All Previous Disclaimers Apply
A/N: We've reached sexy times, and corny times, but it felt right. Hope I'm not totally off. And hope you like it. Thanks for reading!
The next time they see each other somehow or another their respective teams have set them up. Sure, Brandt knows that he's been talking about the guy on and off for a couple of months and…okay maybe talking about him non-stop to his friends. And maybe Benji threatened to hack all of his accounts and leave him penniless if he described the kiss one more time and maybe Ethan has taken to turning around and going to extreme measures to get away from him when he sees him coming down the hall, once even ducking into a meeting he had no business being in that somehow led to him saving the world again, but that's not the point. Only Jane and, surprisingly, Luther, see what he's going through and support him. Luther takes him out for drinks to rehash and overanalyze every significant text conversation and when he thinks about it he knows how pathetic it is, but he enjoys their conversations about love and what to say so as not to seem like a pathetic loser. Jane takes him to the shooting range when the sexual frustration builds up and he's acting like a bear to those around him. Which seems to be at least once a week. They shoot the shit out of the targets, scare some recruits, and spar until they're both breathless afterward. When he gets home he's still sexually frustrated but he's not ready to tear someone's head off.
He could, he knows, find a willing body to share his bed. He may not be the most attractive guy; no one would ever say that he was on par with Galahad or anything and, okay, he's Galahad's senior by at least ten years but he knows he's cut, knows he's charming. He's never had a problem finding willing bed partners, even if they were considered a lot more attractive than him and he's had guys in his bed even younger than Galahad. But, the first time he goes out with the intention of bringing someone home for a tumble he gets distracted by a text from Galahad, sufficiently witty and sarcastic, and forgets all about wanting to bring someone home. In fact, he looks around the bar and asks himself what the hell he's doing there. He'd rather be home with a beer, texting with Galahad because who knows when the guy's going to have another chance to get away? He gets the impression that whatever outfit Galahad works for it's not nearly as big as IMF. He's deployed a lot and keeps really strange hours, even for someone who lives half way around the world. The closest Brandt's been able to narrow down is that he lives in and considers London his home base.
He knows they both have to be careful with what they say, that their lives are too dangerous to trust anyone completely, but he wishes he knew more. He knows Galahad is twenty-seven, has a record from the time before he was recruited due to his bastard step-father, and loves his mom and little sister more than anything in the world. He knows that Galahad had a hand in stopping V-Day in some way and knows that the guy is one of the smartest, most genuine people he's ever spoken to. He also knows that Galahad is a lot rougher than he makes himself out to be. He's slipped a couple of times when they have a rare phone call, posh accent dropping, completely unaware of it as far as Brandt knows, and he's all the more charming for it. Sometimes Brandt wants to tell him just to talk how he wants to, not how he was trained to, but he also wants it all to be Galahad's choice when he decides to let Brandt in to that side of him.
It's a shock when he realizes that he's half way in love with the guy before he knows it. He's been in love a couple of times, sure, but he's never fallen so fast or so hard. And it's never affected every aspect of his life the way his love for Galahad does. He trains harder and longer, wanting to be able to keep up with the amazing prowess Galahad has shown him, but never once feels jealous of him. He plans his evenings, sometimes his days, around when he knows they're going to be able to text. And he is more careful on missions, pays more attention in briefings before he goes out and mission stats he receives when something is assigned to him. He wants to come home, feels like he has something to come home to. Loving Galahad has made him a better agent.
And, apparently, a miserable friend. He doesn't realize just how nuts he's made everyone around him, including Luther and Jane, until he's mingling at a party, realizes he's lost sight of Ethan and Benji, and spots Galahad coming around the corner, Jane on his arm, his expression telling Brandt just how surprised he is. Brandt's heart skips a couple of beats before it begins racing. Of course, he's seen Galahad in his suit, but he's never seen him in a tux. It's a modern cut, the color just a shade brighter than navy that brings out Galahad's bright eyes, and no tie, just a blindingly white shirt with black buttons done all the way up to the Nehru collar. He looks so good that Brandt has to swallow hard a couple of times to make certain that his voice isn't going to come out in a squeak when Jane brings him over, because he can see that she's leading Galahad right to him.
"Do us all a favor," Ethan says in his ear, "Grab the room key from Jane, take the guy up to the room, have some fun, and put us all out of our misery."
"Please tell me you didn't set up an op just to get me laid," He growls into his comm.
"Of course not," A Scottish voice he doesn't recognize responds, "We set up an op to get the both of you laid. Galahad's been a right miserable bastard. So, do us a favor as well and let him get his leg over with you as he's been wanting to do for months."
"Nice to meet you, Merlin." Brandt says. He's heard just enough from Galahad to put two and two together and knows he's speaking to Galahad's quartermaster and trainer turned friend.
"And you, Brant. Break his heart and there'll nae be a place you can run we won't find you." The man sounds downright cheerful when he's threatening someone.
"Understood," Brandt murmurs just as Jane and Galahad reach him. She discreetly slips a room key into Brandt's pocket and removes his earpiece under the guise of brushing his hair behind his ear.
"Room 1502. Meet us at the tarmac tomorrow at fourteen hundred hours or pay your own way home," She whispers before kissing him on the cheek and shooting him a wink as she saunters off.
"Well," Galahad raises an eyebrow and smiles the half smile that Brant's been dreaming about for months, "She's something else."
"So's Merlin," Brandt says, running his hand through his hair. Now that they're here and he has everything he's wanted in front of him he's a little nervous to reach out for it, like a sixteen-year-old virgin. He'd feel ashamed of himself if his nerves weren't winning out.
"You look fantastic," Galahad murmurs, almost to himself, looking at Brandt through his lashes.
"You do, too," Brandt breathes out, then finds his courage, his cockiness, no pun intended, again. He steps close to Galahad, lays a hand on the small of his back and whispers in his ear, "I want to peel you out of every layer and lay you out so that I can run my tongue over every inch of you."
He knows it's corny, but Galahad doesn't seem to mind as he pulls in a gasping breath and turns his face slightly to look right in Brandt's eyes, "Well, then. Shall we use that room key Jane gave you?"
"Let's." Brandt agrees. He's surprised when the younger man allows him to keep his hand possessively on the small of his back as they work their way around the ballroom. They stop only once for Galahad to hand his glasses off to a petite, beautiful woman Brandt is sure could break him without breaking a nail. She gives them a small, secretive smile and brushes a kiss against Galahad's cheek much as Jane did with Brandt. It only takes him a moment to realize that the glasses have to be some kind of communication device as the beauty in front of him as on a similar pair.
They carefully don't touch each other in the elevator, standing only a hair's breadth apart, but never letting their skin meet. They're close enough that he can feel the heat off of Galahad's body and it's driving him to distraction. He can tell Galahad feels the same way when they finally get to the room and Galahad pushes him against the door as soon as it closes. The kiss is everything he remembers, passion and joy and power. He claws at Galahad's tuxedo jacket, suddenly desperate to get the other man's clothes off. He feels Galahad doing the same as they remain fused at the mouth. They take a moment to rut against each other when the jackets are off, Brandt bunching Galahad's shirt as he pulls it up and Galahad's hands cupping his face. The kiss is like a battle, and neither of them want to give in, even though neither of them really has a clue what they're fighting for. He curses, then moans, when Galahad finally breaks it off and attacks the skin at his neck as it is revealed as he removes Brandt's tie and undoes the buttons of his shirt. Brandt finds he isn't nearly that patient. He tries to get the buttons undone, but when it takes too much concentration he just rips it open.
"This is bespoke," Galahad murmurs, never taking his lips away from Brandt's neck.
"I don't care," Brandt murmurs in return. Galahad pulls away for just a moment to grin at him. It breaks the thick tension between them and they both begin to laugh. The tension is gone, but the desire has only increased. They giggle their way through stripping each other and Galahad's snorting laughter in interrupted only by an unabashed moan when Brandt finally tosses him on the bed and covers his body with his own. They roll around on the bed together for a time, finding places that make them both hot, places that make them both moan. Brandt isn't even surprised when they find condoms and lube in the bedside table and only a little surprised when Galahad is a pushy power bottom. The younger man prepares himself, looking Brandt straight in the eyes the entire time, and then keeps Brandt on his back as he rides him, taking as much pleasure as he's giving. Brandt grips his strong hips hand enough to bruise and can only groan and bite his lip when Galahad begins to ride him harder and curse in his rough accent that he's only let Brandt hear so sparingly. He looks into Galahad's eyes and knows that it's a sign of trust. Galahad is trying to let him in. Brandt sits up and wraps his arms around the younger man, keeping them chest to chest as their hips move in synchronization and they press their foreheads together, never taking their eyes off of each other. The fall over the edge catches them both off guard and Brandt comes so hard he whites out for a moment.
He comes back to himself while Galahad is still floating and takes care of them both before climbing back into the bed and wrapping his arms around his new-found lover. Galahad rolls over so that they're facing each other and wraps his arms around Brandt in return, snuggling up to him, laying his head on Brandt's chest.
"Knew you'd be incredible in bed just from the way you moved," He breathes happily when they're settled.
"Same," Galahad murmurs, "From the way you kissed. Was incredible, Brandt."
"Yeah," Brandt agrees, "Give me a bit and we can have a second round."
"Or we could just talk," Galahad is very carefully not looking into his eyes when he says it and Brandt knows he's embarrassed.
"Or we could do that," Brandt takes his chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts his head so that they're looking each other in the eye before his presses a sweet, chaste kiss to his mouth.
They fall asleep still talking quietly to each other and stay wrapped up in each other all night, waking when the sun comes in through the open curtains. They talk a little more and then Galahad returns the favor and makes love to him in the shower. He refuses to call it fucking, even in his own mind, because it's much more than that. They have brunch on the beautiful desk off of their room, never losing contact completely, before making love one more time. He dresses while they're talking and Galahad walks him to the door in only the hotel's plush robe. They kiss lazily at the door for a few minutes before leaning against the doorway.
"Too soon and too corny to say I love you?" Brandt asks quietly.
"Fuck yeah," Galahad takes him by the lapels of his coat and pulls him closer so that they're sharing the same air, "Say it anyway."
"I love you," Brandt replies dutifully, surprised when the words come easily and don't make him feel sick like they have in past relationships.
"I love you, too," Galahad murmurs before nearly kissing the life out of him, then pushing him away and slamming the door in his face.
"Call you later?" He laughs through the door.
"Better!" Galahad answers, "Now fuck off!"
He makes his way to the plane in a daze and laughs when every single one of his friends only has to take a look at the grin on his face before releasing a huge sigh of relief.
