Warnings: slash, mentions of prostitution

Rated: T

Dedicated to Op-fan. Thanks for all the wonderful suggestions. Seeing your name in the reviews never fails to make me smile!

Alex could not help but smile a little brighter, breathe a little lighter, and just be that little bit happier. You really never know what you have until it's gone - and damn, had Alex missed the simple pleasure of walking outside without an armed escort.

With three-quarters of Cypress dead or in custody, and the last member hightailing it out of rocking waters, MI6 had finally deemed the threat on them mild rather than critical, meaning him and Yassen got to go their own way. Mrs. Jones still suggested that they lay low, maybe get in touch with some of their contacts and find a place to hide out for a bit.

They still had their feelers out, figuring out exactly where the last Cypress hitman was - the woman that specialized in close up hits. But they believed that any further assassinations had been suitably discouraged - after all, the woman's favourite tactic of seducing her targets was not likely to work on himself or Yassen.

Yassen, of course, was still worried. He wanted to go into hiding, immediately. (Was probably more than a little relieved to leave K Unit behind, though Alex thinks they might have begun to warm up to each other.) Had told Alex to pack his bags once again, they were going from the safehouse to somewhere else, just as safe.

Alex went along with it. He looked on the bright side - pestered Yassen to at least find them a hideaway somewhere warm. They could be just as safe on a beach as they would be in a stone-cold compound, he argued, though that was not necessarily true.

But Yassen was a genius, and working with Scorpia had made him an expert in executive security. After all, you assassinate enough people, you begin to learn the best ways to avoid such a fate. So Yassen took pity on him, and found a contact with a secure compound in the Cuban island's.

Which is how Alex happened to be strolling along the beach, sipping on a fruity cocktail that he had already forgotten the exotic name of. He could ignore the tall stone walls that encaged the area on three sides, and focus instead on the lovely blue ocean that bordered the fourth.

The cool waves lapped at his feet, pulling the sand out from under him. Up ahead was a small helipad, Alex paused his stroll to watch as a helicopter touched down. Not nearly as graceful as Yassen, Alex critiqued, but the pilot clearly knew what they were doing.

About to continue with his walk, Alex froze, one foot hovering above the sand. His eyes locked on the pilot, who had just jumped from the cockpit.

As if sensing his gaze, the man turned, locking eyes with him. A smile broke out over the other man's face - and that confirmed Alex's suspicion. He would recognize that cocky grin anywhere.

Alex set his drink down in the sand, not caring as saltwater ruined it. Turning on his heel, Alex calmly walked back the way he had come. Inside his chest, his heart was beating double time.

He heard the sand being kicked up behind him. The breath of his pursuer. What could he do about it? Alex could probably outrun him, but then what? Hide in his room with Yassen for the remainder of their stay? It was not a large compound, they were bound to cross paths eventually.

Maybe it was better to just get it over with.

A strong hand dropped onto Alex's shoulder, squeezing tight.

"Hold on there, Bellissimo," the rough voice spoke lowly, and Alex suppressed the shiver threatening to creep down his spine. "Aren't you going to say hello to an old Amico?"

"Hello," Alex said, humouring the man while internally planning an escape. What were the odds of his body being found if Alex pushed it into the ocean when the tide went out? That would not be for another couple of hours at any rate...

"I have missed you, Bellissimo," the man murmured. He never spoke loudly, never spoke in much more than a whisper. Alex thought the man like forcing people to lean closer to hear his words.

Alex just hummed in response. "How long will you be here?" He asked. If it was just a day or two, maybe he could convince Yassen to hole up in their room.

"I have only just got here, Bellissimo, and you are already trying to get rid of me?" The man smiled at him - that shit-eating cocky grin, it made Alex want to punch the expression right off his face. "Careful, or I might get the impression you do not want me around."

"I don't."

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," the man commented. "Maybe you should spend the night with me? I am sure I could change that."

Alex froze, feet planting in the sand like the roots of a tree. He whirled to face the man, hackles raised. "I'm not in the mood for your games, Luca."

Luca tilted his head at a sharp forty-five degree angle, like a dog that had just heard a distant sound. "That is not what you said last time we met."

"Last time we met, I was on a mission."

Luca hummed, stepping closer to Alex, right in his personal space. Alex debated whether it would give the man more satisfaction if he stepped back, or stayed put. Then settled with shoving the man a pace away instead.

"Yes," Luca went on, "and imagine how I felt to find out that I was the mission? Really hurt my feelings, Bellissimo."

"Are you looking for an apology?" Alex asked sharply - almost willing to give it if it meant the man would leave him alone.

"Of a sort," came the sly answer. Alex knew what that meant. Knew what Luca wanted from him. And that he was not willing to give. Not for any price. Not anymore.

"I told you when we first met that I was not a prostitute," Alex reminded the man. "It is not my fault you didn't believe me."

"You still took my money, though."

That was true enough - of course, Alex had not just taken his money. That had just been a pretence to cover what he was really after.

"Want it back?" Alex snapped. He was getting tired of this.

"Not necessary," Luca was smiling again, like their prolonged conversation (argument) was somehow a win for the man. "I hardly need it - in fact, it was one of my cheaper nights."

Alex remembered taking all the loose money he had found in Luca's wallet. A stack of rough bills - it was not until Alex had left that he realized it amounted to over three grand.

Luca was so rich, he probably used the hundred dollar bills to blow his nose.

"Although the money I lost because of you… that was a significant amount," Luca continued.

That of course had been what Alex was really after. A simple access code stamped on the back of Luca's Company ID. Over twenty digits long, with no rhyme or reason, but Alex had memorized it in the few seconds it had taken him to collect his payment - Luca, sprawled half asleep on the bed behind him, had not even thought twice. The pretty, young hooker taking his pay after a rather strenuous night (and morning). Luca had not been concerned.

Not until his company was hacked and all the gory details of Luca's underhanded dealings were exposed to the world. Smithers had worked fast, it had not even taken him a full twenty-four hours.

MI6 had been after Luca for years - knew he was guilty of all sorts of humanitarian crimes. Human trafficking, drugs and arms smuggling, the lot. But they had not been able to make anything stick, or find any real proof.

So they had gone with the last resort. Alex. Among all the other distasteful activities Luca got up to, he had a special preference for young, athletic, blond men. Alex had fit the bill rather well, so he had been sent to dig up what he could.

The information had not been legally acquired, and could not be verified, so Luca had avoided prison, and had even managed to hang onto most of his fortune. Still, his company had shrivelled up and died. No one wanted to do business with someone that had been exposed, even if nothing was fast, hard evidence.

Luca had been looking for Alex ever since. Alex knew that, and had deliberately avoided the man. It had not been easy, keeping Luca off his tail. And even more difficult to keep it all a secret from Yassen.

He just couldn't bare the thought of Yassen knowing.

Alex swallowed. "Well, maybe you should think twice about who you invite into bed."

Luca's eyes go dark - the man takes a single, long stride forwards, his hand clamping around Alex's chin, tilting his head up. Alex hates that the man is taller than he is, even if it is by barely an inch. Alex wants to jerk back, but knows the nails digging into his skin would leave marks. He really did not want any evidence of Luca on his skin. Not ever again.

"Oh, I've been thinking about it alright." Voice guttural, a tone Alex recognizes even after all this time. The rolling r's and throaty vowels that had bombarded him for hours that night.

Voice sharp and commanding and enough to stop Alex's heart: "Alex?"

He had not even heard Yassen approach, but now he recognizes the sound of sandals slapping the sand. Glaring hard at Luca, the still grinning man releases his face almost robotically.

"Alex," Yassen is right behind him, he still has not turned, has not reacted even as familiar fingers find the small of his back. "What is going on here?"

Voice incredibly dangerous - Alex almost relishes in the image of what Yassen would do to this man if he knew. Almost. But then Yassen would know.

"Just a misunderstanding," Alex tries very hard to keep his voice slate plain. "Nothing to worry about. Let's go."

He stepped back, feeling the brushing fingers become a resting palm. Not wrapping around him as he had hoped, but stopping him in place.

"You must be Yassen Gregorovich," Luca grinned - and God, why had he left his gun in the room? How fast could he snap the man's gold-chain decked neck? "I heard you were taking care of my boy nowadays."

Alex winced internally, changing his grip to wrap around Yassen's bicep. A little tug of lets go that was ignored.

Yassen raised an eyebrow. "Your… boy…?" It was barely a question, mostly just an incredulous statement.

"Yassen, please," Alex pleaded.

Yassen did not please.

"How do you know each other?" He asked Luca, sharp eyes scanning the other man like a blueprint - taking in the Italian silk shirt unbuttoned to indecency and the beige chinos, the gold chain around his throat and the glinting eyes that roamed a little too familiarly over Alex's body.

"Oh," Luca smiles predatorily, enjoying the game they found themselves in. The dance. He throws Alex a conspiratorial wink. "That is a secret I will save for myself and Bellissimo here."

Yassen's blue eyes slip to Alex, wide with questions. "Bellissimo?"

"Yes, well, pretty little thing never did me the courtesy of a proper introduction. I thought Bellissimo was fitting."

"Indeed…" Yassen trails off, ignoring the flamboyant man in front of them in favour of examining Alex.

"Well, I must be off," Luca's grin widens. He shoots Alex another wink - he tries not to gag. "But I am staying in room 204, if you are interested."

The man trekked off, his slip-on shoes slipping in the sand. Alex tightens his grip on Yassen, unable to meet the man's gaze. He swallowed, feeling sand in his throat. Hesitantly, feeling Yassen's eyes bore into him, he begins the slow trek to their rooms.

How the hell was he going to explain this?

Their room is cool, blasted with air conditioning. Alex kicks off his sandy flip flops, wanting nothing more than to collapse in bed and curl up under a mound of blankets. Instead, he sits stiffly on the couch. Yassen sits across from him, ankles crossing as he reclines on a sofa chair.

"Alex," Yassen's voice is far too controlled to be natural. "Who was that?"

Alex bites the cuticles on his right hand, then quickly drops his hand to his lap, intertwining his fingers. White knuckled. "Luca San Moretti," he answers through a dry mouth. "He was a prominent businessman and politician until his underground dealings were exposed-"

"I know that, Alex," Yassen leaned back, arms stretched. The epitome of casualness, all an act. "I meant, who was he to you?"

Alex shakes his head, false starting his sentence twice before managing: "No one. He isn't anything to me."

"Alex," Yassen allows exasperation to deep into his voice.

"He was a mission," Alex admits. "A long time ago. I never thought I would see him again."

"You look like you never wanted to see him again."

Alex fell silent, consulting his blood drained hands. In his peripheral, he watched Yassen stand in one fluid motion. The assassin kneels in front of Alex, brushing his chin gently with featherlight fingers. Alex just manages to meet Yassen's eyes. The calming, now pleading blues pulling the truth right out of him.

"I cheated on you."

And just like that the open ocean blue closed off like slate walls.

Alex sits on the couch, miserably, face buried in his hands. Yassen had retreated, blank-faced, as if he had to put physical distance between them. Yassen stood at the far corner of the room, looking out the floor to ceiling window with single-minded intensity. Though the only view from this particular window is of cinder walls.

/Yassen/

Trying to emulate the blank stone outside, Yassen stands at the window. He can barely see the ocean past the tall walls, the brick and mortar holding back crashing turmoil.

His mind is empty, but for one thought.

Alex had cheated on him.

He couldn't process it. When? How? Where?

How the hell had Yassen not known about it?

His mouth turned bitter, he swallowed, picturing again the man he had seen. Cool and casual on the beach. He thought of every private moment he and Alex had shared, how he had considered himself so lucky to be the only one privy to them.

The only one. God, he felt like an idiot.

How long had this been going on? It seemed impossible that it had escaped his notice. Any time they were not on missions - which was more often than not these days - they were together.

An image of Alex, in their house or flat, knowing Yassen to be away for a few days, finding satisfaction elsewhere. Going to a hotel, like they had once done. Or inviting someone into their home? Their bed?

No, Alex wouldn't.

Would he?

Alex going on missions, or telling Yassen he was going on missions, only to meet up with a string of lovers?

It didn't fit. It didn't work. It didn't make sense.

"Explain it to me," Yassen said at last. Alex glanced up, fingers racking through his hair.

"Yassen, I don't-"

"I want to know." You owe me that much.

"I," Alex hesitated, then dropped his eyes to the floor between his feet. Finding it easier to talk to the carpet rather than Yassen. "It was five years ago. A honey trap for the CIA. I- I was their last resort. I didn't…"

Five years ago… five years ago Yassen had finally managed to coax Alex into saying 'I love you' for the first time.

"I posed as a high-end prostitute. I slept with him, and stole his security passcode in the morning."

Yassen remembered seeing Alex once on a mission. A fluke that they had crossed paths. Alex had been dressed like a wet dream, stalking up to his car in standstill traffic. Dusty New York buildings as his backdrop, horns honking as a soundtrack.

He remembered wondering how often his missions required him to…

But he had never asked.

He managed to tear his eyes away from the ever-interesting grey wall, looking instead at Alex. Hunched over, examining his flip flops.

"Did you ever do it again?"

Blond hair like a wave as he shakes his head. "No, I never took a mission like that again."

Yassen nodded, taking another silent step closer.

"Did you enjoy it?"

Alex goes beet red, and looked like he might puke. That was an answer in itself. "God, no," he choked out. AN involuntary shiver runs down his spine.

Yassen sits next to him, the couch dipping though Alex stays frozen.

He takes in Alex's tense shoulders, his cloudy eyes, the guilt in his expression.

Alex was just so perfect.

/Alex/

"Are you laughing?" Alex snapped his head up, and apparently that was Yassen's cue to double over in a fit. What the hell?

"Yassen?" Alex tilted his head, unable to comprehend what was going through Yassen's head. Had Alex broken him?

"My God, Alex." Yassen actually wiped tears from under his eyes. "I thought - I thought you meant you actually cheated!"

Alex's brain does a little reset, like a computer that's been overloaded, returning to factory settings. "Yassen… I did…"

Yassen is already shaking his head, and smiling at him. "No, Alex. You didn't."

Alex just stared in confusion, making a little gesture like huh? Unable to put into words his utter confusion.

Yassen just shakes his head. "It was a mission, Alex. Do you think I would ever hold a mission against you?"

Alex supposed not… but… "I slept with someone else." How could Yassen be okay with that?

"Cheating… it's a lot more than just sleeping with someone else, Alex. It's about… the intent. The emotion behind it." Yassen is looking at him with these gleaming eyes and half upturned lips.

"I don't understand."

"You didn't sleep with Luca because you wanted to. You did not make the decision to be disloyal - you were completing a mission. That," Yassen leaned closer, though his voice remained strong, "Is so far from what we have, Alexander. It isn't even close."

Alex blinked, unable to believe what Yassen is saying. "I-"

Yassen cuts in. "You are mine, Alex. Mine, not anyone else's. Do you know why?"

Alex feels as though he has lost the reins, lost all control on the situation. He sits back and lets the horses stampede. "Why?"

"Because you want to be," Yassen tells him matter of factly. "Not because we have sex, or anything else. I love you, and you love me, and we want each other."

"Okay." Alex is not entirely sure he understands - but he does love Yassen and he does want Yassen. So he can't be that wrong, can he?

"You are mine, no one else's. No one else can even claim to know you the way I do." Yassen brushed the salt swept bangs from Alex's face, taking in his wide eyes expression. "Let's go to bed, and I'll prove it."

Alex is not quite sure what has happened here - but maybe he should just let it happen.