Work Text:
Things were quiet in the apartment in the early hours on Monday morning. She woke to the gentle humming of somebody in another room, baritone notes drifting through the open door. Bobbi Morse rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up so she was resting on her forearms. A sharp buzz drew the woman out of the pensivity of her thoughts and she reached over to the wooden side table to pick up her phone.
Ugh , Bobbi thought, another perfectly fine morning ruined by a work assignment.
She twisted her body around and flung the duvet off, hissing at the slight chill in the air. Cold feet met the hard wooden floors of a budget property as she tip-toed her way towards the tune. Before leaving the bedroom, Bobbi glanced at her reflection in the smudged mirror on top of the chest of drawers. Right about now she was regretting falling into bed with the spy before removing her makeup the night before. Dark mascara had collected in the space underneath her eyes and the pillow would definitely have a foundation mark. After wiping the remnants off her face, Bobbi continued into the cramped kitchen.
Hunter was positioned before the stove, humming a lilting tune that seemed to twist and turn every-which-way. He turned around at the slight shift of the floorboards when Bobbi entered, walking up to her and leaning up to plant a soft kiss on her lips.
“Pancakes?” he asked, interrupting their comfortable silence.
“Always.”
Hot, delicious smelling steam drifted up from the pile of pancakes as Hunter lifted the cloth that had been retaining the heat.
“What the hell, Hunter!?” Bobbi retorted, “those aren’t pancakes!”
“Excuse me? Last I checked they definitely bloody were!”
“Those are crepes .”
“I hate you.” Hunter teased, only half joking, “just eat them.”
Bobbi stifled a snicker, she knew exactly how to push his buttons and today was no day to give him a break.
<>
Hints of the sun began to shine through the window of the apartment as Bobbi cleared her plate and placed it in the sink to soak dregs of syrup off the ceramic.
“I gotta head off to work, Idaho messaged me with an assignment.”
“Alright love, I'll finish clearing up then I better head off too, Hand's probably wondering where I am”
Bobbi swiftly changed into her work clothes, slinging a duffel bag over her shoulder before walking out the front door, stopping only to give Hunter a quick peck on the cheek.
DC could have the same sunrise every morning and it would still take her breath away every time. The city was still asleep for the most part, but lights had begun to flicker on one by one in apartment complexes and office buildings. She thrust her chilly hands into the pockets of her jacket and hurried into the metro station.
The assignment was simple. Go in, get close and cross off the target. Bobbi spent most of the day training in the small section of the basement allocated for the purpose. When the time finally came, she was presented with a dress and a pair of heels.
It fit well, tight enough as so not to fall down but still loose enough to conceal her holster. The slight slit up the side of the right leg gave her good access to pull her gun in an emergency, although the lack of pockets annoyed her. Heels certainly weren’t Bobbi's first choice of footwear but she would make them work.
The gala was on the other side of town, hosted by the target's mother – Natalia Rosenburg. It was being advertised as a charity event but Rosenburg's son was notorious for turning things nasty; and he was top of the guest list.
Bobbi was led out of the building by Idaho, who was very uncharacteristically wearing a tux.
“If I knew you cleaned up so nice, Morse, maybe I would’ve asked for this mission instead of pulling the short straw” he teased, opening the door to the nicest car money could buy – well, the nicest their money could buy.
Bobbi rolled her eyes and ducked into the back seat, poking her tongue out at the back of his head when he wasn’t looking. The game was afoot, all they had to do now was to fool everyone else.
<>
It was a nice party. Free refreshments, an open dance floor and – most importantly – a target to cross off. Bobbi walked over to the man in question and snaked a hand over his shoulder, whispering into his ear.
“Care to dance?”
The man nodded, eyes sliding over her appreciatively, and twisted around so he was face to face with the mercenary. The band played a slow song, just loud enough to cover a conversation occurring on the dance floor. Which, Bobbi thought, was likely not a coincidence.
“I’m Jakob, Jakob Rosenburg.” he drawled, “And you are?”
“Barbara Johnson. But you can call me Bobbi.”
The music picked up speed and so did the pair, twisting and twirling each other around as the time drew closer and closer to when she had to take action.
Then she saw Hunter. He caught her eye from across the room and met her with a quizzical expression. She bit her lip and pulled out of Rosenburg's embrace, whispering a hushed apology. As she made her way to the buffet table by the fire escape, signalling to Hunter to make contact.
But he didn’t come. They were just pawns, desperately trying to reach each other from opposite sides of the board. She ran a hand through her meticulously curled and styled hair, taking a deep breath and resting her thigh on the edge of the table. The invisible bulk and familiar weight grounded Bobbi; securing her and allowing her to formulate a plan.
Hunter's assignment was simple – or, it should have been. Bring in Jakob Rosenburg. He had been making noise – too much noise. The noise wasn’t an issue in usual circumstances but he was screaming classified SHIELD secrets from the rooftops and nobody could find the leak.
It was all going smoothly until he saw Bobbi dancing with the devil himself. They moved with such an elegance that one might think they had been rehearsing their whole lives. He made the conscious move of closing his slightly gaping jaw. This certainly changed things.
It wasn’t until Bobbi left the floor that Hunter realised that she was just as confused as he. Hesitantly, he reached a hand up to his right ear and switched off his comms, taking great care not to make it obvious. The music swelled and then dipped, giving him a brief moment to make his way across the dance floor and towards Bobbi, who was looking through a small clutch before triumphantly pulling out a pen. She scribbled something on a napkin just as he reached her, which was promptly stuffed into his fist.
Roof? It read.
The quizzical look he gave her amounted to nothing, so he gave a swift nod and followed her out the door and up the fire escape.
<>
“Mind telling me what the bloody hell you’re doing here?!” he retorted as soon as they were out of earshot from the rest of the guests. “I’m on a high clearance mission and you just happen to be dancing with the asset!”
“Hunter, it’s not what you think!”
“Well what is it then Bob? Because it looks to me that your lot have some kind of S.H.I.E.L.D intel leak - and my money? It’s on you. ”
Bobbi gritted her teeth as tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, frustration giving way to that horrible wet anger.
Without thinking, she stormed up to Hunter and looked him directly in the eyes.
“Don’t you dare even suggest that!”
Steely eyes met, blue on brown, and Hunter raised a hand to his face, dragging it down the freshly shaved beard.
“What are we doing, Bob?” he muttered, dropping his hand, “we dance around each other to wits end then wake up the next morning pretending nothing even happened!”
The space between them seemed to swell as they pondered their intentions. Neither wanted to fill the gap left by his statement until Bobbi took a breath.
“I know that I want you Hunter. And I know that I want to be with you - that is, obviously if you still want to be with me.” she paused to compose herself, “but if not… then I get that too.”
He breathed a sigh of relief and closed the short distance between their lips. Kissing Bobbi was like time traveling. Their souls lost in the turbine of space, pink and purple sparks bursting from the abyss. Because for them, every bruise and busted lip would pale in comparison to what they would do for each other.
The roof was cold and the pair had to stay close to retain what little heat they could, though no extreme of temperature could compel them to leave one another in that moment. But their missions had to carry on no matter, so they shared a final kiss before retreating back down into the ballroom.
Bobbi readied herself before leaving the venue - she couldn’t ruin this for him, and how much longer could a merc run with a S.H.I.E.L.D agent without something like this happening? Hunter was right, something had to change.
<>
3 months after Bobbi joined S.H.I.E.L.D she went on her first mission with Hunter.
They bickered the whole time and drove Isabelle mad but they were - and always had been - a team.