Los Angeles, 8:44 PM

5 Years Ago

Contradicting the night sky, beams of Hollywood lights flirted with the stars up above, the entire city a luminous glow. Amidst LA's common-place glitz and glamor, Adrian Ivashkov opted to linger in the shade, the 24-year-old cop playing undercover. He was the only one pretending though. There was a hum of static as he pressed on the button of the walkie-talkie, asking cheerfully despite his shady position, "USSR, do you copy?"

An exasperated sigh echoed on the opposite end. "That's offensive, Adrian."

"Nickname's only, USSR."

Adrian fought to keep a straight face, and failed, when Dimitri bit back sharply through the walkie-talkie's static, "Adrian, this is ridiculous. How is this plan going to track down a lead in the Badica case?"

"Who said anything about a lead?" the green-eyed detective remarked as he peeked up out of his cover, waiting for the fun to unravel from inside his shadow-laced car. Dimitri Belikov, his partnering detective, resided across the street, bathed in light in wake of the restaurant's grand opening. While his black-and-white get-up was an instant hook to 90% of the female spectators, the allure of his tuxedo was easily contradicted by the frustrated look on his face as he pressed a finger to the blue tooth in his ear. "You should really try smiling more," Adrian suggested helpfully, staying out of sight. "Stress causes wrinkles."

"You are my stress, Adrian."

"Ouch, playing the heartbreak card a little early tonight, don't you think?"

Dimitri pointedly ignored him, just as he ignored the swoons and stares his suit was earning. "If we're not covering a lead, what am I doing out here?" he asked, a faint Russian accent lacing his words as his dark eyes flickered around.

"You'll see," he chirped happily. As timing would have it, he soon caught sight of a (familiar) desert flower in a breathtaking red dress. If looks could kill, he thought to himself. Honestly, he was a little jealous of Dimitri, even if he'd been the one to set them up. If Rose hadn't made their friendship-only status crystal-clear, he would be the one out there charming the Turkish-born CIA agent. But since she had shot down that charm countless times before, and since Adrian was a charitable philanthropist in more ways than one, he'd devised a plan to throw the two together.

Opposites did attract, right?

"Adrian-" Dimitri began to warn again when a tapping on his shoulder stopped him. He turned around, mirroring brown eyes meeting his.

Rose simpered, amused. Even in three-inch-heels the height difference was impressive. "Either you're talking to yourself comrade, or, as I'm guessing by the aggravation, you're on the line with Ivashkov."

Dimitri was unable to reply for a moment, tongue knotting. He was dazed, both by her words and, well her. She had an exotic, dangerous beauty radiating off her, able to draw attention regardless of her attire- which happened to be stunning as well. Unfortunately he had no idea who she was. After clearing his throat, he found his voice again. "Forgive me but you are...?"

"Ah, Adrian didn't tell you, huh?" She flashed a saucy grin. "I'm Rose, Rose Hathaway. From what I understand, you've been set-up by your partner, comrade. He said, and I quote, you would 'make it worth getting dolled up tonight'."

There was a quiet pause as Dimitri allowed this to sink in. "I see," he said slowly. "Will you excuse me a minute?" When he got the go-ahead, he ducked away, pressing the device into his ear again. "You set me up on a blind date?" he hissed on the sidelines of the red carpet.

"I know, I know," Adrian said, pausing as he glanced back out at the pair. "I could really drive Cupid out of the matchmaking business."

"Adrian!"

"Can I be the best man at your wedding?"

"That would be a little hard, seeing as your name may or may not be in the obituary of tomorrow's paper," Dimitri replied thickly.

Adrian grinned, resting back in the driver's seat. "Then let's hope for both our sake's this date goes well." He disconnected, watching as Dimitri took out his blue tooth and glared at it, bottling up his irritation as he returned to Rose, apologizing. She simply smiled at the exchange, the two heading in. I should get paid overtime for this, Adrian mused from his window seat.

Despite Adrian's constant crack at wedding jokes as they dated, a year after the initial set-up, the two did wind up at the alter. Adrian even scored the best man's seat, target lessons giving him perfect aim when he chucked rice, his drunken speech at the reception one for the record books.

Things after that, however, didn't go as planned. Let's just say CIA and PD personal relations don't always pan out well. And a lot more than just that relationship went downhill from there.