Author's Note: Okay I rewrote this chapter to help my next chapters actually work. PLEASE STILL SEND ME PROMPTS AND STUFF YOU WANT TO SEE!
Side note: The German is a mix of what I know from hearing my grandparents speak a LONG time ago and google translate. Sorry for the plentiful mistakes. Translations are at the bottom! Also the hotel thing? I made that up. Creative license, shall we say? Thanks for letting me get away with it:) xoxo - E
"Lucy. Slow down." Flynn tugged on her arm.
"I can't believe the nerve of him." She fumed. "To insinuate that you're somehow less than us just because-"
"Because you lot have been fighting against me for a long time now, and because that's in his head. Not to mention, the whole, I stole his girl, thing."
"You didn't steal me, I came to you willingly." She huffed. Flynn smiled softly at that. She hadn't even thought to deny that she was his girl now. "Besides. This is absurd. Ooh. Close line. Come on." She unlatched a gate blocking an alleyway and ducked through quickly, pulling him with her before locking it behind her again. A cursory glance told them both that they were alone, the apartment that the close line belonged to currently sat empty. The windows open, the lights inside turned off. "Look. Whoever lives here looks like they might actually be your size." She said with a smirk. The last time they had traveled, the only clothes that had even remotely fit him, had still been too short, his wrists and ankles on display at all times. It had driven him mad. He looked adorable when he was irritated like that.
"Mhmm." He muttered before nodding to the skirts that were hung up. "Yours aught fit too." He said with a small smile. She looked at them.
"They'll be a tad small." She mused.
"Will they? Huh. That will be interesting." Flynn was fully grinning now. Some of the clothing on the line worked, but the casual men's wear would draw an eye if they had to get close to Reagan during an official appearance. Luckily, the apartment was empty, and the man who lived their had a closet full of appropriate options. Apparently however, his lady friend didn't actually live here. She only had one drawer, and the clothing options weren't exactly... varied. The skirt on the line was the only option for her in terms of "bottoms" and there were only two shirts. Lots of undergarments, however. So... so many undergarments. Well at least they were clean.
After they got dressed and stepped back outside into broad daylight, Lucy began to fully appreciate the reasoning behind his grin at the sizing. Flynn fit in as well as a man of his stature could fit in anywhere. Lucy... was wearing a too tight mini skirt and a too flamboyant top that drew the eye and showed off far too much of her skin for Lucy's comfort. She had taken a garter belt and stockings that almost reached the hem of the skirt, expecting them to cover her up a bit more, but the style... it was a tad more sexualized than she had thought. She looked rather like a photo she had seen once, of a girl in Berlin in this era, riding a bike, daring anyone to call her oppressed, just so she could tell them off. That helped. But the view of her skin peaking out between the stockings and her skirt pushed her back outside of her comfort zone.
"This is... possibly worse than being naked." Lucy commented, pulling at the skirt, trying to make it cover... more, unfortunately to no avail.
"Only one thing missing." Flynn returned. "May I?" He asked, gesturing to her hair. She nodded and he ran his fingers through her hair. He ruffled her locks until they slightly resembled the popular style for the time period. "Lucky we're not in America. The curls and big hair weren't quite as exaggerated over here in Germany."
"So... I'll fit in?"
"Lucy." He smiled. "You never fit in. You draw eyes no matter where, or when you go. But you won't stand out for being a woman out of her time, if that's what you mean." Lucy flushed. He always had that way about him. When he spoke, he had this genuine way about him. Even when he was being a flatterer, she seemed to have no choice but believe his words were authentic.
"Flynn... I..." She shook her head. Slowly, softly, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made such a big fuss earlier. I made it about me and Wyatt. That wasn't fair of me."
"Lucy." He breathed, pulling her close. "I have never had someone... care for me, the way you do. To stand up to your family like that..." He kissed her again. "I don't expect you to do that. You don't have to..."
"I think I'm falling in love with you Garcia Flynn." She blurted out, flushing. "I... That... that wasn't what I was planning on saying but... I mean it. I do. I think I'm falling in love with you."
"You... you..." His lips slammed against her and she sighed as he pulled one leg up to wrap around his waist, his other hand spanning her lower back, holding her steady, in place, right against him.
"This doesn't count." He told her as they quickly separated for air.
"Doesn't count? What, us making out?"
"No. You didn't actually say it yet. You just said you think you are going to be... you know."
"Is that a problem?" Lucy asked, gasping as his tongue traced her lower lip. "Because this doesn't feel like it's a problem right now."
"No. I'm just reminding you. You know, before you write anything. In your journal." His lips closed on a pulse point in her neck and Lucy moaned, actually moaned. Out loud. In a very public spot. Closed gate or not. "This isn't it. So don't mention it. Wait until you really, really know. Wait until you really, really say it."
"Why?"
"Because, draga moja," He nipped her skin. "It's my favorite story."
"The best one in the journal? Wow. I must really get into the telling of the sto- oh God." She breathed out as Flynn rolled his hips into her's.
"The best story on the planet." He countered.
"I want you." Lucy moaned, gripping the sleeves on his suit coat.
"Now, draga moja?" Flynn grinned. "Are you asking me to take you, right here, right now? Outside? In public? In 1987 Berlin?" She stuttered and he grinned, his fingers tracing the seam on the side of her stocking, tracing up, up, up until he reached the bare skin above. His large hands played with her skin drawing sound after sound out of her until she was all but panting.
"1987 Berlin. The start of the end. The Berlin Wall is about to fall, all because of a speech that is going to take place later today. And we are going to be there. After we save the course of human history." His fingers had reached beneath her skirt and now reached the edge of her panties. Yes. Her panties. Those at least she hadn't stolen from an unsuspecting German woman.
"Flynn," She breathed out as his fingers pressed hard against her center. "Don't..." She gasped, his fingers pushing her panties aside and entering her.
"You were saying?" He asked gruffly in her ear.
"Don't stop."
"That's what I thought." He pulled her right leg up around his hip and pushed his fingers deeper, his thumb pressing against her clit, rolling circles at an ever increasing tempo.
"Let go, Lucy."
"Garcia. Please." Lucy begged him. "I need you." She reached between them and unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out.
"Lucy." He growled, his tongue darting up to lick his lips. Her name was like a prayer on his lips. He positioned himself at her entrance and she rolled her hips into him, taking his tip inside her.
"Please." She begged again, "Garcia."
"And if I don't? If I just don't move, stay here, frozen, keeping you on the edge-"
"Then I'll tell you I love you right here, right now. There goes your favorite story on the planet." He grinned at Lucy's hallow threat.
"You minx."
"Fuck me, Garcia." He pushed inside her and she sighed. Home. She clenched around him, her fingers holding onto his borrowed clothes - okay, stolen. It wasn't like they were going to return them - her hips moving back and forth in time with his. "Mmmm. Yes."
"Sranje." He swore. "Lucy."
"Fucking hell, Garcia. I'm so close."
"Already, draga moja?" He chuckled.
"Yes, you cocky Croatian time traveler." She snarled back. "It's been 2 minutes, and I'm on the edge. Which is good because we're in a stranger's yard. Outside. In 1987 Berlin."
"Did you just get a little wetter, draga moja? Which part of that turned you on the most? That this is a stranger's yard? Or that we're outside?" Lucy closed her eyes and buried her face into his chest. "Or is it the 1987 Berlin thing? Lucy's breath was coming out in short heavy pants. "Oh my God." She groaned. "Its the history thing. You're turned on by going back in time and being part of momentous historical moments, aren't you."
"Oh and you aren't?" She hissed back. He noticed her pupils were dilated and he smiled, resting his forehead against hers.
"Yes. I am incredibly turned on by being in this historical moment with you."
"Good." She smiled wryly, biting her lip. "I know we just paused for a conversation, but I'm still really close."
"Tell me what you need, Lucy."
"Kiss me, Garcia." He moved his chin forward and nipped at her lower lip before tracing it with her tongue. She moaned into him, as he grasped her so tightly, her left foot lifting off the ground as well. She wrapped herself around him, the angle changed, his cock slamming directly on that sensitive spot just in front of her cervix. "Oh my God!" She moaned out. "Garcia."
"We're about to go stop some very bad people, from ruining history. Ronald Reagan is about to demand the tearing down of the Berlin Wall. And we are going to witness it. First hand. And once we do, and we get back, you and I are going to christen the kitchen back at the bunker." Lucy shattered around him, clamping down on him, biting her tongue to keep from screaming. He pumped into her three more times before spilling inside her, his head resting in the crook of her neck, his hands holding her aloft, against him. They breathed deeply, just holding each other.
"I want to say it." Lucy breathed out.
"Not yet." He replied. "But I know, Lucy. Me too."
"Well fuck." Lucy swore as Garcia straightened his clothes.
"What is it, draga moja?"
"My own underwear. That's what I could keep. My panties."
"Yes?"
"They're a little... ruined." Garcia smirked.
"Oh are they?"
"I... I can't wear them!"
"The owner's girlfriend has some you could borrow."
"I'm not borrowing some random girl's panties!" She hissed at him.
"Well then," He leaned in and kissed her temple. "I guess you'll have to go commando."
"Garcia Flynn. Do you see how short this skirt is?" He smirked and nodded. "I cannot go commando in this skirt!"
"Then you'll have to borrow some panties." She groaned in frustration but Garcia just went on grinning like a maniac.
"Fine. Fine. Be happy. I'll go freaking commando." She snarled.
"I think that's-" A rattling near the gate cut in.
"Oh my God. They're home." Lucy gasped. Luckily, she was wrong, but it was enough to remind them where they were, and what they needed to do.
"Come on. We've got a sleeper agent to find." Garcia said, gesturing towards the exit.
"Lucy!" Rufus called out as the pair stepped through the gate back onto the street. He and Wyatt had found clothing as well and the four walked towards each other. "Reagan's flight is still scheduled to land as you said. He'll be here tomorrow." He said. "Everything seemed normal but Wyatt nearly ran down a reporter who was complaining to her friend. We noticed because it was in English. Some British girl, covering the president's visit tomorrow. One of their photos was forcibly removed from their possession and she was irritated that the German guards were so intent to harass any foreigners. Luckily, she still had the negatives on her. She didn't see anything wrong but..."
"A guard close to the Chancellor-"
"Helmut Kohl?" Lucy questioned. Rufus shrugged.
"I think so." He returned. "Anyway, he was adjusting his jacket. You could see his gun. Even in the negative, Wyatt could tell that that particular model wouldn't be invented for... oh I don't know, 20-30 years?" Lucy nodded.
"Nice catch."
"Anyway, we have a photo of our sleeper. Now we just need to find them, preferably before Reagan even lands in the country."
"Should be easy enough." Lucy shrugged. "You got a name?"
"No." Wyatt responded, clipped.
"Then we should track Chancellor Kohl. If he's a permanent guard, we'll find him close by."
"Worse comes to worse, we'll sneak into the Reichstag tomorrow." Flynn shrugged.
"Wasn't he working out of a hotel at the time? Cordoned off a whole floor as he prepped for the president's visit." Lucy recalled suddenly. Flynn nodded. "Do you know where it might be?"
"Yes." Flynn returned. "All the diplomats stayed there during this time period. We can pretend we are there on business." Flynn noticed Wyatt looking at Lucy's outfit in distinct disapproval at that comment.
"I'm not sure you'll fit in." Wyatt meant it as a warning, but Lucy could only remember Flynn's words from earlier and she smiled.
"Thanks."
"That... wasn't a compliment." He trailed off. "Whatever. We'll make up an excuse." Flynn walked up to a street vendor and asked directions in German for the hotel they were looking for and after a few gestures, and a quick back and forth between the two, he assured them he knew where he was going. He led them down the sidewalk, hurriedly towards their destination.
"Lucy, why are you walking like that?" Rufus asked suddenly, his brow raised. "You know your legs aren't attached above the knees, right?"
"Yes, actually, they are." She snapped. Garcia laughed quietly and Wyatt shot him a glare.
"Lucy had a small mishap with the very limited clothing options she had." Flynn explained diplomatically.
"Another word Garcia, and I will never step foot in the kitchen again."
"What?" Rufus asked. "What the hell kind of threat is that?"
"A damned good one." Flynn shot back. "My lips are now sealed. Permanently."
"All these empty promises." Wyatt muttered.
"Shut up, Wyatt." Rufus and Lucy said simultaneously.
"We're here." He replied gruffly, ignoring them, gesturing to the hotel. "Can we please get on with this?" They made their way inside and did their best to act natural. Looking around at her counterparts, Lucy decided that it really was quite shocking that they hadn't been caught before. None of them were really good at acting like they weren't up to something when they very clearly were, up to something. Then again, who was really suspecting the awkward weirdos who walked around in a group to be time travelers? Terrorists, maybe, but no one really suspected time travelers.
"Herr," A concierge murmured anxiously, hurrying up to Wyatt's side. "Herr, du kannst hier keine prostituierte haben!" He glanced nervously at Lucy.
"Um..." Wyatt began.
"Natürlich, der Herr." Flynn interjected, pulling Lucy to his side protectively. "Der hohe standard in diesem Haus ist der Grund, warum wir uns hier niedergelassen haben."
"Herr-" The concierge began again.
"Gepäck meiner Frau war unterwegs verloren." Lucy smiled, attempting to be convincing. She understood some German, enough to know how that this man definitely thought she was a prostitute and if Flynn didn't convince him otherwise she was going to be arrested and locked up with a bunch of other prostitutes in a pre-fall of the wall Germany. Not exactly an outcome she was thrilled about. The man still looked at her curiously. "Amerikanisch." Flynn said with a smirk.
"Glücklicher mann." The concierge muttered. Flynn's grin deepened.
"Wahrlich."
"Wie auch immer, mein Herr, wir haben eine gewisse-"
"Na sicher. Wir verstehen. Wenn wir einfach unsere Räume betreten können, sind wir außer Sichtweite." Flynn replied smoothly with a suggestive grin.
"Perfekt. Ich bin glücklich, Sie zu begleiten. Ihre Zimmernummer, herr? Flynn turned to Lucy and pressed a kiss to her temple.
"Any ideas for room number?" He muttered to her.
"Third floor is cordoned off. Easier to sneak up or down?" She breathed out, fixing his tie.
"Vier Ein Drei, Ich glaube?" Flynn suggested.
"No!" Lucy immediately offered, trying to give them the air of someone who simply didn't remember it correctly, in case that particular room was taken. "Vier, zwei, ein." She spoke much more slowly, her words heavy with an American accent, as if she could barely understand and speak even less. It didn't take her much acting to portray that role. "Oh dear. Your secretary told me over the phone but I'm afraid I don't remember exactly, anymore."
"Allow me to check," The concierge replied to her slowly in her Native tongue. "Frau-" He waited for her to supply the name as they walked over to the front desk
"Frau Flynn, Herr. Danke. But I'm afraid it won't be under our names." She replied out as he ran his finger down the book. "My husband's work made the booking."
"Very good, Frau Flynn." He frowned. "Are you with the diplomatic group?" She could tell he was suddenly not believing their story.
"Oh! No! We aren't as high up as all that. Politics! Can you imagine, dear?" She asked, nestling into his arm. "Me. A politician's wife!"
"I'm quite happy you aren't a politician's wife, as well, Luce." He returned with a small grin.
"Aha! You must be with the Volkswagen supplier!" He lit up and his finger stopped on a reservation.
"Yes." They both said immediately.
"My husband is meeting with these gentlemen from Volkswagen this afternoon about the specifications he must follow due to the new rules here in Germany."
"I would hardly call the Wende 'new rules' darling."
"See! It is just as well you aren't a politician for how could I follow it all?" She asked with a blinding grin.
"Of course, mein Herr. Room 418. But I see here that the room is not booked until three days from now?" Flynn frowned, his head tilted down, and he gave the man a look Lucy would not love to be on the other side of.
"I'm afraid that's impossible, sir. The firm flew my wife and I out here specifically for this meeting. Which starts today. We were to be gone three days from now. Perhaps you have the dates confused?" The way he spoke, with such conviction, Lucy knew the concierge would believe what he said.
"Of course. Our mistake, sir. Unfortunately that particular room is currently occupied, but I am able to offer you room 412 for the same price. It has an additional living quarters you may be able to use for business sir."
"That sounds wonderful, dear!" Lucy fluttered. "My goodness, how lucky we are to have run into you. I'm so glad you came up to us!" She gushed, knowing damn well he had come up to them with the intent of kicking her out into the streets. The man flushed ever so slightly and his eyes darted to Flynn.
"Of course. Matthias will help you with your bags. Here is your key, and please call upon me with anything I can get you while you stay here. And again, my deepest apologies, mein Herr." Both Lucy and Flynn knew damn well he was apologizing far more for insinuating Flynn's wife was a prostitute than for the nonexistent mix up with the rooms.
"I understand, sir." Flynn said. And with that, they were led up to their room. Rufus and Wyatt stayed silent on the trip up, worried that their cover would be blown the moment someone asked them to speak. They were probably right, so it was for the best that no one spoke to them until the bell hop said good day and turned to leave the room. Instead of responding, they both just nodded and sunk down into the armchairs with twin looks of relief on their faces. Lucy, however, did not look relieved. She spun around and whacked Flynn on the arm soundly.
"Oh my God, I look like a prostitute?!" She gasped out.
"What?" Wyatt spat out.
"That man! He came up to you to tell you that you couldn't have a prostitute in his hotel! I look like a prostitute?"
"I mean kinda." Rufus shrugged. "I mean you wouldn't in the early 2000s but its 1980, Lucy. So... yeah, kinda." The look of horror on her face sent Flynn into a gale of laughter. Lucy buried her face in her hands.
"This is what you get for walking around in a mini skirt with no panties on, draga moja." Flynn teased her softly.
"OH MY GOD!" She wailed, running for the bedroom. "Someone lend me their pants!" She yelled out loudly. "I'm not leaving this room!" Rufus and Flynn laughed as she slammed the door behind herself but Wyatt just glared at Flynn.
"And how exactly do you know she isn't wearing..." He swallowed thickly.
"Panties?" Flynn provided the word for him. Wyatt nodded, his eyes flashing darkly. "What exactly were you doing while Rufus and I fought tooth and nail to get the information to find our sleeper?"
"KREUZBERG!" Lucy yelled as she ran back into the living space.
"Sorry?" Rufus asked, his eyebrows raised.
"The protest. The day before Reagan arrived. 50,000 people lining up in Kreuzberg to protest the arrival of the American president."
"Yes?" Flynn asked, prompting her on.
"I... I know the sleeper is our target and he's probably after Reagan but..."
"But what?"
"But then why not show up tomorrow to pick him up? After the assassination attempt, or whatever? Why show up today? What significant is happening today? Kreuzberg."
"And what do you think he's going to do there? It's not like it accomplished anything."
"Exactly. What if that's their plan? To make it accomplish something?"
"You mean-"
"What if Reagan isn't the target? If he hadn't made the speech... someone would have. England, probably. But eventually the wall would have come down. Chancellor Kohl on the other hand..."
"Turned the economy around at exactly the right time to make Germany a world player again in the future. Without him-"
"The economy goes bust, Germany is divided up into little bits. Either a struggling country, or property to other members of the EU. Lichtenstein rides again, so to speak."
"Lucy you're a genius. And on top of that?" He nodded his head at her appearance. "You look like exactly the sort of girl who would show up to a protest."
"Vive la commando." She returned with a shrug.
"Now that's a revolution I can get behind.
Translations:
"Sir," A concierge murmured anxiously, hurrying up to Wyatt's side. "Sir, You can't have a prostitute in here!" He glanced nervously at Lucy.
"Um..." Wyatt began.
"Of course, Sir." Flynn interjected, pulling Lucy to his side protectively. "The high standard of this establishment is why we have chosen to reside here."
"Sir-" The concierge began again.
"My wife's luggage was lost on the way.." Lucy smiled, attempting to be convincing. She understood some German, enough to know how that this man definitely thought she was a prostitute and if Flynn didn't convince him otherwise she was going to be arrested and locked up with a bunch of other prostitutes in a pre-fall of the wall Germany. Not exactly an outcome she was thrilled about. The man still looked at her curiously. "American." Flynn said with a smirk.
"Lucky man." The concierge muttered. Flynn's grin deepened.
"Indeed."
"Be that as it may, sir, we have a certain-
"Of course. We understand. If we can simply go to our rooms, we will be out of sight."
"Perfect. I am happy to escort you to your rooms. Your room number, sir?"
