A/N: Sorry the update took so long. I'm juggling a lot of fics around work right now, so I put 'em out as I can! I give you a lil bit of fluff and a lil bit of fun as the undercover op begins!

Brandt wrapped the towel around his waist while he gripped one of the support bars in the shower tightly. Very slowly, and even more carefully, he leaned out until he could shift his weight onto his other hand that groped at the walker, and he sighed as he awkwardly maneuvered his way out of the shower. It felt immeasurably good to be clean, but the effort to do so put a bit too much strain on his healing body, especially without the aide of any sort of remotely functional painkillers. With a cut-off groan, he eased himself down onto the toilet seat and gingerly began the process of slipping on his boxers. He wouldn't tell the others how much it actually killed him every morning to accomplish that simple feat, but asking for help with that was the biggest no on his "things not to ask help with" list. His pride could only handle so many punches, after all.

It took longer than normal to get himself decent, and by the time he was done he was winded and sweating a tiny bit. The rest of his pride be damned. If he pushed himself anymore he wasn't going to get through that meeting.

"Ethan? You close by?" he asked tentatively, not raising his voice enough that it carried throughout the whole hotel room, but just enough to be heard if anyone was hovering outside the door. As expected, somebody was. Somebody pretty much always was, in case he should take a dive while stubbornly tending to his more personal needs.

The door cracked open just a tiny bit, bringing a smile to Brandt's face. Even through their worry they respected his desire for privacy.

"Should I come in?" Benji asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, Benji, can you-" he winced as he shifted on the seat to pull the fabric of his boxers up above the point where the plastic was still protecting his stitches on his thigh. "I need help getting this stuff off."

As the tech entered the room, Will made sure to readjust the towel so that everything else stayed decently covered. Benji smirked at that just a tiny bit, looked like he wanted to make some sort of unwise, smartass comment, then seemed to think better of it. Ducking his head to clear his throat for a second, he looked back up and managed to keep a straight face as he kneeled down in front of his friend, pushing the walker out of the way so he could reach the required areas better. Brandt clutched onto the side of the sink and tried to lift his leg up to make unwinding the plastic easier, but exhaled with a sharp cry, dropping the leg back down.

Benji's hands froze a few inches away from the plastic. "Are you sure you don't want your meds?"

Coming from anyone else, Brandt would've thought the question was a snide way of rubbing in the fact that it was his own fault he was hurting, but there was nothing but genuine concern in the tech's voice. Forcing his eyes to open, he let out a slower breath and shook his head. "No. I can't risk it. You said it yourself – I don't have any filters when I'm on that stuff."

With a worried nod, Benji reached for the bindings again. "Don't try to help, alright? I'll pick up your leg when I need to."

In the end, it took calling Ethan in for an extra set of hands before they could get Brandt completely dressed in a semi-casual suit – nice enough for the meeting, but not too restricting on his injuries – and they still had a little time to spare before they needed to head out. The original plan was to get something to eat, but one look at the two shades whiter the analyst had become during the process of getting dressed told them it would be better to stay in and let him regain some of his strength. He didn't fight them on that, which was a testament to how tired he was feeling in and of itself. Instead, they settled him on the couch for a short nap, all of them mindless of the fact that it would rumple up the suit a little bit, and simply bided their time quietly until it was time to go.

~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~

"Brandt?"

He stirred at the sound of Jane's voice and groggily rubbed at his eyes. "Hmm?"

"We're almost at the gate."

"Right, sorry."

He cleared his throat and sat up straight, checking his reflection in his sun visor's mirror so he could run his hands through his sleep-mussed hair a bit. As they pulled up to the security check-in, anyone looking in would never have known by the bright smile on his face that he had barely been coherent as Ethan and Benji practically lifted him up into the van's passenger seat, or that he had slept like the dead with his face against the cool glass the entire ride over, or that the simple act of leaning over to hand the guard his ID labeling him as Trent Rizner, founder and CEO of Chairman Sports, lit his healing injuries on fire.

"Thank you, Mr. Rizner, you're clear to head in," the guard said, handing the ID back through the window. Jane intercepted it so Brandt wouldn't have to lean over her again, having seen the slight tremble in his hand as he had pulled back the first time. He thanked her with a silent look as they pulled through into the front lot, finding a handicapped spot right near the front entrance.

Ethan shifted forward and reached a hand through the small window, placing it on Brandt's shoulder. "You sure you're up to this?"

"I got it under control," Will said with an assuring smile. "Now help me outta here and get back out of sight. Can't risk Styles seeing his new favorite-"

"Scout's honor?" Benji reminded him.

"Fine. Sorry. Okay, come on. You guys are going to make me late for my meeting."

Brandt held his breath as Benji and Ethan lifted him out of the van as gently as they could, and laughed once they deposited him into his chair.

"Something funny?" Ethan asked.

"I'm not going to shatter, you know," Will informed them. "You guys are treating me like some kind of porcelain doll. I'm fine."

Jane smiled from behind him, offering Ethan and Benji a knowing shrug. There was no way he could just make that quick of a turn around from pained exhaustion to perky agent in the short span of time he'd been asleep. He was simply gearing himself up, slipping into a character in preparation for what needed to be done. They'd be ready for the crash once he was through.

"Nina," he said, addressing Jane. "If you'd be so kind…"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Rizner," she responded, gripping the handles of his chair.

Benji sniffed and placed his hands on his hips. "You're going to get caught with names like that, you know," he warned.

"Get in the van, Benji," Brandt replied, shooting his friend a little wave as Jane pushed him towards the door.

"This is never going to work," the tech sighed as he followed Ethan back into the rig and sat at his computer.

"Have a little faith, Benji. He knows what he's doing," Hunt said with a grin. "I hope…" he added under his breath.

~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~

Brandt leaned forward and hit the handicap button that would open the doors, smiling as Jane pushed him through to the lobby. The moment they were inside and his eyes landed on the front desk, however, his lips turned down into a frown.

"Unbelievable," he said loudly. "Nina, are you seeing this?"

He gestured towards the desk and the poor receptionist who watched them, her welcoming grin faltering a bit as she obviously tried to figure out what the issue was. Jane just followed Brandt's lead and shook her head at the girl, waiting for him to clue her in on the game.

"Is there a problem, sir?" the receptionist asked.

"Yes." He folded his hands in his lap and regarded her with an air of annoyance. "See, the problem is…Nina, push me forward slowly, please."

Jane did as asked until he they had gotten close enough to the desk where the girl had to sit on the edge of her seat and peer down in order to keep eye contact with Brandt.

"There. Stop right here, Nina." He glared up at the receptionist. "You see the problem now? I'm not even all the way across the room and you already have to practically stand to address me. If I come all the way to you – Nina?" He snapped his fingers, and she maneuvered the chair right up to the edge of the desk. "You can't see me at all now, can you?"

He could actually hear the girl swallow, and he forced himself to hide his smirk. "No, sir," she admitted.

"That's what I thought. Can you please come around and address me properly?" He waited until she quickly stepped around to the front of the check-in counter. "Thank you. I'm here for a meeting with a Mr. Phelps and some of his associates…though honestly I don't know why I should even bother. If Carmichael can't even supply a desk suitable to the needs of people like myself, I'm not sure what he can do for my company's demands. If this all winds up being a big waste of my time, I'm not going to be happy. I'm a very busy man."

"Right, sir, I'm sure you are. I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I'd be happy to file an official complaint for you if you'd-"

He waved a hand at her. "No, I'm pretty sure I can handle complaining all by myself, but thanks." He cocked his head and flashed her a bit of a condescending smile. "What you can do for me is check me in, and direct me to my meeting room. The name will be under Rizner, Trent."

The girl plastered on a fake grin in return, and nodded her head as she moved back around to the safe side of the desk. "I'll need the name of your assistant, as well," she informed him, "for the guest log."

Jane glared at the girl. "The 'assistant' is allowed to speak for herself," she said a little bitterly. "Pinion, Nina."

The girl visibly flushed. "I-I'm sorry, Ms. Pinion. Of course, I didn't mean-"

"The room?" Brandt interrupted impatiently from his hidden spot below the edge of the counter.

"Right, um, just take…sorry." She walked back around so she could speak directly to Will again. "Take that elevator up to the 67th floor. Martin can guide you from there."

Will looked at his fingernails disinterestedly as he spoke. "Will Martin also have to stand to look at me?"

She flushed again. "Er, no, his station is set lower than mine."

Brandt beamed up at Jane. "Hey! Progress!" he said both excitedly and sarcastically at the same time. "Let's go, Nina."

"Yes, sir," she responded with her own little smirk, then shot the receptionist a glare on the way past.

Once in the elevator, Will had to stifle his laughter so he wouldn't aggravate his side. "Wow. Trent's a dick."

"So I noticed," Jane snorted. "I think we traumatized that poor girl."

Brandt shrugged. "She was young."

"And that means…?"

He grinned. "I needed to keep her a little scrambled. She might've caught onto the names."

"Ha!" Benji nearly shouted. "I told you those names were too obvious! You really should've thought that out more."

Will just shrugged again. "I like a challenge."

"And this is why we never let you pick the codenames," the Brit grumbled.

"Psh, this mission is so low key we haven't even been using codenames," Will pointed out.

Benji's voice rose an octave. "That's because with Styles you wanted to call me 'Deuce' and Ethan 'Pimp Daddy!'"

"What?" Will asked innocently. "It fit the situation."

"I'm going to be nice and blame your thought process on the fact that you were on your medication at the time."

Ethan chimed in, putting an end to the argument. "Game's changed now, guys. We're not on recon anymore, we're on real mission. Everyone's on codenames from here on out. No arguments over what they are."

Benji was quiet for a second. "Can I at least have a different name than 'Piggy?'"

"It's a great song," Brandt said. "One of the most popular. You should be honored."

"Then you be Piggy."

"I can't. I'm Trent."

Jane cut in. "We're almost to our floor, guys." She leaned over Brandt, resting a hand on his shoulder and forcing him to really look at her. "You okay?"

"Fine," he answered with absolute, positive conviction. She didn't miss the unconscious movement of his thumb brushing lightly across his wounded thigh as his hands rested in his lap.

"Okay," she blew out, offering him a slight nod. "Spiral, we're going in."

"Affirmative," Ethan answered, and listened intently as the elevator doors slid open and Martin chipperly greeted his agents. He couldn't help but feel the need to hold his breath as Brandt was led into the meeting room. If Will could pull this off, they would be in the perfect position to complete the mission with absolute success. If he failed, then the real reason behind the mission would be tattered, and they'd have to start with square one – Brandt sulking on the couch, slipping into his sea of self-doubt, pretending like he's happy as a clam.

"You can do this, Trent," Benji barely whispered, clearly thinking the same thing.

"Hi, Mr. Phelps? Trent Rizner. Pleasure to meet you. Now, before we get into any possible business arrangements, we really need to discuss a little issue with your front lobby…"

Ethan felt one side of his mouth pulling up into a smirk. Brandt was in his element. He was going to be fine.