Undercover Lover

Goner

"What do you mean it died? I still had more time on the mic! It shouldn't have died," you fretted into the phone, your free hand anxiously running through your hair. An agent had just called to let you know that they had lost connection with the mic. That shouldn't have happened yet. You still had a whole other night left.

"What's already been recorded is still saved in its memory. Retrieve the mic and bring it to Director Hawthorne as soon as you can, agent."

"Yeah, I will," you sighed into the phone before hanging up, your head shaking. You could go into your shift a little early and sneak in to grab it, but you really weren't looking forward to it. Pushing off your dread, you slipped on your ankle boots and grabbed your things before leaving your apartment, eyes drifting around out of habit. Things just felt tense lately.

The tension only heightened when you arrived at work. It didn't seem like anyone was here, but the door was unlocked and the lights were on. Maybe that was better for you. Less witnesses to dodge around. You headed for the VIP lounge, tossing a few cautious looks over your shoulder before entering the first door. The hallway light was on like it usually was, your shadow following you down the hallway to the next door.

You headed inside of the VIP lounge, quickening your pace as you set your bag on the chair and knelt down, putting your back to the door. You knelt down near the chair and slipped your hand under it to feel for the mic, your fingertips brushing open air. "What the hell?" You grumbled, leaning farther down to try to peer under the chair.

Then you heard the door shut.

You jerked your head up and turned on the spot, seeing Gerard and Frank standing a few feet away. It felt like ice ran down your spine, a flush of panic moving through you. "Oh, h-hey, just lost an earring," you tried to laugh, but your voice came out weak. The gig was up.

Gerard looked different to you. He looked ... genuine. The warm smile that you knew was fake was now replaced with a smirk bordering on wicked and victorious, like he knew he put you in the worst corner. He came off even bolder, more confident, his posture relaxed. He had no reason to worry like you.

Gerard approached you slowly as you stood, one of his hands tucked in the front pocket of his black jeans. He stopped right in front of you, prompting your head to tilt up some to meet his eyes. His other hand lifted to gently tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingertips drifting along your jaw as he pulled his hand back.

You watched him lean forward slightly, your eyes automatically dropping to his lips as they passed by your eyes to come close to your ear. You felt his other hand press something familiar in your right hand.

"Looking for this, Y/N?"

His words made you feel submerged in complete panic, your breath coming out shakily as your fingers wrapped around the mic. For a moment, you had no idea what to do. Everything had just fallen apart. You were trapped in a room with known hitmen. You were weaponless. You were a goner. But the next moment, every instinct that you had gathered from being an agent came flooding back. You wanted to survive.

You harshly shoved Gerard back, knocking him over a chair. You saw Frank make a run for you out of the corner of your eye, your foot immediately kicking the table between the chairs so that it slammed into his legs and tripped him. You turned to run around Frank and to the door, but a hand grabbed your upper arm and yanked you back the other way. You stumbled backwards, feeling pressure on the base of your throat before your back hit the wall roughly.

You looked forward, your vision succumbing to gold, a sight you had been in awe of before. Now, Gerard's eyes seemed so dark. There was viscerality, and telling from the strong grip he had on your throat, there was imminent danger. Your hands grabbed at the one pressing you against the wall, nails digging into his skin as his grip tightened.

Gerard breathed in deeply, slowly. There was a brief flicker of something in his eyes, but you didn't know what you were seeing. The threatening nature just lapsed for a moment, but just for a single moment. A wicked smile then played out on his lips as he leaned forward, nose nearly brushing yours. "I think we need to have a chat, agent."