Chapter Text
Cypher likes you more than he expected.
You haven’t been with the Protocol long—only about a year. You’re still relatively new to everything, still getting used to all the ups and downs of life as an agent, but all things considered, you’ve taken to it remarkably well. He wasn’t sure what to make of you, in the beginning—the reserved, soft-spoken girl he had met in the briefing room all those months ago—but you’ve impressed him. By now, you’re a formidable agent in your own right, devoted to your training and personal betterment, well-liked by practically everyone at the Protocol. After countless team-ups and fighting by his side, you’ve become a trustworthy ally to him, and better yet, a genuine friend. He likes you. He trusts you.
He can’t deny it any longer. He… wants you.
It’s something he’s barely processed in his own brain, let alone something he’s admitted out loud. He was sure, for the longest time, that what he felt for you was purely platonic, even familial. You’re a young woman, much younger than him; intelligent, but naive in your own way, and in need of guidance—or at least, that was how you’d seemed at the start. In the early days, he’d taken on a sort of mentor role for you, offering advice and observing your progress from various distances. Looking after you, subtly and respectfully, until he was certain you could look after yourself. A friendship had developed, albeit a tentative one, but in the last few months, it had steadily morphed into something new. Something different.
From the beginning, he’s always had some fondness for you. You’re a kind, sensitive girl, with good manners and a smile he can only describe as sweet. He admires your compassion, your open mind and gentle heart. And he’s not blind—he’s well aware that you’re cute. You’re a lovely young woman; he doesn’t need to overhear Chamber’s private comments to know you have a pretty face. He’s always felt a certain affection for you, but he’d assumed it was because he cared for you as a friend, or maybe, instinctively, it was because he felt protective towards you. Perhaps both of those things were, and still are, true to an extent—but as much as it ails him, it’s become more than that now.
He doesn’t just admire or appreciate you—he’s attracted to you.
Cypher thinks about you far too often. He’s not sure when you started taking up so much space in his mind. Maybe it was the time he’d watched you trying to play pool in the game room; you’d bent over the pool table and he’d found himself staring at your ass for way too long. Or maybe it was the morning you’d sleepily bumped into him in the hallway, the low v of your t-shirt giving him a generous view of your cleavage as you’d clumsily stepped back from him. He doesn’t know when exactly he started looking at you differently, when he started daydreaming about you on missions, or in the shower, or late at night in his bed, stiff cock keeping him from falling asleep. All he knows is that he wants you, and he doesn’t know how to make it stop.
He’s not supposed to be feeling like this. He was a married man, not long ago. It’s been over a decade since he lost Nora; sometimes it feels like it’s been a lifetime, but sometimes, it still feels so fresh, like it was only yesterday he had to say goodbye to her. He knows how long it’s been. He knows it’s normal to lose the love of your life and eventually crave something again, even if it’s with someone new. He knows he’s been denying his body for years, suppressing his desires like he suppresses everything else. He knows he desperately needs a change. But that doesn’t make any of it feel right.
There’s a part of him that fears he’s betraying Nora. But deep down, what he really fears is that he doesn’t deserve this—something new. You. He’s done horrible things, unforgivable things. He’s a recluse, a weary, broken old man that trades secrets like currency and shares none of his own. You’re too young, too beautiful, too good for someone like him. You can have any agent you want—you’ve already had a couple, in your time at the Protocol. Short-lived trysts that didn’t go anywhere, but they’d been demonstrative nonetheless.
You’re no stranger to physical relationships, but you would never want one with him. He might be your friend, but he’s the last person you’d want to be with. However much he may want to, he can never show you his real face, never take care of you the way you deserve. He has no choice but to keep everyone at a distance, and you’re no different. He can never cross the line he’s drawn between the two of you.
He needs to move past this somehow, to cut off this affliction like cancer. It’s interfering with his concentration, his sleep, his work. It’s useless to feel this way about you when he knows you’d never want him. He just wants things to go back to normal.
But as hard as he tries, they just won’t.
You live in his head now, whether he likes it or not. Even when you’re not around, you dance into his thoughts during the day, disrupting his aim and throwing off his focus. You tempt him when he’s hard and half-asleep, and visit him in his dreams, cooing sweet nothings into his ear and setting him ablaze with your phantom warmth. When he wakes up, all he can do is take himself in his hand, desperate to soothe the ache. Sometimes he cums into his fist, sometimes he’s too ashamed to let himself do even that—and the pain of that need weighs him down the rest of the day, eating away at him relentlessly.
One morning, after waking up from perhaps his most intense dream yet, he realizes he can’t do this anymore. Something has to be done.
He has to talk to you.
It’s unwise. It’s a gamble. It could possibly be the worst idea he’s ever had. It could ruin his relationship with you if he doesn’t go about it just right. But he has to give it a try, for better or for worse. Maybe it will all go wrong. Maybe it will be a disaster.
Or maybe… it could be the start of something. Something… good.
He knows your schedule like the back of his hand—he knows everyone’s—and on a day you’re both free, Cypher sends you a message, politely and vaguely asking you to meet him somewhere private after dinner. You agree, to his relief, and the two of you settle on one of the small conference rooms, where neither of you will be disturbed. He arrives first, easily disabling the security cameras and mics, and waits for you with his heart in his throat.
Before long, the door slides open, and you enter.
You look lovely. You always do, but today you’re wearing more comfortable clothes, and you look so damn adorable in them—not to mention, they hug your figure in all the right places. The door slides shut behind you and you step closer, stopping at the edge of the table—right across from where he stands. You give him a small smile.
“Hey,” you say, and he detects a hint of nervousness in your voice. “You, um… wanted to talk?”
Cypher swallows, suddenly tongue-tied. You’re here, and you seem slightly on edge, like you’re preparing yourself for some bad news. That’s not good. He doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable. He doesn’t want you to think there’s anything wrong. He has to do this right.
“Yes,” he answers, after some awkward silence. “But there is nothing wrong, I promise. There is just… something I want to discuss with you. Privately.”
He sees a flash of relief in your eyes, but then there’s concern. “Yes?”
He hesitates, flexing his gloved fingers. All you’re doing is standing there, looking at him with those pretty eyes, and it has him on the verge of forgetting everything he needs to say. What is wrong with him? He can’t remember the last time a woman, let alone anyone, made him this nervous.
Come on, Amir. Out with it already!
At last, he finds his words. “I have… a confession to make.”
Your brows lift slightly. You listen intently.
There’s a chair next to him, but he’s too tightly wound to sit down right now. “I have been… thinking about… things,” he says. “Myself, my… life. My history. You know that… I had a wife. Many years ago.”
You nod. “Nora,” you say quietly.
“...Yes.” He looks down for a heartbeat, but he can’t avoid your eyes for long. “I loved her, very much. But that was… a long time ago.” He pauses, wringing his hands together. He doesn’t want to talk about Nora for too long, for fear of putting you off. “I do miss her. I will never forget her. But… she is gone now. I… cannot dwell in the past forever.”
He takes a steadying breath, preparing himself for where he’s going next.
“I have… not been with anyone since her,” he continues slowly. “Romantically, or… physically. I haven’t been… able to. I have kept myself too busy with work, with… everything. I haven’t been in a relationship, or even…”
He trails off, staring into nothingness, but your voice breaks him out of his trance. “...Had sex?”
Cypher’s eyes focus on you once more, and he finds you looking at him—not with judgment or disgust or even confusion, just… curiosity. It’s hard to get an exact read on what you’re feeling, but there’s something gentle, uncynical about your expression. You don’t look unhappy with him. You don’t look uncomfortable.
Despite his nerves, he takes that as a sign to keep going.
“Right,” he responds. “I… haven’t been intimate with anyone since her. So it has been… quite a long time.” He laughs softly, but there isn’t much humor in the sound. “I know you are… wondering why I’m telling you all of this.”
You’re still listening, not making a sound. He almost wishes he could read your mind.
“Forgive me, if this… offends you, or makes you uncomfortable in any way,” he says. “If it does, please tell me, and… I will respect it, and never speak of it again. I… only wish to be honest with you.”
It’s a struggle to get his confession out, but somehow, he manages.
“I want to be… intimate with someone again,” he finally tells you. “It’s… been so long, and… there are things my body… craves that it has not had. Things that I have… been denying it.” He swallows. “I have pleasured myself in private all this time, but… it is as you said. I haven’t… had sex. In a very long time.”
You haven’t looked away from him. Your lips part, as if you want to say something, but you let him continue, like you know there’s more he needs to get out.
“What I’m trying to say is…” He fights the urge to fidget with his hands. “I… trust you, dear. I care about you, and… I am… attracted to you.” His chest constricts as soon as the words escape, like he can’t believe he finally spoke them into existence. “I am trying to say that… I would like… to be intimate with you. To try and… become familiar with intimacy. Again.”
Your eyes widen, and this time, you look like you’re about to say something, but he hastily keeps going before you can speak. He can deal with your rejection, but he needs to say all that needs to be said—before it’s too late.
“I—I know you’re young,” he rushes out. “Younger than me. I would understand if—if you find this inappropriate, or you are not attracted to me. I am older than you, and… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I… I know I’m only a man in a mask. You haven’t seen my face, and I’ve hardly told you anything about myself. I-I have no right to ask you for this—”
“Cypher.”
His words catch in his throat, and he goes silent. He looks at you.
He expects you to look irritated, angry. Upset that he wasted your time telling you about his silly, selfish plan, and you don’t even want to let him finish explaining. But there’s no sign of anger or annoyance on your face—none at all. Your brows are knit with concern, and just then, you smile gently.
“Slow down,” you say, painfully kind. “It’s okay.”
You pull out the chair closest to you and take a seat, then you look over at him, waiting for him to continue. At that moment, Cypher’s heart swells, an unexpected feeling overtaking his body. He figures it must be relief.
You’re not leaving. You’re not even upset. He still doesn’t know exactly how you’re feeling, or what’s on your mind, but your calm expression, your relaxed posture tell him that whatever he has to say, you want to listen.
You want him to keep going.
He pauses for a second, resummoning his courage, then nods. He continues.
“I am suggesting… an arrangement,” he says. “The specifics can be discussed, but… essentially, it would be… a physical relationship, of sorts.” He sighs. “I am… not ready for anything romantic. Not yet. I don’t think I will be ready for a long time. But… I am willing to start somewhere.” Clarifying, he says, “I am not… suggesting a relationship that will… become romantic later. I don’t wish to put that kind of pressure on you. I am talking about something… purely physical. If, of course, that is something you would be… comfortable with.”
Cypher lets his words sit in the air for a moment. There’s more to say, but he’s rambled for long enough, and you deserve a chance to speak. When you open your mouth, he knows you have the power to shut all of this down, to silence him on this matter forever. It’s your right. He would understand, should you choose to reject him.
But selfishly, he prays you won’t.
“So,” you say, regarding him curiously, “you’re suggesting a… ‘friends with benefits’ type of arrangement?”
It doesn’t seem like you’re judging him, just trying to understand. He nods. “Yes, you could call it that,” he answers. “We would… remain friends. Teammates. Whatever you… would like us to be. But every so often, we would… meet in private. To…” He gestures, hesitating to finish.
“Have sex?” you offer, almost innocently.
His face burns under his mask. “To… be intimate,” he says awkwardly. “We would… have to start small. I haven’t been with anyone in so long, I would have to… refamiliarize myself with… intimacy. Some… light touching at first. Then a little more, and… a little more. And then… yes. We would… have sex. Eventually.” He wants to melt through the floor. “If… that is something you would… want.”
You nod, considering it all. “Would you… keep your mask on the whole time?”
His heart clenches. He hadn’t been sure he’d get this far, but now that he’s here, he dreads having to say it. “Yes,” he says. “It must always stay on. I am… not able to take it off. Well, I am able to remove it, but what I mean is…” He wants to explain himself further, but words are failing him. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I…”
“No, it’s okay,” you say right away. “It’s okay. I know you can’t. I would… never ask you to take it off.”
Cypher holds your gaze for a heartbeat, his heavy heart suddenly ten tons lighter. He nods slowly. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “The same would… go for my clothes. Most of them, at least. I would… prefer to stay mostly clothed. I wouldn’t wear too many layers, and I would remove my gloves. I might… remove other clothes as well, depending on what it is, but… I can never be fully undressed. It is…”
A choice I made long ago, and I can never take it back. I’m sorry.
“It is… probably inconvenient, I know,” he says with a soft chuckle. “But… I hope you understand.”
“I do,” you say. Just then, you rise from your seat, your eyes still on him. “Cypher?”
His heart stutters. “Yes?”
“Could we maybe… talk about this somewhere else?” you ask. “We can… go back to my room. If that’s okay.”
Cypher is so stunned, he almost can’t respond. Your room? You want to continue this conversation in your room? Why?
Technically speaking, it would be just as private as this room, if not more so, but he’s still taken aback. Rather than his or your dorm room, he’d wanted to talk through everything in a neutral setting first, so there wouldn’t be any discomfort or invasion of personal space, but maybe you would’ve preferred talking in your room all along. Is it that you’d simply feel more at ease having this conversation in your room? Is there something you’d prefer to discuss in the privacy of your room?
Or is it something else, something he hasn’t caught onto just yet?
Whatever it is, he wants to find out.
After a long moment, he nods. “Yes. Of course.”