Chapter 1: Stalling
Chapter Text
White looked down at his watch with an impatient huff. The informant was nowhere to be found.
He sighed, feeling uncomfortable having to wait sitting on the toilet lid. This public bathroom was located in an isolated town far away from the capital, nestled next to a nearly deserted street and a rundown playground covered in rust.
As a result, it wasn’t a well-kept facility; everything was coated in a fine layer of dust and mildew, with gaudy peeling wallpaper making way for the cold concrete underneath. The little building smelled like literal ass and cigarettes filled the neglected trash bin with ashes left carelessly in the sink. Graffiti decorated the stall walls as leering distorted letters spelled out treasonous or lewd messages he’d already read 5 times over in his boredom.
White grumbled, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and resisting the urge to gnash it between his teeth. He wished one of the other agents could’ve handled this case but it seemed to be important intelligence regarding the border crisis next door. His leader meant it when they said this was a top priority mission.
As he flicked open his lighter and set the end of the cigarette ablaze, he was disappointed to notice a lack of ventilation above him. Oh well, the door should be good enough—the gap underneath the shoddy entrance had enough breeze to make the curling wallpaper flutter.
Speak of the devil, the door suddenly flew open. The gust made his smoke trail sputter and he felt a trickle of paranoia that he should put out his source of comfort to avoid attracting attention. Ultimately he found it to be fruitless, considering how smokey the bathroom smelt already. Another smoker in a stall wasn’t exactly unique.
He crossed his arms, avoiding the urge to curse out the informant for their tardiness. The informant’s shoes—he couldn’t see them at this angle—tapped against the dirty tile floor as they ventured into the stall next to him.
White had been told to go into the 3rd stall from the main entrance, and the informant would be in the 4th to hand him a briefcase. Then he was to wait for the informant to leave and stay an extra 7 minutes—both to look over the information given and to avoid suspicion before leaving as well.
He heard the lock on the stall click as the informant locked it and sat down. White stared at the space under the divider while the informant put the lid down and sat on it. White waited for the briefcase.
…Tap, tap.
Black shoes tapped in a particular motion, almost seductive—no, actually seductive as one slid slightly under his divider to continue motioning.
Oh no.
White felt his face heat up. This wasn’t in any of the files! Was this a cruising spot? Did a random civilian just happen to wander into this bathroom just as he was supposed to pick up a drop? What unfortunate timing, and what an uncomfortable situation! His hands felt clammy in his gloves.
“Not interested!” White blurted out, tensing up on the toilet lid. He was almost embarrassed by how flustered he sounded.
“Figured you’d say that.”
That voice was familiar… And so was that clicking sound.
White leapt forward with a yelp, banging against the stall door as a bang erupted behind him. The bullet pierced the divider wall and hit one of the toilet’s pipes, ricocheting into the tile with a loud crack.
White hastily slid under the door—much to his disgust—and scrambled to his feet as he heard the next stall door over get kicked open. Adrenaline filled him as he grabbed the door handle to the outside and pulled.
The giant club hit him hard as soon as the door opened wide enough.
He crumpled backwards onto the cold textured floor, his vision blurred as he held his head in pain. Was everything a trap? Was the informant even real or was his leader given false information? Either way he was in trouble, and there was only one man who could do this to him.
White’s eyes drifted up to the barrel of Black’s gun in a daze.
“You asshole…”
Chapter 2: Messy Feelings in a Messy Bathroom
Summary:
A heart to heart on the bathroom floor does wonders
Chapter Text
Black held the gun steady, staring down at his rival.
White was sprawled over the dirty floor, his pristine trench coat muddied by the grime like a dappled dog. Their hat and shades had been knocked off from the booby trapped door, a lovely bruise forming around their eye.
“Where the hell is the informant?” White huffed angrily, fingers twitching as if they were about to bolt.
“He’s in the last stall,” Black stated, cocking his head towards the seemingly empty stall. He had hidden the legs. “I gave him the eternal swirlie before you came. He coughed up the intel but I didn’t want him to go running back where he came from.”
Black felt a little tingle as White seemed to stiffen, their eyes darting around to think of a solution out of this place. He crouched down with a curious smile, still keeping the gun at White’s head.
“You know White,” he started slowly, trying to find the words. “You sounded pretty scared earlier.“
“You shot at me you son of a bitch!”
Black pressed the gun against their forehead, “Don’t you dare insult my mother.”
A moment of silence. White glared at him but kept his mouth shut. Black sighed and pulled back an inch.
“As I was saying,” Black gesticulated with the weapon. “You sounded pretty scared earlier. Let’s talk about that.”
White looked baffled, “What are you? My shrink?”
“I pretended to be once!” Black pointed out with glee, hoping that’d jog White‘s memory of what he wanted to discuss.
He could almost picture the cogs turning in White’s head before their eyes widened. “No.”
“Yes.”
“We aren’t talking about that.”
“You seemed to agree when I brought it up in disguise though.”
White scrambled to the door to open it, so Black quickly slammed his hand to keep it shut. He looked down at the other man dirtied by the floor as they backed away on their hands into the corner. He stepped forward to lean over them, and they didn’t seem too pleased with this position as their breath hitched.
“…Fuck you.”
“That can be discussed-“
“OH MY GOD FUCK OFF!” White clawed at their face, which was growing red. They seemed to be shaking a bit.
Black sighed and gave them a bit of space, putting the gun away. If they weren’t spies this would be a much easier conversation to initiate. He tapped his foot, the clacking filling the silence of the bathroom besides the leaky faucet.
White seemed to sense his hesitation, relaxing slightly against the wall. They held their black eye, looking down. “…Why do you want to know?”
Black grimaced, nervously pulling out a cigarette of his own. He noted that he’d made White waste one of theirs and offered White one of his.
“No thanks,” White rejected with a shaky sneer. “Your brand tastes like shit.”
“It’s a cigarette, they all taste like shit,” Black grumbled, lighting his. He crossed his arms and finally decided to sit down on the floor next to White. The other seemed surprised that he’d sit down at their level, or maybe it was that he was willing to get his uniform dirty as well.
White looked at him, gloved hands clenched in their lap. “…Are we just going to sit here?-“
“Give me a second!” Black spat out, face growing warm. He puffed some smoke in White’s face, amused as they coughed and slapped it away.
“I hate you…” White scowled, eyes watering as they turned to him.
”I…” He felt his heart thumping, “I hate you too.”
White rolled his eyes before Black continued with a sense of urgency, “But there’s… something else, right?”
“What do you mean?” White snapped at him, as if to shut him down.
“There’s just something between us…” Black started, his bare fingers inching towards those white gloves next to him.
The gloves recoiled with disgust, “There isn’t-“
“Please,” Black felt his heart ache as he resisted grabbing their wrist. He looked at White earnestly, but was met with their usual disdain, fear mixed in.
“Are you delusional?” White pressed, planting a finger into his chest. They leaned forward as he leaned back, falling over into the other corner. “Have you lost your mind? How could you ever fall in love with the guy that kills you at least once a week? Someone who tortures you for fun? Someone you’re supposed to despise and dispatch for the sake of your nation!?”
White stood up, their filthy white trench coat blocking the light from the door to cast a dark shadow over Black’s rejected form. He curled in on himself from White’s tirade.
White kicked him, and he felt his ribs burst into pain as the cigarette in his mouth was practically bitten in half through gritted teeth. “White-“
“SHUT UP!” they kicked again. “You sicken me!” Another kick. “I can’t believe you were stupid enough,” he huffed as he kicked again. “To think that,” another kick, harder. “I COULD LOVE YOU!”
Black buckled over, wheezing and panting as each kick landed. He cried out a small “White!” with each blow.
Finally after he felt like his torso was covered in bruises, he felt White stop hurting him. Black released his head from his arms to look up. White’s knuckles cracked against his shades, breaking them as they skittered across the tile floor. He could feel a black eye forming as he writhed on the floor.
“Never, I could never,” White continued to mumble to themself, as if in a trance of denial as they pinned him down.
“White it’s alright,” Black groaned, trying to get up before being slammed back down. “Hgh, White!”
“STOP IT!” White roared, practically crushing Black’s wrists in their sweaty shuddering hands. “Stop saying my name like that! Just! I…”
“It’s alright,” Black said softly through battered lips. He stopped struggling. “We can just go back to normal… I’m sorry…”
White sagged like a tea bag under boiling water, the weight entirely falling on Black’s naval as they heaved, choking down a sob. “Why did you have to complicate things… Complicate us?…”
“I just wanted to shoot my shot I guess,” Black muttered, relieved that White let go of his wrists. As White rested their fists on his chest, he reached up slightly, “May I?”
White looked at him with revulsion before their face took on a more pained expression. They nodded silently.
Black delicately held White’s face in his hands. He felt them jolt but otherwise stay there, shivering.
“Thank you,” Black cooed, caressing their cheeks gently. His thumb brushed delicately over their black eye, feeling them flinch before leaning into the touch.
White stayed sitting on top of Black as he massaged their face with a tenderness neither of them had ever received from the other. There was a strange sense of bliss in the isolated bathroom away from their embassies as they lingered in that position together.
His face felt warm in Black’s hands as they touched him reverently. He never knew the other man’s hands could handle him so kindly it hurt. His fists loosened so that his fingers splayed across Black’s chest, feeling each breath as their lungs expanded.
Almost as an apology, White’s hands started to move as well. Black seemed to cringe as he massaged their injuries before letting out a shaky sigh of pleasure, eyes fluttering closed.
This felt sick. This felt wrong.
This felt…nice.
“Do you need medical attention?…” White murmured, more to himself than to the man below him.
“I’ll patch myself up later,” Black answered, starting to lace their fingers in White’s hair. It made his scalp tingle.
“Black…” he whispered, as if he was committing treason. He supposed he was.
“Yes?” Black let their hands rest behind his head.
“What… what are we going to do now?” White asked with desperation, trying to keep down his panic. “We can’t… I can’t…”
“We don’t have to do anything,” Black said with a melancholy half-smile. “We’ll probably go back to killing each other—hell, you might even kill me right after this, but it was nice to have this moment with you.”
Black went back to cupping White’s face in their hands, stroking his teary cheeks—he was crying? “We both have a job to do but… I wouldn’t mind having more moments like this… Only if you feel the same.”
Shit, he was crying. White sniffled and rubbed his good eye, too ashamed to look at Black’s. “…Yes, I’d like that too.”
Black leaned in a bit more. White tensed, and they stopped. The two looked at each other, unsure of what to do next. Black gave White a forehead kiss, and that was the most White could take for now lest he have a heart attack from pearl clutching.
Black let out a pleased hum before laying back down with a pained grunt, eyes shut. White remembered their situation and kindly got off the other man, who muttered a thanks. White brushed himself off, lamenting that this couldn’t have been done in a cleaner bathroom.
While Black rested, White tried to open the last stall door. It was locked so he kicked it, trying his best to not be frightened by the dead man delicately stacked on the toilet lid so that their feet stayed off the floor. The informant’s head was soiled with cold toilet water and their expression was stuck in despair. While he and Black could revive, the same couldn’t be said for those caught in their rivalry. He remembered how much trouble he was in for accidentally bombing one of his leaders. Luckily White was skilled enough to warrant keeping around.
With a little hope, he checked the informant’s pulse to find nothing as expected; there was also no briefcase. What a pain in the ass.
“Black,” White started, pulling out his gun. Seemed like he’d be the one doing the interrogating now. “I need you to tell me-“
He froze. The bathroom was empty.
“YOU ASSHOLE!”
With that, he rushed to the front entrance to give chase. He was promptly given another black eye by the booby trap that’d been reset. He hated that man so much.