So, this chapter carries a tiny little violence warning, but to be fair, this is an assassin AU; it's not going to be rainbow kisses and unicorn stickers. Thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter, I'm so incredibly sorry if I haven't replied to you but I've had a lot going on, I just want to let you know that it's very much appreciated, cheers my lovelies.
xXx
…
After the failed assassination of Sidney Glass, Robin had gotten quite the metaphorical kick up the backside from his employer – with orders to complete his next mission successfully unless he wanted to be relegated to more menial tasks. The hot assassin refusing to leave his thoughts hadn't really seemed worth all the trouble after that little conversation.
Nevertheless, it had only made Robin more determined to drop George King without any hitches. He'd planned to complete the op in a minute; get in, shoot the bastard, get out. As he screwed on his silencer he mused that there wouldn't even be enough time for anything to go wrong.
The theory was good.
From his position crouched behind an industrial dumpster, the night providing more than adequate cover, he heard a voice that he recognised, one that had drawn him in from the first words she had spoken.
With a quiet groan he sank back into the wall, trying to decide how to deal with this woman a second time.
She wouldn't get his target again. He'd make sure of that.
Originally, he thought she was talking to herself, perhaps going through her plan out loud as a way to prepare – though not a very confidential one – but as she got a little closer he could hear the faint noises of someone responding, their voice electronically distorted through a mobile phone.
He vaguely listened to her words, choosing to concentrate on working out a way to get to his target first whilst the competition was currently pacing somewhere between him and the doorway he intended to use.
When her voice started becoming fainter as she walked away, he stood, slowly and quietly making his way to the dumpster a little further up the opposite wall. Just as he got there and started to crouch again, she turned back around, her sentence cutting off as she saw him in the shadows and automatically reached for the gun holstered to her hip.
The reflex to hold his hands up in surrender did nothing to halt her pointing the gun at his chest, only when he gingerly stepped forwards into the streetlight did her grip loosen as recognition dawned.
"You..." she breathed, her voice carrying a hint of surprise as her brows drew together in that cute frown of hers.
"Me," Robin responded, putting his hands into his pockets as he grinned and delivered a bright; "hi."
Her frown morphed into a glare.
"I'll call you back," she declared into her phone, pocketing the device then raising her hand to support the one already holding her sig. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm going to take a wild guess, and say; the same thing you are," Robin answered, before elaborating; "George King?"
Her lips pursed in frustration as she huffed, eyeing him as if she was in the same battle of trying to work out what to do with a fellow assassin as he was.
Robin just hoped she wasn't trigger happy.
"Could you possibly lower your gun?" he asked, before adding; "I promise I won't try to shoot you if you offer me the same courtesy."
Her head tilted as she narrowed her eyes, contemplating his proposition before finally relenting and slowly holstering her weapon.
"There we are," Robin gibed, "now we can talk like proper adults."
"Are you trying to provoke me?" she quipped, unamused.
"Not at all, milady; I merely feel more at ease when I don't have a gun aimed at me."
"You better leave then," she retorted, before lifting her chin and declaring; "King is mine."
"If I go back to my employer without completing this kill, he's going to kill me."
"Sucks to be you," she teased with a shrug of her shoulders.
"Listen-" Robin started, pausing in the hopes of her filling in her name but continuing when her only response was to raise an eyebrow; "I'll make you a deal: I get King, you get the next one."
Robin mentally crossed his fingers, praying to whatever higher being that may or may not exist that he wouldn't have to go back and explain that he had been bested once again.
"I don't make deals," she stated, and Robin felt his stomach drop.
He tilted his head, turning on the charm with a smirk as he drawled; "not even one?"
Her reply was a deadpanned; "No."
Relenting, Robin stood straight again with a huff. "How come?"
"There always seems to be a loophole that screws me over," she confessed, her voice becoming a little distant for a moment and having Robin subconsciously wanting to reach out to her.
"The last thing I want to do is screw you over, milady," he assured, knowing that making deals always seemed to come with a price. Although he became slightly concerned at the sudden smirk appearing on her face.
"No; you just want to screw me," she quipped, her voice taking on that smoky quality it had the last time he saw her.
He couldn't help the deep chuckle that escaped his throat.
Well… He'd be lying if he said the thought hadn't crossed his mind.
Nevertheless, it wasn't as if he'd admit that now he knew who she was; "the fact that you're the one who has been making life difficult for me lately has somewhat lessened any desire to do so."
She pursed her lips and delivered a mocking; "you sound pissed."
"I am pissed."
"Are you pissed because I keep doing your job better than you?" she asked, before her expression turned sly as she added; "or are you pissed because you didn't get laid?"
If Robin was being honest it was a little of both, but in all fairness, he was more pissed at his ego taking a knock than not knocking hips. And the fact that the competition was a woman… A part of him couldn't help but feel slightly inadequate.
Her head tilted when he didn't answer, her weight shifting to one side as she cocked her hip in a way that drew attention to her curves.
Now was not the best time to think about that, Robin scolded himself, especially mid 'negotiation'.
"Will you stop taking my targets?" He asked, his voice a little more pleading than he had intended.
"Sure," she smiled, and Robin frowned at her sudden agreement before the other penny dropped; "Just go and find ones I haven't gotten to first."
He could barely contain his frustrated growl. Damn.
"I need King," Robin stated, pushing flirting aside until he could guarantee not getting his ass reamed by his boss.
Apparently, his opposition wasn't willing to back down. "As do I."
"Why do you need him?"
"That's classified," she drawled, clearly enjoying his groan as he fought the temptation to kick the dumpster behind him. "And if you don't mind; I really should be going inside…"
"I do mind," Robin interjected, stepping into her path when she began to make her way towards the side entrance.
She rolled her eyes with a sigh, taking a step to the left and sighing again when he stepped with her, blocking her path once more.
Robin felt her hand come to rest on his shoulder, aiming at keeping him in place as she moved back to where she started. He ended up raising his hand to wrap around her wrist, keeping her tethered to him.
"I need this target," he tried again, his imploring eyes boring into hers to try and assuage her determination.
For a moment it appeared to work, her glare softening and her shoulders minutely dropping as she started to relent.
Robin almost punched the air in victory when she finally offered; "I get to talk to him, you get the kill shot."
He managed to stay reserved in his celebrations – he was a professional after all – and grinned as he stated; "works for me."
The corner of her mouth lifted in a small smile, and his calloused thumb started subconsciously tracing small circles on the inside of her wrist.
"I won't be long," she said, her voice low in the quiet of the alleyway. "Wait here."
"You're pretty confident in your inquisitorial skills," Robin observed.
She leaned forwards, rising onto her toes to place her lips against the shell of his ear, sultrily whispering; "I'm damn good."
When she pulled back it was with a flirty smile, the darkness in her eyes having Robin imagining everything else he knew she would be damn good at. His teeth sank into his lower lip as he grinned at her, wishing for them to stay in this easy moment before the reality of being each other's opposition set in.
When she started to withdraw, Robin tightened his grip on her wrist, their content smiles fading as the atmosphere shifted.
"I'm trusting you here," Robin stated, his blue eyes boring into her chocolate ones.
"Oh, you don't want to do that," she drawled, before winking as her smirk returned.
The grip Robin had on her wrist loosened, and her hand fell away, her fingertips trailing down his chest before she tucked her thumb in the belt-loop of her jeans.
"Tell you what," she started, walking backwards towards the door, "I'll even sedate him for you."
Robin scoffed. "Isn't that noble of you?"
"Well, we wouldn't want you to hurt your brain trying to hit a moving target now, would we?"
With a roll of his eyes, Robin pursed his lips together, shoving his hands into the front pocket of his trousers as he watched her remove her gun from her holster, move it to the small of her back and open the door.
"Try not to miss me too much," she teased.
And then she was gone, leaving Robin with nothing but his thoughts in a dingy alleyway.
…
After five minutes of pacing, Robin got bored, slumping against the wall opposite the door and folding his arms, his foot tapping an unknown rhythm on the ground as his tongue clicked a beat.
After ten minutes, he lowered himself to the ground, taking out his phone and attempting to best his high score on Shades and growling in frustration whenever his blocks piled to the top of the screen.
After twenty minutes, he gave in, pocketing his phone and letting his thoughts return to the woman currently 'talking' to his target about god knows what.
She was something different. That was clear from the moment he met her. There weren't a lot of people who could challenge him as much as she had, and certainly not in a way Robin enjoyed so much. He had to admit, going toe-to-toe with this woman ignited a feeling inside of him that he had no business dwelling on. Robin wasn't sure if it was excitement, anger, lust, somewhere in between or a combination of all three, but it was an addictive mix. Something that already had him working out a way to meet her again after the day was over.
Perhaps they could become partners of sorts, or uneasy allies at the very least. She had faith in her abilities, and from the damage she had caused at his agency over the past few months, only a fool would underestimate her. And Robin was no fool. She'd be a valuable asset, and if they could take out dirty senators and corrupted federal directors on their own, he could only imagine the trouble they could cause if they worked together.
She had seemed to be pretty amenable to helping him out this time; of course he had been one step away from pleading, but that was beside the point. Although he was now in a position of owing her – a loss of power his employer had frequently instructed them to avoid – Robin hoped that she'd be less likely to make his life living hell whenever they chased after the same target again.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he heard from ahead of him.
Robin's head snapped up, his hand automatically reaching for his ankle holster before he met the amused eyes and the smug smirk of the assassin he was currently pondering on.
She didn't wait for a response before she removed a shirt that was hanging over her arm, fishing something out of her pocket as she walked over to the dumpster he had originally been crouched behind.
Robin stood, watching as her fingers drew out a lighter – a metal one with an intricate design covering the front and back – her thumb flipping the lid and producing a flame that she held out under the clothing in her hand. The material quickly caught alight, then was deposited into the trash to burn, a small plume of smoke rising and dissipating in the air.
"He's all yours," she declared as she walked towards him, her hand rising to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear.
"You've got- um…" Robin started, gesturing to his right hand and then to hers.
She looked down, and sure enough, there was a stripe of dried blood traversing her knuckles and the backs of her fingers. The childish scowl that appeared on her face had Robin pursing his lips and trying not to smile, and as her thumbnail scratched her skin clean, he took the time to memorise her features. The long lashes, the perfect brows, the full lips, the enigmatic scar… She was someone he could gaze at for hours and still find just as beautiful.
"You're staring at me again," she said, not even raising her head.
"Indeed I am," Robin admitted – well, there was no sense in denying it – before shamelessly raking his eyes over her figure.
She looked up at him with a smirk, raising a brow and quipping; "are you quite finished?"
"Nope," Robin grinned, before adding a mischievous; "turn around."
The fist colliding with his shoulder was worth it.
"When you're done ogling me, there's a little present left for you in George King's office," she stated.
"Oh, I love presents," Robin mocked in an overly enthusiastic manner, complete with his hands clasped in front of him.
"You're an idiot," she chuckled, before starting to walk away.
Robin's grin faded as he called for her to 'wait', inquiring; "I'll see you again?"
Her response was a smile and a warm; "If you're lucky."
"You mean if you are," he countered, catching her teeth sinking into her lip before she ducked her head and turned away from him, walking onto the street and out of his line of sight.
It was only when his lip started to hurt that he realised he had bitten his too, in a pathetic attempt to stifle the grin that was making his cheeks ache.
His smile didn't really fade in the time it took him to climb two flights of stairs and make his way towards the office where George King had been working, though his mouth downturned when he caught sight of the postit note stuck to the man's door.
Couldn't resist,
Sorry, :D
X
Robin tore the note off, scrunching it in his hand and shoving it in his pocket.
She wouldn't… she didn't…
After opening the door, it took one look at the man bound and gagged in his chair to realise; she would, and she did.
George King was very much dead.
And from the sorry state of him, he had been given a good once over too.
There were streaks of red down the front of his crisp, oxford shirt, the result of his nose having clearly been broken. The glass pane of his table had been shattered, concentric fractures spiralling outwards from where his head had collided with it. The fingers resting over the ends of his armrest were unnaturally bent, some with bloodied nails or knuckles. His pinstripe trousers had symmetrical, blackened holes either side of his knees where a gun had been fired into the joint…
It appeared he had not been very forthcoming with information.
Nevertheless, she got what she came for.
Robin couldn't be sure if that included making his life hell again, or giving him this crazy notion that they could actually work together and not want to kill each other.
In all fairness, she had told him not to count on her. Now he'd listen.
Note to self; don't trust the hot assassin.
…
As expected, Robin spent the next two weeks filling out paperwork, prepping for missions that he didn't have a chance of going on and watching his friend, John, being sent out to kill the targets he should have been given.
His friend managed to bring back proof of his kill for all eight of his assigned hits, and Robin had to wonder if the hot assassin only had a vendetta against him.
It was uncalled for; he hadn't done anything to her and yet she refused to leave him be. He couldn't be sure if she was following him – though he should have known that she wasn't; he always took precautions against that kind of thing – but he swore he would see her face from day to day. If he didn't know better he'd say she was mocking him, or at least the thought of her was.
The fifteenth day – when he could finally get back out there and do his job – could not come quick enough; one more moment spent with an overly chipper Will Scarlet would have him starting to shoot the staff.
It wasn't a particularly difficult hit; he could most likely do it in his sleep. That is if his target wasn't already asleep in the first place. In the two days Robin had spent scouting Walter out and trying to work out the best way to make his death appear accidental, the man had frequently fallen asleep on the job – not ideal for a security guard.
Robin had a limited time window this time; however long it took for Walter to pick up his work clothes from dry cleaning. He'd planned to rig his car to blow; to walk past, 'drop something' and quickly fix a discreet bomb underneath the fuel tank before he 'found it' and carried on.
When Walter's little Clio pulled up at the side of the road, Robin stood from his position at the bus shelter and started to move down the sidewalk. He was only a few steps away when he saw a classic Mercedes SL park in the space ahead, his head tilting as he admired the vehicle for a moment.
The driver's door opened and Robin immediately noted the killer heel that hit the pavement, the toned leg attached to it bare up to mid-thigh until the driver stood and her black pencil skirt fell to just above her knee. Raven hair flittered in the evening breeze, designer sunglasses reflected the setting sun. Her hand slid over the car door as she stepped away, her elegant fingers tracing along the edge before she pushed it shut, the sound pulling Robin from the temporary trance he seemed to have found himself in.
He knew who the woman was before she even turned to face him.
Ah, hell no. Not again.
The hot-blooded part of Robin that noticed the tantalising curves and tempting skin slipped into darkness as the professional assassin part reigned supreme, working out what type of blow to her would be acceptable for all the suffering he had put up with for the last two weeks.
It appeared as if he was about to suffer more, if her path towards the dry cleaners Walter had just entered was any indication.
Robin resumed his journey down the sidewalk, though the target in his mind was not the one he had been assigned. She was not going to get this one. He was not going back to bloody paperwork. He just wasn't.
He was just about to reach for the door when a hand on his arm stopped him. He barely calmed himself down enough to not draw his weapon on them. And when he noted that it was an elderly lady, with the stereotypical grey hair pinned back and glasses perched on the end of the nose, it was probably a good thing he held back; he wouldn't want to explain why he had given the woman a coronary.
"Excuse me," she started, "could you tell me the time? I'm afraid my watch is broken."
"It's 8:15 in the evening," Robin provided after checking his own watch, before glancing inside the dry cleaners to see his target conversing with his competition.
He barely stuck around to hear the 'thank you,' before he was pulling the door open, colliding with the woman he had once hoped to see again, and now just meant trouble.
Robin's hand grasped her elbow, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her a little down the path to behind a bus stop, turning her and pushing her against the Perspex housing advertisement for Gus' Mechanical Autoshop.
"You-" he started, his frustration leaving his words stuck in his throat.
"Me," she responded, grinning and mocking his greeting from a fortnight ago with a bright; "hi."
To say Robin wasn't impressed would be an understatement.
"You killed George King."
She at least had the guile to look somewhat contrite as she quietly admitted; "I did."
"Are you planning on killing Walter?" He asked, daring her to say 'yes'.
Her reply of "nope" still surprised him though.
He raised a sceptical eyebrow and glared at her. "So you just happen to go into the only drycleaners he uses on the day I had been sent there?"
"Isn't fate a bitch?" she commented, one shoulder rising nonchalantly.
Robin scoffed. "We're fated to meet now?"
"You're fated to get in my way," she stated.
"No; you're fated to get in mine."
"It's not my fault you choose the wrong targets," she quipped, and the grip he still had on her arm grew a little tighter.
"It is your fault that I've been on desk duty the past two weeks," Robin snapped, noting Walter getting back in his car and moving away. Damn.
She smirked, looking more amused than apologetic when she delivered a mocking; "oops."
"After last time, you owe me."
"Actually, no can do," she started, before declaring; "Walter is already dead."
"He drove away pretty fine for a dead guy," Robin growled.
"Well he doesn't know he's dead yet," she informed. Upon completion of her final syllable, there was the sound of screeching tires, a loud smash and a few screams from passers-by. "Now he does."
Robin's jaw clenched and he screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to hold back the urge to do something reckless. It took a few deep breaths before he felt as if he could look at the woman in front of him without shooting her.
"You," he started, pointing a finger at her, "are making life incredibly hard for me."
She smirked, and instead of offering anything resembling condolences, she drawled; "and here was me thinking that was just a gun in your pocket."
It was the final straw for Robin. All the restraint he had been clinging onto crumbled into nothing, and before he could process what he was doing, his hand was on her neck and he was taking a step into her.
He hadn't put enough pressure behind his actions to hurt her – something he'd ponder on later – but it was enough to wipe that frustrating smirk off of her face and onto his. Her hands gripped his arm and he awaited an insult, a threat or a sassy remark, but none came. Not such a smart ass now, was she?
"The next time we are chasing after the same target, you are going to back down," he ordered, his voice low and dangerous.
"And if I don't?" she challenged.
Robin's smirk grew as his face moved a little closer to hers, whispering; "I'm an assassin; I have nothing against hitting a woman."
Her face hardened and Robin felt her swallow under his hand. The look in her eyes had him wondering if he had gone a tiny step too far, but for all the times she had one-upped him it was about time he won one of their unspoken battles.
"Fine," she mumbled, her voice only slightly strained.
The surprise must have shown on Robin's face as her smirk returned, albeit not as prominent as before.
His gaze turned sceptical at her sudden agreement as he murmured; "Thank you."
Her acknowledging nod was serious, and Robin somehow knew that this time she would be a woman of her word, and his grip on her relented.
Robin's hand lingered at the base of her neck, his breath ghosting over her cheeks and fingertips pressing against her warm skin as her eyes fluttered closed. He took her momentary distraction to stare at her again, his eyes gravitating to the full lips mere inches away from his as he tried not to make that distance any smaller.
When one of her hands trailed up his arm to meet the one he had on her neck, he expected her to attack, to fight back, to bend his wrist until it snapped… He didn't expect her to lightly trace over his knuckles, or for her to exhale as she sank a little more into the hard surface she was pressed against.
Robin leaned forward, putting the slightest extra pressure against her skin and moving his lips to hover over hers, their uneven breaths mingling in the scant space between them. Her other hand moved to rest against his chest, her fingertips digging into the skin over his heart.
His eyes closed as he felt the warmth seep through his shirt, something inside him igniting as he felt her breaths dry his lips. When he swiped his tongue from one corner of his mouth to the other he caught her lower lip, and the growl caught in his throat escaped when her nails dug into his chest.
The distance between them dwindled into almost nothing, all of Robin's sense disappearing as he started to indulge the inexplicable pull between him and this unique woman he didn't even know.
His mouth just brushed hers, slightly catching on her bottom lip and drawing an involuntary breath from both of them before-
"Get a room!"
The two split apart, taking a couple of seconds longer to come back to their surroundings than was acceptable before they noticed the two kids a few meters away from them.
The girl – the elder of the two – elbowed the boy next to her, whispering some kind of chastisement before she turned back and apologised; "sorry for my brother, he doesn't really have any manners."
Robin was still working on the whole forming sentences thing, so he was grateful when he heard a breathy "it's fine," from beside him.
"Ok," the girl smiled, her blonde curly hair fluttering in front of her face as she held a hand out to the side to her younger brother, "come on, we don't want to miss the bus."
The kids walked around to the other side of the bus shelter, leaving the two adults to look between them somewhat awkwardly. Though despite the tension in the air, the quiet "I should go," still had Robin wanting to protest otherwise.
It took the woman starting to walk back towards her car before Robin jogged after her with a call of; "wait!"
He caught her hand just as she fished her keys out of the bag slung over her shoulder.
She turned to him with an expectant look in her eyes, and his other hand joined the one already holding hers.
"Tell me your name," Robin breathed, hoping to finally know something about the woman who seemingly had him drawn to her without even realising.
She looked torn for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip before she compromised with; "next time."
"There'll be a next time?" Robin asked, though it sounded more like a statement. When she went to open her mouth to respond he beat her to it; "If I'm lucky?"
A smile grew on her lips as she slowly shook her head.
"If I'm lucky."
