You had insisted on accompanying him.

“I’m already your partner,” you said firmly, arms crossed. “And I’d make the perfect one for this mission, too.”

Deuteros had hesitated—of course he had. Putting you in danger wasn’t something he’d ever take lightly. But you were persistent. Convincing. And more importantly, he trusted you. Eventually, with a sigh and a muttered “You’re impossible,” he gave in.

Which is how you ended up in front of the mirror, adjusting the elegant dress you'd picked out for the mission, and wondering how on earth Deuteros would look in formalwear.

Nothing could have prepared you for it.

Gone was the wild-haired man you were used to seeing in training gear or shirtless in the heat of battle. Standing there, still fidgeting with his tie and looking faintly uncomfortable in the stiff fabric, was a man who looked like sin in a suit. Broad shoulders, sharp lines, the dark color making his piercing eyes stand out even more.

You nearly dropped your clutch.

He caught you staring, and you could’ve sworn his lips twitched into the ghost of a smirk.

“Having second thoughts?” he asked, low and amused, tugging at the collar like it was strangling him.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “About letting you out of the house looking like that.”

You stepped in, helping him with the stubborn tie, your fingers brushing his neck. His breath hitched just slightly—and that’s when you knew. You weren’t the only one affected.

He looked at you, quietly, reverently.

“…You’re stunning,” he said at last.

Mission or not, you had a feeling you’d both be more distracted by each other than the target.