Sneak In

The place was way bigger than what he’d initially thought. 

Enormous, and it felt bigger the more he was walking on the long corridors, following the servant.

How many servants did Richard have, anyway?

 Thirty?

As he was walking with the servant, they passed by at least five more.

Two of the maids they passed by eyed him and cast their eyes downwards when Michael tipped his head to greet them.

As soon as they were out of earshot (or at least they thought they were)

Michael heard one of them saying:

"He is SO hot, I wonder if he's the new bodyguard Mary told me about."

Really? You think so?"

"Yeah, do you see anyone That sexy around here?"

They continued giggling and discussing him, and Michael shook his head.

He wasn't sure if he was a bodyguard yet, though.

In fact, he had no idea what he was supposed to be doing tonight. They made a few more turns on the corridors, his feet sinking in the soft deep red carpet on the floor. 

The walls were decorated with even more paintings than he'd seen downstairs and Michael realized he'd seen some of them before. 

Online. 

Some of them cost seven digits and Michael didn't want to think how many more there were in the studies and the rooms. Of course, Richard was more than wealthy, but seeing everything like this, in front of him, kind of gave him a pause. 

And the manor- one of the gang's leaders manors, in fact- 

it was one of those places that when if you looked at it from the outside and from a big distance, you weren't so impressed by its colossal sizes. 

Because you only saw the front. 

It was totally different when you were inside. 

And it usually was the other way around, because as they said- one could appreciate things for what they were when they were being looked at from afar. 

It was not like that here. 

But then again- nothing was as per the usual, with Richard’s men or anything that had to do with him.

The facade was only the top layer.

And the further you wet in, the more you got involved with the gang, the more surprises were lurking in the dark corners.

Michael glanced through one of the tall French windows and saw the huge backyard that could fit five more houses like this. 

It was crazy. 

Richards’ men, Michael repeated in his head. Killian was not only one of them, not simply another underling, or a guy working for Richard. 

He was the man, sleeping with Richard. 

At first, Michael had thought it had been highly unlikely- when Benjamin gave him the information. 

Now he was discovering that was exactly the truth and the information had been correct. The next thought came, this time it was the expected one. 

Michael wasn’t indifferent towards Killian. Physically.

And it wasn’t just the wolf in him. The man, the human part in him, wanted the cold, intense eyes on him. He wanted Killian on some very primitive, physical level. 

It had to be that. It wasn't like he was interested in him as a person- he knew what kind of person Killian was. 

Everyone did. 

Because besides the startling perfect face and body, Killian was insane. 

His blue eyes weren’t the only thing Michael was thinking of, though. 

To get himself out of his absurd trance, as he was already riding the “things not to think about” train, Michael asked.

"What am I supposed to be wearing, because I don't know if you'll be able to find anything my size?"

The servant walking in front of him glanced briefly backward before he turned to look back ahead again. 

“Are you here in the place of Mr. Van Der Berg?”

“The Mr.  Who?” Michael asked surprised and cursed himself internally. Those Englishmen with their names and high-class accents, and each one of them sounding like a member of the royal family. 

Not only the owners of the fancy houses but their servants, too. 

“Mr. Gareth’s place.Van Der Berg is his last name.”

So this was Gary's full name. Okay. It wasn't what Michael's information was saying, however. 

"Sir."

The servant added. 

The butler had pronounced “Sir” somehow mockingly as if he was saying it only because his stuck-up nature wouldn’t allow him not to say it, and as if it was obvious to literally everyone Michael was far from being a respected citizen, let alone a “Sir. “

“Oh… no…I'm not, no.  “ Michael said simply. “At least I don’t think so.“

He remembered Garry being quite against him accompanying Killian but that was pretty much all of it. 

“Really?”

The man asked, and Michael expected more questions to follow, but instead, the man only let out a short sigh and continued walking. 

“Why?” Michael asked although he hadn’t sensed any change in the air between the two of them. 

“Is it usually him who accompanies Killian?”

“Oh, no. It’s Mr. Gallagard who attends the official dinners. With rare exceptions, such as this one. “

”Richard?” 

Michael asked again, stupidly, “I meant to say, Mr. Gallahard. So he doesn't go with Killian?”

“Ah, here we are, “ the servant chirped, making it sound like a dismissal. 

They stood in front of a tall, wooden open door, and Michael didn’t need to peek inside to see it was something that resembled very much a dressing room. 

They have dressing rooms, Jesus. What is this, the Plaza? or Casino Royal, maybe?

Michael thought. 

“There’s an evening suit prepared for you, Mr….?”

“Scott. “

He provided quickly. 

"Michael Scott." 

It was the first time ever he’d given his real name on a mission. Well, this was most likely his last one, so he was starting to accept the facts for what they were. 

Michael had assumed the gang would have already discovered his real name- considering how powerful and influential they were. What he counted on was the fact the Bureau and his superiors had managed to conceal his real records and files well, so that no one- even the gang, would be able to trace them or link the CIA to him as one of their agents. 

“Right.“ 

The servant tipped his head and made a retreating step.

"I'll leave you to it then. Please call for me if you need any help."

He gave a curt not in Michael’s direction and made to leave. His eyes, on the other hand, were saying- 

“What the hell is this peasant doing here?”

Yes, that was the look, Michael could very well say without having any unordinary abilities. 

The man’s scornful look was obvious enough. And the entire time it had felt as if the butler was the one dismissing him, not the other way around. 

“Sure,” he muttered and got in, “I’m starting to wonder what the hell am I doing here, too. “

His missions usually included gunfights and kicking assess, not getting dressed fancy or walking around in manors. 

Michael glanced in at the fancy dressing room and the suit with a tie he had no idea how to make into a flawless knot. 

***

He was given a perfectly made suit and after the whole struggle of putting the tie on, Michael went to find Killian when he was ready. 

He was not going to be, as he'd assumed, a driver. Micheal was accompanying Killian to one of those super fancy dinners he’d only heard of, the ones we’d all had heard of, but never thought we’d actually attend for real. He’d most likely be presented as his bodyguard, and Michael checked the gun he was given. 

Not that he couldn’t rip apart everyone in close range in less than five seconds, but he figured growing fangs and tearing people apart at a gala wouldn’t be something anyone was ready for.

Especially the CIA or his boss when they found out.

Michael walked the spacious corridors and wondered if he could search Richar’d office if it happened to be empty. There was still probably time before they left, so he could use the few spare moments chack whatever he could find in Richard's study. 

He followed the scent and his nose helped him find the way to Richard's study very easily. 

Only the room wasn't empty. 

His senses told him he was approaching it, but Richard was definitely in there. And he wasn’t alone. Michael’s whole mind was flooded with Killian’s scent and Michael slowed down his pace and clenched his teeth. 

Of course Killian was in there with Richard.