Prompt: "You don't exactly look like an international spy." "Yeah, well that's the point."
The list the prompt came from has been reblogged on thehayffiepenthouse if you want to check!
I know I had another spy series but it's ancient at this point so this is totally unrelated and idk I've been in a spy hayffie mood lately. I might use this verse again at some point because the possibilities with spy hayffie are endless…
A Little Bit Of James Bond
The ballroom with its crystal chandeliers, the waiters gracefully circling the room, the expensive dresses and tasteful tuxedos, and the champagne flowing freely was as familiar to her as the back of her own hand. Long before Effie Trinket had vanished from the side of this Earth to become a multitude of someone else, she had been born in that glittering world. And she might have stayed and died in it if Caesar Flickerman, MI5's finest agent at the time, hadn't noticed her talents and put them to good use…
So, she was on her turf for this mission and she should have been a lot more at ease than she was.
"Problem?" the man currently holding her asked, his palm hot on the small of her back as he led her around the dancefloor. He was surprisingly adept at waltzing for someone who always sounded gruff, disinterested and unapologetically American.
As a rule, she disliked working with CIA agents. She liked a careful approach to things and she could tell, even before she had formerly been introduced to the American team, that those people weren't particularly fan of the careful approach. Once more, she lamented the fact that the higher-ups had decided to make this a joined operation. Although she figured the French weren't so bad… Finnick certainly seemed to know what he was doing… But Finnick's assignment was happening on the other side of town, she was supposed to partner with the American and make sure their target remained… where it was supposed to be. Intercept only if needed. Terminate in last recourse.
"Not at all." she lied through her teeth, flashing him a smile that looked absolutely loving. As one was supposed to smile at their husband.
Haymitch Abernathy, codename Victor, and, admittedly, infamous enough in the spy circle, only smirked and tugged her a little closer. His hand drifted south, stopping just short of indecent. Selling the act that they were married or toying with her nerves, that was anyone's guess…
"You look like you want to kill him, darling." Portia chuckled in her ear. And so what? Lots of people wanted to kill their spouse, she was sure. "Or maybe it isn't quite killing you would like to do to him…"
"Focus on the mission." Effie reminded her, forcing another smile.
Haymitch didn't ask what she was talking about even though he couldn't hear Portia. The channel was private. He had his own spotter whispering in his own earpiece.
Effie hadn't been impressed with Chaff so she was glad they had agreed to divide and conquer. As for the rest of their team, Cinna and Beetee – unlike the rest of them – had happily joined forces to hack and do what surveillance people did…
"Just saying." her best friend laughed.
Effie resisted the urge to roll her eyes and seemingly let her attention wander over Haymitch's shoulder, taking the rest of the room in.
"I've got a visual." Haymitch said lazily. "Stop fretting."
In her opinion, he wasn't fretting enough.
When it had become clear Finnick would take the lead of the dangerous aspect, the CIA team had stopped getting invested. He had told her earlier, when she had chided him over the fact he hadn't tied his bowtie properly, that they were just there as backup and they had the most boring job so they might as well relax.
She didn't plan to relax on the job.
Ever.
Relaxing got you killed.
"Twirl me, I want to see." she ordered.
He shrugged. "Three o'clock."
He didn't twirl her.
He dipped her.
Which gathered a lot of attention they could have done without. But once he righted her, she laughed all the same and played the part of the wife enamored with her goofy husband by playfully whacking his chest. Of course, then she slid her hand up to his nape, under the too-long hair he had refused to cut for this mission, and dug her sharp nails into his flesh. His body tensed as if in answer to a threat, which was only fair, and his grip on her hand tightened in warning.
Still, she didn't hesitate when she leaned in to whisper in his ear, smiling all the while. "Do that again and I will shoot you."
"I'm curious…" he drawled out, ducking his head to nuzzle her neck a little. The perfect picture of sweet love. "Where are you keeping your gun? Cause this dress doesn't hide much…"
The dress didn't hide anything. It stuck to her curves like a second skin which was why she had chosen it. If people didn't see where she could hide weapons, they were less likely to suspect she had any in the first place.
"Wouldn't you like to know." she huffed, leaning back but not quickly enough that she didn't hear the faint voice of Chaff coming from his earpiece.
"Oh, she's so your type, buddy… You're fucked." his spotter chuckled.
That… surprised her.
The way he treated her, she wouldn't have thought she was his type at all. Ever since they had first met… Well, he hadn't been the most gracious, immediately judging her on her size and extravagant look and dismissing her as useless the way most people seemed to do. You would think someone who had been a spy as long as he had would know better but apparently not.
He had made fun of her, mocked her and demeaned her at every turn.
Now she wondered if that was just his way of tugging on her metaphorical pigtails.
Well…
Haymitch's mouth twitched, either at her retort or at his partner's. She didn't know and, she told herself firmly, she didn't want to know. She forced him to lead them away so she could get her own eyes on the target. She didn't trust Haymitch to stay focused.
"Everything's gonna be fine." He sighed, apparently not oblivious to her maneuvers. "Our tech guys have all the cameras in this place under control, they've got eyes on him and the rest of his goons. Our spotters are watching too. We're just here for decoration, sweetheart. Finnick's doing the real part."
"Our part is important too." she snapped, annoyed. "If we fail, Finnick will be in troubles."
"French intelligence is good at getting out of troubles." he dismissed. "I've worked with him before. The kid's a peacock but he's great. He's gonna be alright. And all we've got to do is eat, drink and dance."
"I do not drink on the job." she hissed. "And you shouldn't break character. What if someone hears us?"
"Nobody's listening 'cause nobody cares, my darling wife." he deadpanned, letting his eyes circle around them.
And he was right.
Nobody cared.
They were lost in a crowd of wealthy people who were very busy with social climbing.
"Still." she argued, a bit petulantly.
His grey eyes studied her, from her reddish blond hair twisted into a fancy bun on top of her head to the modest cleavage the dress was so openly displaying. She had a feeling if they hadn't been dancing, he would have ogled her legs too.
"First time on a mission like this?" he asked. She was surprised it was a serious question and not blatant flirting.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the right thing to say. She narrowed her blue eyes at him, her lips pursed in annoyance. "I have been doing this job for more than ten years. I am not some rookie that…"
"Oh, I know." He snorted. "I've looked you up. Heard of you before too. Codename Escort." His mouth twitched again into that infuriating smirk. "Kinky."
"Victor makes you sound arrogant." she shot back before she could help herself.
That earned her a genuine chuckle, even as his eyes briefly slid from her and to the left. Checking on their target. She hadn't noticed he had turned them around again. At least, she supposed, it meant he was invested in the mission after all.
"I meant: is it the first time they use you as a token for international cooperation?" he clarified. "Cause that's all we're here for, you know. They don't need agents on the field to watch this guy. Finnick's tech could do it." Annie looked far too frail to do anything but as looks were deceiving, she would suspend judgment until she saw the girl in action. "We're just here to look pretty so the higher-ups can clap their backs later and pretend we're all just one big family fighting bigger threats as if we ain't spying on each other all the time."
She may or may not have been sent on such missions in the past so she wisely kept her mouth shut about that.
"It is my first inter-agencies cooperation mission." she reluctantly admitted. "But not my first run-in with another agency."
He looked smug. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that intel that someone snatched right from under Summercket's nose last year, right?"
Viola Summercket. She wasn't sure what her codename was. She just called her bitch. They kept running on each other during missions and it never ended in pretty ways.
That woman would gun her down at the first opportunity, Effie just knew it, consequences be damned.
She had a little more scruples than that but she wouldn't hesitate to give the CIA agent a long-lasting injury or two either, truth be told.
"I am sure I do not know what you mean…" she hummed, faking distraction.
Haymitch laughed. "Damn right you owe me ten."
She frowned a little before realizing he wasn't talking to her.
"Chaff likes a good gamble…" Portia offered in her own ear. "He already tried to get me to bet on how long the two of you will last before shagging each other."
"Portia, please, focus on the target instead of my sex life." she hissed.
Her friend sighed. "But it does so need focusing on, darling… And he would be perfect for you… I say, once this thing is over and we know the French got what we need, you two should go out and have a drink."
"You took that bet, didn't you?" she challenged.
Haymitch was watching her with some amusement, no doubt because Chaff was giving him a rundown of his conversation with Portia. Chaff and Portia were in the same room after all.
"Who? Me?" her friend exclaimed, sounding offended.
Effie knew her too well.
She shook her head, fighting a smile. "We will have words later."
"We certainly will if you do not do something about the handsome man dancing with you…" Portia retorted.
"So… Sex life…" Haymitch said, his smirk almost turning into a grin. "That's on the table?"
She didn't answer, choosing instead to get her eyes back on the target. But the man had moved and they didn't have an optimum visual from the dancefloor anymore. "I think I would like a drink."
"Sure. I'll buy you a drink if you want one first." he teased but, clearly following her reasoning, led her off the dancefloor with a hand at the small of her back.
There were tables on one side of the room that had been used for the expensive charity dinner they had been forced to attend beforehand. Playing fake married couple for a whole meal when Haymitch had insisted on being annoying had been exhausting. Fortunately, their table was empty now and there was no need for her to act like a simpleton for their tablemates' sake.
The table also afforded her an unparallel view of their target who had sat back down in his own designated seat with a chap who looked a little out of place in the glittering decors. One of his henchmen, no doubt.
Haymitch grabbed them two flutes of champagne before joining her. She didn't touch hers although she pretended to sip from it once in a while but he clearly didn't have the same qualms about alcohol on the job because he downed half of it in one gulp like no proper gentleman would.
She shot him a disapproving look.
Undercover work was all about conforming to expectations and Haymitch with his too-long hair, his roguish looks and his awful manners was standing out like a sore thumb. There had been a briefing and a file telling them how they were supposed to act…
"What?" he challenged, almost turning his back on the target to give her his whole undivided attention.
Or so it seemed.
Given the angle, she was pretty sure he still had the target at the edge of his peripheral sight.
"You don't exactly look like an international spy." she commented, after making sure nobody around them could hear.
Unlike her, she knew it wasn't his first inter-agencies mission. She had heard rumors. He often worked with MI5, it seemed.
She wasn't sure what she expected an international spy to look like… Maybe more… sophisticated. More James Bond than McGyver.
He snorted and gave her a small shrug. "Yeah, well that's the point."
Defy expectations…
Clever, she decided after a heartbeat, and not unlike her own methods.
His sparkling grey eyes roamed on her once again, clearly liking what they saw. "So… You're gonna tell me where you're hiding the gun? Cause I won't lie, sweetheart, I'm really curious…"
She thought back to Portia's comment about her recent lack of sex life and how warm his palm had felt through the thin fabric of her dress… He smelled good too. Appealing. Like cheap soap, a hint of masculine sweat, residual gun powder and a dash of whiskey. He smelled dangerous and she had never been good at resisting danger… She wondered if he tasted dangerous too…
It was only too easy to imagine how good it would be between them. For all their apparent immediate dislike, there was also a tension there that… Well, they had chemistry, that was undeniable.
She bet he liked it rough.
She didn't try to fight her grin this time as she briefly spread her legs wider than necessary before slowly crossing them. The move was quick but seductive enough that he licked his lips. "There are not a lot of places I could hide it… Perhaps I will let you find out once we are done here…"
His eyebrows shot up at the flirty tone, his eyes darting down at the innuendo, but he recovered quickly, the smirk back on his lips. "As hot as that image is, I know it's not hidden where I want to check… Nobody's that stupid."
"And yet you still want to check…" she hummed.
His expression was teasing. "Well, now I feel like I ought to. For your safety."
She chuckled. "If it is for my safety, then…"
Suddenly, he rolled his eyes. "If you don't shut the fuck up, I swear I'm gonna drop you in her champagne." A pause. "I don't care how pissed Coin's gonna be if I break another one. If you talked less, I wouldn't have to do it every fucking time." He gritted his teeth. "I don't need a fucking wing man, Chaff."
Despite herself, she smiled again, averting her eyes. Her smile faded quickly though.
"Target on the move." she warned, her voice serious again.
Haymitch sat a little bit straighter, never once looking in the man's direction but clearly listening attentively to what was being said in his earpiece.
Slowly, as naturally as they could make it look, they stood up and followed at a distance but it seemed clear the man was going to leave the venue.
And it was too soon.
"Beetee talk to me." Haymitch ordered, his tone growing hard and hyper-focused.
The target, as it turned out, had been tipped.
And Haymitch had been wrong, after all, it didn't turn out to be an easy mission for them.
There was a car chase, gunshots – and the stunned look he gave her when she tore her hair free from the pins to get the tiny handgun hidden there – and a few explosions.
They ended up running to vanish into the night, putting enough distance between them and the scene of the crime that nobody could pin it back on their respective agency.
She was starting to be out of breath when he pinned her against the wall of a dark alley. She thought it was to cover her at first, because of some danger, but then his mouth captured hers in a violent kiss and she stopped worrying about potentially dying to kiss back, a bit high on adrenaline.
"So that's where you keep your gun…" he mumbled against her lips, half chuckling.
"Disappointed?" she mocked, kissing him again because… It felt good. It felt right. And his hands were running on her body and her dress was a bit torn from the fight so there was more flesh readily accessible for him and…
"Like hell. That was the hottest thing I've ever seen…" He tangled his fingers in her loose hair, tugged her head back to lick at her throat before sinking his teeth in… She moaned. What else could she do but moan? His hips bucked at the sound… "Should still do that safety check, though. Just to be sure you ain't hiding another gun… somewhere."
"Yes." she whispered because she wanted it. Bad.
She knew they needed to get to the extraction point, to get briefed, to…
She knew that she…
"We should warn the others. Tell them we're okay. They will be worried." She couldn't hear Portia but it didn't stop her from touching the earpiece…
"We're out of range." He shook his head. "I've got a place nearby. A safe house. Let's lie low for the night, yeah? I've got a phone there, safe line."
They should get to the extraction point…
That was protocol and…
But he kissed her again and she forgot why it was important to always follow protocol.
Maybe he had a little bit of James Bond in him after all…
I hope you enjoyed this! I had a lot of fun writing it so... let me know your thoughts!