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Frat House? More Like a Cult

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“You two will be going undercover,” was the cool and calm verdict that came out Captain Beckham’s stern lips. It’s the type of tone which brooks no argument. Dave’s lips twisted sceptically as he looked sideways at Massey. She might be part of the CIA now, but Dave’s so used to Sam being purposefully contrary at the way the CIA does things that he half expected a retort by now. He is proven wrong as Massey only narrowed her eyes.

“This is your cover story.”

Both of their hands shot out to take the documents in near synchronicity. Huh, guess that happens after you partner up for two weeks in pursuit of a murderous hitman across L.A. , getting tangled in life and death situations. Dave skimmed the document, feeling a furrow in his brow getting deeper and deeper the more he read.

“Dave and Samantha Reyes,” he read out loud, testing it around his tongue. “If I’m not mistaken people who share the same family name are either related by blood or marriage.”

Dana Beckham’s smile as she raised her eyebrow had something close to unholy, probably revenge for all the time the Reyes-Massey pair brought troubles in their unconventional way to solve previous problems. “You can read, Detective Reyes. You two will go undercover to the Northbridge suburban area, as a newly married couple, and keep an eye on Rourke International Holdings’ heir, Everett Aleister Rourke.”

Dave was not at all surprised at the outburst Massey gave out next. It’s a long time due by now.

-

All in all, Dave was surprised that the most significant protest Massey had was the fact that they were registered as Reyes both. Through adamant insistence and an unrelenting eye-match which lasted approximately 40 seconds, Dana had sighed and offered a compromise. So they were now officially Dave and Samantha Massey-Reyes.

The argument had something to do with an equal standing between male and female in Mirasol’s eyes, while Nikhil just high-fived Massey for being such a ‘hip’ gal. Dave didn’t want to think whether Nikhil’s use of the word ‘gal’ is meant to be edgy or ironic form of expression against mainstream Texan culture. Reza didn’t even deign to raise his eyes from his screen, though that could be attributed to the girl they met at the Venice Beach.

Well, all in all, they’re setting up quite nicely. Dave’s even surprised at the ease he works with Massey.
The house looked back at him in an imitation of domesticity which made his gut clenched funnily. This is what a home would look like, if he ever had one to begin with.

It was as he’s eyeing the complementing mug on the counter and debating whether he’d take the blue or maroon one as his own that Massey chipped in on her own, in a tone of surprisingly good humour for their condition.

“You know, I expected Rourke to be a prick. I didn’t expect him to be that much of a prick to name his own kid after him. Kid must have had a hard time having such a pretentious name.”

“Surprise surprise. Not everyone will have the luxury of having names like Dave and Sam.”

Massey laughed at that, and something which had been clenching inside Dave for some time loosened. This mission didn’t look that bad a prospect now. Massey was not a bad partner, he’s seen to it himself on their previous partnerships, though this one seems a tad unconventional.

They settled in a comfortable silence, one which enabled Dave to believe for a moment that this is them truly unpacking in their new home, for a new future together, instead of them spying on some kid barely out of university shacking up in a frat house. Because that is what their intel had been led to believe.

Everett Aleister Rourke, genius and prodigy of unprecendent measures, has apparently chosen to live in a frat house following a few months of Leave of Absence. Gathered information had shown his housemates’ background to be diverse enough to raise an eyebrow given his previous choice of companions. Mirasol had called it a profiling error. Dave would like to think the kid just had a soul searching journey and realized surrounding yourself with pricks would not lead to happiness.

Why CIA decided he and Massey should shadow these kids was a mystery. It wasn’t like he’s involved deeply with Rourke International Holdings’ dealing. Inflitrating the company itself would be more rational than spying on the child. But Dana Beckham had that look in her eyes.

The Look which said, ‘Do and do not question’, before pulling another file which did not make any sense to Dave’s mind, not until-
His thoughts are cut off by the sound of the bell ringing. He threw Massey a quizzical look. Were they supposed to receive guests?

Massey shrugged, moving around unpacked box with the kind of tactical grace which reminded Dave of a panther on a prowl. Dave followed and hoped his lope is near as graceful with his sweating back and falling bangs.

Damn it, he’s the talking one, not the fighting one!

“Hello.”

Massey’s –Sam’s (he’s got to ingrain it now) voice is sultry but gruff. Dave groaned internally. Remember, talking one.

“-new neighbours! We’d just saw you moving in and thought of giving you a welcoming gift!”

Two girls, faces familiar from the files he and Sam had spent the flight to Massachusetts reading, beamed and offered a batch of warm cookies to Sam, who looked awkward receiving it. Dave expertedly maneuvered the cookies out of Sam’s dubious hold and flashed them a charming smile.

Quinn Erin Kelly and Grace Tamara Hall, Mirasol profiled the former as nice-irrelevant and the latter as smart-quite relevant; apparently target’s significant other.

“Why, thank you, ladies. Me and my wife here had not finish unpacking and here you are already making this place feels like home.”

God, the amount of bull he can spout while smiling a broad smile.

His hand sneaked around Sam’s waist and he’s half surprised Sam accepted so readily, even leaning against him and snatching a cookie to her lips.

“This is good, -”

“Quinn!” The red head one enthused and, “Grace,” the other one said quietly.

Not that both of them hadn’t already known, but-

“We’re so glad you like them!”

Oh God, Kelly is so perky he found himself smiling as easily to match her. The rest of the exchange went on easily enough, with Sam having eaten easily a third of the batch by the time the two girls bid their goodbyes.

“Well, they’re nice,” he concluded finally. Sam gave a giggle and shoved another cookie into her mouth, “Real nice.”

“Sam, that had got to be the n-th cookie?” Dave prompted uncertainly. Sam was acting weird.

“Taste it, Reyes, and tell me it’s not good,” she’s shoving the cookie directly at his mouth he almost got the cookie into his nose and this taste...

“Is this weed?!”