A/N: Big chapter (5.4k), lots of stuff packed in here. Thanks to indigomini for beta'ing as always <3 Enjoy, guys!

Jongin feels himself positively melting into the warm embrace, wrapping his own arms cautiously around Dyo’s waist. It’s a good thing he’s still on his knees: he’s not sure he could remain standing if he were upright.

All too soon, Dyo’s arms are releasing him from the impassioned hug. He’s hauled up to his feet and watches Dyo’s big, beautiful eyes look him over anxiously, from head to toe.

“Are you hurt? Did you encounter the guy who went scouting?” Dyo moves and speaks swiftly, decisively, while Jongin is still gaping and trying to catch up to the reality that he’s here and this isn’t a dream. Dyo has already slipped the gun he took from him into the waistband of his pants and is taking Jongin’s hands in his own, turning them over and looking for injuries.

Jongin swallows, revelling in the touch, the gentle swipe of Dyo’s thumbs over his palms leaving behind a delightful tingle. “I’m fine. I slipped past him while he was heading down to the first floor. Are you…” his voice trails off as he takes in Dyo’s appearance for the first time. His full, dark hair is sideswept but mussed, inevitably from grappling with the guy who currently lays unconscious at their feet. Some unruly strands fall down across his forehead and along his thick eyebrows. One of which is sporting a dark red cut. Dyo’s skin is luminous, partly from a light sheen of sweat and partly due to a natural pale glow. His handsome cheekbones are marred by a bruise on one side, where he must have taken a mean punch.

He’s gorgeous. He’s perfect.

“They hit you,” he murmurs with a frown, thumb reaching out to gently caress around the darkening spot on his face.

“I’m fine,” Dyo dismisses. “First floor you said?”

Dyo’s eyes are boring straight up into his own. 173cm might have been a bit generous – Jongin marvels at the privileged view he has from above the agent. Dyo’s eyes are so breathtakingly full, like his lips, which are even more luscious in person than on beige 3D cam. Jongin is having trouble getting his mouth to cooperate, a stuttered “y-yeah” finally slipping out.

The hands that land on him next only further fluster him.

Dyo runs his fingers along Jongin’s vest, slipping it off his shoulders and tossing it on a nearby table. Before he can get any words out, the hands are trailing down his back and Jongin’s face is flaming fire-engine red. Dyo’s unbuckling his toolbelt while muttering just inches from his chest.

“What the was Kris thinking? Sending you out here… I’ll kick his , I swear.”

The toolbelt is laid down on the table next to his vest, and then Dyo is gently lifting Jongin’s earpiece out. Deft fingers caress against the shell of his ear when it finally clicks together: Dyo’s stripping him… of his equipment.

Jongin startles out of his trance to clarify. “Kris didn’t force me. I asked to. Insisted on it.”

That brings Dyo’s movements to a halt as his eyebrows knit together. “Why the hell would you do such a thing??”

Jongin feels his lips settle into an involuntary pout. “Cause there was no one else to send. I was worried about you.”

Dyo opens his mouth to chastise him but the words die on his tongue as his whole countenance softens. He hesitates before placing a palm lightly on the middle of Jongin’s chest and giving a gentle pat right over his heart. “You’re too sweet for your own good, tiger.”

Jongin feels drunk off all the light, intimate touches he’s receiving. The points of contact between Dyo’s hands and his body leave searing heat in their wake each time: his palms, shoulders, back, ear, chest… at this point, his whole body is on fire. He’s about to reach for Dyo’s wrist to pull him closer when he notices angry red marks in the skin.

“They tied you up.”

“Yeah… three of them overpowered me when I rushed the room, right before we got cut off. Most of my gear is trashed.” He nods his head toward the corner of the room where mashed fragments of his 3D cam and toolbelt accoutrements are strewn about. Dyo returns to moving with purpose while they talk, like he’s deploying some unspoken plan. “Who’s navving for you? Were you able to get directions all the way up to this floor?” The seasoned agent is strapping Jongin’s toolbelt around his waist and adjusting it with ease. He equips the vest and earpiece as well.

“Baekhyun, and no, we were connected when I was heading into the building, but I think they have a communication scrambler on?”

“Yeah, sorry. That’d be me. Needed to disrupt their lines so they couldn’t call in back-up. The range is , though, so I need to go neutralize the guy on the first floor before he figures out his cell might actually work there,” Dyo grimaces. “Actually…”

He strides over to the elaborate control panel that takes up the full expanse of the eastern wall of the room. For the first time, Jongin takes in the central control setup with massive computer monitors mounted there. The largest screen in the middle shows a detailed map of Insadong with half a dozen target marks strewn about the area. Beneath the monitors, a complex grid of buttons, switches, and keyboards are set up: it looks complicated enough to launch a shuttle into space or something.

Dyo walks up to a small metal device set atop the switchboard; the square box is plugged into the panel, but clearly doesn’t usually reside there. Dyo flips a switch on it, turning off the scrambler. “Baekhyun, you there?” he asks, finger pressing Kai’s earpiece tightly into his ear.

Jongin can’t hear the other side of the conversation but he can imagine.

“We’re fine, but I can’t keep communications on or the enemy will be able to call in backup. Is the guy still on the first floor?”

Catching on, Jongin takes his watch monitor off and carefully straps it onto Dyo’s bare left wrist while Baek provides an update. Dyo flashes a half-smile as he mouths ‘thanks’ at him, and Jongin’s insides turn to goo.

“Okay, southeast stairwell,” he says, talking to Baek. “In sixty seconds, I’ll reconnect for a moment to verify location once more.” Dyo flips the switch, turning the scrambler back on before addressing Jongin directly.

“When I leave the room, count to 30 and then throw the switch for a ten count. That should be enough to pinpoint the enemy. Be sure you turn it back on after that, okay tiger?”

Jongin nods and then watches Dyo haul their unconscious prisoner up onto a chair. Dyo loops the guy’s bound wrists up and over the back of the seat and does a quick pat down on the guy, satisfying himself that he’s free of weapons.

Jongin’s anxiety spikes, chewing on his own bottom lip as he watches the agent’s every move in preparation to leave. He really doesn’t want to let Dyo out of his sight, but he knows he’s in no position to request accompanying him.

Dyo taps the other pistol in Jongin’s holster to remind him it’s there. “Stay here and guard the dickwad. Don’t touch anything on the control panel, and wait for me, sug-- got it? I’ll be back in just a few.” He turns to go.

There are a million things Jongin wants to say and do, and precisely zero seconds to think them through. On reflex, he reaches for Dyo’s hand just before its out of range, the gentle tug immediately getting the agent to stop and stare at their linked hands before looking up into Jongin’s eyes. There’s no time to convey anything other than a whispered “Be safe” and a heavy gaze Jongin hopes speaks volumes. The air is thick for a fleeting moment, and maybe it’s just Jongin, but he feels like no one breathes. Dyo gives his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. Walking backward with a long look at him, he seems reluctant to leave, but a decisive nod of his head, Dyo finally turns, dashing out the door and down the hall.

Jongin exhales and starts counting. He positions himself with his back against the wall so he’s facing the door and can see the bound enemy on his right and the full control panel on his left with the small device he’s been instructed to manipulate. His eyes flick back and forth between watching the enemy and lines of code streaming continuously on the smaller wall monitor next to him as he counts steadily to himself. When he reaches 30, he flips the switch off. Praying Baek and Dyo have enough time to coordinate, he counts to 10 (a little slower) and then flicks the communication scrambler back on again.

With a gulp, he reminds himself Dyo can do it. He can handle one guy downstairs. He got out of this jam up here with... only a few scratches.

Anger wells up inside Jongin, blooming darker than the bruise on Dyo’s cheek. They hit him. These bastards hit Dyo and cut into his wrists and-- oh . The trashed gear in the corner was all the stuff he was actually wearing. Did they bust it after removing it or was it damaged while they were roughing Dyo up, probably spewing curses at him all the while?

Jongin is seething, clenching and unclenching fists as the scenario plays out in his mind, when a rough cough interrupts his thoughts. The enemy, unconscious no more, is groaning from his chair. His eyes squint open and shut, ultimately landing on Jongin during his attempts to reorient himself. Jongin’s heart rate continues to climb, already worked up from righteous anger, when the guy makes the mistake of opening his mouth:

“Who are you and where’d the go?”

Jongin has only thrown one real punch before. It was middle school and some older bully had destroyed Taemin’s end-of-term project, calling him a nerd like it was something to be ashamed of, and Jongin had snapped. That punch hadn’t done anything meaningful, barely grazing the bully’s shoulder as he dodged it. A teacher nearby stepped in to prevent any additional fallout.

Luckily, 25 year old Jongin is a lot stronger and more formidable than 13 year old Jongin.

He takes one quick step toward his target and winds up to deck the guy as hard as he ing can. Jongin’s knuckles connect with the ’s jaw in a vicious thwack, rocking the guy so hard he tips sideways onto the floor, bringing the chair down with him with a loud clatter.

“Watch your mouth, you piece of !” Jongin spits at him.

He’s shaking the sting out of his hand as Dyo bursts into the room a second later, gun drawn and eyes wide. “Kai! You okay?” he checks, surveying the scene rapidly.

The name choice throws him for a loop before it dawns on him. Right. Enemy doesn’t need to be knowing his real name. Kai nods, chest still heaving with angry breaths. He points to direct Dyo’s attention to the floor. “Our ‘friend’ woke up.”

Dyo rounds on the guy, eyes narrowed menacingly, and crouches near his face. “Good morning, sunshine. Things have… changed since last we spoke.” Dyo’s words are cold as ice as he drags the edge of his gun along the floor, letting it make a harrowing scraping sound as he brings in into view, aimed directly at the enemy’s chest. “I’ll warn you that I’m a whole lot more willing to take a life now than I was earlier, face. So don’t test my patience. You’re gonna talk, and not give my partner here any lip. We clear?”

The DD guard is grumpy but quiet as Dyo hoists him and his chair back upright. He lets out a pained “Ah!” when Dyo yanks his head up by the hair so he’s looking properly at Kai instead of down at the floor.

“Show some ing manners,” Dyo hisses at him. Standing behind the guy’s chair so he’s out of view, he mouths at Kai: Ask him why. He gestures toward the ominous displays behind Kai, with the map and its targets, and Kai gives an imperceptible nod of understanding.

He’s got a chance to be useful, to actually help. He summons his most intimidating glare and barks at their captive: “Why Insadong?”

The guard eyes Kai’s fists warily. Good. Fear the beatdown, er.

“It’s a high traffic area. Lots of tourists,” he reluctantly explains.

Satisfied the guy is going to comply, Dyo heads to the control panel and starts messing with his device and the panel’s keyboard.

“So you actually want to hurt as many people as possible,” Kai says, sickened. “What the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“No, it’s not--” the captive sighs. “It’s not gonna kill anyone.”

“Last I checked, widespread gassing isn’t something we typically do just to liven up a Saturday,” Dyo sneers without stopping whatever he’s doing over on the control panel.

“Exactly what is it supposed to do?” Kai continues interrogating.

The guard purses his lips and looks away. “I’m not supposed to be talking, and I’ve already reassured you that people aren’t supposed to die. Isn’t that enough?”

Before Kai can determine the best course of action, Dyo is stepping in between them and opening the pouch on his tool belt. “I’m not above tazing you right in the until you answer every single one of his questions,” he threatens, aiming the stun gun right at the horrified guy’s crotch.

“Okay, okay!” he shrieks, true fear in his eyes. With his ankles tightly zipt