Birkoff’s hands flew over the keyboard in front of him, his eyes continually assessing and reassessing parameters for the mission that was currently running. Suddenly his concentration was broken by a raucous voice in his ear. "Shit, Sey-mour...you’re doing it all wrong, you know."
Birkoff turned on Hillinger, his dark eyes holding a glare that would have chilled a lesser man. Or a smarter one. "What the hell are you moaning about now, Greggie?" Birkoff drawled sarcastically.
Hillinger drew back, a sardonic twist to his mouth. "Hey, man, don’t call me that."
Birkoff sighed. Castigating Hillinger was one of the few pleasures left him in what passed for their workplace. Section One was not an easy place to work or live, and the fact that Birkoff did both within Section’s confines made it that much more difficult for him.
Ever since Michael and Nikita escaped, a pall had been cast over the place. Operations snapped at everyone, often for no reason. No, wait, that wasn’t exactly a major personality change. Madeline seemed withdrawn and preoccupied, not at all her normal Torture Queen self. Even Walter was morose, given to fits of melancholy whenever the mood struck him.
Birkoff sniffled. He couldn’t afford to lose track of the mission running. People’s lives were at stake. People were...Holy shit! An explosion ripped open the building that still held Section operatives. The team leader was not going to be pleased. In fact, the team leader was probably going to have his ass for breakfast.
The man who replaced Michael was every bit as cold. A tall, lean Irishman with daringly long red hair that curled its way down his back, Declan McLaren was no one to fool around with. His reputation clearly preceded him. Rumor had it that there was something going on between Declan and Madeline. Birkoff wasn’t convinced they were having an affair, but he had to admit, it often looked as though Declan was Madeline’s pet.
Birkoff quickly ran through the scenario he was going to present to Declan when he returned, hoping he didn’t stammer through it like the last time. Truth was, the man made him distinctly nervous. He wasn’t sure why. He was well-used to Michael’s terseness, and Declan shared quite a few attributes with the former Man In Black. Maybe it was the cold storm-grey eyes that sent a shiver down Birkoff’s spine. The man ate, drank and slept Section One. And no one got close to him. No one. Except Madeline.
Declan strode through Van Access in the manner of a young god who commanded his disciples to prostrate themselves at his feet. Operatives, male and female alike, fell all over themselves to get out of his way. No one wanted to claim Declan’s attention. If Declan noticed someone, it was invariably bad.
He didn’t stop once on his way to Comm. The moment he arrived, the buzz of conversation ceased. Everyone who could, found something else to do and somewhere else to be. Except for Hillinger. Hillinger rocked back on his heels, gloating, certain that Birkoff was going to get The Treatment from Declan. That suited him just fine. Never mind that it had been Hillinger’s fault that Birkoff was distracted. Never mind that it would have been impossible to get Section’s operatives out of the building before the charges went off.
Hillinger was grinning gleefully when Declan’s hard gaze fell upon him. All at once, the saliva in Hillinger’s mouth dried up. But not with fear. With desire. The irony was, Hillinger was physically attracted to Declan. But Declan, like Michael before him, gave nothing away.
"Hillinger." Declan spoke softly but with such authority, Hillinger suddenly wished he had left with the others.
"Yes?" he croaked, like the frog he sometimes resembled.
"Disappear." Declan waved his leather gloved hand and Hillinger was gone.
"Wow," Birkoff quipped, "I wish I could do that."
Declan turned his cool grey gaze on Birkoff. "Sit," he said tersely.
"Um, I’d rather stand. If you don’t m--"
"Sit," Declan repeated, this time with thunderous undertones.
Birkoff sat.
Declan stood there, tapping a black leather glove rhythmically against his leather-clad thigh. It was almost hypnotic. That tapping. His thigh looked so taut. So hard. So....
...this was wrong. All wrong. Why was he suddenly fascinated at the sight of Declan’s thigh? Okay, it was very nice leather. And he loved the way it clung to his... Why was he fantasizing about Declan’s thigh? Sheesh. Birkoff abruptly flushed.
Declan’s scrutiny missed nothing. He could see the head Comm Op was perspiring, but he attributed this to nerves. Everyone in his presence showed some sort of discomfort. He was well-used to it by now.
Ah, well, back to the business at hand.... Declan slapped the glove against his thigh one last time. "I lost half my team out there," he said quietly.
Birkoff wanted to hide, but he wasn’t taking the blame for someone else. "It was Hillinger’s job to keep track of the explosive charges. He screwed up."
Declan took a step closer to Birkoff. Birkoff’s dark chocolate eyes were drawn to the fullness of Declan’s mouth. Shit, he thought, I’m having a psychotic break, right here in the middle of Comm.
"You’re in charge, Birkoff. You’re responsible." Declan tapped his glove against Birkoff’s chest, and Birkoff drew a sharp breath.
"But it wasn’t my fault," Birkoff protested.
"No excuses, boyo. The only word I want to hear you say is ‘yes’."
"Yes?" Birkoff muttered.
"Yes," Declan hissed. "As in, did you screw up, Mr. Birkoff? And you say...?"
"Yes?" Birkoff said hesitantly.
"Ah, you’re a quick study. I like that." Declan raked Birkoff’s body from his feet to his head and back again.
"You look rumpled, like an unmade bed, Birkoff."
"Well, I’ve been working on missions for almost 12 hours now, I can’t--"
Declan’s eyes grew smoky, his expression enigmatic. "Now you’re making excuses for your appearance, Birkoff?"
"I--No!"
Declan moved closer, his breath fanning Birkoff’s cheek. The feral smile wasn’t what scared Birkoff, though, it was the tobacco-and-whiskey voice with the Irish inflection... "Maybe you need to go to bed."
Undoubtedly. Birkoff needed to sleep. Desperately. He must be sleep-deprived. Because he thought that Declan McLaren was coming on to him.
And he liked it.
Declan stood over the profiling screen, pushing one key at a time to advance the videotape frame by frame. He hadn’t found the anomaly he was searching for yet, but he was determined he would. He inserted his own panel, keyed in his access code, and jumped back, startled, when the anomaly suddenly filled the screen. "There!" he exclaimed.
Birkoff and Hillinger stood side by side, waiting for Declan’s decision. It was up to the team leader to decide whether or not the problem was with the profile, computer error, operative error, or Comm error. Declan’s expression did not bode well. Hillinger, of course, just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
"Declan! I was thinking--"
"Don’t," Declan said coldly, not inviting further conversation.
Birkoff glared at Hillinger, but Hillinger stuck out his tongue. "You’re such a child, Greggie," Birkoff said in acid tones.
"Me? Look who’s talking!" Hillinger countered.
"Shut up, both of you," said Declan without turning around, and there was utter quiet.
Moments passed in tense silence. Hillinger fidgeted restlessly, while Birkoff took the time to study Declan again. He didn’t understand this sudden attraction Declan held for him. Maybe he needed to start dating again. It had been a long dry spell between girlfriends. Not that any of them had ever treated him with the respect he was due. In fact, he had never had a girlfriend who didn’t take advantage of him in some way. Why was that? And why didn’t he care more about finding someone who valued him as a person?
Declan’s voice interrupted Birkoff’s musing. And it was not a pleasant interruption. Birkoff shuddered. He hated those words. "Birkoff? In my office."
***
Declan virtually kicked the office door shut with his booted foot. Birkoff flinched. This couldn’t be good. He could count on the fingers of one hand how many operatives had successfully evaded Declan’s wrath.
Declan stared blankly at Birkoff, his grey eyes pale, reflecting nothing of Birkoff’s anxiety back at him. "Do you know why I called you in here?"
Birkoff shook his head slowly, his chocolate brown eyes fixed on Declan’s face. So angular, so lean, so...refined. He was really almost beautiful...if you overlooked the fact that he was probably the most overwhelmingly masculine operative of his level within Section One.
Declan leaned over and touched the pad of his anti-surveillance device, de-activating Section’s ability to scan his office. He reached out with one hand and pushed Birkoff backwards, and Birkoff literally fell into the chair behind him. "Hey!" Birkoff cried involuntarily, without considering the possible consequences.
Declan’s hand suddenly gripped Birkoff’s shoulder. Birkoff felt a telltale shiver run down his spine. If he didn’t know better, he would swear he was getting excited. Oh, well, maybe his body had been starved for so long, it didn’t care whose hand touched him or where.
"Um...you were saying something about why you called me in here?" Birkoff offered.
Declan’s hand clenched tighter on Birkoff’s shoulder. "Yes," he said tersely. "What do you think of Hillinger?"
Birkoff’s eyebrows flew upwards in an expression that would have been almost comical in any other situation. But as much as he hated Hillinger, Birkoff had a sneaking suspicion that if he said so, Hillinger would get canceled. Birkoff just couldn’t live with that on his conscience.
No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn’t find words that wouldn’t damn Hillinger. Declan waited patiently for several moments, then said, "Why do you hesitate, Birkoff? He wouldn’t do the same for you, and I think you know it. So tell me...why this strange loyalty to Hillinger?"
Birkoff shrugged. "I-I don’t know."
"Maybe the two of you...like each other?" Declan inquired, his tongue briefly flicking out to moisten his lips. Birkoff sighed. He was just as fascinated by Declan’s mouth as the rest of him, though he would never admit it.
Suddenly Birkoff blurted out, "I thought you and Madeline were having this raging hot love affair!"
Declan barely moved an eyelash. "What’s that got to do with you and Mr. Hillinger?"
"Well, it’s just that...just that...just--"
"Oh, come on, Birkoff, I’ve never seen you at a complete loss for words, boyo. As cute as it is, I’d appreciate an answer," Declan snapped sarcastically.
"About what?" Birkoff wished for a hole to open up in the floor. One large enough for his rumpled body to plunge through.
Declan removed his hand from Birkoff’s shoulder and circled him, not unlike the predator he resembled. He ran his fingers down Birkoff’s arm, feeling the goosebumps that arose as soon as he touched his bare skin. "I asked you a question, Birkoff..." He stared down at Birkoff’s nervously sweating face, but Birkoff was busily studying the nonexistent pattern of the floor tiles.
"Are you...attracted to...Mr. Hillinger?" Declan said very slowly, enunciating each word carefully. As he did, Declan slid his bare hand along the side of Birkoff’s face.
"No!" Birkoff shouted, hoping that would satisfy Declan’s curiosity.
"So you didn’t know he was gay?" Declan asked.
"No!" Birkoff exclaimed, incredulous at the turn the conversation was taking.
Taking his courage in both hands, Birkoff asked Declan a question of his own. "Then it’s true, that you and Madeline are having an affair?"
Declan slid his hand back up the side of Birkoff’s face, and Birkoff closed his eyes. He was getting aroused. He could feel it. God, he wanted to die right on the spot.
"You shouldn’t listen to bloody rumors. That can be a very...dangerous habit."
Birkoff opened his eyes to find Declan’s grey eyes peering intently at him. At close range. At very close range.
"Are you and Hillinger having an affair?" Declan countered, a smirk crookedly twisting his mouth.
"No! I’m not gay!" Birkoff yelled.
Declan smiled. A predatory smile. A smile that somehow captured the essence of what it was like to be Declan.
"Then neither am I, boyo."
"Y-you’re gay???" Birkoff sputtered.
Suddenly an even more horrible thought crossed Birkoff’s tortured mind. "Are you and Hillinger having an affair?"
"Christ! I should have your mouth washed out with soap for even speaking such a disgusting thing!" Declan’s senses revolted at the very idea.
Declan paced two steps, then turned to face Birkoff again. "I don’t sleep with boys," he hissed.
"Oh!" Birkoff winced, realizing he had just made a very grave error. "I just assumed--"
"Assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups!" Declan spat.
Birkoff’s eyes grew positively huge in his face. "Thanks for pointing that out, Declan," he said weakly.
"I want you to do something for me, boyo."
"Anything," Birkoff said quickly.
Declan’s eyes narrowed. "Be careful what you agree to, boyo. You could wake up to find Hillinger in your bed, if you don’t watch out."
"Hillinger wants me? Like that? Ewww!" Birkoff felt sick.
Declan almost smiled, but not quite. Birkoff’s obvious distaste for his fellow Comm Op actually endeared him to Declan. Declan had no use for Hillinger either.
"As I was saying...I would like you to do something for me, boyo."
"Like?" Birkoff was now sitting so far back in his chair, he could go no farther without tipping the chair over.
"I want you to follow Mr. Hillinger and report back to me."
"That’s it?" Birkoff asked with a sigh of relief.
"Aye, that’s it. For now."
Birkoff almost scrambled out of the chair, trying to avoid any contact with Declan. He wasn’t sure why. Declan had assured him that he didn’t sleep with boys. Well, Birkoff thought, Declan must be having an affair with Madeline after all.
Why did that bother him? He wasn’t interested in Declan. What possible difference could it make if Declan was sleeping with anyone, including Hillinger? Birkoff involuntarily grimaced when he thought about that part, mentally apologizing to Hillinger for having such a low opinion of him.
Birkoff got to the door and turned, biting his lip. "So, um, how long did you want me to follow Hillinger?"
"Until I tell you otherwise."
Birkoff nodded. "Okay."
***
It never occurred to Birkoff to question why Declan, a Level 5 field op himself, would ask the head of Comm to do routine surveillance. On anyone. But especially on Hillinger.
He should have.
He found Hillinger relatively easy to follow. Hillinger never suspected that anyone, much less Birkoff, was on his trail, and he might not have cared, even if he knew. Hillinger was in pursuit. Of Declan.
Hillinger led Birkoff right to Declan’s quarters within the confines of Section One. Like Birkoff, Declan chose to live inside Section. His quarters were bigger than Birkoff’s, as befit his status, but not necessarily better. Birkoff knew his quarters were small, but he had no friends, except for Walter, and he did no entertaining. He was not exactly a social person.
Birkoff felt peculiar, spying on Hillinger like this, but he knew better than to defy an order given by Declan. Even if it sounded more like a request than an order.
***
Hillinger knocked on Declan’s door, his cherubic young face at odds with his considerable skill in manipulation. Smoothing a hand over his short hair, he checked his breath by exhaling into his palm. He chortled at the result. Kissable.
Declan came to the door, and Birkoff could see that he had changed out of his mission black leathers. His long red hair held back by a leather thong, now the only leather that Declan wore, Declan placed both hands in the back pockets of his jeans. Probably more out of a desire to keep from punching the living daylights out of Hillinger than anything else.
"Yes?" Declan said, exasperated at having to brush off this wiseass not once, but twice.
Hillinger smiled smugly. "Can I come in?"
"Not if you were bleeding to death. Any other questions?"
"Look, Declan, I know your little secret!" Hillinger snickered. "If you don’t let me in, I’ll tell everyone you’re gay and put the big moves on me!"
"And just who the hell do you think would believe you?" Declan didn’t sound the least bit defensive. In fact, he sounded as if he had anticipated Hillinger’s near-assault.
Declan waited. The younger man did not disappoint him. He left as quickly as he’d come. The threat over, Declan relaxed, one hip at odds with the other, his jeans pulling tightly across his groin.
Birkoff sighed. This was getting out of hand. He couldn’t be attracted to Declan, he just couldn’t. Even if he were gay, which he was not, he staunchly avowed, he couldn’t form a relationship with someone like Declan. Section would never sanction it. They might even cancel both of them.
Declan looked into the hallway, his pale grey eyes searching, searching till they located Birkoff. "Birkoff, why don’t you come in for a moment?"
"But he came here--I mean, why would you need a report when you were right here?" Birkoff hated the way he stammered when he felt pressured, and boy oh boy, did he feel pressured now.
"Why do you care why I want a report?" Declan’s tone was vaguely threatening, just enough to convince Birkoff to do as he was told.
***
Once inside, Birkoff gazed in awe at the interior of Declan’s quarters. The total opposite of Birkoff’s combination of high-tech gadgetry and old-world clutter. Very nice. He whistled out loud without realizing what he’d done.
Declan strode into the kitchenette in his sock feet, grabbing a plastic bottle of orange juice from the refrigerator. Swigging it back as if it were whiskey, Declan drank heartily from the bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he was done.
"Got another question for you, Birkoff."
"Yeah?" Birkoff didn’t know why, but he felt curiously disquieted by Declan’s questions. They always seemed to lead somewhere else.
Declan moved closer to Birkoff, his beautiful silver eyes sparkling hypnotically at Birkoff. "Can I kiss you?"
Birkoff’s mouth dropped open and he gasped. "What?"
Declan stroked Birkoff’s face with his free hand. "It’s by way of an experiment."
"For what?"
"To see if you’re worth kissing, of course." Declan laughed merrily, his grey eyes dancing mischievously.
"Why would you want to kiss me, for Heaven’s sake?" Birkoff looked aghast, but his heart was thumping. Hard. The idea tantalized him no end.
Declan’s face drew closer. "You have the most beautiful honey mouth."
"Damn!" Birkoff blinked. "You *are* gay!"
Declan smiled against Birkoff’s mouth as he claimed it possessively. "And unless I miss my guess, so are you."
Birkoff responded despite his desire not to. His mouth opened on a groan of such utter pleasure, he thought he would expire. "Jesus."
Declan drew back, his storm-colored eyes glittering dangerously. "You liked it, didn’t you, boyo?"
"Why the hell did you do that? What’s it matter to you what my sexual orientation is?" Birkoff was on low simmer already.
"Cause I want you to go to bed with me," Declan said softly.
"Oh, no, this isn’t any experiment! You want to seduce me, don’t you?"
"Maybe."
"But why? I know! This is a test! Another one of Section’s tests! You just want to see what I’ll do--"
"I know what you’ll do..." Declan trailed his fingertips over Birkoff’s lips, and to his complete amazement, Birkoff shuddered. "I just want you to do it with me," he added in a hoarse whisper.
"I’m not like that," Birkoff said, wondering if he really meant what he was saying.
"Like what?"
"You know, like you."
Declan sighed. "You know, Birkoff, I’m not looking to get married. I’m not even interested in romance." He provoked Birkoff by leaning even closer, and Birkoff was startled to find how much he actually wanted to touch Declan. Not there. God, no. But anywhere else.
Birkoff’s dark eyes flashed with something that might have been disappointment. "Oh," he said in a very small voice.
Declan noticed his reaction and wondered about it. "I’m not looking for a long-term relationship, Birkoff. Does that bother you?"
No, Birkoff thought, it doesn’t bother me. It should thrill the hell out of me. But it doesn’t. Great, it doesn’t matter whether I sleep with women or men. They both have absolutely no interest in any kind of relationship. What’s wrong with me? he wailed inwardly, struggling to keep his feelings off his face. Declan was by far too keen an observer to let something like that pass.
Birkoff crossed his arms, his body language suddenly defensive. "So how do you know I’m not just like Greg? How do you know I won’t just walk out of here and tell everybody I meet about *your* sexual orientation? What makes you think you can trust me?"
Declan considered a moment. His grey eyes suddenly hot, they were the color of molten silver. "Anyone meeting you, even for the first time, can see you’re nothing like Greg. Hillinger’s an asshole. But don’t quote me." Declan’s mouth curved into a delicious smile.
"As for trusting you..." Declan laughed. "I don’t trust anyone, boyo, not even you. Or should I say, especially you? You’ve got a great survival instinct, or you never would have lasted this long in Section. That tells me you don’t trust anyone either. So we’re pretty much even."
"How can you sleep with someone you don’t even trust?" Birkoff sounded horrified.
Declan touched the back of Birkoff’s neck, and Birkoff panicked, certain that Declan was going to kiss him again. If he did, he wouldn’t be responsible for what happened.
"I told you, I’m not looking for true love, Birkoff. I just want to sleep with you." Declan gazed at Birkoff intently.
"Just the one time then?" Birkoff bit his lip, wondering why he was even considering doing something like this. Jeez.
Declan nodded. "Does that make it easier, Birkoff? It’s not like I’m asking you to jeopardize your career by embracing an alternative lifestyle."
Declan’s words, even his tone, were so persuasive, Birkoff could not resist. Besides, Declan’s hands felt good on his skin. Maybe it wouldn’t be totally awful. And even if it was, it never had to happen again. Declan said so.
"But how do you know I won’t betray your secret, Declan?"
"You’re not stupid, Birkoff. Don’t make me threaten you." Declan’s face transformed back into the cold mask Birkoff was more familiar with.
Ah, abuse of power. Now there was something Birkoff understood. He was subject to its vagaries everyday, living in Section One.
"So..." Birkoff heaved a longsuffering breath. "Let’s get this over with."
Declan frowned. "There are no more missions going out tonight, Birkoff. There’s no reason you can’t sleep here with me. That gives us a lot more time together."
"Why the hell do we need more time? You said we were only going to do it once." Birkoff hated to be confrontational, but this entire thing was making him feel edgy, like his skin itched.
"Give me credit for a little finesse, Birkoff. You think I’m just going to jump your bones and be done with it?"
"Well," Birkoff’s eyes widened. "Isn’t that how it works?"
Declan’s silvery gaze slid over Birkoff’s face, making Birkoff feel curiously breathless. "Are you a virgin, Birkoff?"
"N-not exactly," Birkoff hedged.
"How many people have you slept with then?"
"Isn’t that a personal question, Declan? I don’t have to answer that!"
Declan laughed. "I can’t think of anything more personal than sex, Birkoff. But maybe you know something I don’t."
"Somehow I doubt that," Birkoff muttered under his breath, but Declan heard him.
That he didn’t order him canceled on the spot probably told Birkoff more than he wanted to know. Declan liked him. For some damn reason.
Declan whispered in Birkoff’s ear, "I’ll be gentle with you, boyo. Don’t worry." He kissed Birkoff’s ear, and Birkoff closed his eyes on a wave of sensation.
Declan was pretty good at this.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.