Page 61 of Set Fire to This Cardhouse

“Good.” Mike’s drawl is lazy, comfortable. He makes no move to cover himself up. “Glad we’re agreed.”

“Just...” Toby takes a small step back and narrowly avoids bumping into a chair. “Just don’t parade down the street like that. This is Singapore; for all we know, public displays of indecency may be a capital offense.”

“I don’t think a bare chest qualifies as a public display of indecency.”

“Look into a mirror, and you’ll get my point.” Toby feels the back of his neck heat. Rather than wait for a reply, he snatches Mike’s shirt up from the chair and throws it at his head. “Put this on. We’ve got work to do.”

“All work” —Mike obediently tugs the shirt over his head— “and no play.”

Toby makes himself turn away. There’s a reason he’s doing this: if Mike doesn’t care for more than a quick fuck here and there, it will hurt. Toby can’t get in over his head before the job is done.

“Welcome to my life,” he mutters. More loudly, he adds, “How good a pickpocket are you?”

“Pretty good. Quick, deft fingers, in case you don’t remember.” Mike sounds as if he’s still grinning, his tone teasing. “Strong hands.”

Toby hates his life. “Let’s put them to use, then,” he says over his shoulder and deliberately, with his head held high, leaves the bedroom along with a partner who he’s almost certain is quietly laughing at him.

He cannot wait for this op to be done.

***

In the end, it’s Toby who plucks the access badge out of Ken’s bag because someone also has to put it back. If Ken is the observant sort, it’s better if he doesn’t run into the same person twice.

Since Toby knows precisely where Ken stored his badge after stepping out onto the street, Toby has no trouble fishing it out in passing, doesn’t even have to brush up against the guy. Ken, slender and relatively tall for a Singaporean, keeps on walking. There’s no indication that he noticed anything out of the ordinary, but just in case, Mike emerges from the shadow of a doorway and follows while Toby slips into a nearby van to extract all data from the badge.

It takes him almost ten minutes to crack the encryption and make the transfer. Most of that time is spent with the echo of music in his left ear, Mike having followed Ken into some kind of club that drew a muttered, “Well, this is interesting,” from him, only to then not expand on the comment. If Toby was bored, he could locate Mike by means of the tracker embedded in the communication set; as he’s frankly rather busy doing his actual fucking job, he’s not in the mood to play games. When he informs Mike accordingly, it earns him a low chuckle.

Once the data has been copied, Toby pulls up Mike’s location and runs it against the city map. The search returns a club by the name of B&G, its description hinting that the owners take advantage of Singapore’s policy to officially outlaw yet openly tolerate homosexuality.

“I take it you’re currently surrounded by half-naked guys,” Toby tells him. “Half of which are probably eye-fucking you as we speak.”

“Jealous?” There’s a pleased note to Mike’s voice.

“Just trying to do my job.” Toby shuts his computer down and clambers into the front seat. “Assuming your higher brain functions haven’t shut down, I suggest you meet me outside the club so you can return Ken’s badge to its rightful owner. I’ll park just around the corner.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

Twenty minutes later, Ken’s badge is back where it belongs, and Mike is sprawled in the passenger seat, slightly flushed and the top three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, the semi-darkness in the van doing nothing to lessen his appeal. He’s watching Toby, isn’t even trying to be subtle about it.

After about a minute of this, Toby turns his head and snaps, “What?”

“Nothing.” There’s a secretive smile playing around Mike’s mouth. “Nothing at all.” His thighs are splayed wide, one of his hands resting casually between them. “Let’s stop for dinner at that Thai place around the block, yeah? My treat. I’m getting rather tired of takeout”

It’s tempting—taking an evening off, just the two of them in that cozy, dimly lit restaurant, candles on the tables, silk shimmering through the windows. Toby wants it enough that he knows it would be a bad idea.

“Hold that thought until the job is done, all right? We can reward ourselves after.”

“Sure,” Mike says. His tone is a little off, and when Toby glances over, he finds Mike staring out the side window, his face averted.

Toby lifts one hand off the wheel and wiggles his fingers. “Still with me?”

Mike exhales and turns his head, his smile a glimmer in the dark interior of the van. “Yeah. So, what’s next?”

“Next,” Toby says, pulling to a halt at a red light, “you have a little chat with Ken.”

Mike shifts, tilting his head back against the seat. “Can’t wait.” He sounds indifferent, and the fact that Toby is anything but just goes to show that he’s made the right decision to postpone their restaurant night.

The Thai place is to their right. Toby signals left, back to the apartment.

---