Chapter Text
Wintergreen had been injured. Seriously injured. Slade had waited until they got back to the safe house to tell him that they couldn't go on like this. Having Wintergreen flirt with death on every mission had become... unbearable. They had to stop. Because Wintergreen was Wintergreen, and he would always refuse to leave Slade alone in danger.
So... Slade had to say certain things to make sure the other man left his life for good.
There wasn't a single thing he didn't regret saying to the man he loved. Not a single thing.
Several months had already passed, and Slade had heard nothing. There had been a few confused and distracted conversations on the phone. There was an indistinct sigh in every word Wintergreen spoke. Despair at hearing Slade's voice echoing in his ear and knowing he was so far away, so unavailable.
Slade had almost cracked, and then... It was Wintergreen who had sent him a letter in which he said... "You were right. We can't go on like this. We can't go on at all."
Slade felt stupid crying over the paper, especially when he was the one who had ended their relationship. Knowing that didn't stop him from feeling miserable. More weeks passed. Then months. Eight. Eight months. Slade tried not to think about it, not to count them. Sometimes, mutual contacts would try to slip in a word about what Wintergreen was up to, but Slade always cut the conversation short. He didn't want to know anything.
But he had learned one thing, clear and certain, that an associate had inadvertently let slip.
Wintergreen had gone back into business on his own, with a new partner. Not mercenary work, but an agency for which Wintergreen carried out assignments. The tables had turned. Wintergreen, as if to directly spite Slade, had taken on field assignments. Assignments where he was no longer giving instructions through an earpiece, but was on the front line.
Since business often overlapped and handshakes led to all kinds of encounters, Slade took special care not to risk running into Wintergreen at business dinners, in large corporate buildings, or in the basements of the underworld.
But of course, you can never completely control fate.
It was a gala evening. A strange story, the retirement of a secret agent who had worked with many agencies and many mercenaries during a twenty-year career. Twenty years was an eternity in the business, as Slade was well aware. He too had worked with her on a handful of missions.
Slade had often been in a terrible state since his breakup with Wintergreen. He kept himself just about functional enough for his jobs, but there were days when he struggled to drag himself to the shower or his bed. For tonight, out of respect for a colleague who was paying tribute to her career, he had made a bit of an effort. Black suit with red undertones, tie pinned.
His hair was a little longer than usual, brushing the top of his back, combed back. Nothing out of the ordinary to report during the evening. In this line of work, anything was an excuse to fill up your contact book. With his reputation, Slade didn't particularly need to. It was more the other guests who came up to him with terrible pick-up lines, jokes that Slade had already endured a hundred times, and offers that were two hundred thousand dollars short of the sums he would accept.
At one point, a very young agent who couldn't have been more than twenty-five years old approached him with the confidence of a lame kitten.
"Mr. Wilson, it's... It's an honor. I was thinking... I haven't been in the business very long, but... I heard that you recently parted ways with your main partner, so if you need someone to find you assignments in East Asia, that's my specialty." He stammered timidly before handing him his business card.
Slade accepted the card without much conviction. He was about to mumble a thank you when he saw the young agent's large brown eyes fill with doubt and concern, like a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar. He was looking at someone at the back of the room.
"I... I don't want to cause any trouble. I have a lot of respect for your former partner, you know." Slade raised his eyebrows as the young agent slipped away. He turned around and...
Wintergreen... Slade felt himself tremble all over . He hadn't heard him approaching through the dense crowd of agents and mercenaries. He had long imagined Wintergreen to be as marked by the pain of separation as he himself was, but in the end, that had only been an attempt to comfort himself.
No, Wintergreen simply looked as gorgeous as ever, if not more so. His green eyes sparkled with disarming confidence, and he reached out to Slade without hesitation, smiling in a way that seemed almost cruel to the mercenary. He was impeccable, his tuxedo opening wide enough to reveal a neck streaked with scars that Slade's lips had so often traced that just seeing him after so many long months of separation sent a tingling sensation through him.
His hair was also slicked back, but in a way that allowed a few strands to fall over his forehead, adding shadows to his tall, sturdy silhouette, dressed in black and silver.
Wintergreen looked... different.
The Englishman produced a smile that exuded the feigned courtesy he usually reserved for unpleasant clients. He pulled Slade by the sleeve of his tuxedo, and the other man, paralyzed with surprise, allowed himself to be guided to the center of the room.
"Slade, it's been a while. I wanted to tell you... You were right about the split. I've rarely been so productive in the business, so... Thanks for that. You were a little harsh, it's true. But looking back, I can't blame you."
Slade desperately searched for the lie in his partner's slightly narrowed eyes. He found nothing. Wintergreen asked him how business was going. Whether the split had been good for him too. Slade couldn't help but lie and say yes. Given the amused smile the Brit gave him, without contradicting him, the mercenary knew he had done his homework and surely knew the real answer to each of his questions.
Wintergreen talked about this and that, continuing to guide him through the room, his hand clasped around his wrist as if he were holding him on a leash. Slade let him do so. It was hard not to comply when Wintergreen was so charming, so perfect in his role as an agent. Then he had missed him so much that such sudden closeness, even in the form of barely concealed reproaches and mockery, was poison he swallowed in one gulp.
The other guests watched them out of the corner of their eyes, looking dumbfounded. Their separation had caused quite a stir in the business, and everyone had more or less expected their reunion to cause some delicious scandal. Their apparent cordiality, even if it was just a mask, must have seemed disappointing to them, to say the least.
At several points in the conversation, Wintergreen threw in a few barbs that had quite an effect on Slade:
"It's kind of funny that I'm doing so well on my own when... What was it you said again? Oh yes, I was getting too old and slowing you down. Just goes to show that I just needed a change of scenery."
"To think you said that at this rate I probably only had a few months to live... And now I've just spent about seven months in the field with hardly a scratch. Funny, huh?"
Every time Slade tried to apologize, Wintergreen cut him off, laughing with feigned amusement, repeating over and over that there was no point in apologizing, since he didn't hold it against him at all. Slade focused on his champagne glasses, the hors d'oeuvres, and... On Wintergreen's hand, still clutching his wrist.
Towards the end of the evening, Wintergreen leaned over Slade, above the organised chaos of bass and guitars, and asked him if he would like to go to the hotel where he was currently staying. To meet his new partner.
Part of Slade would have preferred to die rather than have to meet his replacement. The other part... The other part would have done anything to stay with Wintergreen for just one more hour. Once they were squeezed into the taxi, the mercenary couldn't help but ask the few questions that were running through his head, over and over again.
"By the way... Your partner... Are you close to them?"
Wintergreen gave him a plastic smile.
"For heaven's sake, Slade. Time has passed, but I knew you when you were less shy than this. Are you asking me if we talk outside of work, or are you asking me if I sleep with them?"
Slade felt utterly ridiculous as his cheeks flushed red. Since when had Wintergreen been so direct? He nodded, almost shyly, as he struggled to hold his ex-partner's piercing gaze.
"Oh, I do sleep with her, from time to time. You know how it is, the excitement of missions and good deals... Come to think of it... that's yet another thing you got wrong about me."
"How so?"
"Well, you did say that with time, with age, I'd become bad in bed. My partner doesn't seem to agree with that. Neither does anyone else I've slept with since we broke up, for that matter."
Damn... Slade couldn't remember half the horrible things he had said to Wintergreen that night to make sure he would leave his life. He felt a mixture of frustration, both at himself for being such a jerk and at Wintergreen, who was becoming less and less subtle in his quest for revenge. If he was trying to make him lose his temper, he was close.
Slade had never been particularly jealous, and he and Wintergreen had never been completely exclusive either, but... This was completely different. He remained silent with anger and confusion under Wintergreen's cheerful gaze, who seemed to be reveling more and more in the situation.
They finally arrived at the hotel around one in the morning. In the elevator to the floor where Wintergreen was sleeping with his new partner, Slade tried to stifle the knot that was swelling in his stomach. He couldn't even understand himself anymore, couldn't understand why he was silently accepting this masterful punishment that his former partner was inflicting on him.
His thoughts were interrupted for a moment when Wintergreen's hand clasped his briefly, signaling that they had reached the right floor. His heart raced as Wintergreen, still pulling him by the hand, led him to the room.
The room was no different from most luxury rooms. Plenty of space, a large bed, a balcony. Which was currently wide open.
"Didn't you take Gulliver with you?" asked Slade, eager to change the distressing tone of the conversation, if only for a few precious seconds. Wintergreen shook his head:
"The hotel doesn't allow pets. Besides, he's much better off quietly in London, at his age, you know... Wait here for me a second. I'll go get my partner. Don't worry, you're going to love her."
Slade waited at the door of the room, as if part of him was still thinking of running away before Wintergreen returned with his new partner. Why inflict more pain on himself? Yet... the sight of the somewhat unmade bed and the few dresses and unbuttoned shirts lying on the floor reinforced his unhealthy curiosity. He was going to cause himself more pain. He just didn't know how much.
Wintergreen returned quickly with a slender female figure who brought with her the smell of warm tobacco and a peach scent.
When a second pair of green eyes fell on Slade and smiles spread across the semi-darkness, Slade wondered if he had simply ended up drinking too much, despite the effect of the serum.
Adeline. The regret and shock coursing through Slade's veins at that moment were so intense that they could surely have been detected by a breathalyzer. He now wanted to turn on his heel and leave without saying a word. If this was revenge, it was too much.
Adeline walked towards Slade, her eyebrows slightly furrowed, which further accentuated the charming little dimple on her forehead.
"Slade... Are you okay? If only you could see your face... She turned to Wintergreen, smiling even more, and put her arm around the Brit's waist as if nothing had happened.
"Did you really need more field agents? I thought your agency was doing well," Slade said sharply.
"Oh, Slade, don't take it personally... Yes, my agency is doing very well, thank you for your concern. But when someone of Wintergreen's stature offers his services... Come on, you don't say no. You'd have to be an idiot."
With that, she ran her finger slowly along Wintergreen's jaw. Sensually. Slade was unable to look away. When Wintergreen stepped aside to freshen up in the bathroom, Slade snapped out of his stupor and grabbed Adeline by the wrist, pulling her back toward him.
"What the hell are you doig?"
Adeline smiled at the look of rage that now strained her ex-husband's features, but her smile was soon joined by a genuine spark of sincerity. She began to whisper
in a clear voice a tirade that she had surely already had the opportunity to rehearse by now.
"I could ask you the same question. I'll let you know that Wintergreen came to me broken, in tears. He repeated everything you said to him. You can't blame me for wanting to give him back the dignity you trampled on. So stop playing the victim and stay in your place. William deserves his revenge, and you know it as well as I do." Slade released her wrist, disappointed but convinced.
Wintergreen returned to the room, lighter in clothing and smiling. In the hours that followed, Wintergreen and Adeline's flirting only intensified. She always had her hands on him, around his waist, on his thighs when they were sitting, on his lower back or even lower when they were on the balcony.
Meanwhile, Slade struggled to follow the conversation. Every caress, every glance the two partners exchanged was like a scratch to him, unpleasant and nagging, getting on his nerves. They were pushing his buttons, testing his patience.
And Slade remained there, sitting or standing next to them as they maintained a superficial conversation to justify his presence, to keep him there when it was obvious that they were about to enter into an intimacy that did not require a third person.
At one point, Adeline talked to Slade about Wintergreen as if one of them wasn't there. It didn't matter which one, she was enjoying the situation. As the three of them sat on the large bed and she suddenly climbed onto Wintergreen's lap, she turned slightly toward Slade and smiled at him.
"Slade... You don't know what you've lost."
He knew.
From where he was curled up, he couldn't see Wintergreen's expression as he let Adeline kiss him, his hands still flat on either side of the mattress. Slade's jealousy turned to envy when his former partner broke his initial immobility to grab Adeline by the neck, reversing their positions in the blink of an eye.
Slade couldn't help muttering, intensely quietly, that he missed that kind of gesture.
"Oh, Slade, it's so sweet of you to try to console me, even if it's a little late... But you said it yourself, you never really liked the way I fucked you," Wintergreen replied before ignoring him completely.
If Slade could have gone back in time and slapped himself for that, he would have done so without a doubt.
He watched Wintergreen undress Adeline slowly, deliciously, caressing and squeezing each part he gradually exposed, as he had done so many times with Slade.
The mercenary felt he needed to leave as quickly as possible, at least to get some air on the balcony. He forced his legs to stand up until...
"Slade. Don't. Move."
Slade felt his strength abandon him in the face of Adeline's command. Even after so many years, it was hard to disobey her in such circumstances. Even if he was excluded from the party.
"You'd rather be in my place, wouldn't you?" she said in a hissing voice.
Slade felt himself blush even more, muttering a pitiful "fuck" drowned out by his ex-wife's moans of pleasure.
Wintergreen now remained silent. He turned Adeline onto her stomach, placed his large hands on the agent's exposed buttocks, and slid a few fingers into her slit.
"Look at yourself... I can feel you dying every second we get closer to the moment when he fucks me like you know he used to fuck you and will never fuck you again... All because of you," Adeline added, still smiling.
Wintergreen pulled his boxers down completely. At the sight of his cock, already hard and thick, Slade felt his own mouth go dry, almost instantly. He knew its texture, its size, every detail perfectly. How it felt, everywhere, in every position and orifice.
For the moment, the mercenary felt almost relieved, as Wintergreen abandoned his own parts somewhat to return to Adeline. He remained seated on his heels, standing between her spread legs. The man continued to move his fingers back and forth in her slit, which, pushing against the deliciously wet walls, produced a sound that echoed throughout the room, almost covering the sounds of pleasure produced by the agent.
Adeline continued to torture Slade while Wintergreen, having finished preparing her, took her for good, pushing himself in all the way, inch by inch. He held her firmly down on the bed, both hands pressed against her neck as he sank deep inside her. The mercenary knew it well; it wasn't his ex-wife's favorite position. No.
It was his. And Wintergreen and Adeline both knew it perfectly well. The bastards.
Slade felt the desire burning a little more with each movement that propelled Wintergreen a little deeper into Adeline. He remembered, painfully, what it was like to feel him inside him like that, how he always wanted more. The encouragement his partner whispered hoarsely in his ear, which Slade heard from the depths of an abyss of pleasure, on the verge of unconsciousness brought on by ecstasy. How Wintergreen kissed and licked his neck every time he felt close to finishing inside him.
All those little signs that Slade knew so well how to interpret, and so many others. A hand squeezing the flesh of his waist, signaling that he was going to go faster, a bite near his neck asking him to make less noise... And now he saw it all... A helpless spectator as Wintergreen offered all this to someone else. Right before his eyes. He also felt ashamed, almost close to orgasm just from watching it all. Maybe the fact that he was forced to watch also played some sort of part in it.
After a few minutes of this unbearable spectacle, and regardless of the guilty pleasure he was getting from it and the burning sensation in his lower body, Slade finally jumped up.
"Okay, I get it. I understand! Damn it, Wintergreen, I regret everything I said, and of course I didn't believe a word of it when I said it, not a single word you hear me? But you would never have left otherwise. And... And you were hurt. And... I was afraid for your life. Please, I understand, so stop this."
Silence fell over the room. Wintergreen, who until then had not given Slade a single glance, looked at him sideways, a few wavy white strands of hair almost covering his eye. His gaze was still dark. Impenetrable. He pulled Adeline's body from beneath him, his forearm tightly clenched against his friend's jaw as he continued to move inside her, a little more slowly. Slade knew what that meant.
Wintergreen wasn't finished, but he was done with this act. He gently laid Adeline back on the bed, kissing her on the head. He whispered something in her ear that made her laugh instantly. Adeline rolled out of bed. From the floor, she picked up only her dress, which she pulled over her head before rushing to the bathroom. On her way out, she gave Slade an inscrutable look, which he, knowing her very well despite everything, correctly interpreted as a warning not to hurt Wintergreen again.
When the two men found themselves alone in the large bedroom, Slade let out a slight sigh of relief despite himself. Yet there was little relaxing about the situation.
Wintergreen sat on the bed opposite him, still gorgeous in his nakedness, while the warm, soft glow of the lamps bathed his skin, highlighting his muscles, crevices, and scars.
He scrutinized Slade in the semi-darkness, his gaze almost predatory, like that of a deer that has known arrows. Without the mercenary having to initiate conversation, the Brit began to speak in that clear, matter-of-fact voice he used only when necessary:
"You think I didn't already know that? Don't you think that after so many years by your side, I can recognize every one of your bad ideas before they even come to fruition?"
Slade, taken aback, looked away for a few seconds. In the next room, Adeline could be heard running a bath. The mercenary had almost regained his ability to speak when Wintergreen spoke again, his voice a little louder:
"Even if you didn't mean to... You still hurt me deeply. And deliberately, at that. You knew exactly where to strike, and the mere fact that... That you took advantage of all that, all those fears and insecurities... Even if you foolishly thought it was for my own good... It still caused me pain. To an extent that you underestimated, I think." Despite the dim light illuminating his former companion, Slade could see tears streaming down his cheeks.
He finally found the courage to step toward the bed again, his fists clenched. As so often in his life, he wished he were more articulate. He spoke anyway, unsure of himself, swaying slightly on his feet.
"I understand... That it will take time for you to forgive me... That you won't forgive me at all for what I said to you. I know that... That nothing makes up for the fact that I managed to say all that without flinching. It must have been traumatic for you. That wasn't the point. I didn't want to break your heart. I just wanted you to realize that, in the end, I was an asshole who didn't deserve you, to say horrible things like that to you. I never, at any point, wanted to hurt you so much. I just wanted you to be safe, away from me."
Wintergreen had listened to him the whole time without saying a word, still looking him straight in the eye, his silhouette slumped slightly on the bed. Once Slade had finished speaking, he motioned for him to come a little closer.
Slade felt a wave of relief mixed with anticipation wash over him as his former partner's hands rested on his shoulders.
"Slade... How many times do I have to tell you? Because I've had to repeat it to you about five hundred times since we've been together, and you still don't seem to understand: I'm a big boy. If I want to do something or... stay with someone, I do it. Got it?"
Slade smiled a little as Wintergreen shook him firmly. Yet there was not a hint of joking in the other man's gesture. He was deadly serious about what he was saying. When the Brit's hands relaxed around his shoulders, Slade, unsure of himself but unable to stop himself, pulled him into an embrace.
Wintergreen let him, almost miraculously.
"In case it wasn't clear... I'm still mad at you. And there's no way I'm coming back to work with you for a long time. Guess what? Almost everyone in the business has heard that you dumped me like a piece of trash... And I have my pride!"
"So... you're going to continue... working with Adeline?" asked Slade, frowning slightly. The confusion and doubt that appeared on the mercenary's face suddenly brought an amused smile back to Wintergreen's.
"Firstly... I really enjoy both working for her agency and being back in the field full-time. And secondly... I really like the closeness that she and I have rediscovered. What you saw earlier was far from being staged."
Slade sighed before recovering from his disappointment, running a hand over his partner's thigh.
"Well, as long as we can see each other again, even if it's gradual, I'm fine with that."
At that moment, Wintergreen pulled away from his touch before lying down on his side, watching Slade with growing amusement:
"Oh, but... I don't know if Addie will allow it." You know her, she can be very, very jealous. You'll have to ask her to share me with her and come up with some very convincing arguments."
The mercenary approached the Brit again, running his hand down the curve of his ribs, smiling in turn.
"I think I know how to handle her."