Because the fake!married trope is just so tempting.

When the three sharp knocks sounded at the door of the suite, she didn't need to look to know it was him.

But of course, she would still check anyway, because somehow she felt he'd know if she didn't, and laxity about security— specifically, her personal security— was probably the fastest and most guaranteed way to bring out Weller's pricklier side.

Which, on one hand, was actually kind of nice, because she'd already figured out that the extent of his crankiness was directly proportional to how much he cared.

On the other hand, cranky Weller was still a pain in the ass.

So, takeaway coffee cup in hand— not that she really liked the taste yet, but Zapata had bought it for her, and she wanted to appreciate the gesture properly— she slung the pricey-looking handbag over her shoulder and peeked through the peephole, seeing Weller standing a few paces back from the door, arms folded firmly across his chest. As she unlatched the door, she considered informing him that he was going to rumple his nice suit if he kept doing that, but decided against it. Just as she'd already decided against asking why he hadn't just knocked on the door that separated their adjoining rooms. She assumed it was probably locked; but then, despite her curiosity, she hadn't been game to try.

As she stepped out into the hallway to join him, throwing him a small smile in greeting, some of the tension went from his stance, his furrowed brow smoothing as he looked her over. The outfit had been Zapata's doing; a figure-hugging turtleneck in a colour that apparently perfectly accentuated her eyes, and a pair of dark, slim pants that somehow made her legs look inches longer. Tied together with the heels and the handbag, Tasha had told her that any magazine would die to have her on their cover.

She didn't necessarily agree, but she appreciated the compliment all the same.

Having travelled over her from head to toe, Weller's eyes flicked back up to meet hers, their gazes locking for a brief, silent moment before he cleared his throat, looking away and nodding slightly. "Nice," was all he said, his voice even deeper and more gruff than usual, one hand fiddling with a cufflink before pushing back his sleeve to look at his watch.

No offense to Zapata, but she decided she liked his compliment better.

"Well, we better get moving," Weller said abruptly, already back to his usual businesslike manner. "The first meeting is going down in half an hour and we still have traffic to deal with."

Pulling the door closed behind her, she fell in step with him as they headed for the elevator, fingers tapping lightly on the sides of her coffee cup. Weller was wound tight this morning; she could feel it, feel the tension radiating from him, and wondered if it was due to the case involving so much undercover work— that particular aspect of the case had certainly caused her more than her share of nerves. Though it wasn't like adopting a whole new life and identity was a new concept for her; of the two of them, she was probably better equipped to deal with a case like this.

Easy to pretend to be someone else when you don't even know who you are in the first place.

Glancing across at him as they walked, she tried to puzzle it out, but got nothing. In all honesty, Weller was always wound a little tight— except, it seemed, for the rare moments with her where he was able to briefly put aside all of the weight he carried, showing her the softer, more playful side underneath, moments where he was just Kurt. She may not have been around him long, but she got the feeling that few other people were ever allowed to see that particular part of Kurt Weller.

And secretly, she liked it that way.

They'd already entered the elevator and started the 26-floor journey down to the lobby when Weller finally broke the silence, clearing his throat and turning slightly towards her as he reached inside his suit pocket.

"Uh, here, better put these on before I forget," he muttered, sticking his hand out towards her, his strong fingers unfurling to reveal two stunning, glittering rings in the center of his large palm. Jane stared at the engagement and wedding rings in astonishment for a moment— of course she'd known they would be undercover as a married couple, but somehow this particular part of the scenario hadn't even entered her mind before now— and Weller shifted uncomfortably, lifting his own left hand to show her the gold wedding band already on his finger.

"Gotta play the part, Jane," he said, though he didn't seem quite sure which one of them he was trying to convince.

"Right, yeah," Jane agreed with a quick nod, her right hand already lifting to take the rings before she realised it still grasped her coffee cup. Her eyes darted around for somewhere to put it to free up her hands, but there were no flat surfaces in the elevator— unless she wanted to opt for the floor, which she didn't— and they still had almost 20 floors to go.

"Uh— do you think— could you?" she murmured, cursing the way her cheeks heated as she tentatively held out her left hand toward him.

"Right, uh, of course," he answered hastily, and she swore she could almost see a faint flush creeping up his neck as he bent his head, his touch surprisingly gentle as he took her hand and carefully slid the wedding band and engagement ring onto her finger.

As they settled in place, she felt his thumb brush lightly over the rings, his eyes flicking to hers for only the most fleeting of seconds before he pulled his hand away, turning back to face the elevator doors, arms rumpling his suit once more as he folded them tightly across his chest.

"They suit you," he said softly after a moment, eyes on the small screen that steadily counted down the remaining floors.

"Yours, too," she answered just as quietly, her thumb rubbing slowly over the new additions, her mind trying not to linger on how right they felt on her hand, or on the way her skin still tingled in all the places he'd touched. This was just another part of their act, of the illusion they were creating, but she wouldn't let it confuse her. She could keep things separate in her head, keep fiction apart from reality.

At least, she hoped she could.

The silence stretched as the rest of the floor numbers steadily ticked down, both of their gazes locked on the screen as it finally reached the ground floor. When the doors gave a cheery ding! and began to slide open, Weller silently held out his hand, and she slipped hers into it without hesitation, their fingers intertwining and squeezing gently.

Looking down at her, the corner of his mouth quirked just slightly, his gaze somehow both tender and determined.

"Come on, Jane. Let's go give them hell."

At her tiny, resolute nod, they both drew a deep breath, and stepped over the threshold together.

###

In the days following the successful completion of the case, the only jewelry item logged back into inventory by the techs was a glitzy engagement ring; both wedding bands had been reported as lost in the course of the mission, presumably going missing during the chaos that had allegedly included multiple gunfights and one daring escape that— or so the techs had heard— would have made James Bond proud.

Writing the rings off as collateral, the techs continued to file the rest of the inventory paperwork for the case before moving onto the next case on their list, never giving the lost rings another thought.

Two people, however, thought of them often.

Two people who both soon took to wearing a light chain around their neck, kept tucked securely away beneath their shirts, hidden from the world and even from each other.

That was, until a night some months later, when nothing was hidden between them anymore.

Thanks for reading, and I hope 1x09 turns out to be as great as we all hope.

Reviews are always welcome.