Undercover (Boyxboy)

Chapter Two

“So did I,” I replied after a few seconds of silence. We both remembered when I had my recurring nightmares. It happened a few times after our previous mission. And yes, it had been probably due to the fact that I really had caught Harry just in time before he plunged off of a cliff, moments after he kicked an assassin off of it.

I’d never felt so scared in my life. I had thought I’d lost him, but George and the guys managed to help me pull him to safety. My mind was riddled with ‘what ifs’, though. What if the guys hadn’t been right behind me? I’d been so angry with Harry for so long that he’d gone after that assassin without me. Yes, if he’d waited for me in the car like I’d told him to instead of chasing after him, we’d have lost one of the world’s most sought after killers.

But at what risk? He almost lost his fucking life. And, as my dreams confirm what’s always been in my head, my life would have been thrown away too.

I sat down next to Harry with an anti-bacterial wipe in my hand. “Let me see,” I murmured, pushing his hand away from his nose. The cloth was deep red with blood, but it seemed to have stopped bleeding now.

Harry grunted some insults but obliged, turning to face me. I patted the wipe against the blood stains around his nose, trying to detect whether or not I’d broken the skin or if it was merely internal.

Harry winced a couple of times, making a big show out of the situation. It was hilarious, his attitude. For situations like this, he made the biggest deal out of it and demanded sympathy for days.

But when we were on missions, nothing fazed him. He’d once broken three fingers in a stand-off between himself and two of an illegal weapons exporter’s bodyguards. Harry had won, but barely. He walked away from the fight, leaving the two unconscious, and went straight for their boss, punching him out cold with the same hand. I’d been busy with other bodyguards and when I reached him, he was busying himself calling the agency to send in the helicopters, not realising his fingers were in pieces. He’d even told me not to worry about it when I pointed them out.

“Ouch, man, go easy!” he scolded, bringing his hand to mine to stop what I was doing. I looked at his hand over mine and realised how close our faces actually were. It was a rather intimate setting, what with my room dimly lit from my bedside light and our close proximities, his hand on my arm.

I cleared my throat and nodded, pulling away. “Pussy,” I mocked, putting the first aid kit away.

Harry cleared his throat and stood up too, sniffling a few times to ensure all of the blood was out. “Careful, Moore, or I’ll be reporting you for assault,” he threatened, but I could feel a smile on his face, even though my back was to him.

“Followed by my statement on the true whereabouts of Agent Sumner’s false eye,” I retorted, spinning around to face him. He was wearing a close-fitted white vest and blue boxers. I had gotten used to Harry’s lack of clothing over the years, but my tolerance to it never stemmed my desire.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he breathed, narrowing his eyes with a smirk on his face.

Agent Sumner lost his eye years ago whilst on a mission. Nobody ever found out how he lost it, but it had been a well known fact that the retired agent took the false replacement out every night before he went to sleep.

On a drunken night of truth or dare, Conor, a Grade B agent, dared Harry to steal the false eye from Agent Sumner’s beside locker. Nobody had expected Harry to actually do it, but I knew that he would do everything in his power to get it when I saw that familiar gleam in his eye.

It is now proudly kept in our common room in an egg-cup, for anyone who wants to be reminded of Harry’s ‘bravery’, or so he called it.

Harry focused his eyes on me, staring me down. He was trying to intimidate me to stand-down, as I was trying to do the same to him. This always happened when we gave each other ultimatums. I usually won.