salute [h.s]

baby you've got me tied down

"Excellent job today, petal." Harry glanced over his shoulder as he stuck the documents they'd just stolen into the hotel safe, sending her a playful wink before turning back to lock the safe. By the time she'd put the bar up on the door to keep it from being opened from the outside, Harry had crossed the room and stepped up behind her. His breath hit her neck as he murmured in her ear. "Or should I say, my Lady."

"Hmm, I like that," Piper agreed as she sank back against Harry, his hands smoothing around her waist so he could cross his arms over her middle and pull her back to him. "From now on I would like to only be addressed as Lady Lazarus."

Harry snickered against her neck and Piper scoffed, rolling her eyes. He made up for it by pressing a languid kiss to her pulse point before dragging her away from the door and directing her into their small hotel room, waddling behind her as he kept his body pressed flush to her back.

"You're quite proud of yourself for that, aren't you?" he murmured as he stopped them in front of the bed, reaching up to undo the clasp on the heavy necklace around her neck. It contained a scrambler, the very one that had allowed Piper to sneak into the private vaults of the Eisler Estate to steal the documents. The whole necklace/scrambler combo was heavy as fuck and she was glad to have it free from around her neck.

"I'm actually a little insulted that people didn't understand the reference," Piper huffed, ignoring the way Harry chuckled at her indignation. "I mean, doesn't anyone read Sylvia Plath any more?"

"Maybe they would have caught on if you hadn't been wearing this."

He tugged off the brunette wig she'd been wearing, pulling the pins out until her red hair tumbled down, dusting against her shoulders. She still wasn't used to her hair being this short but it had been necessary to cut it off after she'd singed half of it on their last mission.

"How does the poem go again?" Harry mused as his breath puffed against her neck once more, her head tilting sideways to give him uninhibited access instinctively. "'Out of the ash / I rise with my red hair / And I eat men like air'. Fitting, I think."

Piper shuddered at the zip of arousal that ran right through her body at Harry's low voice muttering those words back to her. Harry quoting poetry was incredibly sexy. Harry quoting her favourite Sylvia Plath poem to her was sinful.

"You're a tease."

"And you, my Lady Lazarus, are delectable." Harry's lips found their home on her neck, finding just the right spot to make her whole body tremble. She felt his hands ghosting up her back, his touch barely there but enough to make her skin tingle beneath the fabric of her gown. "May I help you remove this dress, my Lady?"

"You may, Barrow," Piper said seriously before a playful giggle slipped between her lips. She couldn't get over that dumb codename.

Most of the time they were given aliases by the higher ups but they'd been tasked with coming up with their own this time around. Piper was playing a rich British aristocrat and Harry her trusty personal attendant. They'd been on a Downton Abbey kick lately, staying up late in the night together to watch it on netflix while they were cuddled in bed, so Harry had unoriginally named himself Barrow.

He was about as far from Thomas Barrow as a person could possibly get and Piper had been forced to hold back a laugh or two after calling him that at the party. Thankfully, not many of the European socialites and aristocrats at the Eisler ball had spoken a lot of English; they certainly weren't watching Downton Abbey on netflix like her and Harry were.

"Are we playing games, my Lady?" Harry asked teasingly, a hint of deference in his tone to match his cover as a servant. "A little role playing, perhaps?"