Title: The Salty Taste of Brine
Disclaimer: Not mine, Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver owns it
Summary He wasn't even supposed to be there so how could he have found this much trouble?
Notes: written for cozy_coffee in comment_fic for the prompt Any, any/any, Kiss on my lips (by evil_little_dog). Also written for sour at get your words out's Yahtzee challenge and for the allbingo prompt of pickles.
XXX
Malcolm threaded through the crowd in the club, thinking he was now officially too old for the club scene. Most of the pressing mass of bodies were barely twenty-one. As a psychologist, he understood the gulf in maturity and brain function even between a twenty-one and a twenty-five-year-old. At thirty, he might as well be forty to the patrons thronging around him. He wondered if Dani felt the same. He'd insisted he could come here and be fine even though Gil had his doubts. He spotted Dani sitting at the bar, taking up some prime real estate as she sipped at something a brilliant blue. She tried to look nonchalant but he could see her eyes darting, hyperalert.
As he sidled up to her, he pressed into the tiny space between her barstool and the one next to her where another young woman sat deeply engrossed with the man next to her. She wasn't their mark. Dani's eyes widened seeing him, and then narrowed. He knew that look. She was annoyed. "Bright," she hissed. "You're not supposed to be here."
"Paulding was in a car accident," he said. "She's not coming."
"I know." She tapped her phone, resting on the bar. "They did not to send you as backup."
"JT was off and I insisted that I could help. Everyone forgets I'm not just a psychologist, I'm Quantico-trained." he wrinkled his nose. Gil's overprotective streak had them thinking he was made of glass.
"You're not wearing a suit." Dani said that as if it were the most impossible thing in the world. "You always wear a suit even when you shouldn't."
"I do have other clothes," he huffed, knowing he probably would have worn a suit if Gil hadn't pointed out it was ridiculous to wear one in a club.
She wagged a finger up and down in front of his chest. "Paisley? You look like you robbed an old woman." Dani giggled, and then clamped a palm over her mouth. "Sorry, that was so rude."
He ran a hand over the deep blue and white paisley with its red highlights. "I like this shirt."
"It just seems so…not you." Dani glanced up and Malcolm followed her gaze to see a tired looking young woman tending bar and trying to force a smile.
"I have varied tastes. This isn't work appropriate," he replied, and swore she mumbled 'just granny-appropriate.' He smiled up at the bartender.
"Can I get you something?" she asked, and he panicked. He hadn't done this in years in spite of being very well schooled in cocktail culture thanks to his mother.
He spotted two shots on the table in front of the girl next to Dani. "That looks interesting."
"Picklebacks, a shot of brine and you can pair it with either tequila or whiskey."
Malcolm perked up. "Oh, whiskey please."
"Coming right up."
Dani leaned close. "Are you kidding me, Mr. Sensitive Stomach? You're going to shoot pickle brine?"
"Love it." Malcolm grinned, already tasting the salt of it, in anticipation. "My mother is appalled, mind you."
Dani wagged her head. "I might be too. You know why I'm here."
He nodded. They were tracking a human trafficker grabbing what they considered 'prime' women from clubs like this. He hadn't liked Dani coming here, which took him by surprise. She was beyond capable and it had taken him a second to realize he hated thinking about his friend at risk. He was so out of practice with caring about anyone he hadn't immediately recognized the emotion. "I'll get my drink and move off. No one is likely to approach you with me hanging around. Suggestions as to the best place for me to lurk?"
Dani pointed to a spot that was relatively free of bodies, near a pylon. No one who wanted to be seen could be spotted from there and since clubbing was about being seen so it was deserted; it would be the perfect place for him to watch the bar. The bartender placed two shooters in front of him and he handed over money. Dani eyed him and he raised his eyebrows.
"What?"
"I want to see you do those shooters," she replied.
He shrugged before slugging back first the brine and then the whiskey. Malcolm blinked as Dani's phone's flash blinded him. He scowled at her even as he savored the salty, sour brine as it mixed with the smoky whiskey on his tongue. He beckoned to the bartender for another pickleback.
"You know how to shoot whiskey."
Malcolm snorted. "You've met my mother and you know Gil. Between them do you think I wouldn't know my way around whiskey, bourbon, beer and well just about any alcohol, really."
"I assumed you were a little too…controlled for it," she replied diplomatically.
"I have to be." He handed over more money for the second round. "This will be the end for me tonight but this is really good."
"You're weird." Dani grinned, nudging his leg with her toes.
He ignored that. "Any potentials?"
As he shot back the pickleback, Dani shook her head. He hated hearing that because human traffickers were the worst. Thoughts of them made him think of Eve. He forced her from his mind. She wouldn't serve him here other than to heighten his growing paranoia about her.
"Damn," Dani hissed.
"What?"
"Gregg, he's from vice. He knows me and I don't want him outing me by accident," Dani said lowly, slipping off the stool as a tall man pushed his way through the crowd toward the bar. "If he's not on the job himself at the moment."
She grabbed Malcolm, hauling him close, positioning him between her and Gregg's line of sight. Wrapping her hand around the back of his head, Dani pulled him into a face-obscuring kiss. Even knowing what she was doing and why, the kiss took him by surprise. The surge of heat racing through him melted him into her touch. At the press of her tongue, he opened to her, wishing this were real. That thought took him by surprise but he meant it to his bones. He wasn't even aware if he were still breathing by the time she pushed him away gently peeking over his shoulder.
"He's gone. Sorry about that," she said but the look in her eyes said she wasn't sorry and maybe, just maybe, she was as taken by surprise by the feelings the not-meant-to-be-romantic kiss stirred up.
"It's fine." More than fine, he wanted to say but it would only make things more awkward.
She gave him a light push, nodding to the spot she had suggested for him. "You'd better get in position. Hopefully that didn't make anyone think I'm here with you."
"Hope not," he replied.
Malcolm went and took up lonely residence in the spot half hidden by the pylon. He had been reminded by Gil that he was ill-suited for certain kinds of undercover work, and in spite of all Gil's training in 'patience,' he wasn't good at the stake out because he was always in motion. It didn't take long before he was leaning on the pylon, watching the bar and wishing for death, or at least for something exciting to happen. He had to fight to keep his mind off the kiss which might be the only reason his permanently exhausted body didn't just slip him off to sleep standing up.
After more than an hour of watching Dani sip the same drink and fend off would-be Don Juan's, the most exciting thing that happened was him thinking of a few passages to write on the paper he was working on, a case study of how Watkins had evolved in his kills right in front of his eyes as he tormented him. Eventually he had to pee. He shouldn't have had a couple coffees on the way to the bar and alcohol did inhibit the hormones controlling water balance. Malcolm remembered his father telling him that in his lecture voice. He texted Dani that he needed to use the facilities and she gave him the okay.
As he walked to the bathroom, feeling someone behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw two men behind him but he didn't think much of it. The club was crowded and a lot of people had far too much to drink. He glanced around the restroom, seeing no one at the urinals but a lake of urine was under all of them. People really needed to learn how to aim better. He wondered if the ladies room was half as gross. The two men didn't approach the urinals either and the stalls hung empty.
Before Malcolm could make the choice to see if the stalls were less disgusting, he heard a gun cock. He flicked his gaze up to the mirror and the two men had guns out. Malcolm froze, keeping his eyes on the reflection. "I don't have much money but you're welcome to it," he lied.
"Oh, we don't want your money, Whitly," the blond, burly man said.
Malcolm couldn't help wincing.
"That's right. We recognized you from the footage of the Taylor wedding. You're not our usual harvest," his dark-haired partner said. "But I'm sure Mommy will pay us a lot to get you back."
Well at least he'd found the traffickers. Now he wished he was allowed to carry a weapon not that he'd be able to draw it at this point. He steeled his jaw and turned to face them. "After what we've been through, I think my mother's done with ransoms."
Blond snorted. "To get her only son back, I'm sure she'll pay. If not, don't worry, some of our customers would love your little ass. Either way we earn a nice fee. Are you going to have to come along nicely or does this have to get ugly?"
"From my point of view, it's already ugly," he said, keeping his voice even. He'd talked down scarier men than this at even worse disadvantages. On the other hand, why did this keep happening to him. "It's fascinating though, to someone like me, to see people so disconnected from their humanity to be willing to sell people like they were toys."
"Why are you still talking? Get moving." The dark-haired man waggled his gun toward the door.
"No, I think not. You might be willing to shoot me here but I'm not about to make this easy for you. Of course, you have no idea what hell you're about to unleash. I'm betting you're acting on impulse. You had no idea I'd be here because until just a few hours ago, I had no plans of coming here. I've never heard of this place until I was sent here," Malcolm talked fast, watching their brows furrow in confusion. They weren't likely to let him into their heads. They weren't confused as to why they killed. They didn't need understanding. They were creatures of pure greed and he needed to take a tougher stance. "And my name isn't Whitly, hasn't been in years. I'm Special Agent Bright and my team is out there. In fact, it's you we're looking for."
"What if he's wearing a wire," the dark-haired one said, and Malcolm grinned maniacally.
"Your bigger concern is why they aren't rushing in here. The truth is they know, being The Surgeon's son, I have desires that need fulfilling. They don't like to get between me and my prey." Malcolm took a few steps closer to them, as menacing as he could be. He hated playing off his father, to live down to the worst people thought of him but it was working here. He couldn't disarm both of them but they hadn't noticed the bathroom door open nor had they spotted her in the mirror, as she wasn't at an angle yet to be captured in the glass. They didn't know Dani stood behind them, gun drawn.
"The FBI won't let you just torture people," Blond replied, his gun hand shaking as Dani slid up behind his partner. "You aren't a Fed."
"Two armed men get dead in the process of me apprehending them? Trust me no one cares what I do to bring you down." Malcolm laughed, doing his best to sound unhinged. Not really all that hard. "I could show you my credentials but they're in my wallet so I think I'll just show you what I can do."
Dani jammed her gun against the dark-haired man's head. "Drop it."
He did, distracting his partner. Blond's gun arm dropped. Malcolm did what he often got mad at others for doing once he talked the suspect down. He hit him once and dropped him. Dani stared at him as if she couldn't believe he was capable of it.
"Well at least he didn't fall into Piss Lake." Malcolm shrugged, dropping his knee onto the man's back as Dani cuffed up the other man.
"That is gross. Can't you men aim?"
"Cuffs please," he said, jerking Blond's arm back. "And my aim is fine. If it's any consolation, you're right. I'm not in the FBI, not anymore. I'm with the NYPD. Detective Powell, these are who you're looking for. I don't know if they're alone or not and how did you know to come in here?"
"I decided to take a break when you did and saw them following you in. Something looked off so I dared a peek." She handed him a zip tie.
"Glad you did. I wasn't sure how I was going to take down both of them."
"You were doing pretty good at looking ready to dissect them." She offered him a smile.
He snorted. "Good. I'm just glad this place is gross. I was dallying trying to figure out how not to get my shoes wet otherwise…"
She took a quick took down at his belt line and chuckled, getting the picture. The last thing he wanted to do was have to confront anyone with parts dangling out of his pants. Dani called for uniformed officers to come and help transport them as she secured both their guns. Malcolm checked over his man for any other weapons and she did the same with hers.
Within ten minutes they had the men turned over to the uniformed officers. Malcolm did manage to pee in the stall which was less gross and met back up with Dani next to the bar.
"I have to go into the station and start the paperwork. I'll need your help," she said.
"Of course," he replied, seeing something else on her mind. "What?"
"Just thinking pickles and whiskey didn't taste as bad as I thought it would." Dani smirked.
He snorted. "Told you so. Next time, I'll buy you a round." That sounded safer than 'please kiss me again just to prove that point.'
"I'm not sure I'm ready to go that far." She patted his shoulder.
"Live adventurously," he suggested.
"I see how that works for you." Dani laughed.
"I'm rarely bored."
"Now that I believe. Let's go, Bright."
He followed her out, wishing she'd say something about the kiss. No, it was better that she hadn't. Maybe he'd have something to fuel good dreams for a change.