definitely maybe i will live to love || Five x Reader/OC ||

just call my name, i'll be there in a hurry, you don't need to worry

Ain't No Mountain High Enough

Paris, 1955 is beautiful this time of year. Of course it is. It's Paris.

Cha-Cha thinks the thought with as much sarcasm as she can muster since it's a you thought. Spending over a year as partners fucked her up her perfectly suitable mental state.

She's glad to finally be rid of you and your asshole family. She's also glad that this whole shitshow is almost over with, and then she can finally just have some peace and quiet. And with what she's about to do, the Commission won't be able to hold her contractual obligations against her anymore.

(Although, she didn't like what Herb was implying to her about positions needing to be filled and leaders with real experience and fundamental changes to the Commission.)

Hazel drinks a spritzer while he enjoys a view of the Seine. He's gotten old. Cha-Cha sneers at the gray in his hair and the wrinkle lines on his face and the stupid contentedness he holds in his shoulders and gaze.

Cha-Cha wants to say something mean about it, but your stupid little voice in her head tells her to be nice, so she scowls in silence for a few minutes longer until the urge passes.

Then, deciding to complain, Cha-Cha says, "This is taking too long."

"It always takes too long," Hazel replies.

"You think she'll show?"

"Yup."

"And how can you be so sure?"

They've had this conversation before. Cha-Cha almost feels like it's been the only conversation they've had since their reluctant, one-time/last-time reunified partnership, just with slightly different words.

"She likes the pastries in that shop."

"This is Paris. The pastries are good everywhere. What makes this one so special?"

"Dunno. But I tried a few out myself and brought some home to Agnes. There is something really good about them."

"What, better than Griddy's donuts?"

That gets an abrupt chuckle out of Hazel, and Cha-Cha has to stifle her automatic smirk when she hears it. It's just—old muscle memory is all.

"No," Hazel says, "not better than Griddy's donuts."

"That's just nostalgia talking. Those donuts were shit, admit it."

"Only to you. You just don't like donuts."

"No," Cha-Cha snorts. "I don't."

Another lull spans between them, but Hazel doesn't let it stay. "You seem well, Cha-Cha," he says with too much stupid sincerity in his voice.

"Of course I'm well. I'm about to be done with all this."

"I never thought you'd be ready to retire. Didn't you tell me that retirement was for, what was it? Weak bitches?"

She sighs, resigned. "Then I guess I'm a weak bitch along with the rest of you."

Hazel's neutral hum is too reminiscent of a noise you'd make, which irritates Cha-Cha.

"It's nice," he says after a beat. "Retirement."

"You don't believe that," Cha-Cha mutters dryly. Even though they haven't been partners in some time, she hasn't forgotten what it sounds like when Hazel lies.