You were beautiful.
König felt his legs go numb, his palms sweaty against the cushion of his chair's armrests, his heart sink in admiration.
He had never seen you like this. Light makeup, pinned up hair with soft strands cascading down your face. Your lashes were long and dark, creating shadows beneath your eyes from their length. Your lips were plump and tinted with an alluring rouge. Your brows were sharp and angular, as was your jawline and general profile. Your face and skin was clean and smooth, highlighted by the stage lighting.
You were an angel.
He was so accustomed in the short time the two of you have been reunited to seeing you with unkempt hair, a bare face smeared with dirt and even sometimes old blood, wearing tactical gear and joggers that hung lowly on your hips. But here, here you were different.
He couldn't breathe. It's like the second you stepped out onto the stage, your tall figure and graceful persona of Odette captured his attention and prevented his gaze from ever lingering elsewhere. It's like he was underwater.
Your skirt was flared, as ballerina skirts for performances typically were, and your outfit was white. The neckline, although not accompanied by actual feathers, appeared to be shaped in like the feathers of a white swan. The attire glittered and sparkles under the stage light. It was all so mesmerizing.
König had took off his sunglasses the moment you stepped onto stage. He knows he probably shouldn't have — he doesn't want anyone, even Task Force 141 and Los Vaqueros, to know what he really looks like — but he did. He had to get a better look at you. Though, his black face mask that shielded the bottom half of his identity remained on though.
"Heilige scheiße," Kilgore whispered breathlessly.
"You've never seen her, eh?" said Mr. Hofmann in German. König almost jumped out of his seat in fright.
"W-What?" he whispered back in his native language.
"Clara. She's quite famous," Mr. Hofmann went on. "You are from Vienna, no?"
König was confused as to why one of the owners was even bothering to speak to him. It was dead silent in the theatre apart from the melodic piano music that echoed off the walls. He would think that the owners would have more respect.
"Hey, amigo," Alejandro whispered in his ear beside him in English. "He's trying to learn more about you. He's suspicious."
König glanced to his side worriedly. Mr. Hofmann stared at him patiently, awaiting a response.
"He doesn't know English, no worries."
"Right..." Kilgore gnawed on his lip, and then moved back to a more comfortable position. "Sorry, I'm not from Vienna, no," he lied, "I'm from a small town in the west. I'm sure you've never heard of it."
"Really? What town?" Mr. Hofmann pried. Shit fuck fuck fuck fuck.
"Uhmmm...." Kilgore grit his teeth together, searching for an alibi to get the owner off his back. "Grünburg."
"Hm. I have never heard of it," Mr. Hofmann said, stroking the stubble on his chin. "Your friends?" He gestured to Alejandro and Rudy.
"Tourists." Kilgore smiled convincingly. "I've had many jobs abroad in my company. They assigned me to them as a translator while they toured Vienna for their work."
"Hm," the owner said suspiciously.
So much for stealth, König sighed internally.
"What work do they do?" Mr. Hofmann went on.
For fucks sake.
Alejandro leaned forward to speak to the owner. "Somos estrellas porno." He grinned.
"Uh, they take pictures and videos of cute fluffy animals," König translated. König wasn't stupid. He had a rough idea of what Alejandro was saying. He shook head head in disbelief. Idiot.
"Zoologists?"
"Sí, amamos a las mujeres desnudas."
"He said yes, kind of. They study animals and photograph them."
"Sin embargo, no pareces ver muchos de esos, ¿verdad?"
"Did he ask me a question?" said Mr. Hofmann.
"No, no, he was just continuing with what he said before," König said nervously. "He said that they send their findings and reports to their company."
"So they are touring Vienna for... animals?" Mr. Hofmann said in confusion.
"No, estamos de gira en Viena por nuestro porno,"Alejandro said with a small smirk, but feigned exasperation. He turned his head over to Rudy, who had his jaw dropped open in disbelief. "¿Qué es lo que este tipo no entiende?"
"Uhhh," Kilgore searched for the right words as he watched Alejandro and Rudy's exchange. "No, they're here as a stop. They're touring the area because it's always been of personal interest to them to see Vienna. They'll be out looking for wildlife in a few days. This is temporary." Kilgore's words were rushed and a little shaky. I thought this was going to be easy. What the hell?
"Interesting," Mr. Hofmann said, turning to his brother. They exchanged a mutual look, then a nod, and then turned back to watch the performance. Nothing else was said after that, to König's relief.
Now, he could just focus on you.
...
Ghost was level-headed. Cool as a cucumber. As always.
But he couldn't help but worry a little bit. Not about himself, not about the mission. But you.
What the hell was wrong with him? He shouldn't feel things like this. He had hoped that he could purge his feelings away by engaging with you sexually, but it just seemed to make everything worse.
He couldn't stop thinking about you. Your eyes, your lips, your cold, calculated, arrogant demeanor... It was all so attractive to him. You were intense, focused on your work, intelligent, beautiful, and damn good at what you do.
But you were prideful, snarky, and you had an incapability of being stable. You were reckless, maybe not with your ability to carry out tasks, but moreover your general persona. It made him worry. It made him anxious that you were going to get yourself killed.
Not that he cared. But he did. God, for some reason he did.
Why had he grown attached? What was it about you that was so captivating? These were questions he could not answer, and he had feelings he prayed he would never act on. But he did. When you were locked in that room with him, he couldn't help himself. He had to feel you. Just one taste.
But one taste is all it takes. And then you're hooked.
You would be better off with König. He recognizes the connection between the two of you, the bond. It made him envious that he knew you like that and Simon didn't. He wanted to know more about you. Why you are the way you are. Why you put on a cold front. Why a girl like you was in a line of work like this...
But knowing those things, learning those things required him to open up, too. And he's never done that with anyone. Maybe Johnny. But nobody else. And it made him fearful.
He didn't want you to tell others his past, his doubts, his hopes. He didn't want you to pity him, or think of him as weak. Your opinion of him matters to him... for some reason.
He doesn't understand any of it. He's never had the time for romance. He's never been able to have these feelings. And he doesn't know if he should act on them. Attachment makes you weak, they say.
But it was too late for that. He was already attached. And he wishes he could go back in time to prevent it from ever happening in the first place.
Maybe it was on your first mission in Mexico, when you effortlessly carried out orders with hardly any causalities. Maybe his admiration for you started then. Or maybe it was in the chapel, when you expressed your hatred for him, how easily you could kill him, how easily you could rip him apart... Maybe that's was attracted him.
Nobody ever struck fear in Ghost's heart. Nobody. But you... he knew what you were capable of. And it was an actual challenge. Was he scared of you? No. Does he think you could and would actually kill him if you so pleased? Yes. And he doesn't think that highly of anyone else.
And maybe somebody that challenged every bit of confidence and skill Ghost has built up since he's been a soldier is what made him attached.
"Ghost, how copy?"
"Sorry, Johnny, got a little in my head there," Ghost said quietly through his headpiece. He was in an empty hallway backstage. Everybody working backstage was still, quiet and waiting, waiting for their time to contribute to the show. It was all too quiet. Makes it much easier to get lost in thought, Simon mused internally.
"I need you down here. I think I've found it."
"So soon?" Ghost said. "My, Johnny, I think we oughta make you an FBI agent instead."
"What does that have to do...?" Soap trailed off in bewilderment.
"Y'know, Soap, FBI agents, detectives, people who are really good at finding stuff..." Ghost tried to explain. He then shook it off and gruffly said, "Whatever. I'm on my way. Can the others hear you?"
"No, just you. There's guards down here. That's how I know I'm at the right place."
"Trying not to arise suspicion," Ghost nodded as he maneuvered as silently as possible through the area. He wasn't sure where he was going, he just hoped he was going in the right direction. "Couldn't take 'em out yourself?" Ghost joked.
"You've always been better at stealth than me, Lt."
Ghost clicked his tongue. "Always needing me, Johnny. You gotta leave the nest eventually."
"Ha-ha," Soap replied, unamused.
"I don't blame you, though, two is better than one."
"What were you thinking about earlier, Lt.?"
He changed the topic so hastily Ghost almost got whiplash.
"Doesn't matter." He was back to his usual emotionless self. He cursed himself for speaking so coldly to Soap. C'mon, Simon...
"Sure it does."
There was a silence for a short moment as Ghost scanned his surroundings, making certain he was in the clear before he proceeded. Once he determined he was safe, he reluctantly said, "Odile."
"Odile? You were thinking about Odile?"
"You don't sound very thrilled."
"It's not that... Its just-" He sighed. "I don't think she likes me very much."
Ghost exhaled a chuckle. "Oh, really? Because when the first time the two of you officially met "I don't like you." wasn't enough?"
"C'mon, Lt., you don't have to bring up the fact that she can be an insolent bitch sometimes."
"Sometimes?" Ghost muttered.
"Doesn't change the fact she's a great soldier, though, and a pretty damn good teammate," Soap complimented.
"You'll just have to let her warm up to you," Ghost reassured.
"Like she's warmed up to you?" Soap chuckled.
"She has, somewhat, yeah," Simon uttered. "Look, I wouldn't let it get to ya, Johnny, it's not like she'll be here very long." The second he said those words, he felt something odd... His chest squeezed at the thought of you leaving.
"You're right, I guess..."
"Hate to break the conversation here, Soap," Ghost said. "But where the hell do I go..?"
He thought he could hear Soap facepalm.