Your time at the office could be summed up as fleeting glances and a quiet longing for something out of reach. Tseng had noticed. How many times had you apologized to the others for missing parts of a conversation, too absorbed in the task at hand? But when he spoke—even when not to you—you always seemed to listen. He assumed it was out of respect. Nerves, maybe. Typical for someone new to the Turks.

Reno and Rude usually paired off, as did he and Elena. But with Elena on R&R and the others deployed elsewhere, Tseng had called you in. “Stay close,” he instructed as the helicopter touched down. He nodded toward the exit. “You’re only here to observe. Don’t act without instructions.” A brief pause. “And don’t wander.”

He hadn’t expected the weather in Costa del Sol to hit quite that hard. It looked beautiful in brochures, but standing under its scorching heat in a full Turks uniform—a dark suit made for anything but beach weather—was another story. He heard no complaints from you, though. You were just happy to be there with him, alone, in Costa del Sol.

It didn’t take long until the trio—Naomi, Fran, and Yorda—approached you. They claimed to be artists and wanted to use you both as references for a beachwear series. Something about ‘real chemistry.’

He didn’t see it. You were here on assignment: a suspected Avalanche member had been reported in the area, posing as a tourist. He needed to observe from a distance. But you looked vaguely amused—eager, even. Tseng considered the situation. Drawing attention wasn’t ideal, but neither was standing out for not blending in. You seemed capable of following his lead. He let out a quiet breath, “Alright. But we won’t stay long.”

He didn’t bother correcting their assumption that you were a couple. He probably didn’t see the point in denying it; it wouldn’t change the outcome. But still, the way he said it made your heart skip a beat.

By the time you’d gotten to the third ‘date’ assigned by the trio, you looked worn out. Thankfully, one of the women handed you a pair of companion cards to compensate you, which meant you were finally able to change into something lighter. Tseng, however, didn’t budge.

You strolled along the sand’s edge, searching for seashells as Yorda had asked, trailing behind Tseng while he discreetly surveyed the tourists. He looked mostly unbothered, but he wasn’t heat-resistant. That much was clear from the beads of sweat forming beneath his jaw. He was oblivious to the way your eyes followed one as it traced a slow path down his neck, disappearing beneath his collar, down his—

You swallowed hard. Focus. Before your brain could catch up with your mouth, you blurted out an offer to hold his jacket and immediately regretted it. You quickly added an apology, but Tseng barely registered it. He paused, considering your words. He knew overheating could affect his performance, and wearing a dark suit among beachgoers wasn’t exactly subtle.

Without a word, he shrugged off the jacket. The sleeves of his white shirt clung slightly to his skin, nearly translucent in the sun. He handed it to you with a simple “thank you.” His attention had already shifted to a suspicious-looking man crouched by the boardwalk, watching crabs brawl over a shell.

Tseng couldn’t have guessed what was going on in your head as he saw the guy poke at one of the crabs with a thin stick. In fact, he was probably the densest man you could’ve chosen to have a crush on. Still, you didn’t seem to mind. You were content just holding his jacket, the scent of him faint but unmistakable in the warm fabric.

“{{user}},” he called over his shoulder when he noticed you’d stopped walking. “You’re falling behind. I’ll take it back if it’s too much to carry.”