Chapter Text
Lance Sterling staggered out of the bar and ran as hard as the pinch in his side would let him. His head swam with questions as he tried to focus on making it to the car Jenkins had sent for him after he barely managed to send his location through his watch. What the hell was that? He stumbled for a split moment over the pavement but quickly regained his balance. It was the darkest parts of D.C, the time of night didn't help with visibility either. His steps continued to falter, and the pain steadily intensified with each step. Lance only dug his nails deeper into his side. His other hand held on tight to a briefcase he claimed from the barfight.
He got what he was there for, but it wasn't the win he wanted. Some stranger had appeared out of nowhere and really gave it to him with a hand of steel. The man's face had been hidden, but he fought with such hostility that it felt personal. It was true, Lance was only well liked by other agency members. But his mind couldn't conjure any enemies that hadn't been jailed. He spotted the dim glow of the inside of a car from under a bridge and prayed it was for him. Jenkins' concerned expression was caught in the light, definitely for him. Hastily, he pulled the door open and slid inside.
"Drive! Any of those goons could be after me. I wasn't exactly running at my full potential," Lance demanded. The car's tires spun and lurched them forward as they sped off.
"Are you hurt?" Jenkins asked, her voice stern. Her eyes remained locked on the road ahead of them.
"Just my pride." She rolled her eyes, but Lance still spotted the slight smile. He released his tight grip on the briefcase.
"That's the right briefcase, yes?"
"I checked twice. I know it has the money." A tired sigh slipped from between Jenkins lips. It wasn't often her true emotions slipped through, unless you knew where to look. Lance noticed she was starting to look older, more worn down. She had been stretched thin lately, with classes starting up again and all. It wasn't easy playing as dean and the founder of the agency. Fuck, classes start next week. He still had preparations left to the last minute and a roster to look over. He only taught two classes per semester, yet it always ended up being more of a burden than Jenkins had promised. The plan was this: work for the agency during weekends and whenever he had time off, then act as a college professor to help their cover. The agency wasn't exactly keen on being caught after the last incident, so a cover it was. Using a college as a cover has its benefits too; certain students are also able to train in later classes, hidden from the public to become an agent. An act.But it was more than an act; Is it really acting when it consumes most of his thoughts?
They drove in silence until they approached his apartment. Lance appreciated that she wasn't interrogating him, but the silence also made it feel as if she was disappointed in his performance. I was caught off guard, that's all. The car slowed to a stop, and Jenkins bit the inside of her cheek. Lance could tell she was wondering what had happened. How did one of her top agents almost get beaten up at a small barfight? It was so much more than that, but he lacked the energy to explain.
Sterling-
she started.
"Don't. Just... review the footage and we can go over it tomorrow."
"Okay." Her tone was tender. Don't forget we need you at the college tomorrow. Can't slack there.
Lance muttered an okay and shut the door hard. Hands in his pockets, he walked more slowly than usual to the entrance. His pride was more hurt than he'd like to admit.
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Lance barely slept that night. Visions of the fight kept replaying in his head, and the narration of what he could've, should've done taunted him. Even worse, the question of who the stranger was rotted in his mind. The idea grew roots and started to mold, becoming one of those questions he just had to answer and wouldn't be content with until so. What was up with that hand of his? Lance pondered. But that question would have to wait. And when that first alarm bounced off the walls of his ample apartment, he barely bagged four solid hours. Early morning light spilt through the cracks in the curtains and fell onto his eyes. He stirred, swung his legs over the bed, and trudged into the bathroom. Underneath the shirt, a bruise had spread its wings across the whole left side of his torso. With each breath, it stirred a dull pain. He swore quietly and finished getting ready hastily. He wanted today over so he could head to the agency and talk things over with Jenkins. The sour feeling from yesterday was still there, but pushed down deep enough to be ignored for work.
Luckily, the campus was quiet. It was not yet bustling with antsy students and professors, but in a dreaded week's time it would be. It's just two classes. Besides, someone will take over for me soon. The only reason he agreed to "act" as a professor is that the last agency member suddenly quit. She had been posing as a teacher for the literature 101 class during the day, then easily slipped underneath the school to the headquarters at night. It was easier to pass people going back and forth as employees, Jenkins promised. Most professors worked for both the college and the agency anyway, making it easier to keep secret. But she had been far too overwhelmed with both jobs and quit suddenly. Jenkins came to Lance and asked him for a temporary favor. Temporary, yet it had been a full semester, and now another one since Lance had filled this position. He constantly questioned when they'd find a replacement, and every time Jenkins said, "It's hard to find someone willing to do both." While he knew this method was for the greater good, it still sapped his energy.
He rested his head in his hands, then dragged them down his face. In the last semester, it was mostly bums in his class who didn't really care and were just trying to get credits. Hopefully, that will be the case again for this fall. He'd end up just reading off of slides prepared by the old teacher and pray they do fine on the assignments.
"Is the job really that bad?" a voice teased from behind the door. It opened a split second later, and Killian stepped inside. "Hope I'm not interrupting." His tone was joking, but his face was devoid of most emotion. That's how it was with him. Like Jenkins, he never really let the mask slip. Lance spun his chair to face the window and listened as Killian's footsteps neared the desk.
"Not at all."
Killian wasn't part of the agency, but he was reserved enough that it wouldn't be a concern if he found out. Like Lance, he never showed up to game nights or any other events. He, too, worked in the English department, which meant he and Lance were not exactly acquaintances but friendly enough. Killian picked up a magic 8 ball that rested on the corner of the desk and shook it slightly. Lance opened his mouth to ask his purpose, but Killian spoke instead.
"I just want to ask, would you like to go get-" Killian began. Both of them turned to look at the door as someone knocked harshly.
"Lance, get your ass to the quad, we need help setting up for the student meet and greet later this week," Jenkins barked as she stepped inside. Her face flushed as she saw Killian. "Oh, I- my apologies, I hadn't realized you had company," she fumbled, trying to apologize for the informal language she only used for agency members. Don't make it that obvious, Lance thought. They only had small slip ups like these, nothing more. Yet it still always bothered Jenkins to the core. She cleared her throat.
"The meet and greet that I will not be attending tonight due to personal reasons." Jenkins glared at him for the last statement, but only pressed her lips into a thin line. There was no way he was spending more time than necessary on campus. Besides, they needed to go over last night. "I'm on my way," Lance replied. Jenkins left the room quickly and shut the door.
"Busy later?" Killian asked as they started down the hallway. Lance sighed as he realized that Killian had been trying to ask him to hang out before he was interrupted. He was probably going to use the event later as an excuse.
"Yeah, sorry. I've got... personal stuff going on."
"Pity." They continued to walk in silence, but the air felt heavier. What was that about? Whenever they got drinks together, it was always on a whim, never planned. He told himself he was reading too much into it, that a lot of weird stuff had been happening lately.
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"So, let me repeat everything. You waited for the man with the briefcase to enter. And he met the bald guy at the bar?" Jenkins asked. The space on the table in front of them was a mess. Papers were scattered everywhere with cold cups of coffee, leaving circular stains. Lance nodded. The room was dark except for dim floor lights that bordered the wall. Fine by him, a headache had started to form anyway.
"Then, right when he pulled the briefcase from behind the bar, you attacked. But they put up a good fight, and during the confrontation, someone else joined."
"The masked guy."
"The masked guy," she repeated. "Then he grabbed your face? That's odd."
"And just held me there for a moment."
She scribbled something down. "I'll ask again. Any traits that stuck out to you?"
"No, he was completely hidden. Tall, but nothing else that I can describe." She exhaled and leaned back in the chair. "Look, I really need to find this guy. He almost beat me. And besides, what did he have to do with the money from drug dealers?"
"Lance, we're working on it. You just go when you're called. I swear, when we find out more, you're our top guy." Lance sighed and spun his chair towards the door. The question burned on his tongue again. Jenkins was already under pressure, but now that something was starting up again, he really wanted his full attention to be on the agency. He could feel it; this was going to be something big. Why would someone they had never seen before show up to a fight, right after everyone else had cleared out? But most importantly, how could he balance being a teacher and working on a hard case?
"Jenkins, I want to drop this semester." He watched as her face changed from stressed to disappointed. "Please, this is going to be something big."
"And dangerous," she added. "Sterling, you know you're doing me the biggest favor if you stay. I swear we're trying to find another agent-"
"So find someone who actually wants to teach! Killian isn't part of the agency, and he's still a professor. Come on, I can't do this again." The exhaustion quickly bubbled into anger. Jenkins stood and walked to the other end of the room before resting her hands on her hips. "Why are you so keen on keeping me away from the agency?" Her body tensed for a split moment. There! He had something. "Don't play coy. You're not telling me everything." He stepped closer.
"You haven't exactly been on your A game recently." Oh. Oh. That's what this was about? "And after that one incident..." She didn't finish the sentence, but he knew. It was what forced the agency to move underneath a college. He had been careless and let the enemy infiltrate. Like I meant to! Lance shot out of his chair.
"You're joking, right? It was one mistake, I mean. Be real, it wasn't exactly our top notch security. It was bound to happen." He hoped for her to argue so he could continue to back his case. But instead, she only shook her head like she was reprimanding a child. That honestly hurt worse than being chewed out. It was like she was sick of him. "So you're just expecting me to teach this whole year?" he scoffed. "Lance, that's not what I meant. You'll still go on missions-" "Just not important ones? Unbelievable. At this point, I'm a full time professor." Coat in hand, he marched towards the door. "We've found you some help for the class, if you just listen-" As the door shut, it cut Jenkins off just as she was calling his name. She had been disappointed in him before, but not to the point of practically demoting him. As he passed people through the hall, he tried to flash them smiles as they stopped to wave or gawk. The elevator ride seemed to last an eternity as it moseyed up into the back parking lot. Just as the door opened, he broke into a run and hurried through the rain into his car.
"I've been capable all these years. Why does she not trust me now?" He murmured to himself as he rested his hands on the steering wheel. Whatever the deal was, he was more determined than ever to stay on top. He pressed the pedal down hard as he sped out of the parking lot. Three red lights passed before he inhaled sharply. Calm down. Why am I so worked up? Maybe Jenkins is right, I'm just not in my prime anymore. The thought sank to his chest and twisted in between his ribs. God, I need a drink. It was late, past 11 pm. Maybe he could stop somewhere? But no. He needed to keep his head in the game; there was no time to make stupid mistakes.
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Walter
Walter had been so busy filling his schedule with sciences and maths that he completely forgot about his humanities classes. That being said, he was currently headed to his 8 am Literature class. While he had taken the class already, he decided it was time to dabble back in the English department again, but this time as a TA. His college counselor had recommended it, saying it would be a good experience. His nerves were slightly on edge, he'd never done something like this before. It meant he had to interact with students a lot of the time. But it would be exposure therapy, as his mother used to say. His pace quickened as he wandered down the hall and rounded the corner. Way too fast, because a split second later, he collided with someone else.
"Ugh, what the hell?" The girl stumbled backwards but caught herself.
"I'm so sorry," he began, already fumbling for words. He was already messing up and the day just started. "I wasn't looking and-"
"It's alright, I wasn't looking either." The girl in front of him adjusted her glasses and abruptly stuck out her hand. "I'm Eyes." Walter took her hand and recited his name. Eyes? It must be a nickname.
"Are you in this class? Literature 101 at 8 am?" he asked as they both started down the hall again.
"Mhm! I'm just taking it for credits, though, so hopefully it won't be too hard." Walter resisted a frown. Shouldn't you take a class to enjoy? Not just for the GPA boost? But he ignored those thoughts.
"I'm actually the TA for this class."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I took it my freshman year and really liked it."
"You wouldn't mind grading me easily then right?" she joked. "Hang on, I have to ask. Have you seen the professor before?"
"No. Apparently it's someone new." The question struck him as odd. What was with the sudden change of subject? Just as they reached the door, Eyes looked at him teasingly.
"What?"
"I've heard a few things about this professor. You know, from a friend."
"Oh? Like what?"
She started to smirk. "I've heard that he's incredibly hot, and practically every girl trips over themselves when they walk into class." She threw her head back in a fit of laughter, as if she didn't believe her own words.
"You think it's true?" he asked nervously. Heat suddenly crept up his neck; he wasn't the best at these conversations. It always ended with him saying something to kill the mood or just leaving it silent. Or he said something way too estranged from the norm that made people look at him sideways.
"I actually have some self respect, so I doubt I will. But I guess we'll find out," she giggled. The door swung open and Walter quickly studied the room. There was only a handful of people, maybe thirteen at most so far. It was pretty bland, except for the windows that allowed plenty of light and an amazing view of the campus. No sight of the professor. "Bummer," Eyes jokingly sighed. Walter made his way to the front of the room and quietly placed his things down in the seat front and center of the desk.
"Aw, you like the front of the room too?" Eyes said, tossing her bag in the seat next to his. "But don't you have some special place to sit?" His eyes traveled the room, there was only the desk at the front.
"I guess not."
Walter was glad his new acquaintance also enjoyed the front row; he fretted that he would only see her occasionally before class. Ten, then fifteen minutes passed of light hearted chatter between Eyes and Walter before the door finally opened. Walter turned to see who was walking in so late. And there he was.
"Oh, so he is attractive!" Eyes whispered. Oh. Oh. She wasn't lying, Walter thought. He stared as Mr. Sterling walked in long strides to the front of the class. They seemed to be the only ones captivated by his appearance, as conversation continued around them. Walter continued to stare as he noticed the way the muscles in his arms showed through the blue suit. All his other professors dressed plainly, trying to be as comfortable as possible during the day. Even then, he never was pulled towards how they looked. Lips slightly parted, he stared ans noted the lean physique that lay underneath his clothes. Imagine if I could see it. His face felt hot and he silently reprimanded himself for looking at someone, a teacher nonetheless, like that.
Mr. Sterling cleared his throat and began the rundown of the syllabus, but his voice only seemed to blend in with the others. Due dates, blah blah blah. He himself didn't seem all that engaged, almost bored. But Walter could only notice the definition in his face as he spoke, and the way his eyes glided smoothly over the class. They never paused on Walter, and he feared that his teacher was unaware that he was even the TA. But in the back of his mind he wished they'd pause, even for a split second.
Focus. It's not the time to be thinking like that. Besides, he's a teacher, and wayy out of your league. Class ended after a long stretch of time with Walter trying not to think of the attractiveness of his professor. But as everyone raced to leave, he suddenly was filled with the want to talk to him and hear his voice again without the noise of the other students. That's a bad idea. You'll only embarrass yourself, with the way you've been thinking. What was with this new confidence? It was very unlike Walter.
"Ready to go?" Eyes asked, starting towards the door.
Before he could agree and shut down the stupid idea, he replied, "I uh, I'm gonna ask him a question."
"Oh! Want me to wait for you?"
"No, that's alright. It might be a minute." And before he could back out, he was already steps away from Mr. Sterling. If you want to stand out, just grade assignments without complaining! Don't be stupid! he screamed internally. But another voice pushed him to keep going, to make himself heard.
But it couldn't hurt, right?
"Mr. Sterling," he began. But as his professor turned around, he realized he didn't even have a solid question to ask. Quick, think of something!
"Yes. You're the TA right?" he hesitated. "Remind me your name again."
"Uh, Walter Beckett. Uhm," he stammered. A question suddenly popped into his head. Sterling lectured the class as if he'd been doing this a while, despite looking young. "I was just wondering how long you've been teaching."
"That's all?" he asked. His tone remained flat. But for a split second, his eyes looked Walter up and down. Or had he made that up? Suddenly the room was smaller and he felt too close to him. "Not long. I actually plan to leave this semester, maybe even in the middle of it. I'm only a stand in for a while. I knew the actual professor well enough, so." The anxiety Walter felt was now replaced with disappointment. Leaving?
"Oh," was all he could manage. Sterling checked his watch.
"Do you have any real questions? About the job?"
"I- No. Thanks for the time-"
"Awesome. We can discuss real business tomorrow." He turned towards the door, leaving Walter feeling warm in the room alone. Walter expected to feel disappointed with how flippant Sterling had been. But instead, he was fueled with a desire to stand out even more. Which was the complete opposite of how he usually was. Typically he did his most to stay out of everyone's way. But this year would be different, he'd try to get people to listen. Especially with the project he'd been working on for engineering.
He must be bored with all the average students he gets, that explains his behavior. He could act uninterested all he wanted. But no teacher could ignore a straight A's student, their TA more or less, for that long.