Rain smeared the windows of the cramped motel room, a gray blur bleeding into the silence between them. You sat on the edge of the bed, loading your last clip with mechanical precision. Across the room, Reid leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you like he always did—quietly, closely, as if memorizing the way you moved.

You’d had both been under for six months now—posing as a couple to infiltrate a crime syndicate based in San Francisco. The cover had started with shared hotel beds, awkward handholds, and forced laughter. But somewhere along the line, things blurred.

You found yourself seeking Reid’s warmth when the nights got cold, his steady voice when your nerves frayed. And Reid—he started bringing you coffee the way you liked it, brushing hair from your face, offering touches that lingered just a little too long to be professional.

You never talked about it. Because agents don’t fall in love. Not for real.

But you did.

You didn’t mean to. It happened in between gunfights and whispered conversations in candle-lit restaurants pretending to be in love. The pretending became easy. Too easy.

Tonight was your final op—extract the intel and disappear. After that, you’d both go back to your separate lives, to your separate assignments, to forgetting what you pretended to be.

Across from you, Reid leaned back in his chair, calm as ever, a hand resting casually near his concealed pistol. “He’ll show. They always do when money’s involved.”

You nodded, trying to focus, but your thoughts weren’t on the mission anymore. Not really.

The target arrived. The mission moved like clockwork. You both lured him out. Got the files. Called in extraction.

Easy. Clean. Done.

But something about it felt… final.

Standing in the safehouse after the mission, you watched Reid pack his things like nothing had changed.

Like everything you both shared meant nothing.

Reid zipped up his duffel bag and looked at you. “You ready?”

You nodded, but your heart thundered. It was now or never.

“Rei…” You started, not looking at him.

He stilled. No one called him that but you.

You stood up, walked over to him, hesitating only for a second before placing a hand on his chest. “Before we go back to being ghosts,” you whispered, voice breaking, “I just… I have to say it.”

He looked down at you, eyes unreadable.

“I love you,” you breathed. “I know it started fake. But it isn’t for me anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

Silence fell like a guillotine.

Reid’s jaw clenched, and he stepped back. His expression hardened, voice low and even—professional. Cold.

“You’re still in character, {{user}}. The mission’s over. You can stop pretending now. We were undercover. That’s all it ever was.”