. Harrison felt his nerves beginning to get the better of him, but he didn't know why. He fidgeted, readjusting his stance.
"Excited, Osterfield?" Tuwaine asked, still having to yell over the engine's rumble.
"Shut up, Tuwaine," Harrison snapped. Tuwaine just chucked. After a few more long, dreadful moments, the stairs were connected to the jet and the door opened. The first American stepped out. It was a man with dark, styled hair and a trim beard. He wore a very expensive-looking suit and was talking to his cell phone. Even though the jet's engines were just starting to die down, they were still very loud. And Harrison could still hear the man as he descended the stairs.
"No," The man yelled into his phone. He shook a finger as if he were scolding someone in person. "I told you, Evans is not going to go on the Graham Norton show. We don't have time for two talk shows. We booked a spot with Corden months ago, and in itself takes up half a day."
Another man stepped out. This one had brown hair and a square jaw. He was wearing a nice-looking suit, but it didn't look as expensive as the other man's. He was carrying two suitcases and struggling to get them down the stairs.
"Man, hurry up!" Another voice yelled.
"I'm trying!" The man with the suitcases shouted back.
"Try harder!"
By that point, the jet's engines had completely shut off and Harrison could hear the childish exchange that followed.
"You know what," The man with the bags said. He was halfway down the stairs, but turned back to yell at the other man, who had now appeared. He was also carrying two large suitcases, but didn't appear to be struggling as much as the other man. "It's not my fault that I had to skip arm day a few times because I had to work!"
"Man, you never skip arm day!"
"Why do you even care? You're obsessed with legs anyway."
"This is true. But, which stick arms like yours, you need as much definition as you can get." The man chuckled loudly as the other man groaned. Both of them reached the bottom of the stairs.
"Who's my man?" The first man who stepped off the plane asked. Harrison jumped, surprised to find the man in front of him. "I need to get to the hotel, asap. The Norton show people are giving me a headache and I need a private place to yell at them."
"Mr. Downey?" Tuwaine asked. "I believe I'm your detail, sir."
The American stopped and looked Tuwaine up and down. "I should have guessed that they would give me the best of the best." He smiled. He held out his hand. "But don't call me sir. Just because I have grey hair doesn't mean I'm old. Call me Robert."
"Of course, Robert," Tuwaine said politely and shook the man's hand. "My apologies. Do you need help with any bags?" Robert turned and looked at the two men with the suitcases.
"No, I think our bell boys got a hand on it." He smirked.
"I heard that!" One of the men yelled. Robert chuckled and slapped Tuwaine on the shoulder in a friendly manner.
"Let's go," He said. With that, he went back to the call on his phone, Tuwaine escorting him to the car awaiting him off to the side. The men with the cases reached Harrison.
"I'm Sebastian," The first one said. "I'm not sure who my detail is."
"He didn't read the briefing packet," The other man complained, rolling his eyes.
"There was a briefing packet?" Sebastian asked, eyes wide with concern. The other man laughed.
"There wasn't one, sir," A new voice said. A young man with a bright smile and a mane of brown curls stepped forward. "I'm Sam. I'm assigned to you."
"Ooph," The other man sighed, feigning concern. "You got a kid. Good luck, man."
"Mr. Mackie?" Another agent stepped forward. "I'm Harry. I'm your detail."
The man blinked. Sebastian laughed so hard he dropped a suitcase. Sam quickly grabbed the bag before it would fall over onto anyone. Harry stood awkwardly in front of the American.
"And I have a kid," Harrison heard the man grumble. "Great." He held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, pipsqueak." With that, they walked to the cars waiting for them. Harrison glanced up in time to see the senator walk down the stairs, thanking the pilots profusely. He also saw you.
You were even more stunning in person. You looked a little tired, but you also looked excited. You were holding a stack of folders and papers with a bag slung over your shoulder. Your hair was a tad messy, few strands hanging loose, but you were stunning nonetheless. The way you moved was hypnotizing. Why couldn't he look away? He blinked and realized you were standing in front of him, the senator on your other side. You were looking at the only other agent left, a woman. She had shoulder-length brown hair styled in soft waves and was standing tall. Your face lit up. Harrison felt a twinge of sadness at the fact that he was your detail, and not Hayley.
"I'm Agent Atwell," The female agent said. She gave the senator a crisp nod. "I think it's best that we leave now while everything is secure."
The senator was fixing his suit jacket, staring at Hayley with wide eyes and slightly open mouth.
"Right!" He said suddenly, blinking. He cleared his throat. "Um, lead the way, Miss Atwell."
"It's agent," Hayley responded flatly. With that, she grabbed the senator's arm and escorted him to the car. Harrison groaned inwardly and turned to you. Ugh why were your eyes so gorgeous.
"Harrison," He said shortly. "We need to move. Now." He ever so lightly pushed you towards your car.
"Oh. Oh, um okay. Nice to meet you," You said quietly. Harrison felt his heart so something between a jump and a flop. He swallowed.
"No time for talking," He said. The two of you reached the car and he opened the back door. He grabbed your arm and quickly put you inside.
"Subject is secure," He said into the earpiece when the door was shut. "En route to final destination." He walked around the back of the car, fixing his hair quickly with his fingers and unbuttoning his jacket. He climbed into the front passenger seat and gave the driver the okay. The car lurched forward.
"It's weird seeing the driver on the right side," Harrison heard you say quietly.
"You mean the correct side?" Harrison responded.
"Um, yeah," You agreed. He glanced in the mirror at you. Your gazes met and he instantly wished he hadn't looked. There something about the streets lights hitting your face every so often and the flickering shadows made you even more mesmerizing. The car lurched suddenly. Harrison threw his hand forward to stop himself from flying into the dashboard.
"What the-" He started.
"Idiot," The driver mumbled. Harrison glanced out the window, spotting a man stumbling across the street. "Drunk. Who gets drunk on a Tuesday night?"
Harrison let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He glanced back at you. You appeared a little startled, but more amused than anything. Harrison sighed a little, feeling a bit of relief wash through him when he realized you were all right. He clenched his jaw. This was going to be the worst assignment ever.