In Spying, Love, and War: A This Means War Fanfiction Story
Chapter 4:
Forty or so minutes later...
FDR is driving down the street in a silvery dark blue car, looking like a mini-rocket ship with the exhausts back there. He wears a formal gray business suit, all ironed out with a fancy collared purplish pink shirt under it.
And, in the co-pilot seat is Lauren.
She's wearing a sleek gray black jacket and a dark purple sleeveless dress under it. She also has her handbag over her shoulder.
FDR wonders kind of nervously, "what's wrong? You seem restless."
Lauren moderately sighs.
She points out, "I'm getting worried. You have a bruise on your head. So, I get it if you didn't want to show. You sure you're okay?"
Trying to be all casual... FDR insists, "thank you. But, really: It's nothing."
Lauren kind of defeatedly says, "if you think so. But, don't blame me if people come and ask you."
FDR concludes determinedly, "not where we're going. I'm in good with a nightclub. I called in. We can go around the back: No questions asked."
Lauren very faintly chuckles. She comments, "you really have thought of that spot on your head. I'm kind of surprised."
FDR faintly smiles. He adds, "you're welcome. It's the Shakalongo. You're going to love this place, I swear."
Lauren very faintly smiles. She says, "we'll see."
But already, her eyes are nervously drifting elsewhere.
Not long after, at the Shakalongo nightclub...
There's disco tinfoil like walls with little glare. The seats and booths have pale yellow cushioning with light green lines down them.
The staff is wearing sleek very dark green suits and pants. Lots of young people are dancing and swaying their asses to the song Look Sharp by Joe Jackson.
There's a dark green wall section with several bronze statues of figures holding up globes behind the bar. A backdoor is right by the bar.
FDR and Lauren have a private table in front of the bar. Some empty wine glasses are there.
After talking some to the bar attendant and the DJ... FDR has brought over a then opened glass bottle of wine.
He politely says, "would you like some, my lady?"
Lauren very faintly smiles. She politely says, "sorry FDR. I'm not thirsty now. Maybe a little later."
FDR adds, "sure. Sure. I'm going to have some though."
He pours some wine into his glass. He puts down the glass bottle of wine.
FDR wonders, "are you okay? Because you seem more uptight now than I thought you were."
With some mixed feelings, Lauren moderately sighs. She gets teary eyed.
She brings up, "please don't tell me that spot on your head is nothing."
FDR asks nervously, "okay. What do you want me to tell you?"
Lauren starts to say, "FDR..."
She moderately sighs again. She gets teary eyed.
After a bit... Lauren kind of nervously confesses, "I need to be honest. I know you mean well. I know you're probably trying to protect me. But, if Tuck wasn't your best friend, I would just think you have the emotional intelligence of a fifteen year old boy."
Thinking back to recent events... FDR gets teary eyed.
His fists are clenched under the table. But, he thinks twice before raising them.
He murmurs nervously, "and what does that mean you think of me now?"
Lauren figures, "I'm trying to say I know better. But, what I'm also trying to say is..."
Sounding a little better... FDR asks solemnly, "yeah?"
He's unclenched his fists, letting his arms up over the table.
Lauren heavily sighs.
She puts a sympathetic hand on his.
And... She says, "let me make this easy for you to understand FDR: I worry a lot. Faint sniffle. Also for people I care about. If you can't even tell me something about why you got hurt...can you really imagine any chance of going out with me? I can't."
FDR heavily sighs.
He says, "I'm going to get some air."
He gets up, walking out the back door. It slams shut.
Lauren leaves some money on the table.
She opens the door, trying to catch up to FDR.
FDR is already getting into his car. He's fighting the urge to cry.
But, as he starts the engine... Lauren stands in front of the car.
Still teary eyed... Lauren asks in concern, "where are you going?"
After a bit... FDR looks up.
He faintly sniffles.
FDR admits, "there's a lot I want to tell you. But... Faint sniffle. You could get killed if you know. I don't think you can handle it."
Then... Lauren goes wide eyed.
She realizes, "oh my god, I know why now. Faint sniffle! The testing facility, your bruise... You're spies."
There's a nervous silence.
Some tears fall from Lauren's face. She sniffles hard.
Some tears fall from FDR's face. But, he's trying very hard to ignore them.
After a bit... FDR says, "um... Okay. Faint sniffle. I know you have questions. I know I have questions. But, could we call it a night?"
Sounding a little better... Lauren says, "yeah. It's okay."
FDR very faintly smiles. Teariness starts to dry up from his eyes.
As Lauren is turning to get back in FDR's car though... She sees from across the street someone she knows...or at least knew.
It's her ex-boyfriend Steve, walking hand in hand with a woman with long black curly hair. He has medium kind of clean shaven black hair and stubble and a mustache.
A engagement ring is glistening on the woman's finger. And, Lauren knows they're very likely in love.
Lauren gets in the car.
FDR starts to drive away.
But, as he does... He sees from the corner of his eye Lauren is looking down very nervously and shakily.
Lauren is sitting on her hands, struggling to control herself in the seat.
FDR asks in concern, "what's wrong?"
Lauren suddenly whispers, "Steve... I mean... Moderate sigh. Pull over."
Not sure what else to say right now... FDR just says, "okay."
He pulls over by a available spot down a street.
Lauren unbuckles her seatbelt and unbuckles his.
All of a sudden... She's wrapping her arms around him and puckering up her lips.
FDR reactively restrains her arms with his arms around her arms. Her hands are still reaching for him like crazy.
Looking very confused... FDR asks, "why are y... Are you bipolar?"
After a bit... Lauren sighs heavily.
Her hands relax a little.
Lauren starts to say very nervously, "no. I'm sorry. Just..."
She moderately sighs.
After a bit... Lauren admits, "I know this is weird and the last thing you could be thinking of now. But... Hard sniffle! I'll feel better if you just kiss me right now."
FDR lets go of her arms.
FDR very faintly chuckles.
He kind of nervously comments, "yeah. I can see that. But, are you crazy?"
Lauren faintly rolls her eyes kind of annoyedly.
She whispers in his ear, "just kiss me, you sentimental fool."
FDR can't help but faintly chuckle at that.
Soon... They're wrapping their arms around each other.
They pull each other into a kiss.
They're making out quite a bit in the car.
They're about to start taking off their clothes.
Then...they suddenly remember how they got there.
They pull away.
FDR awkwardly clears his throat.
FDR adds, "I think I'm adding to my questions you owe me a explanation for what just happened."
Lauren comments awkwardly, "yeah. I owe you a lot of explanation. But...thank you."
She blushes a little, despite the lingering teariness in her eyes from everything else.
They both straighten up and buckle up.
With some amusement... FDR concludes, "sure. Maybe you're crazy. But...you don't seem too crazy. Coming from me, that's plenty."
Lauren faintly chuckles.
She then kind of repeats herself, "I owe you and Tuck a lot of explanation. But...thank you."
FDR very faintly nods.
FDR drives away with Lauren, heading to her house.
The rest of the way is silent.
But, what they don't see...is a C.I.A. issue white painted drone: High up in the night sky, silently following them.
The next morning, at C.I.A. headquarters...
Looking somewhat better... FDR is wearing a black suit and tie.
He's walking past grids of spy surveillance monitors.
Some private surveillance camera control rooms are off to the sides. Technical guys are closing the doors behind them as they go in.
FDR very faintly smiles, seeing a bald and bulky looking C.I.A. operative in a black cushioned wheeled chair.
He politely says, "good morning."
The operative faintly smiles back.
He says, "good morning sir. You look better than last night when you were going to the nightclub. We're just glad you're okay."
FDR's face suddenly hardens. He gets teary eyed.
The operative asks in concern, "FDR, is something...?"
FDR doesn't answer.
He storms off for the nearest elevator, not looking back.
He mutters back, "shut up, Bothwick."
The operative sighs heavily into his hand. He doesn't know what more he can say.
Shortly after, in FDR's and Tuck's shared room...
FDR slams the door shut on his way in.
He glares in TBN's direction. He's still teary eyed.
TBN gets up from his desk. He's wearing a kind of open dark blue collared shirt.
Concerned... He starts to ask, "FDR? What...?"
Before he can react... FDR slams him against the wall.
One of the paintings falls down.
TBN doubles over, coughing a little.
FDR pinpoints, "you reconned my date!"
TBN gets back up, facing him.
He sighs heavily.
He tries to explain, "I...I'm sorry. But FDR, I was worried about you. If she took you out as a spy, wouldn't that be worse for the C.I.A?"
FDR heavily sighs.
He begrudgingly thinks out loud, "damn. I think you're right."
TBN very faintly smiles. He adds, "thank you."
Sounding a little better... FDR kind of nervously says, "thank you for being ready to go into action to save my ass."
TBN faintly chuckles.
He adds, "you're welcome."
FDR and TBN hug each other.
When they pull away, they both faintly smile.
TBN kind of nervously questions, "so...are we going to be okay?"
FDR concludes, "yeah. We're best friends. Just be sure to leave your phone on ringtone from now on, and you can both be annoyed for me calling you 24/7. Deal?"
TBN faintly nods. He faintly chuckles.
He adds, "deal."
They shake on it.
FDR sits back down at his desk, ready to get back to work.
FDR is walking out the door.
Just before he does though... He turns back to face TBN.
TBN questions casually, "was there something else you wanted to tell me?"
Sounding suspicious... FDR is quick to ask, "um, yeah. Who else knows about our...?"
TBN mostly assures, "just me, man. I only told the guys about the nightclub: Not Lauren."
FDR adds kind of nervously, "good. That's good. But..."
TBN asks, "what?"
FDR brings up, "were you really not spying the whole time we were kissing?"
Kind of nervously... TBN is quick to say, "what? No, no..."
Somewhat coldly... FDR concludes, "you did."
FDR starts to glare.
TBN very faintly chuckles.
FDR asks lowly, "what's funny about this? This is serious!"
Casually all of a sudden... TBN brings up, "hey man. She said she doesn't always mind being watched. Her words."
He taps down by the open laptop's keyboard several times for some reason.
FDR sighs heavily.
He clenches his fists by his side.
FDR exclaims lowly, "Jesus!"
He mutters, "I don't believe this. What else are you not telling me, TBN?"
TBN tries to be assuring, "that's the only other thing. I never expected you to get much anywhere that night with all those bruises. So..."
Somewhat coldly... FDR voices, "you know what? Maybe we're still spy partners. But, this means war pal."
He storms out, slamming the door shut behind him.
TBN moderately sighs.
He tries to do some work on the laptop. But, he can't concentrate much.
After a bit... TBN gets out his cell phone.
He leaves a text message on FDR's cell phone.
It says:
I know what we can do to settle this. See me in surveillance control room 3A, 12:30 P.M.
12:30 P.M., in surveillance control room 3A...
FDR concludes, "let me get this straight. You bugged her house and you didn't tell me?"
FDR and TBN are sitting by the main computer in the room, surrounded by monitors. They're both in black cushioned wheeled chairs.
The C.I.A. logo is behind them. Strips of red lights go across the beams between walls. The tiled floor is pale yellow.
TBN explains, "no. The C.I.A. sent a team in to bug the house because we were not sure if she's a spy or not. This was late last night. With several international operations going on outside of Los Angeles, we're kind of short on agents. Collins didn't ask any questions. She just said to sort it out on our own and give her the report."
FDR faintly chuckles. He figures, "great. We even get the whole room for a week."
TBN concludes, "yeah. And, since she won't really mind being watched by us..."
FDR finishes the thought, "...she won't be too upset about this if she ever does finds out."
TBN adds, "yeah."
They both faintly smile.
TBN concludes, "we'll see about her decision soon enough."
FDR confidently figures, "yeah. We'll see."
He lies further back some in his chair.
TBN starts pressing control keys.
Voice print matches in light blue, infrared, satellite map grid feed, implanted mini-camera feed windows in full color... They're all slowly loading: With a mostly dark blue tinted loading bar on the screen at 5 percent so far.
FDR confidently says, "I think Lauren likes me more. Girls like someone who has a sensitive side."
TBN faintly sighs. He turns to him.
He comments kind of cuttingly, "they also don't like it when you worry them sick. Sorry. But, I don't think she does like you that much."
FDR solemnly concludes, "look. She surprised me too. But, she seemed incredibly capable of handling herself. She stood out in front of my car and didn't even hesitate. Faint chuckle. Yeah. I really..."
With his finger over his mouth... TBN suddenly goes, "shh."
FDR asks kind of tensely, "what?"
TBN points out, "the feed. It's up." FDR realizes, "oh. Oh, good."
The loading bar gets to 99 percent. Then... It all comes in: Including the mini-cameras feed.
On the other end of the mini-camera feed... Lauren is standing behind the metallic kitchen counter, drinking some from a glass of wine.
She has her hair straightened. She wears a grayish blue jeans like buttoned shirt, with hints of a white bra peeking out.
The metallic refrigerator is right behind her. A view of the stairs heading up and the dining room is easy to see in front of her. Two different colored bottles of wines are on the kitchen counter: One with yellowish wine and one with greenish wine.
Trish is sitting on the other side of the kitchen counter. She has her shoulder length slightly curly hair down. She's wearing a silvery watch and a mostly browned over honeycomb like sleeveless dress with black straps over her shoulders.
Lauren puts down her wine glass. She moderately sighs.
Lauren nervously says, "this is really serious. I...I can't believe this. Heavy sigh. Last month, I was single and day dreaming I'm still together with Steve a lot. Now I'm dating two gorgeous guys. I'm still trying to get over Steve...and I don't know if I'm going to be stuck single with nine cats, playing Boggle...and knitting out of shit."
Trish faintly chuckles. She comments, "Lauren, you're not going to knit out of shit."
Lauren wonders nervously, "you sure?"
Trish remarks, "I do dirty deeds and shit with many guys on my nights out while you stay and babysit. Even if you grow old here, you're still going to be much cleaner."
Lauren chuckles. Trish faintly laughs.
Lauren adds, "thank you. I needed that."
Trish adds, "you're welcome."
She drinks some of her wine.
Then, she sets it back down.
In the surveillance room... FDR looks fairly stunned. TBN is moderately groaning into his hand over mention of dirty deeds.
In Trish's and Lauren's kitchen... Trish wonders, "I still don't know if you chose one for dirty man stink: You know, the good stuff. Have you?"
Lauren very awkwardly admits, "no. I know it can't be for witness protection or taking down a no good corporate CEO. Or, either of them would have told me. But, I don't even know who they work for. Yeah: I have a good idea of the kind of people they are. But, we haven't even dated a week. How can I really choose?"
Trish moderately sighs.
She solemnly reflects, "oh my god. Maybe I don't think it's a big deal. But...I guess not everyone can be like me and get dirty man stink from a spy after knowing him for just a few days. But, hey: I had good times with my really fat husband Bob...before he died on a undercover job for the FBI."
And, off of the mini-camera feed in the surveillance room... TBN zooms in the screen on a badge on Trish's lap.
It's a F.B.I. badge: With the name Bob in gold.
FDR and TBN look stunned.
TBN murmurs, "oh god."
FDR chuckles in near disbelief.
He thinks out loud, "it was never Lauren, was it? It was her best friend's husband, and he's not even in the C.I.A. database."
Back in the kitchen... Lauren solemnly adds, "oh yeah. Right."
She heavily sighs again.
She then supposes, "okay. You know more about dating spies. What do you think I should do?"
Trish suddenly smirks.
She figures, "well, I have some ideas."
Lauren smiles.
She concludes more cheerfully, "really? Sure. Let's hear them."
Trish concludes, "well, if you want me to get this to be really easy for you... I can get FDR, and you can still go for Tuck. I think he's hot."
Back in the surveillance room... FDR moderately groans into his hands.
FDR murmurs, "no. God no."
TBN is kind of doubled over, laughing.
Back in the kitchen... Lauren shakes her head kind of annoyedly.
She concludes, "sorry. But, I'm not that not sure. I really like them."
Trish moderately sighs. She reluctantly concludes, "fine."
After a bit... Trish offers, "still... I'm available as a friend. If you want me to have sex with both of those guys...just to test out stuff, find out who they work for, and see who comes back a winner and who doesn't... They wouldn't know. I'd get a rubber mask and wig and pretend I was you."
Suddenly... Lauren nervously asks, "umm...Trish?"
Back in the surveillance room... FDR and TBN suspiciously glare in the direction of Trish in the mini-camera feeds.
TBN comments, "well, we now know better."
FDR agrees, "yeah man. That's true. Good thing for that."
Back in the kitchen... Trish wonders kind of cluelessly, "what is it?"
Suddenly... Lauren very faintly smiles.
And, she says, "did you just forget we're on their bugs?"
Sounding a little embarrassed... Trish mutters, "well, shit."
Back in the surveillance room... FDR and TBN are speechless, looking back in shock.
Lauren even waves to one of the mini-camera feeds.
After a bit, Lauren puts her hand back down. She turns back to Trish.
Lauren apologizes, "sorry."
Sounding a little better already... Trish insists, "it's okay Lauren. It's just me and my dirty deeds. But...why don't we give them something good to focus on before they might cut the feed all upset?"
Lauren faintly smiles.
She adds, "that's actually a good idea. Thank you."
After a bit... Lauren deduces awkwardly, "oh my god. It's really hard to pick good things about them right now. Could I pick flaws?"
Trish faintly laughs.
She concludes, "okay. One of them probably would think so. Even if that is what's going on with them, that makes it really easy for you."
Lauren figures, "possibly. Okay. Flaws."
In Lauren's and Trish's kitchen and the surveillance room... There's a kind of nervous silence among all of them.
After a minute... Lauren thinks out loud, "FDR... He comes off like he only cares about himself to protect himself and anyone else he cares about. He really means well. But... Heavy sigh. It's like he has this protective ice shield in a flamethrower test."
Looking stunned... Trish murmurs, "shit. So he's close to melting ice."
Lauren gets teary eyed.
Lauren very awkwardly says, "well... Heavy sigh. It's possibly the most incredible protective shield I ever could see in a guy. But...yeah. Faint sniffle! I'm still really worried for him."
In the surveillance room... FDR moderately sighs in his hands.
TBN faintly laughs.
He comments, "hey, I tried to tell you she was going to roast you. You did it to yourself."
After a bit... FDR looks up, somewhat coldly glaring his way.
TBN nervously gulps.
Back in the kitchen... Lauren figures more casually, "and Tuck? Yeah. He's fun. But...he also seems stuffy. Like maybe kind of too much British stuffy."
Trish makes a face.
She goes, "ohh. Yeah. That's not so good after a while."
In the surveillance room... FDR doubles over, laughing hard.
TBN sharply glares at him.
TBN comments annoyedly, "I'm not British!"
FDR slightly sighs, catching his breath.
Pointing off to the mini-camera feed... FDR cuttingly remarks, "well, they sure think so. And, Lauren always gives you "good grilling" to work with. Right?"
TBN gets up, shaking his head.
He then storms off, slamming the door shut behind him.
But, caught up in the moment... FDR keeps laughing to himself: Not even hearing the door slam.