Author's Note: As I said with "One and Only" readers, thank you so much for waiting for an update! It's been a crazy month with not much time for writing so it's great to finally be able to make some headway on this fic. As always, please review and leave song suggestions/prompts for Finncedes!

Hudson-Jones Residence

Silver Spring, Maryland

"Sorry, Matt. Fairly certain I misheard you because there is no way in hell that you just told me to off my wife."

"Oh trust me that's not coming from me. The hit's been called in."

Finn tightened his grip on his cellphone until his knuckled turned stark white. "So if I don't…"

"Yeah. Somebody else will." There was a muffled voice on the other line; he could hear Matt call out something reassuring to Valerie. His wife Valerie. His wife Valerie who very fortunately was not a trained assassin. He heard Matt walk up the stairs of his own home and then his concerned sigh. "You're still on the line. Is there something you're still confused about, Hudson?"

"Are you really being sarcastic with me right now?"

"Not intentionally but if it gets you off your ass to do something…"

"Fine." Finn stood from the bed. "Here I go."

"Good luck. Don't call me if you need anything. I actually really like Mercedes."

He fought the urge to roll his eyes as he ended the call. Placing his phone on the dresser by the bedroom door and leaning forward to glance down the staircase, Finn made his way swiftly to the guest room at the end of the hall. He sat down at the desk against the wall and unseeingly moved his hand underneath. The spare Ruger, kept in a compartment effectively hidden there, slipped down into his palm. Taking off his shoes at the top of stairs, he walked downstairs, barely making a sound.

Mercedes was still standing at the sink, scrubbing the lasagna pan so vigorously that water was splashing. Finn raised his gun toward her and asked, voice calm as ever, "Need any help, babe?"

She shook her head slightly. "I thought this might happen. Must not have used enough butter to grease it."

"Pretty sure you used all the butter in the house. That lasagna could've been made by Paula Deen." No. No small talk. Not with the woman you love, not when she's unarmed and doing the dishes and looking beautiful and innocent. Finn sighed. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. He saw her dry her hands and reach to the side to the drawer by the sink. "Going for the good sponge?"

"Yeah. The good sponge." Mercedes turned on her heel and faced him, the Glock 35 in her hand steady and pointed directly at his heart. "Or this."

Finn looked from the gun to her face to the drawer back to her face again in disbelief. "Are you serious? 'Cedes, how long has that been in there?"

She took a slow step forward and extended her leg to close the drawer gracefully with a bare foot. "Since last March. You never do the dishes."

"You always said I couldn't do the dishes because I never scrubbed the bowls enough!"

"That wasn't a lie. But I also didn't want you finding the gun." Mercedes tilted her head to the side. "You can understand why not, right honey?"

"Yeah, that's about all I can understand about this entire situation, sweetheart," Finn retorted. They stood with guns aimed at each other in silence for a moment before he groaned exasperatedly. "Oh come on. This can't be right. You are not an assassin. You're my wife!"

She raised an eyebrow cynically. "You're my husband and I've completely accepted the fact that you came down here to try to kill me." He followed her finger as she pointed toward her own cellphone lying on the counter near the stove. "They filled me in while you were upstairs talking to Matt. You've got a hit on me now, and, Finn honey, I completely understand. You've got to follow orders."

He frowned. "…What?"

"You don't think I wouldn't kill you if my boss told me to?"

"Well I should hope not!"

"Hope all you like but I really would." Mercedes smiled. "Follow your orders, Mr. Hudson. And I'll follow mine." She pulled the trigger. "It's all part of the job."

Lower East Side

New York

"I can't be distracted! What about that is confusing you people?" Noah Puckerman slammed a fist down beside his computer's keyboard, narrowly missing the flash driving sitting on the desk.

"Watch it, kid." The older man behind him spoke from behind what seemed like a wall of cigar smoke. He lifted a hand to wave it away, allowing Puckerman to see his glower. "I paid good money for that."

The eighteen-year-old could barely hide his smirk. "It's information that I got for you. Trust me, Rocca, I can get more."

A burly man stepped forward, blocking Puckerman's view of his criminal kingpin boss. "Mr. Rocca doesn't want to give you any opportunity to screw him over."

"Any opportunity to…?" Puckerman gestured toward his computer screen incredulously. "Are you kidding? I give you guys a little bit of information-gold so you can make sure no one gets in the way of tonight's meeting and now I find out that there are not one but two agencies who want me dead! Excuse me if I'm wrong, but being dead would definitely be a roadblock in my plan."

Rocca's gravelly accented voice interrupted his associate even as the other man began to argue. "Don't worry about it."

"I just said that they're trying to kill me!"

"And I said don't worry about it. My people have got it handled."

"Handle it how?"

The associate raised a pitch-black eyebrow at him. "You gonna ask questions or let us do our job?"

Puckerman looked from the man to his screen, reluctantly choosing to continue his work in silence.

So this ain't the end - I saw you again today

I had to turn my heart away

"Son of a bitch!" Mercedes rolled behind their sofa just as a bullet embedded itself into the hard wood making up part of its armrest. She raised a hand to her right arm, scowling as her fingertips came back covered in blood.

Moving to get behind the wall that separated their living room from the stairs and jogging to the small dresser where they usually dropped weekly paper, Finn dropped his Ruger and, accessing a compartment, pulled out the Smith & Wesson hidden there. "You doing okay, 'Cedes?" He ducked at the sound of the wall being punched in by 25mm ammunition. Chunks of plaster hit him against his back and head, driving him to his knees with the impact.

Mercedes' voice drifted to him from the living room, sweet as candy. "You just grazed me."

"Where the hell did you get an XM25 Counter Defilade Target Engagement System?"

"What, you don't have one?"

He shot a few rounds past the now-destroyed wall, unsuccessfully following her body as she evaded fire. "Oh I do. Mine's in the linen closet."

"Let me guess, it's on the top shelf under those god-awful towels I told you not to buy."

"Because they're yellow?"

"Because they're the ugliest shade of yellow I've ever seen!"
Mercedes pressed the remnants of her shirtsleeve against the broken skin on her bicep, wincing as her arm screamed in pain to the point where she had to drop her gun to the floor momentarily. "And if you go to get that stupid rifle, Finn, I swear I'll blow you to Kingdom Come."

Finn crouched and stole a quick peek over at her. No sign. She was still somewhere behind the sofa. "You know, I don't want to hurt you, 'Cedes."

She rolled her eyes. "A little late to be saying that, don't you think?"

"You said your arm was just grazed."

"You said you worked for a corporate office."

There was a pause while Finn lowered his gun and stared at the area of the sofa she was probably behind. "I...you've been gallivanting around the world for years now getting shot at when I've been thinking you're safe and sound! Mercedes…!" He let out a deep, frustrated breath. "I can't believe you kept this from me."

Mercedes maneuvered her body so that she was sitting against the sofa, resting her head back and closing her eyes. Damn, her arm hurt. She slowly extended her arm across her body to drag her gun into her lap. "I'm not the only one who kept a pretty big secret, Finn. In fact, it's basically the same secret."

"We're both liars who lie," he whispered mournfully.

"Don't be dramatic."

Her voice seemed a little tight. Finn grimaced. His wife was in pain. "We should get your arm cleaned up and wrapped."

"I'll clean and wrap it when this is over. So…when you're dead. When you're dead, I'll take care of it."

"Right." He stood to his feet and returned to the small dresser, setting his gun on top of it and pulling out its drawer to get the first aid kit. "I found the gauze and antiseptic."

"Throw it over if you're so concerned."

"I'm coming toward you."

Mercedes quickly gripped her gun in her left hand, shaking her head firmly from side to side even though he couldn't see her motion. "Don't you dare."

He took slow steps in her direction, passing by the safety of the ruined wall and approaching the sofa. His heart almost hurt at the sight of their 50'' television with a huge hole in the center. "I really hope insurance covers this. Maybe we can convince them that it was a drive-by?"

"Not likely. Not in a Maryland suburb. Finn Hudson, if you come over here, I'll…!"

"What you'll do, 'Cedes, is let your husband wipe your arm and get you bandaged up." He came to stand beside the sofa, looking down at her with both hands clutching the kit. Mercedes aimed her gun; he shrugged. "Shoot me if you want but I left my gun over there."

Her hand didn't waver. "If you're anything like me, you have a spare under the cushions of the sofa that you'll grab any chance you get."

"How long have you been hiding a gun in our sofa cushions?"

"Since May."

"Damn." Finn crouched and beckoned her closer. "Come on. I'm done. This is done. I'm not going to kill you."

"You have orders!"

"You're my wife! Now get the hell over here!" When she made no effort to move, he lifted a hand to rest on the gun's barrel and gently put pressure on it until she lowered it. Finn sat by her side, jerking open the kit. "Can't believe you think I could actually go through with something like that."

Mercedes watched his hands carefully as he un-wrapped the pack of antiseptic wipes. "I would have." She dropped the gun again to the floor. Her nose wrinkled as she felt the sting of the antiseptic.

"Sorry. Probably stings a bit."

"Finn. I've been hurt before."

"Not by me."

"I've been hurt worse."

"Not by me. This is worst because I did it." He pressed the gauze against her skin and then taped it down quickly.

She stifled the urge to grin when he lowered his face to press a gentle kiss on exposed skin of her shoulder. "Really though?"

He raised her eyes to hers. "Yeah. Really. And you wouldn't have gone through with it either. Wanna know why, Mrs. Hudson?"

"Oh please don't be corny right now," she muttered under her breath.

"Because you love me."

"You lied to me." Mercedes narrowed her eyes. "All those nights you were on a relaxing run…you were out there getting hurt too."

"Yeah, I've actually never come back home hurt so…" The end of his sentence was interrupted by his wife's full lips meeting his. Not breaking the contact, Finn raised himself slightly and straddled her, careful not to put any of his weight on her petite frame. His large hands went to either side of her face; it was a full minute before he removed his mouth from hers. Both were breathing heavily. "Okay…what…what was that for?"

Mercedes lifted her uninjured arm so that it was slung across his shoulder. "I'm just glad the first time you've gotten hurt on the job is now that I have the chance to kick your ass, baby."

"I'm not even hurt!"

She glanced down at her gun and then shrugged. "Apparently I do love you."

Finn lowered his hands, one to support her back and one underneath her legs, easily lifting her into his arms and standing. "You know, after five years of marriage…that's a relief."

Smiled like the sun – kisses for everyone

And tales – it never fails

The only light in Mercedes' and Finn's master bedroom was a sliver of moonlight shining in from behind the curtains and falling to stretch across their dozing figures. Mercedes lay with her head on Finn's chest; his fingers were lazily lifting curls of her hair only to let them drop again on her naked shoulders. Both of them let out a loud groan as their cell phones rang simultaneously. Finn planted a kiss on the top of her head. "Don't get it. We deserve a break."

"We're probably gonna get a break. A nice, long break that's called forced retirement." She reached out and grabbed hers. "You for not following orders and me for being stupid enough to marry someone with the same job as me. Hell, even after we're forced out of our agencies, I still have to deal with the hit that's out on me now."

"Right." He reluctantly sat up and grabbed his own phone, pressing it to his ear as Mercedes answered hers. "Hello?"

Mercedes' eyes widened. "Tina?"

"Matt?"

"Where?"

"How long?"

"Why?" Their gazes locked on each other at the sound of the same question being asked at the same time. Finn passed a hand over his face, nodding. "No. I'm coming. I'll be there. I don't know with who; I'll call in favors if I have to! Deal with your side of it." He ended the call with a tap of his finger.

Mercedes was sitting up straight beside him, face devoid of emotion. She jumped out of the bed just as Finn was reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. "They've got Tina."

"Who has Tina?" Never mind the fact that this meant sweet Tina from the office was probably also a lethal assassin. At the very least, she was an assistant to one.

"Rocca? Vargas? Who knows? They've just got her."

Finn grabbed his shirt from where he'd thrown it on the floor, watching his wife put on her bra again. "They've got Matt too."

She paused in the middle of putting an arm into her shirt. "What?"

"Matt. They've got him."

"New York?"

"Yeah. Somewhere on the Lower East Side." Mercedes tossed her pillow aside and lifted the mattress up; Finn's eyes widened at the two semi-automatic pistols she pulled out. "Are you kidding me right now? How long have you been sleeping on those?"

"Since we moved here." Her eyes narrowed in thought. "We're both going to the same place for once. It's Puckerman. He knows we're on to him-I'm assuming your people are too-and he's trying to get rid of us."

Finn buckled his belt and made his way over to her. "You should stay here. I'll go."

"…What the hell?"

"I'll go and I'll get both of them. Tina and Matt." He looked her up and down, shaking his head. "You said it yourself, didn't you? The kid is using them to get us out of the way. I'm not putting you in danger like that."

Mercedes stared at him for a moment. Finally, she lifted both of the pistols in her hands. "Finn Hudson, this is what we do. This is what I do. Either come and work with me or I'll make it so you can't stop me, let alone walk."

"I suppose I'm just supposed to get used to my wife being an assassin?"

"It really would be easier if you did."

"Fine." Finn sighed. "We'll do this together."

"I thought you might see things my way." She finished getting dressed and then began walking toward the door; he followed directly after her. One foot out of the bedroom, Mercedes looked up at him from over her shoulder. "Mr. Hudson?"

He shrugged on his jacket, looking down at her with furrowed brows. "Yes, Mrs. Hudson?"

"Be sure to bring your little toy from the linen closet." Her eyes sparkled as she turned back around and started downstairs. "We're gonna need it."

And if the real thing don't do the trick

You better make up something quick

You gonna burn, burn, burn, burn, burn to the wink

Barracuda

Please review. :-) I hope you all enjoyed this particular prompt!