"Fifty-seven more fucking days," Gio said, slamming his report into the tray of the file room. He was never eating ramen noodles again after this. He'd spent the morning puking his guts up, and as much as he was starting to hate the taste, they were that much worse on the return trip.

He turned on his heel and almost ran into someone in the doorway. "Sorry," he said, shuffling to one side and almost landing on his ass. "Marcus? You look like shit."

Bloodshot eyes and a haphazard shave job made the alpha look like a crazy hobo. "Is this the file room?" he asked, his eyes flicking around without landing anywhere.

Gio crossed his arms. "Why? You look like you've been on a three-day bender."

Marcus focused on him for a split second, then looked away again. "I'll come back," he said, turning to leave.

For about ten seconds, Gio contemplated leaving him to his own devices. "Marcus, wait." Jogging toward the elevators, he found the alpha staring at the buttons like the elevator would magically appear. "Do you need help finding something?"

"No?"

Raising one eyebrow, Gio snorted. "Let me rephrase. What did you need help finding?"

Marcus stared at him, full of feverish intensity. Gio did his best to dial down the passive aggressiveness, and that must have satisfied him, because he nodded. "I need the client earning reports for last year."

Gio was shaking his head before Marcus had finished speaking. "Those wouldn't be down here. During training, they did a whole day talking about client privacy. All we get on these floors is client numbers; anything with identifying information is kept in the Vault."

That information took the wind out of Marcus's sails, and he slumped against the wall. "Damn."

Alarmed, Gio frowned at him. "Is the world ending?"

Marcus laughed, dark and bitter as the crappy coffee in the break room. "If only it was that simple."

"Whoa." Gio caught his arm as he slid to one side. "You want to talk about it?" he asked without thinking.

Staring at him, Marcus looked more like an ancient beagle than an overbearing alpha. "It's okay," he said quietly. "I'm going to call a friend as soon as I get home."

"You okay to make it there? You look like a stiff wind would knock you over." Gio glanced at his watch and grimaced. He wasn't going to make it to the bank before it closed at this rate. He couldn't bring himself to leave the other man looking so defeated though. "Thanks again for the car. It's running great."

That got Marcus's attention, and his lips twitched. "She's rough, but she's got heart," he said. "Don't forget to use the high mileage oil when you get it changed."

"I was thinking the new full synthetic that's on the market. It's more expensive, but if it's half as good as they claim..." The elevator slid open, but Marcus didn't seem to notice, and Gio waved them on.

"It is," Marcus said, lighting up like a flood lamp. He looked decades younger, his unkempt appearance transforming to rakishly handsome. "It's great. I've got it in my Chevy."

The next elevator over slid open, and one of the senior executives stepped out. Gio couldn't remember his name, but he was the younger one that everyone liked. He smiled, but the man sniffed and walked away with his nose in the air.

Shaking his head, Gio shrugged it off. He didn't care what these people thought of him. "What kind of Chevy do you have?"

Marcus wasn't paying any attention, staring after the executive with a thoughtful expression. "Do you want to go to dinner tomorrow?" he asked, his voice loud enough to carry.

Eyes wide, Gio snorted. "Are you drunk?"

"No," Marcus said, finally turning to look at him. "That was Robert Parker, the Head of Finance, and he's an omegaphobic asshole," he added softly.

Turning to look down the hall, Gio chuckled. Then he laughed. "You fucking rebel, you. Next thing you know, you'll be cursing like a sailor."

"My mother would kill me." He was smiling, though. "Is that a yes?"

"Tomorrow's Tuesday," Gio said. "That's the least romantic day for a date." He poked the other man in the chest, stepping closer as the guy in the suit, Parker, came back down the hallway with a stack of files. "I call your dinner date, but move it to Friday, and raise you lunch tomorrow."

It was just a stunt to piss off a bigot, not an actual date. Marcus wouldn't read anything into it, and he'd get a free lunch. Everybody's a winner. Gio grinned, leaning up on his tiptoes.

"Lunch tomorrow," Marcus mumbled, his eyes on Gio's lips. "Got it."

"See you then," Gio said, slipping around him into the elevator. Marcus stared after him blankly for long enough for the doors to slide closed, and Gio waggled his fingers, laughing at his dumb face.

He made it to his car before the second thoughts caught up to him. Digging out his phone, he pulled out of the parking lot and into Chicago traffic, which wasn't actually an improvement.

"So I did something stupid, and it's all your fault," he told Curtis when the other agent picked up.

"Don't blame me, Romero. I'm no Jiminy Cricket."

"I have a date with that exec," he said. The line went quiet.

"Okay," Curtis said when Gio had made it another ten feet down the road. "I take the blame for that one. Do you think he can get you into the upper floors?"

"I'm pretty sure he has access to everything, including the Vault." He also had a great smile, quirky sense of humor, and lips to die for under that hideous mustache. He wasn't thinking about that though. "I'll keep you posted."

"Good. I'll update the team. And Romero," he added before Gio could hang up, "thanks. I know this isn't where you want to be, but you've taken it seriously and done your best. You're a good agent, and you should have gotten that promotion."

"Are you dying, man? Jesus, that was mushy," Gio said, scratching his nose. "Get off my damned phone, Curtis." He cut the call before the other man could say anything else. "Asshole," he muttered, pretending he meant the guy in the sedan who cut him off.

* * *

"Well, would you look at that," Gio said as he climbed into the shiny Cadillac. "You look almost human again."

They'd ended up having to cancel lunch, something about a meeting with the senior partners being rescheduled. Word had come down through the grapevine, delivered to his desk by this week's supervisor, Rachel. It had been the most interesting thing to happen that day, and even the guy two tables down woke up long enough to stare at him with wide eyes.

"Thanks," Marcus said, running a hand over his jaw. "I shaved."

Gio still wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here. Undercover usually involved a level of flying by the seat of his pants, but this was beyond anything he'd been through short of a firefight. His only plan so far had been to avoid a repeat of the night at the hotel. He didn't need the complications.

Then again, there was the whole reason they were doing this. He glanced out through the smudge-free windshield, making a note to ask how the hell Marcus did that at some point. The senior partner from before, in another immaculate suit, was glaring at them while he waited for the valet to bring his car around.

"You missed a spot," Gio said, leaning across the console.

Marcus raised an eyebrow, his eyes sliding to the rear view mirror. "Where?"

"Right here." Gio grabbed a few of the longer hairs at the corner of Marcus's mustache and pulled.

"Oh, ha ha. Very funny. Why does everyone hate the mustache?" He rolled his eyes and put the car in gear, rolling slowly so that the suit got a good look at the two of them. "It's dashing."

Gio snorted. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, man. Just be careful; that caterpillar might smother you if you take your eye off it."

Gaping indignantly, Marcus sputtered as he turned them onto the main street.

"So," Gio said, chewing the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, "where are we headed?"

"Just for that, I'm not telling," Marcus said, his lips twitching so that his mustache bristled. It was fascinating, and Gio found himself staring at the contrast of smooth lips and rough hair for far too long.

"Fine," he said, tearing his eyes away.

The traffic was as brutal as always, but instead of getting on the highway, they twisted through the tangle of one way streets toward a more industrial area. Gio had gotten lost there when he first moved to the city, and while the looming warehouses were a great setting for a murder, they were distinctly lacking in nice restaurants. He peered at the buildings around them and tried to keep his expression neutral.

He must not have succeeded because Marcus smiled, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. "I haven't been here before," he said, turning down an even smaller side street with the kind of precision that would have made Gio's driving instructor cry with joy, "but it's got excellent reviews."

"And the internet never lies," Gio said, crossing his arms and leaning his head into the buttery leather headrest.

"Are you always such a ray of sunshine?" Marcus asked as they pulled into a dingy parking lot. Unlike the deserted buildings around them, this lot was packed, and it took a moment to find a spot to wedge the Cadillac into.

"Yes," Gio said, climbing out of the car. There was loud music almost drowned out by people laughing and shouting, a cacophony of sound that blanketed the parking lot along with the rich, greasy smell of pizza.

Marcus laughed, shaking his head as he came around the car. "Good to know," he said, apparently unconcerned. He caught Gio's arm before he could take more than a few steps. "This way."

They circled around the side of the building, and Gio stopped dead in his tracks. "What the fuck?" The building opened up into a huge loading bay, the garage doors rolled up to reveal a crowd of people crammed around... arcade games? "Are you kidding me?"

"What?" Marcus asked, a pink flush crawling up his neck as he straightened his tie then pulled it off entirely. "You too good for pizza and Skee-ball?"

Gio's stomach growled, and he eyed a group of kids perched on the edge of the loading bay. They were laughing and pulling strings of cheese off their pizza that were as long as their arms. It hung in steaming strands until it snapped, the whole group erupting in cheers.

"Screw you, man. You promised me food," Gio said, shoving the alpha with his shoulder. He hadn't eaten lunch because the thought of another cheese sandwich made him nauseous.

"That's what I thought," Marcus said. He grabbed Gio's hand, pulling the smaller man along as he dove into the crowd, his cocky stride parting the crowd ahead of them.

"Smug bastard," Gio muttered, staring at their hands. For a guy who sat at a desk all day, Marcus had quite the tan, the back of his hand a shade or two darker than Gio's. He was strong, too. His calluses rasped against the ones Gio had earned with years of gun range qualifications.

"Does your mother know you have such a dirty mouth?" Marcus asked, pulling up at the end of what might have generously been called a line. He was scanning the menu, his thumb stroking across Gio's knuckles.

"My papa," Gio said without thinking, "has long since despaired of me cleaning up my act."

Cursing himself, Gio twisted his hand free and rubbed the tingling skin on his jeans. Giorgio Romero had a mother and father, both deceased, from Jersey, not a papa. He'd never had this much trouble holding on to a cover before. Sure, he was due a vacation, but this was getting ridiculous.

Gio stuck his hand in his pocket and wrapped his fingers around his cell phone. He was going to fuck this up. He should call Curtis and tell him to pull the plug.

"What did you want?"

One of the most important things about undercover work, the thing that Gio had excelled at, was not hesitating. Frozen with his hand on his phone, Gio stared up at Marcus's eyes gleaming in the bright flashes of colored light and for six full heartbeats, he did nothing. He couldn't think; he couldn't breathe. He was there, but nothing felt real. Who was he supposed to be? He couldn't remember.

"Gio?" A warm arm curled around his shoulder as Marcus tucked him close, his forehead crinkling. "Sorry, I know it's loud. My favorite is the pepperoni. We can split one if you like."

The room spun around them as he stared up at Marcus. "I..." His hand clenched around the phone, then let go. "You're not getting away with that. I demand my own pizza," Gio said, shaking his head. The room snapped back into focus, and he spotted a familiar flashing light out of the corner of his eye. "Hey, they have Fire Storm XVI." He slipped his hand back out of his pocket, the phone still tucked away.

This operation was a punishment for being too good, and he wasn't going to take it anymore. There was no sign that Bainbridge and Parker was involved in anything more serious than nepotism, so for the next seven weeks, he was on vacation. Giorgio Romano was free in ways that Giovanni Rizzi could never hope to be, and he was going to put that to good use.

He still wasn't looking for a repeat performance though. Attachments just made things complicated. Gio tried not to be disappointed with himself over that.

"Dirty mouth and bossy," Marcus teased, urging them up to the counter where a team of laughing teenagers slung dough around like old Italian men. "Why did I invite you out, again?"

"Masochism," Gio said, smiling at the girl behind the counter. "I'll take one with all the meats," he added with a wink. "I do love meat."

She blushed bright red, keeping her eyes on the register as she rang them up.

"I can't take you anywhere," Marcus said as he handed over a wad of folded bills. "Keep the change."

"It'll be twenty minutes or so," she said, staring intently at her hands as she shoved the bills into the register and handed over a ticket.

Gio clapped his hands. "That's just enough time for me to kick your ass at some games."

"It is?" Marcus said, a smile ticking up the corners of his mustache as he followed in Gio's wake.

Grabbing a violently orange space rifle from the rack of his favorite shooter game, Gio smirked and loaded up a level without looking. "Well, I was being generous. How much money do you have? I bet it takes me less than three minutes to grind you into the dirt."

Marcus loaded a couple dollars into the machine and picked up the other rifle. "You're on."