This started as an idea to do a Bonnie & Clyde styled AU for the Saints, but it shifted to the Prohibition era and really took off from there. Completed with a ton of fabulous help from Kakumei, hunnybadger, and autumnyte, and I can't thank any of them enough for it.

Like many cities, Stilwater had two sides to it. The one that everyone woke up to and went about their business in day after day, and the other that didn't emerge until the sun disappeared below the horizon. The darker side that waited for that last bit of light to fade before overtaking the city completely.

Stilwater was no stranger to any of it, not with the networks running below the seemingly polished surface, but none of it truly thrived until Prohibition came along and made itself at home. The market opened up overnight, and before long, the town became home to a slew of speakeasies - places where no form of business was off the table, as long as the liquor kept flowing. Still, business boomed, and none of these places broadcasted their locations, though the Saints operated the few establishments bold enough to allow their presence to be known in hushed whispers and comments.

One such establishment Troy knew well, and had for a while. Parked up the street from it, he watched the rest of the city turn in for the night, and wondered for the hundredth time how he landed himself in this spot. With his hat pulled low over his eyes, he stared over at the path many traveled in pursuit of a real drink and a damn good time, and flicked the silver lighter open and closed repeatedly.

He trailed the Saints for a while early on. When the chance opened up to pick up the case, he pushed for it, and fought to keep the assignment as he tracked the patterns of the Saints and their competitors. Every case inspired a mild kind of curiosity in him, but something in this file sank its claws in deep. It'd been an interesting trip. One that kept him pacing around his office, if not his apartment many an evening, chain-smoking to oblivion while wondering what the hell they would try to do next. It was all too easy to go through half of a pack on those nights, but the cigarettes kept him focused, even if he suspected he might have to start buying them by the crate.

Two names always made his hands itch for one, however. The same two whose mugshots he spent more than his fair share of time studying. The moment he laid eyes on the leader of the Saints and her second, he felt something shift. With every passing day, Troy found himself slowly edging closer to the line he drew between his work and himself, and there was no denying it. That curiosity dug in deep and wasn't leaving anytime soon.

He read and re-read their files. Memorized what little information he could scrape together from reports and word around the station, and it left him wanting. That urge fueled his work, or so he told himself as he flicked the lighter on and closed it fast. He needed more, had to know more, and whenever he looked at the photo of the redhead with the smile that dared, he could easily justify the sentiment.

He had her alias, V, but nothing more. Johnny Gat – named for his tendency to light up anything at a moment's notice - was no different, although the profile they'd built for him told Troy exactly what he'd known for a while. Steer clear, and hope that he never saw you to begin with.

The two forged a solid rep over the last year. Half the city regarded them with a degree of respect, even after watching them gun down rivals in the streets, and the Saints' numbers grew stronger by the day. People admired them, admired the way they fought back against the gangs that ruled over the city with a mix of intimidation and gunfire. It lent a sense of pride and awe to the idea the Saints were doing something right by striking back, and for every strike made the people seemed to love them more for it.

None of it had hit Troy yet. He kept his distance, redrew that line and reinforced it, even with that curiosity lurking close by, but couldn't shake the questions that pecked at him. That racked up after every altercation, or offense that could've led to an arrest, but didn't. He wanted actual answers, not speculation, so he went straight to the source. Even if it went against every last shred of his better judgment.

He approached the woman in red at a Saints hotspot rumored to be one of her favorites. Flashing his badge, he calmly escorted her out of the restaurant, and didn't think much of the small smile teasing at her mouth. All of his efforts to remain indifferent backfired spectacularly, however. The damn light in the interrogation room cast a warm glow over her face, and after a few innocent questions left his mouth, he found himself watching hers. Even more closely after she requested an extra cigarette and dared him to light it.

She threw him entirely. With just the two of them alone in that room while the smoke left her lips, he hadn't thought about the job, at least not immediately.

Instead, he thought about ways to make her smile again while she twirled those smooth auburn strands around her finger, and if he had kept his mind clear in that moment, then maybe he could have made the wiser choice. Avoided the Saints, or at least kept a smart distance, like the blacked out lenses over Gat's eyes told everyone to do, but Troy had never been good at listening to that inner voice. Even when most of those warnings came with an itch he came to suspect only their company could scratch.

In spite of that, he kept the spike of curiosity at bay for a while, and watched them from a respectable distance with no plans of changing it. But even his best intentions couldn't account for outside factors, both accidental and targeted. Ones that had him caught in the crosshairs of a firefight that only her timely intervention had won. The Carnales could've easily killed him and every civilian in the shop they were at, but luck was on his side. When she lowered her gun to help him to his feet, he believed she was as well.

That would lead to their offer, their pitch to cut through the red tape that threatened to strangle him on a daily basis. V gave him her word, and Johnny backed her up, even if he'd grimaced while doing so. It was a devil's deal. The Saints wouldn't harm a hair on a single innocent's head. And he chose to believe them when they said they would tear down the other gangs in Stilwater one by one, if only he would turn a blind eye to their operations. He didn't have a clear answer after hearing it, but his look told her he would consider her offer, which was all she wanted him to do. With the newspapers documenting another set of deaths he could've prevented every morning, Troy took them up on it. He threw in his lot with them, hoping that people's opinions were right, that this gang could make a difference.

The rest followed later, information on the others' shipping routines, warehouses full of illegal product, so much more than he ever could have hoped for. These types of busts were the kind of shit he would've gladly been struck by lightning for years earlier, and now it was right at his fingertips.

In return, he traded information on some of the other gangs' suppliers to keep the Saints set, occasionally throwing up a few false flags that got the other gangs more attention than the Saints themselves. It grew easier after the first time, but the close calls never did. Coming up with the right words to keep people away from the speakeasies and any location marked as a Saints safehouse made his blood pressure spike more than once, but it'd been worth it. Even without the unopened gifts V left on his doorstep late at night.

The first time he strolled down the dark alley on the southside, his fingers stayed wrapped around the lighter V gave him along with the address to this place, nervously fiddling with it up until the time he needed to pull it out. These places weren't supposed to announce themselves, and the drab gray stone didn't suggest anything remarkable from the outside, at least not to anyone unfamiliar with it. Once his hand had touched the door to the back and opened it, though, it only took one look at the figure in black to let him know he was in the right place. Flashing the fleur on the bottom of the lighter like V had told him to, he was granted access, and stepped into the world they had hidden from everyone else.

Going through the same steps he now knew by heart, he made sure to keep an eye on any potential tails as he slipped through that alley and didn't hesitate to show the lighter to the Saint guarding the way. Pocketing the trinket right after, he felt that familiar twinge. That nervous flexing of his fingers around the lighter, clutching it close as he descended, following the stairs as the music began to swell, and every time he stepped into this place it felt a little more comfortable every time.

The speakeasy dubbed Purgatory was the Saint's pride and joy, and for all it promised it aimed to deliver.

It surrounded him when he walked in, that energy that crept across the skin and made you want to move, and despite the number of times he visited before, Troy felt it every time. That heady mood wrapped around him, welcoming him and holding him tight as he entered. The same enthusiasm gripped those on the dance floor, kept them twirling and swaying under the muted lights as the familiar beat of the music picked up on the stage. Men and women lit their cigarettes over tea cups hiding their illegal contents. Couples and groups of people spoke in hushed tones broken by raucous laughter from other parts of the room. Smoke trailed after both careful and bold gestures, and every dark corner harbored people taking advantage of those hidden spaces.

Most came here for an escape. Purgatory was a paradise of sorts, where they could lose themselves in the pleasures most were denied before trudging back up to the streets and returning to their respectable lives the following day. It was a feeling Troy had come to understand all too well.

The violations he could spot from the entrance were too many to count as he skirted the edge of the room, taking in the purple emblazoned on the walls, the wooden floors, and the well-dressed patrons. Those in charge of keeping this place booming were scattered all around, and though he couldn't find them all, the ones he did spot were doing what they loved best. City officials brushed elbows with businessmen and lawyers as they bet and traded bills over their poison of choice, spinning the roulette towards a victory, or losing it all over a bad hand. A few others slipped neat rolls of money to men and women whispering promises of indulgences of every kind before leading them off towards the rooms in the back.

The lines of powder that hinted at the Saints' growing interest in the Carnales' operations never failed to make Troy tense, but he wasn't there to make busts. Even if the cop in him refused to turn a blind eye to what he saw. He was here for another kind of job entirely, one that he had to remind himself to stick to with each step.

Troy had taken to wearing a small scrap of purple himself whenever he dropped by, just a pin, nothing fancy, but it kept others from questioning him as he moved through the crowd. He looked up the moment he heard her voice, however. That familiar laugh drew his attention to a figure in red near the stage. She whipped around her dance partner as she was swept up and dipped low. When V rose again in a spin, she grinned wide and cheered, the crowd encouraging every bit of her show., She didn't pay any mind to the sweat on her skin, or the strands of hair that had fallen out of place. She was too caught up in the moment, taken up in the energy which flowed through the place, and Troy couldn't take his eyes off of her.

Stepping away from the Saint she danced with, V tugged at the tops of her silk gloves, then blew a kiss to those left behind before making her way towards the bar. He had seen her in daring clothes before, but the cut of that dress bordered on illegal, or at least it should have been. The front plunged low, though it paled in comparison to the back. The skirt swayed in time with her hips as she continued to move with the rising sound of the trumpets, and when an errant couple almost collided with him, Troy made himself snap out of it.

Business. He was supposed to be there on business, and as good as it was to see her, he needed to remain focused . Running through that reminder three more times before moving his feet, Troy followed her and tried to ignore the nervous feeling as it settled over him.

She slipped behind the bar, her usual spot when she wasn't being spun around by the others or Johnny, and Troy took a seat at the opposite end. Tapping his fingers on the edge of the counter, he watched her take a dainty tea cup and make a mock toast. Giving those nearby a generous pour from the wine bottle she picked up, she filled her cup last. After drinking it down she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, and Troy tried to hide a smile while he pulled his pack out, tapping it on his hand to free its contents.

His hand went to his pants pocket to fish out his lighter as he perched the cigarette between his lips. The flicker of the flame drew his attention upwards to another silver lighter, much like his own. When V held it out, he leaned forward, inhaling slowly as the flame licked at the end. When it caught, he retreated, but not before giving her a small smile. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," she said, placing the lighter on the bar before resting her chin on her hands. "It's been a while. Thought you'd forgotten the way."

"Work came up like it always does, and it's only picking up. Late nights are getting later, but I think I gave up on keeping normal hours a long time ago." Taking in a long drag, Troy shrugged and exhaled. "Starting to miss me?"

Her lips curved up. "Oh, I don't know. I dodge men like you enough during the week, officer."

"But?"

"…But maybe I was starting to miss that wonderful scowl of yours." Her grin lit up her face, and he found it infectious. "No one does it better."

There was no way he'd be able to summon one up after that, so he didn't even try. "Guess not, but Johnny's pretty good at it when he wants to be."

"Too true. So, what brings you here, anyway? Need a break from the world above?" Running a finger over the rim of the empty mug in front of her, she gestured towards the crowded room behind him. "A dance? A drink? A pretty face?"

"That's a tough line up to choose from. Got any suggestions?"

She didn't say, but when she stood up and rummaged for something under the bar, he almost balked at the bottle of aged whiskey she produced. It wasn't his usual by a long shot, but when he opened his mouth to say so, she held a hand up and reached for the ice. Selecting a single piece, she placed it into the mug, and poured a generous portion of the whiskey over it before sliding the cup towards him.

Eying it carefully, he held it up to his lips, but didn't immediately drink from it. He let the scent touch his nose before sipping it, and when it rolled over his tongue he only had one thing to say about it. "Fuck."

"You like it?" She watched him expectantly, and the pleased look he received only grew when he took another longer sip. "It's some of our best."

"You're telling me." He put the mug down, tempted to push it back towards her. "That's the kind of stuff that belongs on a shelf somewhere. The same stuff people at my paygrade only get to look at in passing, because there's no way we'd ever get to touch it."

"Good thing you have friends in high places then. …Or maybe a few notches down from that," she corrected, wrinkling her nose. "Yeah, low's a hell of a lot more accurate, but close enough, right?"

"Not sure why you're throwing it my way either, but I can't exactly give it back, can I?"

"Let's just call it like it is. A small gift, because you are one of the reasons why we're able to keep on serving this. Might as well give it to someone who's earned it." When he didn't touch it again, she held it up and swirled the amber liquid around. "So, drink up. Or don't." Tilting it back, she took a long, slow drink. "I'm fine with either."

Holding his cigarette between his fingers, he tapped it against a nearby ashtray and took the mug back, his hand grazing hers.

"Good choice. Now, any way I can help you with the others?"

He cleared his throat. "Sure, though, uh, there's no chance I'll be able to cut a rug like that. Pretty face or no."

"I'd play nice."

He had been taking another drink of the whiskey, and tried not to cough as he put the mug down. He did recover, however, but couldn't quite keep his voice from coming out strained. "…Because you'd be the pretty face?"

"What? Don't you think I'm pretty, officer?" she asked, batting her eyes.

"No." V feigned offense at the statement paired with his grin, but it disappeared when he took her hand and brushed his lips against the back of it. "I think you're gorgeous."

Her eyes went wide as she froze, her comeback lost as she blinked at him, and Troy felt that nervousness pick at him again. But she didn't withdraw or pull her hand back. She let him continue to hold it as her cheeks went pink, and when she lowered her lashes, he nearly leaned forward to kiss it again.

"Gorgeous, huh?" she asked, tentatively. "Charmer."

"This is little boy blue we're talking about, right?" Troy dropped her hand fast when Johnny came up behind him, his face burning more than he liked, and watched V grimace as Gat slapped him on the shoulder. "I interrupt something?"

Her lips formed a line as she glared at Johnny, but said nothing.

"Anyway, he knows all the right words to pick. Should by now." Leaning an arm on the bar, the round, black lenses of Johnny's sunglasses did nothing to take the edge off of his smirk, as he hooked one of his thumbs under his suspenders. "And seeing as you're smiling, I think he's got them down." V reached into the dish by her and flicked a peanut at him. "What?"

"Shut it. I don't want to hear another word out of you."

Her entire face had gone red by that point, and when Troy noticed that same flush ran down her chest, he cleared his throat and kept his eyes in front of him. "Gat."

"Troy." Johnny turned his attention to her, and when she frowned at him he flicked his eyebrows up. "Babe."

"Prick," she muttered as she reached for a cup and began wiping it down.

"Oh." Johnny stood up and only grinned wider. "I touched a nerve."

"I'm going to help them on the other end," V threw out, taking the cup with her. "You boys try not to kill each other in the meantime, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Troy said, inclining his head as she left.

The moment she was gone Troy took a long drink of what was left in in front of him, and midway through decided to polish it off. The whiskey burned as it went down his throat, and though he tried to suppress it, a cough still slipped out, cutting through the strange silence between them.

Gat stayed where he was as he watched her go, and after a minute Troy felt a hand touch the back of his chair. "Long night?"

"Long enough." He put the mug down to puff at his cigarette, and focused on the warm feeling flooding his body. "Getting longer, but what else is new? Figured I'd stop by before deciding to dig into the rest of it."

"Something up?"

"Up?" Troy raised an eyebrow. "Aside from your prices?"

Johnny took the bottle of whiskey that V had grabbed earlier, and poured more than two fingers into Troy's empty mug, which Gat then proceeded to drink half of. "You got something to tell, or are you just taking your sweet old time getting to it?"

"What? Can't just stop by for your company?" he asked, giving him a crooked smile. "Best in town, or so I hear."

"Sure." Johnny kept his hand on the back of Troy's seat as he leaned in closer. "Depends on who you ask, though. Some people are kinder than others."

And still breathing. Troy took a slow drag, and tried not to turn his head. Gat usually kept his distance, but any closer and they'd be getting a hell of a lot more acquainted than they were already. "Not playing tonight, huh?"

"Not after the close call V had earlier in the week," he said, his voice low. "The people working with the Rollers want to step it up. Didn't find that out until our car was almost wrecked by some ballsy fucker with a deathwish. Thought you might have something to add to that?"

He did, and the cold sweat that had popped up after he'd fielded the witnesses statements at the scene didn't leave until he'd received concrete word that the vehicle tied to the Saints – and its driver – sped off after trading fire.

Troy had offered one of the witnesses a cigarette to help her relax, and once she gathered her wits, she told him that the blue-lined car swerved into the other vehicle in an attempt to drive it off of the road. After the initial collision, the sloppy driving caused it to veer into another nearby car. That hit put it out of commission long enough for the other car to slam on the brakes and take advantage of it.

And when the woman in red stepped out and drew her gun, the witness decided that was her cue to leave. Troy filled in the blanks from there, but that hadn't changed the fact that this was done out in the open. The Rollers used showy tactics before, but that attack nearly cost V and a number of civilians their lives, neither of which sat well with Troy in the slightest. Or Johnny, judging from his posture as he practically loomed over him.

The alcohol – and aftershave - on him came through clear as day at this distance, and Troy cleared his throat before diving in. "It was close, I'll tell you that much. I'm looking into it, but best I can say is that Price is getting impatient. Or maybe Sharp's finally putting the squeeze on him since you two are a few deals away from stealing his empire out from under him."

"That all you've got? Maybes?"

Troy pursed his lips, and against his better judgment turned to meet Johnny's challenge, almost nose to nose with him. "If I had better, you'd be the first I'd tell. You know I don't like this. They pulled this shit on a crowded street in the middle of the day. Who says they won't do it again?" He took in a short breath and kept his eyes up. "We did get something off of the body at the scene, though."

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a folded sheet of paper with a set of numbers scrawled onto it. Johnny could've held that stare all night, but after a minute he dragged the paper over and shifted his attention to it. "What is it?"

"Right now it's fucking nonsense, but the guy I threw this at suggested it could be a code. Crack that, and it could be a location, account number, or maybe a combination to a safe. Anything."

Gat clenched his jaw as he scanned it, likely trying to guess at it himself, but before long he picked it up and slipped it into his pocket. "We'll get it. You get it first, though, and your ass better be down here and ready to talk."

"You have my word," Troy said, and meant it.

Johnny let go of the seat soon after and Troy waited until he sat down on the one by him to go back to his cigarette. He let the smoke out slowly as he sat there, and no matter how long he held it the tension wasn't leaving.

"You know something?" Troy asked after a minute, not even bothering to check to see if Johnny was listening. "I thought things would ease up over time. That one of these guys would look at the mess being made of themselves and those close to them and just ask if it was worth it."

"…It ain't that simple."

Troy scoffed. "No, it's not. But what's the limit for them? Between your money and your people, I'd think it'd be an easy pick."

"For some," Johnny replied.

"And for everyone else?"

"It's all they know."

He saw Gat turn in his chair to lean on the bar, and once again Troy found himself in line with those black lenses. "Sure, but it can't go on like that. Not forever."

The words left his mouth, and he thought about the place he was in. The way everything was in that moment, and he couldn't help but turn his attention towards the end of the bar, and the bright grin on V's face as she helped out. How he had no business being here, or playing at-

He cut the thought off and downed more of the whiskey as he waited for Johnny to speak up, corner him, anything. When he didn't, Troy stubbed out what was left of his cigarette and lit a new one. But even as he did he couldn't quite stop the slight tremor he'd picked up. Not with those eyes on him.

"Just a thought," Troy said, and gave him a cautious glance.

The faint frown Johnny picked up lingered until he gestured towards the mug Troy was holding. Troy let him have it, and when he polished the rest off, he sighed. "Surprised you could stop it at one."

Troy started when he put a hand on his shoulder and slipped into the crowd without another word. Troy tried to track him, but within seconds he wasn't able to pick out the purple of Gat's shirt at all.

"Something you say?" He turned back to catch V over at his end again, and her fingers toyed with the gold chain at her neck as she followed his gaze. "Or something you didn't?"

"Hell if I know," he murmured, and her curious look went soft.

"I wouldn't worry. Johnny's pretty blunt. If he had a problem, you'd know."

He ran a hand over his tie as he sat back, and chuckled. "Sure."

"I mean it." She pressed her lips together, and took in a small breath. "So…it's getting a little loud in here, don't you think?"

The chain was wrapped around her fingers now, and Troy had to blink at her for a couple of seconds, because the nervousness he read off of her wasn't something he was used to. "Sort of."

"What do you say we head somewhere else? Make it easier to talk, or think. I might have a little something to share, too." She dropped the necklace, and folded her arms around her. "Because there are some things we'd rather hold onto for later."

"Sounds special."

She shrugged, but the smile that made her lips quirk up was faint. "It plays at being fancy, but I think you'd like it."

His cigarette burned down fast as he considered her, and he swallowed against the dryness in his throat. "I think you're right."

What she gave him in return wasn't stunned surprise at all. It was fond almost, and when she slipped out from behind the bar, she offered him her hand. "Might want to stick close then. I'd hate to lose you along the way."

V's hand gently squeezed his as she led him down the hall. The lights hanging above cast everything in a warm glow as they passed by posters promoting performances, photographs of the early days of the speakeasy, and scattered incarnations of the fleur-de-lis.

Troy wanted to take it all in as they walked by, but with a light tug he was on his way again, and stuck close as they kept on winding their way through. The voices and music dulled to the point that all he could hear was her heels as they echoed, and when they reached the room at the end she let go of his hand to slip inside.

He checked for a light switch, but before he could reach it, he heard the clicking of the lighter as she lit a candle. After lighting a few others the room wasn't nearly as dark as when they entered, but he still had to squint to pick out the finer details of the room.

The liquor cabinet close to the door was filled with things he'd be lauded for processing at the department, but the photos were what pulled him in closer. Approaching one carefully, he lifted up the frame and almost did a double-take at the subjects. V, younger and nowhere near as dolled up as she was right now, and Johnny. They were smiling along with the others surrounding them, many of which Troy had already pegged as Saints. Some of which he'd seen around the speakeasy itself, and others he'd only seen in passing through old case files.

He ran his eyes over her grinning face and felt his grip on the frame tighten. "You sure you want me back here?"

"What?"

Troy put it down, and turned towards V. She'd gone to the other side of the room to grab a pair of cups, and when she caught the look on his face she put them back. "With these memories. It's kinda personal."

She opened her mouth, and closed it slowly as she watched him remove his hat and place it on one of the coffee tables. "It is. And?"

"You really want a cop back here?"

"Did you lead me here by the hand, Officer Bradshaw?"

"No," he said, his brows drawing together as she leaned against the table.

"Then shouldn't that answer at least part of your question?" Dropping her eyes, she tapped the toe of her heel against the floor before looking at him again. "And I didn't invite him here. I invited you."

He let out a small laugh. "You did. Guess that says something too."

"So, why don't you come a little closer? I won't bite." Her red lips twisted before settling into a wry grin. "Well, not much at first, but that's beside the point."

"I'm sure." He took a step forward.

"Sure of a lot of things, right?" she asked, her fingers tapping the surface of the table behind her.

A few more steps passed, bringing Troy that much closer, and he saw her inhale. "Most."

"What's got you up at night, then? Pacing? Thinking?"

"The usual. Work. Caffeine. Insomnia." He stopped in front of her, and slid his eyes over every inch of her. "You."

"Me?" She blinked up at him, and her teasing look almost went shy. "I wonder why?"

V's gloved fingers ran over his tie, moving up to the knot, and she tugged at it, adjusting it just so while she concentrated on the task, his attention drawn to her. How the line of her brows moved while she focused, her dark eyes narrowing a hair while she smoothed the fabric down, and the way she chewed at her lip. She did it often and it stuck with him every time.

His eyes were still on her mouth when she glanced up, but he didn't move them until he felt her fingers wrap around the fabric, no longer interested in messing with it. When she pulled him closer, he flicked his gaze towards hers, towards the faint flush on her face, and cupped her cheek as he finally closed that gap.

Her mouth moved against his at a slow pace, teasing at his lips while his hands moved over her soft skin towards her hair. Troy breathed her in;took in that perfume of hers, one that he'd never caught on anyone else, and wouldn't have wanted to. Her teeth grazed him, nipping at his bottom lip when he sighed, and the moment he did, her tongue moved over the spot in a long stroke.

He slipped his other arm around her by this point, both of hers already behind his neck, and when he opened his mouth to gently suck on her lip, he felt her fingers press into him, and sucked harder when he caught that first moan.

"You've thought about that, haven't you?" V breathed, one of her hands slipping down over his chest. "Thought a lot about how it'd feel?" It kept descending, moving over his tie, then his belt, before sliding into the space right between them. "How I'd feel? You can, you know. Touch me."

Troy hovered close, breathing hard as she kept on rubbing him through his pants, aching all the while. "You want me to?"

"I'd be lying if I said maybe. Though, maybe I've been thinking about it, too." He groaned, and she gave his lips a quick peck. "About a lot of things."

Moving closer, her lips pressed against the skin above his collar, and sucked hard enough to make Troy hiss between his teeth. Her mouth latched onto another spot when he scooped her up, making her hands grasp at his shoulders as he placed her onto the table, and once he stepped between her legs again he drew her close. Ran his hands up her thighs as she gasped into his mouth, and she helped him hike her dress up around her hips.

The skin that he could reach was warm, wonderfully so, as he moved over her neck to follow her pulse, making her hands go into his hair. When he found that point, she shivered and tilted her head back, and he tried to cover every freckle he noticed earlier. The ones that he recalled under those lights at the bar, that still managed to tempt him now.

By the time he dipped his head low, V clung to him, her lips forming phrases he couldn't quite pick out. His hands pressed flat against her back as he moved over the skin exposed by the cut of her dress, and every time he heard a jumbled word slip out he wanted another. His name he could make out perfectly, however. Especially when it came out in a gasp that had her heels digging into the backs of his thighs.

Her hips rocked against his, and when she gripped the table, the pressure between them increased ten-fold, making his short breaths rough as he watched her bite her lip harder with every motion. Her mouth fell open in a long moan, her eyes slipping closed for a second. As her gaze met his again, his hands went back to the hem of her dress, dragging the rest of it up and over her thighs, because this wasn't close enough - wasn't anywhere near close enough.

Pulling him up for a kiss, her tongue went deep, and left him breathless by the time they parted. When he tried to move in for another, she shoved him back abruptly, clapping a hand over her mouth.

Troy gave himself a few seconds to register what was going on while she remained frozen in place; his brain not even bothering to connect the dots until he heard Johnny's voice, loud and clear.

"What?" he asked, his voice carrying right to them. "Don't stop on my account. The way you were on each other, it'd be a fucking shame to."

Troy let her go in a heartbeat, gently placing her back on the ground as he rushed to put her dress back into place, and V slapped at his hands. "Hey, you don't-"

The closed expression on his face made her bite off the rest of her objection, but when he took his hands away she slowly covered her chest, and huffed. Her attention was split between him and Johnny as he tried to fix his own suit, but Troy couldn't relax. His blood wouldn't stop pumping, and every glance at V as she tried to catch her breath told him she couldn't either.

When Troy reluctantly turned to look at him, Gat was watching the two of them as he leaned against the liquor cabinet. Amusement tinged his features, but the dim lights were telling Troy something else, something that only the slight curve of his mouth hinted at.

"I meant it," he said, tipping the bottle in his hand back. "Still a fucking shame. Careful though." He gestured towards his neck, and the smile grew. "You've got red on you."

Troy paused, thrown by Gat's comment until he dragged a finger over his neck and saw it come away tinted red - the same shade that was now smudged across V's mouth and his - and took a step back.

She gave him an apologetic glance, and reached for him. "Troy-"

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head as everything began to sink in. How he'd let his hands wander, how the room rocked with every sound coming out of her. How she hadn't been his when he walked back here, but for one long moment he thought she was. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

He turned to leave, and Gat intercepted him, grabbing him by the arm. "Hey, I wasn't fucking with you. You don't have to clear out just because I'm here."

"I don't?" The skeptical look Troy aimed at Johnny fell flat with the one he received back. He was serious, but hadn't taken the punch Troy kept on tensing for. That made Troy hesitate. "Because you're fine with the fact that I'd almost fucked your gir-" He shook his head and pulled his arm out of Gat's grip, hating how he'd slipped. "…Your boss? You're fine with that?"

"Been playing at it for so long, I didn't think you'd ever do anything about it." He tilted his head to the side as he considered him, and lowered the shades enough to give Troy a glimpse of what he kept behind them. "Course there are a few other things to go over, but that can wait."

Johnny raised his hand, and Troy braced himself. Waited for the hit. Instead, he lightly touched Troy's jaw, and when he closed in Troy jerked back, still flushed, and now confused. "W-what are you doing?"

"What?" The grin slipped, but not by much. "Am I wrong?"

Troy looked at him, the way Johnny stood there, his eyes just as dark as V's, and his heart couldn't stop pounding. Not when he knew that if Gat had taken those last few steps closer, he wouldn't have pulled away again.

"Johnny." V's voice cut through the haze, and Troy wasn't sure what he heard in those quiet words. "Johnny, just…back off."

But Troy was already moving backwards towards the door, and when he turned to take that exit he didn't look back. Not even when that pull kept on telling him to turn around - to go back to that room and make something of what they offered.

And when he found his way home, by some small miracle, he didn't want to see any of it. Not the photos, the files, or the papers, as he knocked half of what was spread across his desk onto the floor. He stumbled into the bathroom, his hands shaking as they went for the faucet.

Because he had been sure, so sure, of most things. But those two? He couldn't be sure at all about them.