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They're all quite exhausted after getting back to the safehouse that night, after a long day of mission. Bourbon is the quickest to occupy the most comfortable sofa in the living room, which he does in one fluid motion of throwing himself down on it, and continues to argue with Rye over how a certain detail of mission was handled. In Bourbon's opinion, Rye's timing was too early when he fired, which killed off the chance for Bourbon to information regarding a certain name list that would have been very useful to acquire. Rye rolled his eyes and said that the target was never going to give that information up in the little time they had anyway, and he had timed things perfectly or else Bourbon would not even have been able to leave the premise just in time. Bourbon scoffed at that.
"Plus, the main goal is done," Rye said. "I don't see what's the big deal about it."
Bourbon then proceeded to argue heatedly of the usefulness of the name list, how that would provide them context on other related things, and Rye retorted that it was all speculation and there was no guarantee of the actual usefulness and that Bourbon was just blowing things out of proportion since no one could actually verify that. Well, Rye was more succinct than that, as he generally was, but that was the point he got across.
So after resting on the chair for approximately ten seconds, Rye decides to ignore the rest of Bourbon's continuous complaints and stands up, heading towards the door without another word, easily tuning that out as some kind of background music. In general, Bourbon's always found things to criticize about Rye after a mission, and while Rye does not particularly mind useful input, if he evaluated that his own actions were justifiable to himself he does not bother further explaining it to others. It's been a longtime habit of his - explaining things were not his style, justifying his reasoning and actions to others generally feels like unnecessarily wasting his breath, particularly since they usually found it unsatisfying when he actually offered any explanation. (Back in the FBI, Jodie was the one who'd eventually become fluent in what their other colleagues called 'the Shuichi speak', managing to understand him and relay it to the others, explaining to them in what sounded to him an overelaborate way of phrasing his thoughts. Not inaccurate, just ...... elaborate.) (He misses her, sometimes. The ease she understands him without him needing to explain much on his end. He thinks about Akemi, who is very sweet and endearing and who obviously does not quite understand him like Jodie does, but it's not her fault, because in this case he is intentionally keeping things from her. She's been very considerate and never pushing on things even when she probably doesn't fully know what he means. He does not think this way to insult her - it's merely that people, in general, on average, does not get him when he does not offer explanations. He's learned, through the years, that Jodie is an exception.)
(It's fine. If it bothered him he would have made some kind of effort to be more understood. He does not really care, aside from occasionally how that might hinder the job, such as when he wanted to pursue a lead that his boss deemed unnecessary. But James was generally pretty good at this, willing to turn a blind eye on that as long as Akai brought back results, which he usually did. Then James would smooth over whatever paperwork that needed to be smooth over with the upper management.)
In the organization, things are different. Rye most frequently works with Scotch and Bourbon, both highly competent, which means working with them is usually fairly easy, as after some initial familiarizing with each other, they were able to one another's thoughts when on the field. It's the way when in some difficult situation on a mission, his analysis tends to usually run similar to theirs, so even if there are disagreements on the exact details, he found himself less having to explain his thoughts from the beginning. (Not that he ever does that, to be fair. But he soon realized that he did not have to explain from the beginning for them to understand, and that the questions and concerns brought up by them were actually legit generally, and not what he'd consider 'obviously already having been dealt with'. It's nice to work with competent people, it must be said. Easier to work with in the field.)
The ease of communication during a mission does not totally translate to living together in the same safe house. Scotch, calm and mild mannered as always, was incredibly firm and unyielding about not wearing shoes into the safe house. He also has rules about the laundry. Bourbon is incredibly particular about which ingredients go where in the kitchen cabinet and has some very scathing things to say if Rye accidentally moved anything. They have successfully bullied Rye into complying with their rules. (Okay, bullying is a strong word.)
Aside from that though, they are not terrible as colleagues. Better than not terrible, even. Scotch is mild mannered and usually pleasant and polite, and Bourbon with more colorful emotions. Which roughly means that Scotch is easy to work with and they can complete missions smoothly and efficiently without any argument, and while Bourbon is more critical, he does actually usually bring up valid concerns from different angles Rye has admittedly not considered sometimes. A rare challenge, it must be said, which is enjoyable in its own way.
Rye is not very often challenged.
He has a feeling that Bourbon is just trying to be difficult now, for some reason he cannot comprehend. Maybe that name list really is that important to him, as Bourbon prides himself on being an investigator who can collect any information and does not like to lose. In this case, it is really his own problem that he cannot get that in time, as Rye also had a job to do there and Gin needed results. Bourbon, Rye decides, can simply get over it.
Rye is halfway to the door. Both Bourbon's and Scotch's eyes follow him. Usually he does not care to explain himself, but - oh, fuck it - "I'm going to grab some food."
Scotch stands up, one fluid motion. "I'll come with you."
They go to a nearby convenience store, and Scotch gets himself some onigiri, and a pack of frozen ramen for Bourbon, and casts brief glance at Rye's choice of energy bars without saying anything. Something frozen and sealed, convenience store bought, Rye thinks absentmindedly at the choice, probably so that Bourbon can be certain that it's not poisoned. He wonders if it's not like that, would Bourbon suspect that Scotch might team up with Rye to poison him, for being too loud and annoying? It's considerate of Scotch to eliminate that layer of worry, Rye supposes. Professional and considerate and efficient. It's a very Scotch thing to do. Actually, did Scotch decide to come with him to make sure Rye's not going to poison Bourbon?
Rye asks that, out loud.
Scotch glances at him. "Were you?" He asks, mildly.
Rye is somewhat offended by the question. "If I were going to, I certainly wouldn't be so obvious about it." Scotch has worked with him long enough that he should know Rye is a professional.
"I know," Scotch says, still in the very same tone. "Which means your easiest option is to frame me, and that means I have to watch out for myself."
Rye pauses. He wonders if Scotch is joking. He cannot quite tell. Scotch - ever so easy to work with, professional and polite. Occasionally with a funny joke or two. He's the same to just about anyone - even Gin. Almost friendly, from his gestures. So much that there are briefly moments where it can be easy to forget that friendliness does not necessarily mean they are friends. It just means it is something that is not that difficult for him to do.
Rye seems to have some kind of innate talent when it comes to pissing off Bourbon.
Bourbon, with his friendly and cheerful persona on when approaching targets, when fishing for information, adjusting for level of charm and sweetness depending on the surroundings. Bourbon, easily slipping into an elaborate dance of ambiguity and games with Vermouth, which simultaneously dances on Gin's nerves. Bourbon who does not necessarily change between literal masks like Vermouth, disguising himself with different faces like she does, but nevertheless easily switching between metaphorical masks, depending on the role he wants to play.
Bourbon who, when the three of them are having a conversation, Rye and Scotch discussing the best position to station a sniper and Rye using a pencil to circle a spot on the map and scribbling down calculations to show his point, interrupts irritably and says something about how Rye's proposal obviously is a terrible choice.
Scotch frowns almost imperceptibly, which neither of the other two notice. Rye is, unexpectedly even to himself, intrigued and challenged. Having worked with Bourbon and Scotch several times, Rye knows that Bourbon is sharper and less pleasant when it comes to talking to Rye, but it would be a mistake totally ignore his concerns as he's actually quite competent and actually can present a coherent argument, despite his attitude. Secondly, Rye has noticed that Bourbon gets irritated by Rye easily, in a way that he doesn't get with most people. Not even Gin, which is interesting. And while Rye is no stranger to having colleagues irritated by him - there certainly were no shortage of complaints in the FBI, ranging from ones Jodie said had a point and that "Shuu, how else did you expect them to respond when you just dropped the news like that?" to "ignore them, they're just jealous". But those people usually weren't as sharp and competent as Bourbon, or if they were, they weren't specifically irritated by Akai and just more irritated by humans in general.
It is unexpectedly interesting, which translates to challenging, which means he cannot quite resist standing his ground, doubling down on his position, just to see how far he can push him. Jodie, perhaps, will call this childish. But it's essential to find one's own entertainment in such a dark and grim place, the muddy waters of the criminal organization.
So Rye doubles down on his position, which quickly escalates into a heated argument, until Scotch says sharply, "Are you two done?"
"No," Bourbon retorts, automatic.
"Tell him to be reasonable," Rye scoffs.
"Enough, Bourbon," Scotch says, still sharp, and Rye feels - vindicated. Obviously Rye's arguments are sound and his choice ultimately better and Scotch, objective neutral bystander, can see that. "Your feedback is appreciated but the sniper's job is ultimately on Rye and me and we will decide what to do." Wow, Rye thinks, it's Scotch's customer service treatment, firm objection dressed with polite wording. Even Scotch must've been annoyed at Bourbon.
Bourbon's expression darkens rather dangerously, and his mouth tightens. "When this all goes south I will be sure to report that it's because I was overruled by two idiots who failed to consider the bigger picture. Have fun explaining that to Gin." He storms out, the door slamming behind him.
After a few moments of silence, Scotch - back to his mild tone again - says, "He has a point about the Eastern entrance."
That, Rye cannot quite argue. Now that Bourbon is not here, he reflects, he does not need to argue that either. "Perhaps," Rye allows.
Scotch grabs the document that Bourbon has left behind, flipping to the later pages. "I think if he can cut off the surveillance in this area for 10 minutes as he said, then we can send someone else to meet up with the sniper 1 after the first shot, then this gives us a wider opening overall and still stick to simplest route." A compromise solution. Not a bad one, to be fair. Might even be quite workable.
But -
"That's an if, if he pulls this off, if he can hack into the surveillance camera," Rye points out.
Scotch glances at him. "It's Bourbon."
"Let's say he can," Rye permits airily. "He's not going to work with us on this after what just happened."
"If this blows up, this will be on his record too, and he won't want that," Scotch says flatly. "I'll talk to him." He narrows his eyes at Rye. "You - don't do anything."
Rye raises his hands in surrender. "Fine. Fine." He feels a need to defend himself. "He started it."
"I don't actually care," Scotch says, evenly, with a hint of tiredness. "I just need the job done."
"Hi," Scotch says, setting down his bass case after he arrives at Bourbon's apartment.
"Hi? Hi???" Bourbon demands, incredulous and furious. "Don't fucking 'hi' me, Scotch." He strides towards Scotch, walking him backwards then shoving Scotch against the wall, Scotch's shoulders hitting against the wall with a thud. Scotch does not visibly react. "You knew I had a point, and yet -"
"You did," Scotch cuts across him. "Which is why we'll need you do your part and cut the surveillance camera off, and then head towards -"
"Oh, now you agree with me," Bourbon snarls. "Well, too late, you two have fun figuring things out your way -"
"- Zero -" Scotch interrupts.
"Though if you want to beg me, Scotch, I suppose I can reconsider - "
"- Zero - " Scotch tries again.
" - but you'll have to very convincing, after siding with Rye and then having the audacity to -" Bourbon's voice cuts off as Scotch grabs onto his wrist forcefully, and he lets out a sharp hiss. The moment his weight shifts and he's no longer pinning Scotch against the wall with full force, Scotch is fast to push forward, and Bourbon's eyes narrow. He is quick to react, and soon they are locked in some weird position, before moving towards the bedroom in a mutual struggle, and then both falling down on the bed without any grace.
Scotch kisses him, sharp and biting and Bourbon retaliates, wrestling Scotch down onto the bed, sitting onto Scotch's body, thighs pressed against Scotch's thighs.
(He is, unfortunately, hard. They both are, the evidence clear and right in front of them.)
"Zero," Scotch says again, his voice strained. "You're letting your guard slip in front of Rye. That's dangerous. We cannot trust him."
"What?" Bourbon stares, so incredulous for a moment that his anger briefly gives way to that. "Are you for real right now?"
"You are getting annoyed and angered by him easily and showing it when you are normally much more in control of your emotions. You are showing your real emotions in front of a dangerous organization member, you're letting down your guard in front of him, and he is noticing." Scotch says sharply.
"I wasn't - "
"This isn't the academy, this isn't like -" his voice cuts off for a moment here as he mouths, silently, the name 'Matsuda', a habit when they talk about their friends on the force - "and you cannot trust him."
Bourbon scowls. "You're the one more friendly with him, you took his side -"
Scotch snaps, his temper flaring now as well, "I chose the fastest way to get you out of the room because your emotions are showing and we cannot to be real in front of Rye. Rye does not see the real me. Meanwhile you're letting him -"
Bourbon punches him, which Scotch blocks, and then the fight resumes again messily. They both manage to get some shots in. And then Bourbon says, "You think I'm letting down my guard and showing him the real me and yet you're the one he trusts, that little girl on the train platform he fucking left with you, Hiro, so who's slipping up in front of Rye, huh?"
Scotch freezes, his expression looking like he's just been slapped. Bourbon takes the chance to pin him down again, and then proceeds to get both of their pants off. Gripping Scotch's shoulder tight, Bourbon slowly yet resolutely sinks himself down onto Scotch's cock, eyes briefly closing. It's hot and and not quite tight, which makes it slightly uncomfortable for both of them which is nothing for him, so he continues to force himself down, his nails digging into Scotch's shoulder.
And then Scotch moves. Gripping onto Bourbon's waist and then arching himself up despite the tightness, pushing into Bourbon with not exactly ferocity but more like precision, and Bourbon cries out but does not try to escape from it, in fact attempts to go faster. They're wrestling for control and both trying to control the pacing, Scotch's thrusts slow but precise, driving to the point yet taking long enough to do it every time. His grip is now around Bourbon's thighs, probably hard enough to bruise. Bourbon feels frustrated and angry and a bunch of other emotions mixed up with some other things that he suspects are more physical than emotions, and something feels suspiciously like a tear slides down his cheek which only makes him angrier as he taunts, "Is that all you got, Scotch?"
The pacing slows down more but the next thrusts get deeper and Bourbon clenches around Scotch, furious and in tears. Every time Scotch reaches deeper inside him it feels like it's opening up new fronts for him to attack, and Bourbon's body surrenders easily to the enemy. He's a right fucking mess and he cannot quite be sure what the words escaping him are what he really wants to say. At some point Scotch rotates him and Bourbon feels himself doing a 180 while Scotch's still partially inside him, collapsing back onto the bed while Scotch spreads Bourbon's thighs wider apart and pushes in again. Bourbon's right hand reaches out to grab the collar of Scotch's shirt, failing twice and finally getting to it the third time as he pulls Scotch down, their foreheads knocking together.
His eyes are wet and his voice is shaky but he manages to say, with all his fury, "This is the - real me. Right now. Only - only you get to see it. No one else. I only let my guard down with you ..... Only you get to see this." He sobs. "So watch closely, Hiro. Don't fucking blink." Then he bites down onto Scotch's lower lip.
When their faces break apart, Scotch looks absolutely stricken. Bourbon is panting, eyes fixated on Scotch, "Look closely at the real me. Or I will never forgive you." His eyes water, and he shuts them tight. Then he feels the lightest touch on his cheek.
"Zero," Scotch says, voice hoarse. "Zero," he repeats, sounding almost broken.
Bourbon kisses him, hard. "Finish this," he demands.
Their eyes meet, and Bourbon thinks he sees many emotions in Scotch's winged blue eyes. Worry, regret, apology, anger, so much more.
"Yes," Scotch replies, and then does.
With one final speeding up, they climb higher and higher until falling and crashing down, like a wave breaking apart at a rock.
They're in the shower, and Scotch is down on his knees as one of Bourbon's legs crosses over Scotch's shoulder, diligently helping Bourbon clean up, after having blew him once when they first entered the shower. Bourbon looks at him silently, wondering if those are tears on Scotch's face or just water streaking down. Probably the latter, he sighs to himself.
The water is hot and steamy in the shower. Cathartic.
"I'm sorry," Scotch says, sounding pained. "I was - I was just worried. Zero. I just - he's dangerous, and -"
If Bourbon is entirely honest with himself, Scotch does have some kind of point. He is letting himself get ..... ragebaited by Rye, easier than he would allow himself to be with others. Well, it's not his fault that Rye is incredibly annoying. Yes, he should have controlled his emotions better, yes, for moments he was showing his real self, which is potentially dangerous. Still, he thinks he has calculated enough about Bourbon's persona and runs various different scenarios that it's not out of character for Bourbon to be like this when Rye is simply being an asshole. Bourbon has a different persona than Scotch, with more visible edges.
"I know that," Bourbon says, voice rough. "You think I don't know?"
"That's not what I -" Scotch's voice breaks. "I know you do," he says, almost helplessly.
"I had a point, and he was being intentionally difficult," Bourbon snaps. "I wasn't going to take that lying down. Bourbon isn't. Fine, maybe I could have been calmer, could've handled that better, but I don't run the same mask as you, Hiro."
They fall silent, with only the sound of water coming down.
"I got scared," Scotch says quietly, and then Bourbon blinks. "I felt like I was seeing the real you close to slipping out, and Rye was there and I got scared. We cannot trust him. You probably could've handled that but I got scared and acted on instinct."
"I -" Bourbon swallows. "Hiro."
"I'm sorry, Zero," Scotch murmurs. "I'm sorry."
Bourbon feels all the fight goes out in him, and suddenly exhausted by everything that happened tonight. He closes his eyes.
He feels Scotch's cheek pressed against his thigh, tenderly and apologetically. A silent plea. Hiro was scared, he thinks. Something in Bourbon's heart aches, and he says, with a sigh. "I know."
Scotch does not move, face still pressed against Bourbon's thigh. Bourbon does not move either.
The hot water is still coming down.
They sit on the sofa, and Bourbon moves to straddle Scotch, kissing him again. Going in rough and then softening into something slow and tender. Scotch kisses him back, carefully.
"I'll be more careful," Bourbon murmurs.
"Okay," Scotch says quietly. "Thanks, Zero." His fingers curl inwards slightly, lightly playing with Bourbon's hair.
They stay like that for a while, neither particularly feeling the need to move. Then Scotch says, "Does that mean you'll go with the plan?"
Bourbon narrows his eyes, then says, "Yes," he grabs onto Scotch's chin, squeezing on it. "But you'll owe me, Hiro. Big time."
Scotch smiles at him faintly, but there is something very warm about it, so much that Bourbon almost melts. "Well," Scotch says. "That goes without saying."