Hi! D here. I just wanted to tell you all that you're so wonderful and kind for leaving me all of the lovely reviews that you do. You're also wonderful for continuing to read my fics, as sporadic as they come. Stay awesome! Enjoy the fics! (This one will have a follow up, posted separately, as a sequel).
A new mission. It's about damn time. He's been working at this job for years now after he found out he had a knack for taking things apart and putting them back together. Granted, it's not what he had planned on doing with his life, but it was better than potentially ending up in jail.
The whole 'we don't wield guns' thing really gets to him at times (because Jesus, if you're going to work for the CIA you figure you'd be able to carry a gun around for protective measures) but he works around it.
He works from a desk almost all the time, but at least he's made friends with the head techie on his floor. At least that's something to look forward to with this job. The benefits were a perk, definitely.
"We have a technical floor for that kind of stuff, Puck."
He hears a voice behind him along with the shuffling of feet.
"Simple rewiring," Puck explains to his technical superior. "Don't need anyone else doing what I can do in minutes." A simple snap and the lid's back on, screen working like new again.
"You're being briefed in the conference room. Better get there quick if you want good seats."
"Funny," Puck says with a small laugh. He claps his friend on the shoulder before he heads out.
A quick glance around from outside the glass door and he thinks he sees a familiar face. It can't be her, can it? Last he heard of her, she had graduated Yale at the top of her class, gone off to start that whole family thing while working in local shows.
(Local shows he would have gone to were it not for his new super secretive job.)
He brushes it off. Inside the CIA at Langley, Virginia is not where he would have his first encounter with Quinn Fabray post graduation.
He heads straight to the conference room, stepping right in since he's aware that he's being expected. He finds his boss sitting there, cup of what could be tea or coffee in her hands, as she sifts through a file before her.
"Boss," Puck greets her. She's so engrossed in her file that she offers him a smile and a nod in response. He takes a seat at one of the chairs adjacent to her. "So…"
"We're waiting for someone before we being your briefing," she explains to him.
He leans forward and tries to check out what she's reading, but she expertly slides it away from him as she continues to read.
"What, is that my file now? Because I was told my juvenile records didn't count around here, unless I killed someone," he jokes.
She shakes her head with a small laugh. Just then the door opens. Another familiar voice greets them both before apologizing for being late.
"She was giving me an official tour of the place. It's nice to finally meet you, Joan."
He's awestruck. That voice. That hand that soon comes into his field of view. He follows the arm up to the body (which he's well accustomed to) and then to the face. It's Quinn.
"Likewise," his (now their) boss says, shaking her hand. "Quinn, I'd like you to meet one of our officers and your partner for this mission: Noah. Though he likes to go by—"
"Puck," Quinn finishes in a whisper.
"How did you…?" the blonde standing behind them by the door asks.
"Lucky guess," Quinn explains.
Puck's eyes silently follow her as she sits down. She wears the professional attire well, he notes. The time's done her wonders, too.
He never thought he'd bump into her, years later, inside of the DPD getting briefed for a mission. He never thought their mission would be posing as a married couple, either. Just his luck.