Cheers

By: MajorSam

Author's Notes: Inspired entirely by a comment by Jessica, saying she keeps getting commercials on her social media for Remy Martin, and that: "Makes me wanna drink with Wyatt. And Lucy." That evolved quickly into "RM is classy. Sipping in the study fancy dress wearing sh*t" and after that it was all a landslide. Written originally in rambling free form thought format by me over two separate social media platforms (Don't ask me how we kept track, or even why we were doing so, cause I have no clue, ha!) I saved all the rambling into a note, emailed it to myself, and from all that attempted to create something coherent… here it is!

Please Enjoy this image to set the tone! With, obviously, the proper symbols and no spaces. Hope this works. If not, just shoot me a message and I'll get it to you. It is VERY important to see ;) https : slash slash www dot dropbox dot com / s / yyhsxy6v3thp455 / Lyatt%20Bond%20Cheers%20fic dot jpg?dl=0

Wyatt closed the heavy, oak door carefully behind him. He was sure he hadn't been followed, but still. You couldn't be too careful. Turning around he was surprised to find Lucy already there and waiting for him.

For not the first, and probably not the last time that night, he was struck by her.

The long, flowing black dress with the very high slit. The neckline he couldn't describe. The necklace sparkling within it. The way her thick, dark hair cascaded in luscious waves down her neck and shoulders. And her face. Her always perfect face somehow enhanced, no, you couldn't enhance that face… highlighted. Yes, the line of the cheekbones, the deepness of her eyes, were highlighted, creating a vision so entrancing you couldn't tear your own eyes away. The agency had sent someone to pretty them up, an over the top stylist named Frank, and Wyatt thought he'd done perhaps too good a job. Every damn person in the main hall had stolen glances at Lucy throughout the night. Most more than once. Several without even a hint of subtlety.

Bunch of rich, entitled bastards.

Wyatt had been unhappy about this mission from the start. He didn't even like multi-night operations, never mind ones overseas. The more days away, the less time he got to spend with his wife and their little girls. People called their current phase the Terrible Twos but he wanted to be there for every second of it that he could. What he liked even less than multi-night, overseas missions were ones that involved Lucy. They'd both been very clear with Homeland that she was supposed to be done with it all. For several years they'd abided by that. But then they'd heard word of a "Charity" event being hosted at a grand Villa in Italy. Homeland believed it was a front for the last few remaining members of Rittenhouse, scattered throughout the world, to gather and possibly hatch plans for a comeback. Individually, the members had posed no threat since they'd been taken down three years before. A united front could be a different story. Homeland Security had demanded the original team reunite. None of them had been happy about it. The life of missions and danger and Rittenhouse was supposed to be done. Yes, Wyatt was sometimes still in danger with Homeland, but not in the same way. They'd all moved on. They had lives, careers, families. No one wanted to be thrust back into that life, even "just for one mission."

But of course, you couldn't say no when Homeland knocked on your door. Especially once they sent Agent Christopher to plead the case in person.

"Would you rather some joe-shmo agent picked out of a list to go instead? Who has no clue what Rittenhouse truly is or means? The best briefing in the world could not impress the significance of this mission. I know it's terrible, and trust me, I don't want you going either, but there are no better people for the job."

How could you say no?

So off they went. The girls were packed up and sent to their double Grandma's house, Jiya took over the Riya meetings for the week, and Wyatt, Lucy, and Rufus stepped onto a private jet. At least that was a whole lot comfier than the lifeboat.

Wyatt had to admit he softened to the mission a little bit when they arrived at the exquisite hotel they'd been put up in. Even more so when he and Lucy were escorted to their suite. Stunning did not begin to describe it. The shining look on Lucy's face as she wandered around, taking it in, didn't hurt either. If they could just get the mission over with, and come back early, maybe they could enjoy the room and all it had to offer. Like the balcony with the perfect view of rolling vineyards. Or the king-sized bed. Or the jacuzzi tub big enough for two.

His new enthusiasm vanished the second Lucy emerged from the dressing area. He didn't even realize Frank had exited the suite. An elephant could have walked through the room and he wouldn't have noticed. Because Lucy… she…

No.

No way in hell.

There was no way he was…

"No!" he stated firmly.

Her eyes went wide. "No?"

"No way," he shook his head vigorously. "You are NOT going out in that."

"What's wrong?" she frowned, looking down at herself, hands running self-consciously over her stomach. She'd recovered ridiculously fast from birthing not one but two children in one go, and her body was back to basically perfect, but he knew she still worried sometimes.

"Too much," he ground out. "You can't."

A perfectly manicured brow rose high in her forehead. "Oh really? I can't?"

Crap, now he'd done it.

"What do you want me to wear then, Wyatt? The bathrobe?"

He glanced over at said item, hanging so innocently on the back of the bathroom door in all it's beautiful silken glory. He shook his head fiercely.

"Well that's all I have besides the mom clothes I wore on the plane, so unless you'd like me to wear the plaid shirt you travelled in…"

Oh god, no! He couldn't function when she wore his plaid. And while he loved her mom clothes, he didn't think the party would allow such less than formal attire.

She faltered in her indignation, the sudden spike of anger dwindling to a sadness that tugged at him. "I… I thought I looked nice…"

Crap. She was totally misunderstanding him, and as usual it wasn't her fault. He, of course, was being a bumbling idiot.

"Too nice!" he exclaimed.

Her eyes were wide in that innocent way of hers, the way where she never realized how magnificent she was. He still hadn't found the words to make her see.

"You're not hideous," he said, eyebrows high, trying to convey his meaning.

"Oh… oh!" A rosy hue took over her cheeks as she realized what he meant, a smile gracing her face that made his heart melt. "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah," he breathed. "I mean, Lucy… you…"

She walked towards him with a little sway in her hips. "Been a while since we got dressed up, huh?"

He gulped as she got closer, a wave of some new perfume washing over him.

"When was the last time I wore a dress like this?"

Not since before the twins. Not since their wedding. And before that, a mission.

"We need to have dates," he blurted.

She came to a stop right in front of him, grinning. "Dates?"

"Yeah. The twins are old enough now, right? We can go out. Just the two of us. To do… things."

Her grin widened. "Things?"

"Oh, you know what I mean," Wyatt grumbled.

She took pity on him. "Yes, sweetheart, I do. And yes. I would love to go on dates with you. We did kind of skip that part."

Her hands rose to his shoulders and wrapped around his neck. "You're not so bad yourself, by the way," she whispered at him.

His shoulders unconsciously rolled back, his spine straightening. He did cut quite the fine figure in his tux. It was a grey so dark it was nearly black. According to Frank it would highlight his blue eyes.

"James Bond ain't got a thing on you," she praised.

He laughed, self-deprecating. "Well James Bond wishes he could get a woman like you."

"Hmm," she smirked. "He did, didn't he?"

He scowled at the memory if Ian Flemming, as he always did. She laughed at his sour expression, as she always did.

"Before any dates, though," she reminded him, "This mission."

And with that she was gone, striding away to fetch her shoes and purse.

He had a sudden realization. "Lucy?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you enjoying this?"

She paused, crazy stilettos dangling from her fingers. "What makes you say that?"

"Just… your whole being. It's buzzing."

"Is it?"

"Lucy…"

"Okay, so what if I am?" she turned and crossed her arms, daring him to argue.

He put his hands up in defense. "Just curious."

She thought for a moment before answering. "I love teaching. I love writing. I love being a mom."

"But…"

"But yeah," she admitted. "Fine. This is kind of exciting. I'd forgotten what it felt like to have this purpose. This drive. This need to succeed, for the good and safety of more than just me, or you guys. For everyone."

"You like being a hero," he grinned.

"I wouldn't say hero-"

"It's what it is," he insisted, striding to her and grasping her waist, holding her still to look at him. "You, Lucy Logan, are a big damn hero, and I couldn't be prouder of you if I tried."

She blushed furiously, burying her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms lightly around her. They stayed like that until a loud knock jarred them out of it.

"You guys dressed in there?" Rufus called. "Or should I come back when you're done."

"Rufus," Wyatt groaned. "We're on a mission, not vacation! We're not-"

"I mean, it's cool if you are," Rufus assured. "Away from the kids, and all. Totally wouldn't judge if you're taking advantage."

"We're saving it for after we beat the bad guys," Lucy sauced.

"I do not need to know that," Rufus groaned as Wyatt shook with laughter against her.

The couple finally parted, gathering their final bits and meeting their friend at the door. He was covering his eyes with both hands as Wyatt pulled the door open. The soldier smacked him and he dared peek through his fingers.

"Okay, phew," the engineer sighed. "Can never be too careful with you guys."

"We're not that bad," Lucy rolled her eyes.

"Maybe not now," Rufus conceded. "But at the beginning? I mean, talk about making up for lost time. I'm scarred for life."

"Like you and Jiya weren't all mushy too," argued Wyatt as the team walked towards the elevators.

"Not like you two."

"Oh come on, you guys…"

Their voices trailed off as the elevator arrived and they entered, doors closing on the familiar banter.

The banter faded as they entered the limo to the event. As exhilarating as being back on a mission was, they also still remembered the horror of constant fear and danger. They needed to be focused. Tasks were discussed, plans, back-up plans and back up back up plans were hashed out, and pep talk was given.

The evening then progressed alarmingly well. Lucy and Wyatt made the right amount of splash with their entrance. Rufus relished in his easy acceptance as a fellow tycoon, blessing the modern age. They went about their tasks with practiced efficiency.

It was like riding a bicycle, one might say. It had been years since they'd been on a mission to save the world, but it wasn't something one forgot. And this time they got to do it in modern clothes. With cars that didn't smoke or pop or smell. And clothes with the same virtues. And all the high-tech gadgets Homeland Security could provide.

"We're spies," Rufus whispered to Lucy at one point as they observed a few people on what had become a dance floor. Wyatt was beside his wife, hand protectively on her waist as he glared at anyone who dared glance at her. And a whole lot of people were glancing. She was the most gorgeous woman in the whole damn party of International Elite. Of course. Not that Wyatt was biased. They ignored him.

"Weren't we before?" Lucy whispered back. "Kind of?"

"I guess, yeah, but this time… I mean, Lucy. Did you see this Villa!?"

She had. All three of them had been awestruck as their limo had rolled up to the sprawling, classic, opulent villa.

Lucy couldn't help but let out a little giggle. "It's like we're in a Bond movie."

Rufus preened. "Oh yeah, baby. Just need to find me a Bond Girl."

Lucy stopped short and gave him a look. He winced.

"Let's not tell Jiya I said that, okay?"

She smirked. "Mmmhmm."

"I see them," Wyatt interrupted. "Five O'clock."

A group of older men had come together on the far side of the courtyard. Tall. Sour looks. Hair either overly fluffed up or too slicked down. Airs of self-importance. Yeah. Definitely Rittenhouse.

Wyatt nodded. "I'll go. Lucy, if they break up, you take the short one. Rufus, you take the blonde. Meet in the study in 20."

With that, they broke.

Now, 20 minutes later, Wyatt arrived to find out what success his team had had. He had unfortunately had none. He'd charmed and insinuated and even mildly threatened but his guys had given him nothing. He hoped Lucy had gotten more.

Before she could speak he quickly scanned the area in his customary assessment, as he did every time he entered a new room, especially while on duty.

The study was in every way a cliché. A beautiful, lush cliché. Dark wood, plush cushions, full bookshelves, a chair that looked like a throne and a real fireplace gently flickering its wild light. The kind of study a Bond villain would take time in. Or an heir. Or a mysterious, eccentric intellectual. The place where deals for people's fortunes and lives would be brokered. The kind where, at that very moment, his bombshell wife was perching herself up on the corner of the wide, solid desk. He averted his eyes, ignoring the spike in his temperature as he began his report. She nodded at all the right places, but he didn't see them. His eyes were caught on her feet; small, usually clumsy, and currently, apparently, in pain, for she was gently toeing off her shoes. The five-inch stilettos hit the plush carpet with barely a sound. He tripped over a word.

Lucy tried to keep in the groan as her feet were freed from their pointed shackles. One thing that mom life had up on ANY other occupation: Comfortable footwear. She was eternally thankful for any moment of reprieve. She'd forgotten how much shoes could hurt. She'd also forgotten how much the sound of Wyatt's voice could hurt.

In a good way. An oh so good way.

He was hushed, low, and deep. She knew it was because he didn't want anyone to overhear him, even through the solid oak of the study door. But she knew how else that voice could be used. What else could happen behind closed doors. She honestly tried to hear the words he was saying but the tone was so hypnotic…

Wyatt stuttered again as one of Lucy's feet started trailing up a slim calf. The very high slit of the dress slid open to reveal the smooth expanse of her leg. He didn't think she was even aware of what she was doing. The rest of his report was given in halting, clipped speech. Her own report was smooth, but simple and to-the-point. She'd eased back into the role of professor better than she'd realized. As she concluded, she gave a sigh and hopped off the desk.

Much to both of their disappointment.

Wyatt watched as she struggled to don her shoes again. He saw it coming in slow motion. The initial wobble. The look of alarm on her face. Then the inevitable teetering as she started to fall. He moved without a thought, catching her mid-air. Her hands flew up to catch at his chest, a gasp escaping as she hit his solid form. The scent of her perfume invaded his senses, immediately overpowering all else. The heat of her hands filled him, like liquid fire was pouring from them right into his veins.

Lucy's mouth parted in an "O". She felt it too. Could she feel his heart beating madly in his chest? Slim fingers wrapped around his silk tie. Yeah. She could. Looking up at him her eyes were molten, huge pools of light and love and lust.

Oh god, he could feel her chest heaving, tight in the confines of that dress. The fingers around his tie clenched, tugging lightly. His face lowered to hers, the image of her blurring as he got so close…

"Hey guys!" Rufus burst through the door.

Wyatt's stomach sank to his feet, eyes closing as his teeth bit back a growl. Lucy went still as a stone.

"I got him!" Rufus laughed. "I totally got him! I was by the buffet table, thinking about getting another one of those insane shrimp, cause come on, did you see the size of those things? I mean, the whole atmosphere of this place! But anyways, when I…"

Their friend trailed off as he took in the scene and realization finally dawned on him. "Well, you see… I…"

"Rufus…" Wyatt warned.

"I got the guy," Rufus repeated. "And that's all you need to know. Cause, y'know, the atmosphere… of this place…"

"Yeah. No kidding," Wyatt hissed.

Lucy had lowered her head, avoiding looking at Wyatt's face at all cost.

"So, yeah…" Rufus blabbered. "I'm gonna go see about that shrimp again. Cause we finished the mission. You know. We won, Yay! So we can enjoy the rest of the night now. You know, like… the atmosphere, and all."

Wyatt swore if Rufus said atmosphere one more time…

He gave the man a glare but was taken aback when Rufus kept nodding his head pointedly to the side, eyebrows waggling with intent. Lucy had buried her head in his chest at this point so he glanced over. Inset into the library wall was a free-standing shelf boasting a full bar set up. The crowning, crystal bottle was Remy Martin. Of course. What other drink would be in such a Bond'esque villa but the one they were searching for when they met Bond himself?

Wyatt gave his friend a quick nod of thanks. Rufus winked, and gave a hasty exit. With the thunk of the closing door Lucy glanced up at him, her lashes so long and dark, asking without words if the coast was clear. He gave her a comforting smile, one side of his mouth pulled up, and bowed his head towards the bar. She peered at it for a few moments before perking up, her eyes full of mirth as she nodded at him. He hurried over to the shelf and poured them two generous tumblers, using all his training to keep his hands steady as anticipation took hold of him.

The mission was over.

They were free.

They were on vacation. In Italy. At a party the level of which most people only dreamed of attending. Night had fallen, the moon being so bold as to have risen full and shining, as if just for them. Wyatt, and his perfect, bombshell, doctor/professor/spy/mom/wife. The possibilities were endless. That balcony at the hotel. The jacuzzi. The bed. The desk she'd just been perched on… He approached her, a vision in black, and handed her a glass.

A coy smile transformed her. Then, just like That Night in Hollywood, she shrugged at him with one shoulder and raised her glass.

"Cheers."

The End

Wooooooh! And that's what a random, multi-platform rambling, random picture inspired ditty can be, JUST in time for the end of Lyatt Week. After I'd already accepted I'd failed in getting to producing anything! Never Say Never, my friends 😉 Eyyyyy another reference. Did you catch them all? There were MANY. Including a non-Timeless one. Give you a hint: a beloved 90's film. Let me know which ones you found! Hope you enjoyed!