Pauling took a sip of her coffee, long grown cold, and skimmed the latest intelligence report. It was worryingly brief and incomplete. It was also one of the few reports to come in at all lately. A vast intelligence network built up over a century, spanning over continents and the flow of information had slowed to a trickle. The Administrator was going to be less than pleased to hear the latest updates.

With a sigh she put the coffee mug down and started flipping through her rolodex, her eyes darting over the various color coded cards of names, locations and the last time reported in. Too many had gone dark, and she was running out of agents to investigate.

She'd have to use someone outside of the usual channels. Someone that wasn't likely to be on someone's hitlist. Her short list of possible agents grew even shorter. Straightening in her chair she pulled out a plain clean piece of paper and began writing out instructions. Short and simple, so if intercepted nothing would be discovered. She read over the letter again before placing it in an envelope; she'd drop it in a civilian mail box on her way to pick up the weekly lye shipment. Messages being sent out of the office might be tampered with.

This was a last resort effort, she didn't expect much return from this, but she had to try. Plus, she reasoned to herself, he owed her a favor anyway.

RED Spy grumbled, the key in his hand refused to turn in the lock. When he was first hired he'd made a point to have copies of every key on base, yet the key to the Engineer's workshop no longer worked. It seemed someone had replaced the locks. The bumpkin was perhaps paranoid? Or hiding something.

He slipped the keyring back into his pocket and pulled out his case of lockpicks. After a glance at the lock he selected the most likely tools for the job. Listening closely to the door he felt and heard the metal rake across the tumblers as they clicked back into place ignoring his attempts.

Before this moment he hadn't been sure the man was hiding something or if the matching hats were just a strange coincidence. But now he was sure the man was guarding secrets. This lock was too well made, too complex. A lot of effort had been made to make sure no one got into this room. The Engineer had driven off on one of his secret errands and he had all night to crack this. He was not going to let a mere lock defeat him, no matter how complicated it was. Whatever the bumpkin was hiding he'd find it.

Time dragged on as he ran his way through his picks to find the correct tool for the job. Finally the lock turned under his hands. The dim light hid his grin as he opened the door into the darkened workshop. Stepping inside he flicked on the light and shut the door behind him.

The room was about what he expected from the dull man; a place for everything and everything in its place. He glanced at the various devices and mechanical parts on the workbench but there was nothing of interest to him. He peered at the blueprints on the wall but everything bore the stamp of RED's approval in the corner. The man wasn't doing anything extracurricular. The calendar merely had the days marked off, no dates highlighted, no memos. He sighed. The man could have had the decency to be more helpful to his investigations.

In the corner hummed a dispenser, the pitch of the noise changing only slightly as it detected his presence, to heal any knicks and bruises he might have. This one was different from the ones the man set up on the field in that it seemed to have a coffee pot built into it. The hayseed was holding out on them, he huffed. There was also a plush toy on top of it. It did not hum when he picked it up.

Turning the bear over in his hands he frowned, the man had no children, and didn't seem like the sort to collect children's toys. Well none that weren't mechanical at any rate. But here it was, a small plush bear wearing goggles and a facsimile of a hard hat. To his further bafflement he noted a tag sewn to the back of the bear's overalls. It seemed to be of French make. This was mystifying but told him nothing. He roughly dropped it back in its place and turned his attention elsewhere.

The trash can was full of ashes and spent shell casings. The sink contained nothing more insidious than two dirty coffee mugs. The shelf above it shoprags and soaps. The boxes under the workbench contained nothing but junk and scrap. The shelves contained can after can of oil. To a mechanic these were probably very important, to him they meant nothing.

Grumbling to himself he poked and prodded each manual on the bookcase hoping to find a switch or a hollow book - anything other than technical manuals. His gaze fell on the crate on the top shelf. It probably contained scrap or old magazines, but why would the short little man put it up there? That'd be difficult to reach easily.

Curiously he slid the crate down with a stretch of his arms. Whatever was in here was surprisingly light. Carefully placing it on the arms of the beat up armchair he looked inside and found a security camera. For a moment he cursed himself for not thinking that the man would have surveillance measures in place. But, picking up the camera to deactivate it he realized there was no was identical to the cameras that lined the corridors of the base, just this one was collecting dust. It seemed to be intact and hooked up to a recorder in the bottom of the crate. Settling the camera back in the box he noted the little knot hole in one of the sides that the lens must see out of. One could place this in any number of places and few would be the wiser. Spy had never assumed the farmhand was a voyeur, but he hadn't known the man collected children's toys either. What was the man watching? Who?

Examining the camera an idea began to form into his head. If the man was colluding with the enemy and he couldn't find any traces of it, perhaps he could catch the man in the act. There was dust on the camera, seemingly it had been forgotten by the Texan for the time being. Looking into the lens he assessed the clarity of the glass, carefully setting the camera back in the box he turned the lens through the knothole. Machines unlike people had no morals or allegiances, and with a push of a button they could turn against their masters. After activating the recorder he moved the crate back into it's position behind the knothole, facing the room.

His eyes darted around the workshop, checking for any signs of his tampering or visitation. After being sure he left no traces of his intrusion he slipped out of the door, locking it behind him.

It was late afternoon when Spy parked the acquired jeep in the gravel lot next to an old bus depot. The town, like many in the area, was a far cry from civilization. It existed merely as a place to refuel and move on to other places, it had nothing to boast. Well nothing but the bus depot and the phone booth next to it. He was surprised they weren't selling postcards celebrating the phonebooth.

He glanced at his watch and saw he was slightly early. Driving out this far just to use a solitary phone seemed a bit ridiculous and over-cautious but the letter from Pauling had specified not to use any phones on base or near Teufort. The unusual request peaked his attention and he decided to humor the woman. She usually had her reasons.

He took another glance at his watch and picked up the receiver. Cradling it between his shoulder and ear he reached into his pocket. He'd destroyed the letter after making mental notes of all the details, but had written down the phone number. Unprofessional, he scolded himself, but it was better than losing or dialing a wrong number. The Texan was rubbing off on him. Shaking his head, he turned back to the task at hand and dialed the number. It rang once before the call picked up.

"Hello?" Pauling's voice answered. Even over the crackling wire her voice sounded tense, more so than usual.

"Bonsoir," he replied simply, there had been no code phrases given. He was surprised at that, considering all the other precautions.

"Good, you got my message." there was a clatter in the background as she spoke. He noted with interest and envy that her location was nowhere near as remote as his.

"I always do my best to answer the call of a damoiselle in distress." he chuckled, pulling his cigarette case out of his pocket.

"This isn't the time for that." she hissed, she said something else but was cut off by more clammer in the background. "Sorry!" she yelled over the noise.

"I trust this isn't a social call," he said raising his voice to be heard. He lit a cigarette and slipped the case back in his pocket, his curiosity prickling at crowd was probably to help ensure she wasn't overheard, but why do that when she had a radio phone that could call from anywhere?

Pulling the phone number from his pocket he held it up to his cigarette, waiting for the paper to smolder. The sound in the background was dulled and Pauling's voice grew louder, as if she had pressed her face up against the phone. "I need you to check something out for me."

Now that was unusual. "I'm sure you and Madame Voix have many other people for that sort of work." he reminded her as he watched the scrap paper and its number burn. He remembered the company's agents from his recruitment; thuggish, efficient and innumberable.

Someone yelled in the background, the noise crackled over the phone. "Not…at the moment." despite the clatter the hesitance in her voice was obvious. "That's what I need you to look into."

This was getting more interesting by the second. "Something has happened." He was starting to get an idea of the situation.

"I'm going to give you an address," she explained, "They were supposed to check in last week but haven't. This isn't the first either."

The paper scrap was now a cinder. Dropping it to the floor of the phone booth he ground it under his heel. "You want me to see what has become of your wayward lambs and fear a wolf among you." The whole situation was starting to become clear.

"I need this handled discreetly. Cleanly. Expertly." she added the last word, as a garnish. She was trying to appeal to his ego. He was flattered of course, but she was too blunt for these sort of games.

"I can do it, of course." he took a drag from his cigarette. "But this is a very odd job to give a simple freelancer."

"Is it?"

"My contract is just for distraction and sabotage of RED." he reminded her. They were desperate, if he twisted this right, there might be a chance of negotiating better pay, or some actual time off.

"Is it now?" Pauling laughed, the timber of her voice was sharp and brittle. "I believe it also says, all employees shall have no personal holidays, even in the event of emergencies, injury, dismemberment, death...deaths of relatives…Upon penalty of losing their paychecks for the next year."

Spy swallowed, coughing up a bit of smoke.

"Page twenty five sub paragraph four clause three. In the fine print." she added helpfully. "You owe me a favor."

"So it seems." he exhaled the smoke through his nostrils. He had thought he'd read over the contract carefully. There might be a chance she was bluffing, but the chance she wasn't would make life difficult.

"Builder's League United is thankful for your devotion and willingness to go above and beyond the call of duty." she chirped mechnically. The girl knew she'd won. She was almost as horrible as the woman she worked for.

"Alright." he conceded. "Give me the address, I'll go back to base, make arrangements," -tie up some loose ends, visit a certain cowboy "-and see what I can find."

The address to the dead drop with further instructions was simple, but he repeated it back to her to be sure he had it memorized - "And be careful." Pauling added. "Respawn won't work out there." she reminded him. As if he could forget the boundaries and rules that kept him from seeing what his final reward looked like. "I don't like ho-"

He cut her off before she let herself break down. She was quite good at her job, but a long stretch from the frigid standards of Madame Voix "What's this Mademoiselle? Worried over the help?" he tsked. "Soon you'll start sending us presents on Noel, and making sure we have edible rations."

There was a moment's pause before she spoke again, her voice stronger, more resolute. "Be careful, and call back at the main office when you get answers."

"Very well Miss Pauling. I'll send word back soon." With that he placed the receiver back on the cradle. Stepping out of the phone booth he shivered as a breeze blew through. The sun was setting and the desert was cooling down rapidly.

He drew another drag from his cigarette and walked to the purloined jeep. If he was lucky Soldier wouldn't notice he had borrowed it. If the man had he'd...figure out how to handle that later. Right now he had other problems to think about.

The engine clattered and sputtered to life, his team's Engineer was not as generous with his expertise as his own cowboy. As it rattled and bounced down the road Spy let himself go over the details of the phone call in his mind.

He was not sure what he had been expecting when he got the letter from Pauling, but something this dire was a surprise. He'd had little experience with the rest of BLU besides the occasional presence of maintenance men and the vague contacts with Pauling, but even those details hinted at a bigger operation.

A hundred years of private war, no matter how petty, was costly in resources and manpower. A century or so without pause or intervention by higher powers. Until now.

His cigarette had burned down to the filter, with a sigh he tossed it out the window. This job was clearly not going to be simple. He'd be lucky to get out with his hands clean. Pauling sounded genuinely shaken and concerned. Anything that had a girl who worked for the Devil concerned was definitely cause for alarm.

It was late when he got back to the bases, the stolen jeep rattled up the gravel drive behind the BLU base with no sign of Soldier looking for his automobile. Silently Spy parked the vehicle, climbing out he slipped the keys in his jacket pocket. He'd drop them somewhere where Soldier would find them. The idiot would probably assume he'd lost them and not figure out the truth of the situation.

He pulled his cigarette case out of his pocket and lit it. He had lots to do before he left on this "favor" of Pauling's, and he knew what he wanted to do first. With a stretch he looked at the sky, the sun had long set and the denizens of RED and BLU had likely settled in for the night. The cowboy was probably in his workshop and it was a lovely night for a walk.

Invisibly he picked his way across the broken bottles, smashed crates and shrapnel that marked decades of fighting. No Man's Land was quiet tonight and Spy easily slipped unnoticed into RED base. All the security systems, like BLU's, failed to impede him. All this expense, and effort. For the first time he found himself wondering what sort of enemies his employers had. How big a force did they run over his head and behind the scenes? Those sorts of questions led to nothing healthy, he decided and quickly shoved them aside.

He crept down the halls skirting past the barracks and the creaks and clammer of life there. The Texan had been working late recently and was likely not in his bed yet.

Sure enough, when he reached the bottom of the basement steps he saw the light shining under the door. …..Even with uncertainty nipping at his heels he could count on Engineer. He smiled to himself as he opened the door.

"Didn't you ever learn to knock?" the man asked glancing up from his work bench before returning to the jumble of parts in front of him.

"The door was unlocked I assumed I was invited" Spy countered with a chuckle as he walked to the workspace.

"What if I lock th' door?"

"Then Monsieur," he smirked leaning on the edges of the bench, the Texan's comforting presence mere inches away "I invite myself."

The Texan snorted, "of course."

Tilting his head the Frenchman looked at the mess on the table. As with most things the cowboy worked on - he could make no sense of it. But under the Texan's hands they could become any number of clever or lethal things.

"It's yer carburetor" the man explained without being asked. "Well-" he amended "the new one - for that scooter of yours. It arrived a few days ago, managed to get it delivered," he added that last bit with a smug aside. "Decided to take it apart, give it a look, can't trust Italians to make decent machinery."

"Seems they did well enough. " Spy murmured in his scooter's defense. "Used them in the war moving artillery."

"Really?" The Texan raised an eyebrow. "That had to be a sight." he added after a careful pause. His tone was careful - like he was sneaking up on a question. Questions he was smart enough not to ask.

Spy froze for a moment, his mind wandering back to unpleasant memories. When he'd walked a knife edge, and of all the ones who'd slipped. There'd been no respawn, no tools to make you invisible. He'd grown soft here in the desert where blood was cheap and death a minor inconvenience.

"So what does this do?" he asked, picking up a spring, swallowing any loose secrets that might slip between his teeth.

"Th' spring? Or th' carburetor?"

"Oui." He answered vaguely not caring. He just wanted to hear the man talk. Let the man's drawl chase away his gloomy mood.

"The spring is to maintain tension." The cowboy answered frowning, "and the carburetor regulates the air and fuel mix."

"Oh? What happens if there's an issue?" He prompted, hoping to get the man distracted into a detailed explanation.

Alas, the Texan was too clever to be easily led. "Ya gonna tell me what's eatin' ya?" He asked, turning from the workbench and gently taking the spring from Spy's gloved hand.

"You are imagining things Monsieur." he smiled trying to shrug off the cowboy's concerns as well as his own.

"Bullshit," Engineer gently placed a large hand over the Frenchman's own. The man's grip held him firmly as if he might bolt at any second. He'd feel insulted if the notion hadn't already crossed his mind. "You've never shown an interest in mechanics, so why ask me now?"

Spy's heart sank, he really must have gotten soft and complacent if he was this easy to read. The world was not kind to those that lost their edge. Giving the workman's hand a squeeze he opened his mouth but found any possible stories crumbled in the open air. The usual excuses or tales would not be appreciated. But the truth the man was so fond of was not an option. What could he say?

The Texan tilted his head, peering into his face "That bad?" he asked softly.

Turning his gaze downwards Spy pulled the Texan's hand to his lips, kissing the rough knuckles, he savored the weight and warmth of the man's hand. His ridiculous cowboy with his clever workman's hands. He toyed with the idea of not saying anything at all. Just enjoy the moments he had and not sully them with words. Though he thought back to how upset the man was last time he'd left without explanation. It'd been a surprise that anyone noticed or cared he was gone.

He glanced back up to the Engineer's face. His brows furrowed in concern, his mouth turned in a frown but he remained quiet. No, it would not do to leave without some explanation.

"Je dois y aller." he said finally.

"Go?" the man blurted, "Go where?"

Spy sighed. These sort of conversations were a mystery to him. Saying goodbye was not something he was accustomed to. He was with someone and then he left. Or they left. Or betrayed him. Or they died. Or he could-he smothered that thought in its crib.

"You can't tell me can yah?" The cowboy guessed. "You'd tell me but have to kill me'?" he looked like he was resisting rolling his eyes. The man thought he was purposely being difficult.

"No Monsieur" he interjected - reaching a hand to the man's cheek. "If I tell you," he leaned close to the man's face "If I tell you, I'd be the one killed."he murmured quietly. And then probably the Engineer, but he didn't see a point in sharing that detail.

"Can you tell me how long you'll be gone?"

"Who can say?" he responded with a half shrug, his hands not wanting to let go of the man.

The Texan leaned closer into him, hands gripping the lapels of his sports coat. He could smell the man's aftershave, the sound of his breathing. He regretted leaving his gloves on, as he could not feel the skin of the man's face.

"This dangerous then?"

"Oui," he answered quietly, thankful the man knew not to ask more of him.

"When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow." he needed to make arrangements, plan train schedules, get his passports out. Select an identity to wear. A cover story.

"Ah suppose," the man's fingers had found their way to Spy's tie, pulling him closer "You have to leave soon? Pack your bags, get out your fake moustaches."

Spy leaned into the awaiting kiss. He pulled the man closer, drinking in the heat of the man pressed against him. His hands slipping under the straps of the man's coveralls. "And pull out my various passports" he agreed. "But I don't have to leave just yet."

"Guess I'm just gonna have to make sure y'ain't got the time left to pack for a long trip, then." Engie murmured, pressing his forehead to Spy's. He grinned foolishly against the Engineer's mouth. The other man's fingers made short work of the buttons along his jacket, and Spy wriggled his shoulders until it dropped to the floor.

Un Dieu, he adored this man. Spy turned his face to capture the lobe of the Texan's ear, worrying it lightly between his teeth. The Engineer's hands went to his shoulders, steering him backwards, Spy allowed himself to be led around the workshop to the old plaid armchair.

The chair's springs gave a groan of protest as the two men dropped onto the cushion, limbs tangling together while they sorted themselves out into a more comfortable position with Spy's cowboy straddled over his narrow thighs.

The Frenchman fiddled with the knot of his tie only to have his hand swat away.

"Nah, leave it. Gotta keep you on a leash to make sure you don't wander off on me." Engineer rumbled, reaching his hands around Spy's waist and lifting to grind their hips together. Spy gasped, as much from the surprise that the Texan was able to lift him like this as the sizzle of pleasure jumping from his cock all the way up to his navel. The Frenchman forced his fingers to unclench the armrests, unbuckling the straps of the American's overalls and then moving on to the buttons of the work shirt underneath. By the time the other man had settled him back down on the cushion, Spy had the red uniform on the floor and was peeling off the work shirt.

"Get that jacket off," Engineer growled by his ear, and he rushed to comply. The Cowboy had never been this demanding before and Spy was very much enjoying it. He could feel the other man's fingers undoing the buttons on his shirt and with a sharp jerk, his shirt came free from under his tie like a magic trick. Spy shivered, pulling the other man in for a kiss, and for a while they remained that way, hands exploring chest and shoulders and kissing until they were both panting. Seconds ticked by while they each caught their breaths, and all Engineer did was look at him with unusual intensity.

Suddenly the other man stood up and stepped away to fiddle with a drawer, leaving Spy feeling awkward and chilly. Was that all? What was this, some sort of ploy to ensure his safe return? If so, it was as cruel as it was touching.

"Stay put," the Texan told him without turning around, his arm reaching for something all the way in the back of the drawer, "But why don't you get outta your pants?"

Oh. Oh good. Spy stood up, kicking off his shoes and socks as he slipped out of his slacks. Was that all? Should he…? Well, if he wanted them to stay on then he should have said. Spy decided, dropping his boxers on top of the pile and then dropping himself back onto the chair… coughing quietly and waving away the resulting cloud of dust.

The drawer thumped shut. Spy sat up straight, then quickly adjusted himself to look more relaxed and less like a branleur. Engineer discarded his overalls and underwear, looking less in control than he had before. Uncomfortable, avoiding eye contact. Was there something wrong after all? Was his cowboy having second thoughts? About what? This? Or… all of this?

Should he cancel the mission? Panic flickered across his thoughts.

The Texan pressed something into his hand. He looked at it. Dr. Hale's Medical Grade Lubricant.

Oh. Panic disappeared to make room for other thoughts.

"This is… alright with you?" Spy asked cautiously, neither wanting to offend nor pressure the other man. "You don't have to… we don't have to do this if it isn't what you… This isn't something I'm expecting from… I'm coming back."

"That's awful sweet of yah, but I'm gonna ask you to save the pillow talk for later." Engie half smiled in affectionate exasperation, "We can talk all about how you just went treating me like a girl on prom night once yah get back."

"Non, I wasn't, I would never-!"

"I was teasin' yah, Trouble." Engie leaned in and shut the man up with a kiss, and dropped his hand between them to give Spy's member a firm squeeze.

Spy groaned into his mouth, fumbling at the cap of the lubricant until it popped free and dropped off onto the floor. After applying a generous amount to the fingers of one hand and then clumsily passed the tube back to the Texan. "Monsieur Cowboy, if you would? My hands are about to be quite preoccupied."

To his credit, the Engineer's hesitation was almost imperceptible, positioning himself so he was straddling him in the chair. The Texan grunted and the chair creaked as they both settled into place and Spy took that time to luxuriate in the solid warmth of his beau. He should purchase a space heater for the man. How the American never caught a chill with all the hours he spent locked away in this room was beyond him.

The Engineer's weight shifted and Spy leaned into him to guide his hands around to the small of the other man's back. He went slowly, as much in anticipation as to provide the Texan one more opportunity to back out if he wasn't ready. The other man jumped, but before Spy could consider the reason for it the Engineer's hand was back, grasping him at the base and then slowly sliding up his shaft. He sucked in a breath, trying not to lose focus; it was his duty to see he didn't rush this. The Engineer was trusting him not to hurt him.

Spy pressed his forehead into the Texan's shoulder, breathing in the smell of the man, his fingers finding the cleft between his firm, muscled cheeks. He was extremely tempted to grasp them, feel those muscles flex beneath his fingers, but he imagined that the Texan might not be as pleased to be so covered in this sort of grease as he was the various kinds that were normally found in his workshop. Though he fully intended to indulge himself with the Cowboy's significant boul later.

Engineer jolted again as he made contact, a shudder running down his spine.

"Cold?" Spy asked, lifting his head enough so that he could see the man's face.

"Y… yeah." The Texan mumbled, his hand slowing in its task, the grip firmer.

Spy pressed a kiss against the hollow of his throat,"désolé

The Frenchman rubbed his thumb and two forefingers together before touching the other man again, massaging lubricant into and around the ring of muscle. He could feel the other man's throat work, but the Engineer did not pull away, nor did his hands stop stroking. Only after he felt the Texan stop clenching did he breach him, sliding the tip of his index finger in up to the first knuckle.

"Mmf…"

"Is that hurting you?" Spy froze. The Engineer had moved his own hands off him, grabbing instead for the Frenchman's biceps.

"Nah, it's just… It feels strange."

"Bad? We don't have to do this."

The Engineer eased his hips back, sinking down on the digit still inside him. His voice, when he spoke, was a little strained. "You ain't gotta be so tender with me, darlin'."

"Oh, non? Is that not the preferred way of romance for the Southern gentleman? Have your Hollywood movies lied to me?" Spy countered, hiding his red face by turning his cheek into the Engineer's shoulder. He shifted the man on his lap and stroked his finger inside him both to finish slicking him up and deliberately ensuring the angle he had the Cowboy at gave him easy access to the part of him that was most receptive to pleasure.

There was a little resistance sliding in the second finger, but instead of pausing again, he wrapped his free hand around the base of the Texan's flagging erection, working him until the man groaned. His own erection was getting to be painful, his breath unsteady. Spy scissored the fingers he had inside, impatient to experience the heat of him and catching the other man's lips in a kiss. Only after he had the man in his lap panting did he pull back, drawing his fingers free and nudging the Engineer up onto his knees.

His heart was hammering in his chest, eager and full of nerves and adoration. With one hand on his throbbing member and the other on the Texan's hip, he guided himself to the other man's hole and pushed up into him with careful but persistent pressure. His cock sank into the heat of the Engineer with an aching slowness that left him biting his lip. The Engineer groaned low down in his throat, but took over from there, using the arms of the chair to take him to the hilt.

Spy felt his head thump against the back of the chair, his tongue cemented to the roof of his mouth. His fingers kneaded mindlessly at the thick muscles of the Engineer's thighs until his throat unlocked and he could breathe again.

The Texan chuckled and Spy reluctantly lifted his head to see what was so amusing.

"Seems to me, maybe I needed to handle you with the kid gloves, Spook."

Spy laughed, and leaned in for a quick kiss, "hush."

The Engineer caught his lower lip between his teeth, and Spy rolled his hips forward.

"Hell!" Engineer grabbed Spy's shoulders as if afraid of falling from on top of him, his body clenching.

"Are you alright? Did I move too fast? Shall I wait?"

"N… no. It uh," The Cowboy blushed, unable to meet his gaze, "Actually, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to do that again."

Spy, grinning like a fool, made an effort to duplicate what he'd done just before, focusing on the Engineer's face, on the micro shifts in his expression to tell him what the man did or didn't like. He began with slow, shallow thrusts, which were about all he could manage as he shifted himself underneath the heavier man until he'd got his feet planted right and at last had the leverage he needed to thrust up into the Engineer in a way that made the other man suck in a breath.

After that, Spy settled into a rhythm.

It was agonizing, the middle ground between slow and slower, but any faster and he risked ending it all too soon or not at all. As it was, the Engineer kept a death grip on Spy's shoulders. Though he bit his lips shut, the other man huffed strained breaths out through his nose in a way that Spy could only take as encouragement.

Spy closed his eyes, breathing out slowly, forcing himself to keep up the pace. Licking his lips, Spy focused on the pain of the other man's nails digging into his skin, of his breath on his face, of his pulse in his neck.

He breathed in and rolled his hips.

The sound the Engineer made...

Spy's eyes snapped open just in time to catch the look on the Texan's face, his own eyes wide, teeth bared tight against a shout, caging the sound deep in his throat. It tore through him like a bullet.

Spy huffed softly, adjusting himself, using his hands to manipulate the other man's hips so that he thrust himself in at the same angle, challenging himself to bring the Engineer to completion first.

The Texan shuddered, shutting his eyes as they rolled back. Spy watched the man's spine snap to attention, back arching, shoulders hunch towards his neck. His jaw unclenched and opened, wide, but still no sound escaped his lips. It was as if all his little cowboy was made up of in that moment were strings, bunched and tied up in a trick knot, being pulled taut all at the same time.

He was closer than he should be. Every nerve fired off and told him to go harder, go faster. Instead, Spy took measured breaths, licking his lips. "Look at me." His voice was hoarse and ragged on the edges. He wasn't sure if the Engineer could even hear him until the man's head bowed and he made a sound like a soft question.

"Look at me," he said again, too desperate not to plead.

Spy watched as the man swallowed, gasping for air as he slowly opened his eyes, breathing hard through his teeth.

"I'm coming back," he whispered, "I will be back before you've even stopped feeling sore."

His cowboy gave a soft chuckle, then moaned as Spy pushed in with a long, slow thrust. Spy swallowed and allowed himself to up the pace by just a fraction as he rambled on, "I have been told I give miraculous massages. If I leave you sore, then you must allow me to thoroughly make amends for it."

"Say it again" The other man growled, nudging his head under Spy's chin, his breath going ragged.

"Oh, ouais?" His fingers wandered, gripped the other man's ass and feeling the muscles flex as the Texan rocked his body up and down his shaft. Spy pressed a trail of little kisses along the Engineer's jawline, and up and down the sturdy column of his neck. "What would you like to hear? Tell me and I will say it, mon chout en sucre. If you like, I could tell you that I will knead your delightful buns so thoroughly that you will think I am preparing them for the oven."

"Shut up." The other man, red faced, barked a laugh and again bumped his head into Spy's chin, just hard enough to hurt a little.

"Ouch, mon raleur!" Spy protested, feigning hurt.

"Wasn't… wasn't what I was talking about."

"What did you-?"

"Tell me yer coming home again, idiot!" The stockier man interrupted, impatient, even urgent but without any bite.

Spy's heart gave a hard thump in his chest. He felt himself swallow again, the joviality setting down deeper inside him, more than tenderness, adoration, or affection. And though he wasn't ready to give it the name that it had, he allowed himself to feel it, and to root himself deeply in this moment, with this man. "I'm coming back. I promise. Je vous promets que je reviendrai."

Strong, calloused fingers curled around the back of his head and the Engineer brought their mouths together in a kiss. Spy felt the other man's body tense up and as the Texan drove his tongue into Spy's mouth, his thrusts faltered and then he was unable to do anything more but clutch at the other man as he rode out wave after wave after wave of pleasure he couldn't fathom coming down from.

Both of them had broken apart from the kiss, their foreheads bent together and for several seconds their breaths were in perfect sync with one another's.

Engineer groaned, turning his face just enough to catch Spy's lips. As they broke apart, he gave a wheezing laugh, "Well...ho damn."

Spy gave a low laugh, "How do you feel?"

"Thoroughly fucked," Engie said, then sniggered, "which ain't the sort of thing I thought I'd ever say."

"Very good to hear."

"That vanity I'm hearin'?"

"That is entirely possible." the Frenchman replied, failing to suppress a smirk.

Engineer, eyes still closed, shook his head and smiled, "Guess you've got a right to that, this time."

Spy hummed in smug acknowledgement, both here with the other man and not as he dragged his fingertips up and down the man's back. He breathed in the smell of sweat and skin,wanting desperately to stay in the moment with the Texan, but his mind was already moving to the business that loomed ahead.

Get to the station, change alias at the first stop. Find the dead drop, that should have instructions to make contact with the agents in the area. If there are any left. His mental itinerary was interrupted by the cowboy's voice, "Spook?" the man's drawl brought him back to the moment.

Warm skin and sweat. Safety and sweet promises. Ridiculous cowboys. He kissed the man's bare shoulder in reply. "Désolé, I was...elsewhere"

"Haven' left yet and yer already gone" Engineer laughed. A quiet fragile sound.

"I will make it up to you" he promised, reluctantly disentangling himself. Picking his clothes up off the floor he tried not to look at the cowboy. He was out of practice at good-byes and knew he was doing poorly at this one.

"You owe me dinner next time." the Texan murmured. The moment he'd tried to preserve was fading and Spy had a suitcase to pack and jobs to do.

"But of course." he answered as he buttoned his shirt.

"How early ya' leavin'?" Engineer drawled in his ear before he wrapped his arms around the Frenchman.

"First train out," no mention of where the train was going or how many transfers to get to the end. His cowboy was smart enough not to ask, and he was cautious enough not to tell.

"I should probably let you get some shut-eye." the Texan sighed releasing Spy from his embrace.

Straightening his collar and tie he watched the Engineer walk to the sink to splash water on his face and wring out a rag to wipe himself down. Cleaning up. Erase the traces. Leave no sign of his presence or their liaison.

He'd shower at the base himself, it was late enough no one would see him come in. He could afford to leave the cowboy's smell on him just a little longer. Getting sentimental in his old age, he mused. The desert had made him soft.

He swallowed his doubt and began picking their clothes off the floor. No amount of misgiving or self pity would make the job any easier.

Done with his quick sponge off the Texas had slipped back into his briefs and undershirt. With a faint smile he accepted his shirt and coveralls from Spy's grasp. "Thanks." he murmured, slipping into the uniform shirt. Wordlessly, Spy reached out and straightened the crooked shirt collar. "I can get dressed by myself, ya' know."

"Never said you couldn't, Monsieur." he replied leaning in and kissing the man's forehead.

"Ya' need to go if yer gonna get any rest 'fore ya' leave."

"I can always sleep on the train." he smiled leaning in for a deeper kiss.

"But I'll feel right guilty about it." his cowboy said answering his kiss with a laugh, his hands reaching to hold Spy's face. His nimble fingers tracing the lines of his face, as if trying to memorize it. Spy was pulled into another kiss before he found himself shoved towards the door.

"Go on, git outta here" Engineer said, shaking his head. "We can continue this when you get back."

"As you say, mon cher." Spy sighed theatrically. "When I get back." Walking to the door he afforded himself one more glance before he slipped out the door into the dark.