Mr & Mr Hitman

Back to work

"Be fucking serious for a minute, why are you singing?", Brian, for the third time, tried to shut Samuel down.

"No," Samuel simply shrugged, humming while he shuffled through the pages in front of him.

"You've got galls," Brian snickered. Disrespect wasn't something he let off quite easily, but he could tolerate his little cousin; at least this lack of professionalism, showed that Sam considered him more than just his boss, "Do you have any questions, Cameron?", he turned to the other man sat right next to Samuel, if not literally on him.

Mind I remind you that he was the same guy who refused to speak, in any circumstances, to Samuel in the beginning.

"Yes, I have one very," Cameron sighed, "very important question," he shot Brian a glare.

"Damn," Brian muttered under his breath, "Maybe youngsters do hate me."

"Oh, I don't hate you, Brian," Cameron chuckled, reassuring the boss in front of him, all the while earning an affectionate gaze from his lover who looked down at him, "Far from that even," he added, "However," his frown returned, "Why are we posing as waiters and not simply customers?"

"This time you're dealing directly with the staff, plus I figured in this situation it'd be better so that neither of you cuties get trampled on by women," Brian breathed, "and men."

"And you thought people wouldn't hit on me if I was a waiter?", Samuel scoffed, earning an elbow to his side.

"I think they'll be preoccupied by something else," Brian rolled his eyes, not surprised by the cockiness present in flesh in front of him, "Did you read the location, Cameron?"

"Of course I did," the deuteragonist signed exasperatedly, "That's exactly why I'm preoccupied."

"You feel uncomfortable going in a strip's club?" Samuel rose an eyebrow, "Didn't we get a similar request some time ago?"

"Yes but," Cameron gave up, the gazes of the older men who anticipated his dires intensifying, "Okay, you know what, forget it, what's the plan?"

"Pose as waiters, and once you have your respective break, somehow kidnap the target without trace and bring her to the location here," he slid a piece of paper with an address to Samuel, "Your shift matches with the girl so this should be easy."

"This guy?", Samuel inquired, pointing at a picture - A middle-aged man with golden teeth, physique better than most men of his age, a looker most definitely.

"Alvaro Santana," Brian read, "Spanish fellow whose heart got broken and pocket stolen," he chukled, shaking his head, "Just a dumb motherfucker who wants some type of reimbursement."

"And what about her?", Cameron pointed at the picture of the target on the table.

"Miss Carmelita Gordon," Brian inspected the picture; brunette with a tanned skin, dosed in makeup and hoop earrings almost bigger than her head.

"Put that picture down Mr. Brian Osborn," Ursula emerged in the room, "Do not think you can just stare at other women here. Not in our home," she placed the tray of drinks on the table.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he planted a kiss on her temple when she sat down next to him. Resuming business he spoke, "So yes, just bring her to that warehouse, tie her down or whatever and Mr Santana will instruct you for the next steps."

"I could never imagine working in a cold weather like that," Ursula hugged herself, "Especially not in a club."

"Good thing you married me then," Brian buried her face in his shoulder, holding her as they swayed together, chuckling, giggling, grinning like they were immortals.

Cameron stared at them fondly, a smile slowly creeping onto his lips, envying whatever they had, wondering if he could ever reach this type of closure with a lover.

His breath hitched, feeling a cold palm press onto his warm hand, looking up to see Samuel staring down at him. He relaxed, maintaining eye contact with the man.

All they could see was their reflection in each other's eyes. All they could smell was each other. All they could feel was each other's warmth.

Just like Cameron didn't know how warm his skin was until Samuel's cold hand grasped his, Samuel didn't know he lacked warmth.

"I like you a lot, you know that?", Samuel whispered as low as he could, still loud enough for his lover to hear.

"So do I," Cameron rested their foreheads together, thumbs rubbing with one another as the other couple's noise seem to die down.

Something changed.

In the atmosphere between our two main characters, there was a warmth laced within the air. It was claustrophobic, but in a good way.

Perhaps it was the pressure of the world, beyond the idea that they were just two humans in love, there was much more to judge. They were both killers. They were both men. They were both broken souls.

But where did the romance start?

...

I'm about to drag you back to the beginning just because I want to.