Chapter Text
The moment their plane lands, Jake wants nothing more than to eat his weight in something hot and greasy and crash—preferably for the next few weeks. But the suits he's working for these days don't give a shit about the fact that Jake's had one of the most emotionally draining weekends of his life and expect him and Sherry back at D.S.O. headquarters asap.
"This is fuckin' bullshit," Jake grouses, barely lowering his voice. They pass more than a few government stooges on their way to the debriefing room and Jake eyes them all with wary distrust. No matter what his badge says these days, he'll never be at ease around these types.
The things I do for love...
At his side, Sherry elbows him, hard. He smirks, and when Sherry shoots him a quick, exasperated look, he takes the opportunity to preen. His wings rise a bit further behind his back, stretch out a few inches wider, and he savors the way Sherry's cheeks darken. A few people double-take at the sight of him presenting so obviously, and in public, but Jake couldn't care less, not when it puts that expression on Sherry's face.
There's the brush of Sherry's fingers, and then she takes his hand long enough to give him an affectionate squeeze.
"You're very pretty," she tells Jake sincerely, tone doting. Even if she's being condescending, Jake still revels in the praise, in the genuine happiness he can see shining plain in her eyes. "Now, behave."
The coy curl of her lips makes his heart feel like it'll beat straight out of his chest.
That's my fucking girlfriend, he brags, smug.
The only thing that would make it better would be if Sherry returned the gesture—but her wings are bound, of course. He's not sure the day will ever come when she'll be comfortable enough to have them out in public, but he's content to be one of the few who gets to see them.
Hell, he's lucky he gets Sherry at all. When he'd woken up to the sight of her in his bed, her soft, warm hands on his shoulders, hair mussed with sleep and smile small and sweet and all for him—he'd been hard-pressed not to pinch himself. The only reason he'd resisted was purely due to the fact that he's far too selfish to do anything to lose her, even if she's only a vision.
After all, what is he, really? A man who's spent most of his life loaning out his services to the highest bidder, doing some of the most despicable things for the sake of the almighty dollar. Jake's a thief, a killer, a con-artist—you name it. If it was illegal, he'd done it.
And somehow, Sherry still insists he's someone worthwhile. Every time she turns those kind, beautiful blue eyes on him, the absolute trust in them humbles him anew.
And yeah, the wing thing had bothered him for a while. A long while. Jake hardly ever binds, as a rule. Part of it is sheer vanity. No one has wings like his, no one's wings are as strong as his, and he knows he looks damn good, that they only help round out the striking figure he knows he makes. The other part? Practicality. His wings are big and heavy and stuffing them into any kind of binding is too much of a hassle. Plus, he hates that itchy sensation of not being able to stretch when he wants to and his feathers tend to get messy and it takes hours to groom them straight again—
It's just not worth it.
And he'd thought, based on how bulky Sherry's were in their linen prison, that hers were of comparable size, that they had to be uncomfortable. Days, then weeks, then months passed since they'd started working together, yet he'd never seen so much as a stray flight peeking out of the fabric. He'd chalked it up to her workaholic nature at first, just like her hair—two things she preferred out of her way while she worked.
Slowly, they spent more time together, in the hotels they stayed at, at each other's apartment during their rare days back home, on the even rarer occasion they got to just hang out like friends—and still, nothing. By that point, so much time had gone by that it felt weird to bring it up—until three days ago, when he'd finally indulged his curiosity. And boy, did that not go how he'd expected.
But then again, nothing had gone how he'd expected since the moment he'd met Sherry, so perhaps he should have seen it coming. But still. Five sets of wings. The sight of her, bloody and clothes torn, yet as beautiful and radiant as a fae creature of some other world—it still filled him with awe. Sherry might not think of herself as anything other than a freak, but Jake can recognize a damn angel when he sees one.
Jake squeezes Sherry's hand back. Whatever. Joke's on her, she agreed to be his girlfriend, so he's got all the time in the world to convince her.
They're directed to an empty conference room and they both relax a little, relieved, to see agent Ingrid Hunnigan waiting for them, already seated at the overly-polished wood table that dominated most of the room. She's plucking away at a tablet, but she looks up with a slight smile when they enter.
"Hello, Agent Birkin, Agent Muller. Congratulations on another successful mission."
Hunnigan is someone they're familiar with. Their handlers tend to rotate, but she's by far their favorite. She's a little too by-the-books for Jake's taste, but at least she's not incompetent. She and Sherry got along like a house on fire, too, and there was none of that grating ineptitude whenever a mission went sideways and their intel proved unreliable. Hunnigan, at least, doesn't deflect with a shrug and simpering excuses. Unlike most of the people in the government, she actually does her job.
The debriefing goes smoothly. Hunnigan nods along as she types up their accounts to add to the overall report. She asks a few questions to clarify, and the only hiccup is when she asks about the time discrepancy between two of their check-ins and Sherry—clams up. Jake can practically see the honest—and wrong—answer pressing against the back of Sherry's lips and he speaks into the awkward pause easily, mentioning the lengthy hike, the supplies they'd lost during the fight, and the long hours in the dark spent searching for their things, fruitlessly.
Hunnigan's not stupid. Her dark eyes watch them with narrow suspicion, but she doesn't press. Sherry, however, still looks absurdly guilty, so Jake—reclined and slouched over in his chair—reaches out and takes her hand in his.
Sherry glances at him sharply, but when all Jake does it look at her steadily, she softens. The tiniest smile lifts her lips before she looks back at Hunnigan, attentive and focused, but with the guilty bow to her shoulders a thing of the past.
Hunnigan's eyes dart to their hands, then their faces, but she finishes her line of questioning before she calls the meeting to an end.
"I'll also make a note in your file about the status of your relationship," Hunnigan says, hand still tapping away at her tablet.
Beside him, Sherry stills.
"Is that gonna be a problem?" Jake asks, eyes narrowing. If they say they can't be partners anymore, Jake's gonna quit, that's all there is to it. He has no problem going on missions with Sherry without being on the government's payroll.
Luckily, it doesn't come to that.
"Unless it interferes with your duties, it shouldn't be an issue," Hunnigan assures thoughtfully. "There's no rule against it, per se," she goes on, adjusting her glasses, "It would be another story if either of you were subordinate to one another, but that clearly doesn't apply."
Sherry's shoulders sag and Jake can't deny a little relief himself. One less headache, at least.
"Good, that's...I hadn't even thought of that," Sherry says quietly, and the smile she shoots Jake is sheepish and so fucking cute he has to resist the urge to kiss her senseless.
When Hunnigan stands, the meeting now officially over, Jake wants to jump for joy. A shower, rest, and relaxation—all of it so close he can almost taste it, and he has a feeling Sherry won't mind keeping him company while he enjoys being back home. After everything that's happened, he's not ready to part from her, even if it's only for the night.
Sherry exchanges a few last-minute well-wishes and thanks with Hunnigan, but then Hunnigan pauses at the doorway. She glances at Sherry over her shoulder.
"Oh, I nearly forgot. Agent Birkin, I received a notification from the Research Department—they're expecting you once we're done here. Your labs are overdue."
The change over Sherry is instantaneous. It's nothing as overt as a gasp or a shriek of terror, but her sudden stillness, the way her smile falls from her face and the sudden tension that takes over her signal a warning as clearly as any bell.
Then it's like nothing happened. Sherry's face smoothes and she nods, a polite, perfectly natural smile on her face.
"Of course. I'll go there right now," she agrees.
"I'll let them know," Hunnigan replies, "And thank you both for your work. Excellent, as always."
Jake wants to make a comment about that appreciation being reflected in their paychecks, but he's too preoccupied with Sherry's strange reaction and the moment passes by. Hunnigan raises a hand to her headset and strides away, already talking to some other agent in need.
There's a beat of silence, then Sherry turns to face Jake with a calm expression on her face, leaning towards wry.
"I'll call you?" she ventures. "I don't know how long this is gonna take, but I can meet you after, if you'd like."
Jake watches her, unable to deny the wrongness that settles over his skin the longer he looks at her. He wonders how he never noticed before, how nervous she gets when she's hiding something, obvious in the too-casual air, the careful distance she keeps between them.
Yeah, no.
"I'll walk you there," Jake offers, and he pulls her against him with a hand around her shoulders. They're out of the room before she can reply.
Sherry stumbles slightly, then matches his pace so she can crane her neck up enough to meet his eyes.
"Jake, you don't have to—"
"You'll be late if you don't tell me where I'm going," Jake points out, not breaking stride.
"I—" Sherry shakes her head, then guides Jake at the next corner with a pointed nudge. "You're so pushy," Sherry comments, exasperated.
Jake leans down and presses a kiss to the side of her head. "It's part of my charm."