Anonymous on Tumblr asked: Agent Grantham vs the Fake Boyfriend - why are they undercover as lovers. Who are the men outside their window. Do they address what happened between them or chalk it to their cover.

Pretty brief, but enjoy!

Agent Grantham vs. the Fake Boyfriend, part 3

Matthew hovered over her, his lips gently trailing down her neck as Mary checked her peripherals, the two men in question slipping out of sight just as she looked.

"Oh, crap," she breathed, half-angered that Matthew had noticed them at all. Kissing him for real had been much too nice.

"We've got to get dressed," Matthew said, shifting off her finally. Mary sat up, but paused, her eyes trained on him as he rifled through his suitcase after shutting the curtains.

Had Matthew known the two men were there as soon as he woke up? After all, he had been facing the window and she could hardly remember if he'd looked away from her before they kissed, even for a millisecond, she wouldn't have noticed, for she was too distracted by his closeness.

"Mary," Matthew interrupted her thoughts, prompting her to stand and walk mechanically to her own suitcase.

She dressed, unable to stop herself from gazing at Matthew.

Had the kiss been real?

"Matthew, did you…know those men were there the whole time?" she asked carefully, buttoning her shirt. She thought his eyes widened briefly, as though contemplating what to tell her, but his response was almost immediate.

"Yeah," he said, but his voice cracked on the word. "Yeah, right when I opened my eyes I saw them behind you."

She nodded, tugging on her shoes. "So that kiss was-?"

"For cover, of course."

Mary's heart fell, but she tried not to show it, flicking hair over her shoulder.

"Of course," she agreed, unable to stop disappointment from creeping into her voice. She turned away, unaware that Matthew watched her, an expression of regret on his face.

"We need to go," he said, his voice softer than before. "We might run into some trouble if they know what we're up to here."

"Well, let's get moving," Mary said, tone harsh as she grabbed her bag and flung it over her shoulder. She slipped her gun into the waistband of her jeans before moving toward the door, but Matthew took her arm.

"Mary—" he began, an inexplicable look of apology on his face.

But a knock on the door interrupted him.