Disclaimer: Of course I don't own them. If I did I'd probably have a house like Graceland. No harm is meant to the true owners and certainly no money is being made. There is no need to get the Feds after me but if they wanted to send me Mike I wouldn't mind. Also this was not beta'd. All mistakes – including canon deviations – are mine. And, this is my 1st Graceland FF. Be kind.
#*~*~*~*~*
They spend the morning, listening as Mike outlines his theory regarding the bus line smuggling ring. There's not much to go in. Mike explains that they found motor oil in certain batches of heroin but were never able to trace how it entered the country. He confesses about his failed op in Laredo, TX where they only found a few boxes of Cuban cigars. Still, based on the recent attempt on his life, he knows that somebody is worried that he made the connection. He doesn't share that he's worried that his cover is blown; he hopes that Caza thinks Bello put him on the bus trail just like Bello informed him about the drugs in the booby-trapped torpedoes but he knows that if Bello talked and told the wrong people he was a Fed before he was stabbed that he is in more danger now than ever.
The team listens intently. They aren't completely sold on the idea of him pulling rank and disrupting their other cases but they are dedicated to law enforcement and if this makes a dent in the supply, they are all for shutting it down. As Briggs keeps reminding everyone, they could all use some good results after last year's shit storm.
Johnny says that he knows of a bus line that picks up in Oceanside, just outside of Camp Pendleton which stops in San Diego before heading into Mexico. When he was in the Navy before he DOR'd from the SEALs after being hit by a boat during the last day of Hell Week, the guys would sometimes take the cheap trip to blow off steam. Most of the roommates express doubt that anybody would be crazy enough to smuggle drugs on a bus full of military personnel but Paige thinks that might be part of the cover. Overworked border patrol is likely to look less closely at a bus carrying all those Marines and Sailors.
Charlie shares that there is a line with offices near the tattoo parlor she has been working. Many of the gang-bangers' families use it to go back and forth to visit relatives in Mexico. Mike thinks this is more promising and asks if she can work her magic to get herself invited along on a trip.
When the planning meeting breaks up, the roommates scatter. They all have open matters to close up or hand over.
Alone in the living room, Bates offers, "Hey, I'll clear my stuff out so you can have your old room back, boss."
"You don't have to do that," Mike replies. "I won't be here that long. I'll just go bunk in Lauren's old room."
"Who's Lauren?" the new guy asks.
"She was DEA when I got here but her . . . ah . . . Donny . . . anyway, the guy that used to be in my—your room," Mike begins awkwardly, "Forget it. She was another agent. I'll crash there."
"I thought all the rooms were full," Bates states.
"Upstairs on the second floor, by the bathroom," Mike explains.
"You mean the gym?" Bates questions.
"What gym?"
"Upstairs by the bathroom with all the work out equipment," Bates teases like Mike doesn't know what a gym is.
"They finally got a gym in this place?" Mike gripes.
"I thought it had always been here. Like I said, I'll move out," Bates continues.
"Bates," Mike begins
"It's Wayne," the new guy corrects.
"Bates," Mike ignores him.
Frowning, the dark haired man offers, "You can call me Bates if I can call you Levi."
At that Mike smirks. "Wayne," he repeats pointedly, "It's fine. Keep the room. I won't be here that long."
The new guy looks skeptical. Mike shrugs. "If it gets too bad out here, I'll sack out in the phone room."
#*~*~*~*
Later that day, Mike is walking along the path by the ocean. It feels good to have the sun on his face. When they had spoken yesterday, Jess told him it was snowing again in D.C. Last year all he thought about out here was that he missed the seasons. Now he is happy to be out of the polar vortex.
With a camera around his neck and his pasty, east coast white skin, Mike looks every bit the tourist he is pretending to be. He had walked up to town to grab some flyers about the local attractions and inquire about bus trips to Mexico. Although he has a printout of all the bus companies in Southern California, along with their tax returns, DOT safety inspections and corporate filings about the owners, he knows boots on the ground was the best way to gather intel. What he was after is never going to be found in some report.
As he strolls further only half paying attention, he spots a pretty blond girl in a black bikini top and cutoff jean shorts playing Frisbee on the other side of the masonry knee wall. He smiles at her seeming carefree life but doesn't give her much thought until something hits him in the back of the shoulder. Glaring he stoops to pick up the offensive object intending to toss it back to the culprit along with a piece of his mind, when he is immobilized mid-rant as Paige comes trotting up to him. "Aren't you going to stop and play with me?" she teases with a mischievous gleam in her eye.
Even if he had recognized her earlier, he would not have stopped because he didn't know her companions. In Graceland its bad form to acknowledge the housemates when you are out unless you know what was going on; it would be too easy to blow somebody's cover otherwise.
When he doesn't speak, Paige tosses the plastic disc back to her friends with an "I'm out!" Taking Mike's arm she steers them back toward the house. "You have forgotten everything we taught you," she condemns his lack of situational awareness. "If you don't know what's going on around you, you are going to get yourself or someone else killed, Levi."
"I was just thinking," he informs her relaxing into appearance that they are a happy couple out for an afternoon constitutional even though he's kind of miffed at her use of his nickname. He'd gotten that moniker after his first bust which seemed small potatoes at the time and he resents her use of it now. It's as if she's calling him a green rookie all over again. He is the team leader – Special Agent in Charge – for this joint operation. He deserves respect.
"That may work when you are behind a desk, but out here in the field you gotta know what's going on at all times," she reminds him. "There are two guys following you." Before can move a muscle, she hisses, "Don't turn around." Pivoting to face away, she holds up her hair and asks, "Can you retie my strings?"
Grateful that she's got his back, Mike replies, "Sure thing." Busying himself undoing then re-doing Paige's top, Mike has the opportunity to view the scene. Sure enough, there are two Hispanic men in black t-shirts with gang ink trying and failing to look inconspicuous about 50 feet up the block. He takes a second to try to memorize their faces. Mindful to keep their cover in tact, he drops a kiss to Paige's bare shoulder. "All done."
Not wanting him to know how much she wishes that kiss had been real, Paige again grabs his arm and announces, "I think that means you owe me a margarita."
Before she has the chance to scamper off, he holds up his camera. "Let me get a few snaps of you."
Paige stares at him as if he lost his mind. He knows better than to take photos. She can't believe he forgot that they destroyed that girl Abby's phone to make sure that no errant pictures of any of the UCs show up on Facebook or other social media. Given her intense scrutiny, she doesn't miss it when Mike darts his eyes to the right, toward the men who were allegedly following him. She finally understands and strikes a silly pose to play along. Pretending to take pictures of his girlfriend, Mike zooms in and captures a few candids of his would be assassins. He'll e-mail them to the Bureau later and have them run facial recognition in the hopes of figuring out who was following him and why. He couldn't afford to have this op blow up in his face before it even got started.
After a few minutes of fake picture taking, during which the would be tails, turned tail and skedaddled off in the opposite direction, Paige asks, "You get 'em?"
Lowering the camera, Mike taps it appreciatively. "Got 'em," he assures her.
"There's the quick thinking Marine we all miss so much," she goads him.
"You missed me?" he asks a bit too hopefully.
"Don't flatter yourself," Paige dismisses him. "It just that to the best of my knowledge you were never self-pleasuring on an op."
Mike drops his arm around her. When she doesn't immediately shrug it off, he whispers, "It so much better when you pleasure someone else."
"You have been hanging around JT too much," Paige retorts but waits a few seconds to move away from him.
A few blocks down, after taking a circuitous route to assure they weren't followed, Paige tugs Mike into Drops and orders "Dos grande margaritas and put 'em on his tab." Seeing Johnny and Bates in the corner, Paige adds, "Make it four."
Realizing the extra drinks are for them, Johnny saunters over. "Mikey Mike. Out playing on a work day? That's so not by the book." He's still not over the beach bum crack despite Mike's apology.
Bates is no fool and takes a sip from the free drink placed in front of him. His eyes flick over Paige's toned, tan body. It's not like she's wearing much. It doesn't escape his notice that Mike instinctively steps closer to the beautiful blonde.
"What's the occasion?" Johnny asks holding up the frozen treat for a toast.
"Levi's back," She deadpans and three agents clink glasses. Mike hasn't even picked his up off the bar although he did hand the bartender a $50.
"He's been back," Johnny states the obvious.
"No, D.C. Mike came back to take over. Levi, the greenhorn who can't even spot the most amateur tail is back and I saved his miserable hide so now he has to pay," Paige clarifies. While she's talking, she pulls a t-shirt if you can call it that because the back is basically nothing more than shredded strings of material and pulls it over her head. All it does is cover her stomach but does nothing to diminish her overt sex appeal.
In his own defense Mike tries to downplay what happened. "It's no big deal. You don't even know for sure they were following me."
Johnny frowns and puts his drink down, "You are a wanted man. There is a price on your sorry head, son. You gotta be extra careful. I don't want to get caught in the cross fire."
"If they know you are here, they might learn we're here. Maybe it would be better if you ran this op from an office somewhere. We can check in with you when it's safe," Bates suggests for his own safety. He had heard about the Bello bust; it was something of a legend but that doesn't mean he wants his own career cut short by a stray bullet.
"They weren't following me," Mike decries Paige's assertion that he can't handle himself. "And even if they were, we don't know that it's connected to the bus case."
Johnny jumps all over that. "Yeah, sure, 'cause you're just that cute that other men – straight men – wanna follow your skinny ass around. They were straight, weren't they P?"
Bates makes a slow appraisal of his new case agent. Shrugging he suggests, "Maybe they just wanted to mug you. Mr. Preppy ain't exactly a common sight on a California beach."
The gang all chuckles at the idea that Mike was being targeted as the victim of a street crime. He doesn't even crack a smile.
Nudging him with her shoulder, Paige orders, "Lighten up. We'll run those pictures and we'll see what's what."
"What pictures?" Johnny demands.
"While pretending to take pictures of moi," Paige hooks her thumbs at herself and arches her back effectively sticking her boobs in the guys' faces as if to reaffirm what they can't have, "Mike, here, took some close ups of his tails."
"Damn, son," Johnny slaps Mike on the chest, "You had that," he gestures at Paige, "in your view finder and you took pictures of some ugly mooks who were following your sorry ass."
Smirking, Mike confesses, "I did get a few shots of my lovely assistant."
Bates smiles, hoping that he might get to sneak a peek at the pictures of Paige a bikini. Since moving into the house she had definitely been part of his nightly fantasies but he wouldn't mind some visual aids.
Paige doesn't miss a beat. Sliding her hand sensually up Mike's arm to cup his neck and bring his face dangerously close to her. "I have no doubt you will delete them before I have to kill you and make sure no one ever finds the body."
Recognizing her flirtation for what it is, Mike decides to play along, "You know I have a tendency to lose things."
The minute he says it, he sees the flicker of recognition in Paige's eyes. He knows she's remembering their kiss, the one in his room right before he went back to D.C. when she all but admitted she wanted him too, until she pulled back, accusing him of being lost.
Moving away Paige picks her drink and silently toasts his challenge with a slight nod.
Downing his own drink Johnny declares, "C'mon y'all. Let's go home. I'm hungry."
"Me too," Mike agrees looking at Paige but not talking about food.
To break the spell, Paige decides to take the safe way out. "Sounds good to me. C'mon Bates."
When they wander into the house, the amazing smells emanating from the kitchen make the little quartet glad they came home for dinner. In the kitchen they find Jakes pulling a tray out of the oven. Charlie and Briggs are standing at the island waiting to serve themselves.
With a flourish, Jakes places the steaming tray on the counter and grabs a spatula. "Just in time. I made my grandmother's jerk chicken, with mangos and plantains."
As he shoves everybody else out of the way to snag a plate, Johnny declares, "I love your grandma, man!"
Jakes growls good-naturedly, "You stay away from my family you degenerate."
"Relax, and let him eat," Charlie admonishes like the mother hen she is.
At the table, Paige manages to sit next to Mike. With seven agents in the house, it's a tight fit. Their legs accidently on purpose brush against each causing both of them to work hard to suppress clandestine smiles. Despite, the relatively new status of Charlie and Paul's physical relationship, the unwritten rules about no love in Graceland still stood and with good reason.
When dinner is over, Paige stands up from the table using Mike's shoulder for support. As the wine had flowed, neither of them had gotten any stealthier in their covert flirting. The other housemates assume they are simply picking up their relationship from where it left off before Mike returned to D.C. No one minds because Mike will be gone again in two months, not enough time to for any long term consequences to the house.
Despite her happy attitude, Paige is still a professional and she knows they have job to do. "You upload those pictures yet, Levi?"
"What pictures?" Briggs demands.
"The hot photos Mike took of Paige on the beach," Johnny informs everyone.
Thinking he was being helpful, Bates adds, "Plus he got pictures of the guys who were following him."
"You were followed?!" Briggs shouts.
"You didn't burn this house? Burn us? Did you Mike?" Charlie is up in his face.
"He didn't burn anybody," Paige declares. "We weren't followed. I made sure of that but we do need to send those pictures through facial recognition."
Jakes asks, "Where are they?"
"Still in the camera," Mike nods toward the 35 mm he left by the front door when they had come in.
"Well chop chop, son," Jakes chides his newly returned housemate. "Times a wasting. I wanna know if I gotta sleep with one eye open tonight."
"Don't you always?" Charlie teases.
"Alright, alright," Mike holds up his hands in mock surrender as he walks toward the camera. Picking it up, he assures them, "I'm sure it was nothing."
"Forgot everything we taught him," Paige chastises, not solely kidding.
"If you are all done making fun of me, I'm gonna head up and use the computer in the phone room to upload this pictures," Mike declares.
"I'll help you," Johnny offers.
Charlie stops him, "No you will stay here and do the dishes. It's your turn."
Like the kid he is at heart, Johnny sullenly marches toward the kitchen with an exaggerated pout.
A few minutes after Mike heads upstairs, Paige announces, "I'm gonna go take a shower. Between being in the sun, entertaining the boys all afternoon and all that jerk seasoning, I'm starting to smell."
Once on the second floor Paige detours from her own room into the phone room to check on Mike's progress. "Come talk to me when you're done," she instructs popping her head into the room where Mike is uploading the
digital photos.
"Sure thing," he replies off handedly, not really paying attention to Paige.
She reaches out and puts her hand on his shoulder, "No, come talk to me," she emphasizes.
"OK," Mike promises but returns his focus to the screen.
Paige steps out of the room. A few moments later, Mike hears the water in the hall shower start up. Having uploaded the pictures, he quickly copies the best ones of the two men and sends them to the Bureau with a request for a facial recognition scan. He wishes he had more information but for now this would have to be enough. Hopefully these two will be in the system and he can put everyone's concerns to rest. He's sure he hasn't burned the house. Business completed, he inserts a thumb drive into the machine to copy the pictures he took of Paige. She is one hot woman. He will never share these photos with anyone but it will be nice to have something to remember her by when he returns to D.C. These may even help him get through some cold, lonely nights.
He is broken out of his reverie by the sound of someone moving about in the hall. No longer hearing the hum of water running through pipes, he assumes Paige has finished her shower so he powers down the system to go talk to her.
As he steps out of the phone room he sees Paige emerging from the bathroom wrapped in a large white towel which leaves no doubt that she's naked underneath. He feels his lower half start to awaken and wills himself to look her in the eyes.
She saunters past him into her room but doesn't shut the door. When he doesn't follow him, she looks over her shoulder. Again, he doesn't move. She drops the towel and purrs, "Do you need an engraved invitation?"
Mike's no fool. After a deep calming breath, he steps forward, ready for whatever this temptress has to offer.