"It's fun to enjoy the mystery…" Christmas Special #2 (Adam Version) (Patreon)

At the Agency Christmas Party. Christmas Eve. Late Evening.

“This is pointless,” Adam states with a groan.

“The party?” I ask.

He clasps his hands behind his back with a shake of his head. “This is merely an excuse for people to act without propriety. This ‘party’ will inevitably run out of control.”

“You mean people are only here wanting to enjoy themselves?” I gasp, glancing to him with a smile I can’t hide. “Oh no! The horror of it.”

He arches a brow. “Are you mocking me?”

I pinch my fingers almost together. “Just a little bit.”

A breath of a laugh escapes him which makes my body sing with happiness. His amusement fades, but the quiet, poignant moment between us doesn’t. His lips part, and I hold my breath, my gaze captured by the slight motion.

He clears his throat and straightens himself out. “Do you require some form of libation?”

“Are you asking me if I want a drink?”

He turns to me with a pleading gaze. “Please, give me a task.”

I chuckle. “Alright. Then I would love a drink, thank you.”

Relief rolls across his features. “I shall return shortly.”

I nod, offering him a small wave as he takes off through the crowd, making barely concealed grimaces at the people who try to get him to join in with any kind of merriment.

Turning my gaze back to the room, it’s hard to escape how the common room at the Facility has gone from a cosy, homey space to looking like it’s been vomited on by a bunch of Christmas fairies. A thought which flitters across my mind and has me wondering if they actually exist….

But the crowd seem to be enjoying it as they bustle and jostle for space around the room, avoiding the huge Christmas tree set up in the centre, dripping with an assortment of baubles—both modern and vintage—and tall enough that the tip bends against the ceiling.

“I swear they choose a bigger one every year,” someone comments from beside me.

I swing my head around, greeted by a strikingly handsome face I don’t recognise, so I try to school my surprise into a smile. “With the amount of power most people here have, I bet they could just make the room fit it instead.”

The man lets out a cheery laugh, and for some reason, I can’t help but join in. It’s a beautiful sound which manages to block out the corny Christmas tunes blasting away all around us.

He meets my gaze again, the lights of the tree sparkling like stars in his midnight black eyes. Our attention holds for a moment longer than needed before he turns to look up at the top of the tree. As he does, his short waves of dark hair skim the tops of his glimmer-highlighted cheekbones.

“It’s a shame the rest of my comrades aren’t here to see it tonight,” he states, sliding his hands into his pockets. The rich fabric of the navy pinstripe suit barely rustles at the motion.

“Comrades?” I ask, glancing about the crowd. “Are you part of a team?”

He shakes his head. “No. I’m a Tactical Agent. I work alone.” His gaze dances slowly down and then drags back up the length of my body before his lips slide into a dazzling smile. “Though I have been known to partner up. For the right person, of course.”

A flash of heat sizzles beneath my skin. “Is that so?”

Wait…am I flirting with this guy?

I roll my lips together at the thought, unable to glance away from the stranger.

At least until another, much stronger presence, draws my focus away like a magnetic pull.

“Do-yun,” Adam greets the man with a stiff nod. “It has been a while.”

Do-yun’s bright smile barely flinches as he turns it on Adam instead. “So it has.”

The two remain locked in some kind of silent conversation until I clear my throat.

“Is that my drink?” I ask, glancing to where Adam’s grip is so tight around the glass tumbler that a small crack has formed. Thankfully the liquid remains inside.

“Ah yes,” he stumbles, shoving the glass towards me. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, I won’t hog your attention all evening. As much as I wish I could,” Do-yun interrupts as he turns the full focus of his charm back on me. It’s difficult to be even slightly immune. “It was good to meet you—”

I open my mouth to give my name when he holds up a hand. “No. I’d rather not know yet. It’s fun to enjoy the mystery.” He then bobs a final nod of goodbye at Adam and saunters back into the crowd.

Adam and I stare after him for a moment, look at each other…and then quickly at the floor.

“It seems you were pleased for his attention,” he finally says after the awkwardly drawn-out silence.

“Is that bad?” I ask, staring down into my drink.

“No.”

“Then why do you make it sound like a problem?” I scoff as I look to him with wide eyes. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

It was intended as a joke. Or a challenge, maybe. I didn’t seriously expect an answer.

Especially not the one he gives.

“Yes.”

My drink almost drops from my hand as shock freezes me in place. “What?”

He stares ahead at the tree, his neck muscles taut as though fighting with himself not to look at me. “You think I do not wish I could be so free with you?” He swallows hard and now dares to meet my gaze. “That I could be the one to make you smile in such a way?”

My breath stutters in my chest. “Then why don’t you? Flirtation is harmless.”

“Not for me,” he replies. “Especially not with you.” His lips flicker into a hollow smile. “And I don’t believe mere flirtation is what either of us wishes.”

If there is music around us, I don’t hear it. If there are other people near us, I don’t see them. But the palpable, heated tension which prickles in the air around us I do feel. I feel it with so much intensity it makes my heart want to burst.

He’s right. Flirtation is fun, but what I feel for Adam—what I really feel—is something so deep it’s almost terrifying. And it is wholly consuming.

“What is it you wish?” I breathe out.

The sadness in his smile lifts as he reaches out to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing along my jawline. “I wish for you,” the softness in his eyes ices over, “to be happy. I wish for you to be happy.”

His hand falls away, and all of a sudden, the room whirls back into my reality, my head spinning with the force of it, my body almost sore from the impact of it.

A cheer erupts from the buffet table where people are clanking glasses together and wishing each other a good holiday.

As our hands hang loose at our sides, the back of Adam’s fingers brush against mine.

“Merry Christmas, Detective,” he whispers. And when his fingers steady to remain against mine, my frantic pulse calms to a steady, peaceful rhythm.

I smile. “Merry Christmas, Adam.”