Youthful Boy Below

"Tell me again," Liam Kissane looked with extreme distaste at the rapidly growing pile of clothes in his arms, "Why am I comin' along on these shenanigans?"

"Because, Liam," Zoe Kissane said dumping more clothes into her brother's muscled arms, "We don't know whether the target likes men or women," she held up a pair of pants that made Liam blush, and discarded them.

"Or both," she added mischievously, dropping a fishnet shirt into her own rapidly growing pile of clothes.

"Please do not add 'at the same time' to that, Zoe, please… for my sanity…" Liam looked over at her.

But it wasn't his sanity Liam was worried for. The Irish commando fidgeted. He looked rather incredulously down at the clothes Zoe kept dropping into his arms. Gaudy, ridiculous, and, Liam raised an eyebrow at the latest addition, far too small by the looks. But, he knew he would wear them. He sighed heavily, he would wear them because Zoe would ask him to. And he could never refuse his Zoe anything.

"Right then," Zoe glanced around the shop one last time, "I think that'll do it."

"You think so? Christ, Zo… you've bought practically one of everything!"

Taking the clothes back to their hotel room, the Kissanes dropped the bags down and began to sift through the purchases. Liam flopped to the floor to pull his clothes out of their bags, Zoe sitting down slightly more gracefully. Liam pulled out a shirt and grimaced, tossing it to the side. Zoe cuffed him across the head.

"That cost ninety-eight pounds, and is pure silk! Be careful with it!"

"Ninety-eight quid?!" Liam looked scandalised, "For that?!"

"Not everyone shops at Asda, brother dear."

Liam glanced down at his t-shirt, with its telltale Asda label, then stuck his tongue out at Zoe childishly, "Nothin' wrong with the clothes from Asda."

Zoe reached out and made an attempt to grab at Liam's tongue, "But prostitutes don't wear clothes from Asda, Li. And for the next three days, that's what we are."

"Nanny Griffiths is rollin' in her grave as we speak," Liam told her solemnly.

"You hated Nanny Griffiths."

"S'why I'm not so bothered about the grave rollin'."

He received another cuff round the head for that. Liam grinned boyishly at Zoe, making her shake her head and grin back. Zoe pulled out a shirt that looked to Liam like it was mostly holes. He blinked at it. Then he looked at Zoe. Liam raised an eyebrow at the shirt.

"I'd wear a black bra underneath it, Liam," Zoe frowned at him, "I'm not completely shameless."

"But…" Liam looked adorably flustered, then waved a hand, "Oh never mind," he went back to pulling clothes out of the bags, "The bloody hell are they?" he held up a pair of what might be pants.

"Those are the pants you'll be wearing tonight, brother mine," Zoe told him, grinning mischievously.

"I couldn't fit an arm into those, let alone my…" Liam coughed and blushed.

"That's the idea, Liam, they're supposed to leave very little to the imagination," Zoe grinned at the flustered look on her brother's face.

Then she held up a pair of pants of her own, "You don't think these would be worn by anyone at a society function, would you, Li?"

Liam snorted at her, then sighed, "So which of this gaudy nonsense am I wearin' tonight?"

Zoe leaned over her brother, fishing through his pile of clothing, "This. And… this," she threw the clothes at him.

Liam pulled the clothes away from his face and looked at them. He sighed, grumbling to himself as he got to his feet with more grace than a man his size should possess. He ducked into the tiny bathroom, gallantly leaving Zoe the bigger room to get changed in. Shutting the door behind him, Liam eyed the clothes warily. Then, with a sigh, he pulled his comfortable Asda t-shirt over his head and slid, with some difficulty, into the ice blue silk shirt.

Next, Liam shimmied out of his well-worn jeans, standing in his boxers as he eyed the pants in his hand dubiously. Then, with yet another long-suffering sigh, Liam shimmied out of his boxers as well, before trying to almost peel the pants up and over his legs. He fidgeted, adjusting himself as he hitched the pants up the final half-inch and zipped them. Standing barefoot in the bathroom, Liam turned reluctantly to inspect himself in the mirror. And blinked.

"Christ in heaven…" he mumbled, face screwing up a little at the man… the prostitute… staring back at him.

He opened the bathroom door, sidling out and resisting, just barely, the urge to cover himself. Liam took one last glance back in the mirror, and shook his head. Better check with Zoe first, just in case. Taking a step out into the main room, Liam kept his eyes on the floor, just in case Zoe hadn't finished dressing yet.

"Zo? You decent, girl?"

"Never. But I do have clothes on."

Liam lifted his head, "Very funny. That only got old after the sec…" the rest of Liam's sentence was lost.

Zoe wasn't facing him, was fishing through the bag their shoes had come in. But Lord… was that really his sister? Liam's eyes traced the slim, shapely legs up to a small, firm arse. His eyes remained glued, for a moment, to the strip of exposed skin across the small of her back and stomach. Then they travelled up, lingering on the line of her cleavage and the swell of her breasts under the top before he shook himself abruptly and swore under his breath, blushing furiously. The hell was wrong with him? That was his sister!

Zoe frowned, pausing with her hands on her strappy heels as Liam's voice trailed off. She waited for a second, letting commando-trained ears scan the room for anything untoward. Finding nothing, she straightened slowly, shoes in hand, and turned to face her brother. And barely stopped her jaw from dropping.

Liam looked good. More than good. Lines of silk traced over his muscled chest and arms, the deep vee of the collar exposing soft-looking skin. The colour of the shirt made his eyes look impossibly blue, something that should belong on a fey creature, not a man. And the pants… Lord, the pants… They looked as though he had painted them on. Zoe's eyes travelled up his muscled thighs, across his silk-covered torso. A stray thought wandered through her mind, musing on what Liam's arse must look like in those pants. Then Zoe froze. Good Christ… she was musing on her brother's arse. She was checking out her baby brother. The hell was wrong with her?

Liam fidgeted uneasily as Zoe looked him over, "So… is it alright?" he prayed to God, St Christopher and anyone who happened to be listening that Zoe hadn't seen him checking her out.

"Aye, Li…" Zoe forced a grin onto her face, "Look like a right hooker, so you do."

Liam shot her a flat look as he pulled on the patent leather combat-esque boots, lacing them high and tight over the ridiculous pants. Standing up, he made a gesture towards the door, sniggering slightly at Zoe as she stumbled a little on the heels. He grabbed her elbow, steadying her.

"Careful, Bloody Mary, you're supposed to know what to do with those."

Zoe gave him a mock glare in return, making Liam smile down at her. And it was only after a too-long pause that Liam realised he was still holding Zoe's elbow, thumb moving in gentle circles over the soft skin. Liam blushed bright red and dropped the offending elbow, moving towards the door.

"Should go now," he started gruffly, "If we want to find the target 'fore midnight."

Zoe shot Liam's back a bewildered look, running small fingers over her elbow, unconsciously trying to mimic the warm pressure of Liam's thumb on her skin. Then the reality of what she was doing hit her, and she stopped, dropping her hands to her sides and shaking herself. Zoe took a deep breath. Regardless of whatever the hell was messed up in her head, something was upsetting Liam, and as soon as they got back from this tail, she was going to find out what it was.

"Right then," Zoe forced an all-business tone into her voice, "Let's go do some street-walkin'."

After five hours of being propositioned by drunken women and even more drunken men, Liam lounged against a telephone pole, not even trying to look seductive. But, Zoe mused inwardly, he still managed to pull it off. He rested against his hands, a tired imitation of parade rest, head lowered almost to his chest, looking at the street through his lashes. It made all six-feet-four of Liam Kissane look coy.

And wasn't that a picture and a half, Zoe thought to herself. Her baby brother, who could kill a man in more ways than she could. Who could pick locks and rewire bombs. And now he's looking like a coy, seductive rentboy. Zoe had to bend her head to hide the snort of laughter that threatened to bubble up and out of her.

"Zo…" Liam pushed himself up and away from the telephone pole, moving to stand in close behind his sister, "By the door of that nightclub, talking to the group of prostitutes."

Unconsciously, Zoe leant back into the warmth of Liam's chest, "That's him. Can you see which prostitutes he's talking to?"

Liam found himself unable to speak for a moment, feeling Zoe's body pressed against his, "Little short are you, Zo?" he managed, finally finding his voice, "He seems to be talking to all of them at once at the…" Liam's voice trailed off, before continuing in a flat tone, "… moment."

"Liam? What?" Zoe rose up on her toes, trying to see, then twisted against Liam's chest to look at him, "What is it?"

"Two seconds, Zo… then you'll see."

Zoe frowned, turning back to the street. She watched for the target, eyes scanning the crowds. There. The target had obviously found himself some company for the night… oh. Oh Lord. Zoe tilted her head back and looked at Liam. Liam resolutely didn't look at her, keeping his eyes glued firmly to the target. Zoe dropped her head back down, eyes on the target again. Draped on each of his arms were two prostitutes. Two blonde haired, blue haired eyed prostitutes. One male, one female. Zoe swallowed hard, barely resisting the urge to look up at Liam again. The prostitutes looked enough alike to be siblings.

They watched the target lead the prostitutes up into his hotel room, before Zoe tilted her head back again, "Come on, Liam, back to the hotel."

Liam barely remembered the walk back to the hotel room, he just remembered flopping gracelessly onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow. This was not right. Why did they send him on this assignment? Why? Zoe sat down on her own bed, with a little more grace, but no less confusion, burying her face in her hands.

"What're we goin' to do, Zoe?" Liam's voice was muffled by his pillow.

"I don't know, Liam, let me think."

Zoe heard the bed creak as Liam sat up abruptly, "Think?! Zoe… what is there to think about? You were watching the same thing I was, weren't ya?"

Zoe raised her head to meet Liam's wide eyes, "Yeah, Li… I was. But we might be able to get him into a room without havin' to…" she blushed.

Liam thumped his head back against the wall, "Christ in heaven, where do they find these people?" he asked no-one in particular, a plaintive note in his voice.

Zoe's head tilted at the almost despairing note in Liam's voice, "Liam? What is it? Somethin's been buggin' you since we started this mission…"

Liam kept his head leant back against the wall, "The mission's been buggin' me, Zoe. That's all. S'not my kinda mission."

Zoe nodded, "The first time you've been sent on an 'at all costs' mission, ain't it?"

Liam nodded in return, "The idea of actually bein' a prostitute to bring someone in don't really sit right with me, Zo."

"S'alright, Li. I understand," Zoe offered him a small smile, which was returned with a weak imitation of Liam's boyish grin.

Zoe frowned, "That ain't all, though, is it, Liam?"

Liam remained stubbornly quiet. Zoe raised an eyebrow at him. Liam scowled, mouth a thin line. Zoe sighed, giving him a pleading look. Liam's face softened for a moment, then he resolutely turned his head away, refusing to look at her. Zoe sighed, then moved to sit next to Liam on his bed.

"What's going on up there, Liam?" she tapped the side of his head.

Liam snorted despondently, fiddling with the St Christopher medal around his neck, "Lots of things that would get a Catholic lad sent on a one way road to Hell."

Zoe's eyes widened a little as a possible answer presented itself, "Liam… if this is a roundabout way of tellin' me that you might enjoy sleepin' with that man…" she touched his arm, "Don't worry, I started wonderin' about you when you were thirteen years old."

That was met with a sour look and a poked tongue, "That's not what I'm worried about, Zoe."

"Then what, Liam?!"

Liam Kissane sighed deeply, and decided to bite the bullet, "It ain't sleepin' with the man I'm worried about enjoyin'," he shot his sister a devilish smirk, "I know I'll enjoy that."

Zoe rolled her eyes at him, then frowned as Liam's smirk faded, "It… Zoe…" he turned his head away, hunching his muscled shoulders against an invisible blow, "It's sleepin' with you I'm worried about enjoyin'," he forced out in a rush.