Welcome to my second CMSB fic! Unlike the first, this is a casefic (as case as I can get without being bored) and will carry on until it's done. Multichapter. Inspired by that commercial for, I think Target, with the song and the people in matching colored clothes and decor everywhere. Yeah you know the one (I hope!). Plus undercover fics are always good stuff. Please leave a review if you read, I love hearing what people think about my work. Criticism is welcome, flamers will be laughed at (you can try and be a hater but where's that gonna get you?).
Also brought on by my rewatching SB episodes on my DVR. Holy cow One Shot Kill is a mass of Mick/Gina tease-flirting. Beth is right, kiss already (then carry on to what will come next, ahem). Anyone looking for chemistry in the series, look no further than these two.
Thank heavens the awful flirting from The Fight has been redirected off Emily onto a more fitting target.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did I'd be one lucky duck.

"What do you mean, 'undercover'?" one very disgruntled Mick Rawson snapped, jerking his head back around to stare at a shrugging Cooper.

"We're not getting anywhere on this case. Fickler ordered an undercover operation to lure this guy out. Done deal, it's happening," the lead agent explained, looking rather indifferent to the situation.

"I thought I told you, I don't do undercover missions," the Brit's eyes narrowed dangerously as he tried to think up more reasons why he should get out of this.

"Apparently, you're more convincing as a rich douchebag than Prophet or Coop could be. It shocked me too," Beth deadpanned, fighting hard to keep a straight face.

"Well that's bloody wonderful to know. Maybe they should go find some FBI agents who are trained for undercover, I'm a bit rusty on pretending to be an idiotic rich American," he protested once again, turning his glare to Beth, who simply shrugged innocently.

"Come on man, don't tell me you're scared of spending a couple days at a luxury hotel, relaxing with an overpriced fruity drink, staring at rich dudes' girlfriends in bikinis," Prophet put in, causing Beth to laugh under her breath.

Mick rolled his eyes and maintained he didn't want to do it.

"Sorry man, not up for negotiation. You're in. Gina, you're quiet, how you feeling about this?" Cooper turned to the silent blonde, watching as Beth and Prophet eagerly changed mockery targets.

"I suppose it's obvious why I have to be the dumb blonde girlfriend. Even if you dyed Beth's hair, she'd never fit the role," she sighed, not looking overly pleased with the arrangement either.

"That's true. Beth is absolutely not the sort of girl I'd look believable with," Mick put in, happy to have someone else be the focus of attention again.

"You're right, I don't look like you found me on a street corner, nobody would ever believe we were involved," the brunette shot back, causing Gina to protest, stating she didn't look a bit like a cheap hooker.

Mick opened his mouth to contribute further, which was likely a bad idea on his part, but fortunately he was spared the humiliation of whatever he was going to say by Cooper interjecting, stating that things were final and he couldn't get them changed.

"Your names are Mick Luxor and Gina Arlington. The FBI is providing you with a luxury car rental service and funds to purchase a more fitting wardrobe. I guess you're supposed to buy rich people clothes so you look like socialites. Maybe we can get you a man purse, Mick, you'll look real classy then," Prophet explained, before snickering with Beth at the astonished look on the Brit's face.

"What in the world do I need a bloody man purse for? I thought I was straight," he blurted out, getting less pleased with this arrangement by the minute.

"I've been waiting to hear those words come from your mouth since I met you," Beth smirked, the smile on her face wide.

"Bloody…" Mick began before Coop interrupted him, once again, to prevent him from saying something stupid.

"You have today to get ready, tomorrow you arrive at your hotel. Make yourselves noticeable, we want our unsub to target you, not the other guests. And play it safe, it's hard to find good superegos these days," he lightly punched Mick in the arm and handed him the folder containing the relevant information and FBI credit cards.

Cooper walked out of the room, followed swiftly by Beth and Prophet, to work on the case from another angle, leaving Mick and Gina to stare at the folder.

"This might not be so bad, you know, just you and me, at a luxury hotel on the pristine beach of Florida's coast, I'm sure there's a lovely little cove far enough away from everyone else where we can cuddle up real close and nobody will see," he grinned, waggling his eyebrows at the blonde profiler, who simply looked at him to let him know it wasn't likely to happen.

"Oh come on, what stunning, female agent wouldn't love a couple days alone with the FBI's most handsome, rugged bachelor?" whined Mick, attempting to pout.

"We're going to lure an unsub to attack us, not give Penelope more explicit videos to store on her computer system," she huffed, hands crossed over her chest in obvious defiance of him.

"I'm pretty sure she could just Photoshop a porno of us if she really wanted," he pointed out, earning an unimpressed glance from the blonde, so he tried again, "You're going to have to pretend to be crazy for me, you know. I'm the rich guy with the money, and rich guys with money and hot, blonde girlfriends want one thing."

"I don't know why you were complaining, this is a very natural role for you. You would've done well as a rich jerk with your ego."

"Self-esteem. Self-esteem!"

"Self-esteem, ego, unwarranted delusions of grandeur, it's all the same. But, if you're nice, maybe we'll just have to show some public displays of affection, to convince the unsub," she winked, and walked out after the rest of the team.

Mick simply watched her retreating figure before turning to the envelope again. He pulled out an unlimited credit card and a list of high-end fashion designers.

"I wonder how many sell lingerie."

Mick Rawson stood in front of the Orlando Chanel boutique with an unlimited credit card in his wallet and his mouth hanging open.

He gazed on in amazement at the quantity of expensive purses visible through the front window, and briefly wondered why he had driven several hours, alone, to buy clothes for this cursed undercover mission.

However, he was not a failure, nor a man who wasted his time, so he strode inside with a determined aura, aiming to buy as many summery, resort-appropriate articles of stuff as he could.

A stunning, young Asian woman approached him happily, waving in greeting and asking what he was looking for on such a lovely day.

He attempted to casually sneak a peek at the list of resort-suitable lines on the FBI's data sheet before replying he sought everything and anything from the Cruise 2011 collection. Hopefully this would take a few minutes and he'd be on to the next designer on his list, Dolce and Gabbana.

"You're in such luck, we have simply everything you could ever want! And it's such a lovely collection, too! There's towels, and beach bags, and sunglasses, and purses, and jeans, and dresses, and skirts, and tops, oh and don't forget the lovely jewelry. We have so many wonderful spring-colored accessories," the saleswoman cheerfully recited, eyes gleaming as she took him by the hand to lead him upstairs to look at the clothing.

"Oh," he squeaked out, mentally slapping himself for sounding like an idiot. The unsub could be prowling the store, for all he knew, he had to keep appearances as a rich businessman up at all times.

"My name is Michele, don't you just love these soft prints we have? Oh, they are so lovely! Are you just shopping for yourself?" she babbled on, lightly fingering several dresses hanging up before moving to the men's section.

"Um, uh, no, I'm going on a vacation with my, uh, girlfriend, yeah, and we need a proper wardrobe for it, keeping up with the latest trends and all," he managed to fumble out, scolding himself for being so unprepared.

"How darling! Is your girlfriend coming to meet you, or are you just picking things for her? What's her size, we can start pulling things for her, oh, we can pull matching clothes for the both of you, won't that be adorable?" Michele gushed, reaching excitedly for a chiffon shirt with colorful, abstract swirls. She grabbed a pair of white jeans as well and held them up.

"She'd look nice in that, yeah," he nodded in approval, watching as her smile twisted into one of confusion.

"Oh, this isn't the women's collection, this is for you!" she corrected, pointing to a runway photograph of the outfit on the wall. Mick's mouth dropped as he stared blankly at the poster, trying to understand why any man would wear a pastel print chiffon shirt with white jeans.

"Do you want to see it with one of the matching dresses? Is she coming or not, and what's her size?" Michele hurriedly asked, rushing over to the woman's section to find the dress.

"No she's not coming, uh, she's a, uh, size, what's the small ones?" he stuttered, trying hard to remember the size he'd seen on one of Gina's spare shirts on a case.

"In American sizing, there's 0-4, or just plain extra small," she cheerfully informed him, reaching to pull the proper dress.

"Size 2! Yeah that's it, that's what she is. I think. Here let me bring up her Facebook on my phone, maybe you can tell better," he reached to pull his phone out and load the internet app on it, excitedly showing Michele a photo of him and Gina.

"Oh you're ADORABLE together! She's definitely a 2, here, look at how sweet this dress is and it matches the shirt, you could be so cute!" she squealed, holding the matching summer dress next to the shirt and pants.

Mick still wasn't convinced he'd look like a heterosexual man wearing the outfit, but he couldn't be bothered to try and talk her out of it, looking at the mass of pastel prints on the walls.

Michele pulled several other girly shirts and light-washed jeans for Mick before moving back to the women's section to pull clothes for Gina. She tossed Mick's outfits into his arms and he nearly fell over from the weight. While she was busy sorting through the outfits for the right sizes, he shuffled the clothes in his hands to find the price tags.

Mick's mouth dropped once again at the sight of the price of just one shirt. He was about to protest and say he really couldn't get all of these, until he remembered he was supposed to be a rich man with no limits, and that the FBI credit card would just keep on giving.

A particularly short, brown denim miniskirt silenced him for good, and as Michele turned around to see if he approved, he simply smirked, thinking that perhaps this would come with some nice perks after all.

She pulled the matching orange jacket and tan blouse to the skirt, pointing to a photo showing it with a slew of matching jewelry. He nodded his approval, and she told him to start trying on his clothes while she finished pulling things for Gina.

Mick paused after he'd taken his shirt off, staring at the colorful chiffon before him. If he put this shirt on, and liked it, he'd never be able to face Prophet and Beth again, especially if they ever found out about the clothes. It was to catch a serial killer, so he pulled the shirt on and began buttoning it up.

Unable to turn and look into the mirror until he had the white jeans on, he forced himself to take a glance. And then he couldn't stop staring. He had to admit, he was simply irresistible in the outfit. Gina would have a tough time keeping the girls at the resort away from him wearing something as smashing as this. For a second, he questioned whether he was slowly morphing into a woman inside the store, but the dashing fit of the jeans over his rear silenced his concerns.

Michele knocked rapidly on the door, almost bouncing up and down outside. She squealed once again when she saw Mick, who by now was entirely won over by the girly prints.

"You look beyond fabulous, my word! Didn't I tell you these were simply perfect? Oh and there's so much more! I've got the girls downstairs rounding up the gladiator sandals and the boots and all the cruise collection jewelry and oh, simply everything we have! I'd imagine you need swimsuits so I was wondering if this was to your liking?" she gushed, holding up a skimpy peach bikini.

Mick smiled in triumph at the tiny triangles of fabric, looking at a similar silver bikini set behind the peach one.

"They're absolutely perfect."

The FBI sniper walked out of the Chanel boutique fifty minutes later with seven bags crammed full of clothes, towels, and fabulous accessories, if he did say so himself. He'd changed into the white cardigan Michele had shown him and a lighter-colored pair of jeans, to avoid the increasing heat outdoors, before proceeding onward to Dolce and Gabbana.

Now that he knew what he was in the market to buy, he was ready. Michele had told him all sorts of trivial fashion details while they looked at the entire store's selection, and he felt like an expert by this point, strutting around in his form-fitting Chanel.

Something caught his eye on the way over. He'd been planning to go to Neiman Marcus later, but the six inch heels in the window drew him in. Almost as if in a trance, he walked inside and straight to the shoe counter, asking them to show him everything they had by Christian Louboutin.

Gina would likely hate him for forcing her to wear neck-breaking stilettos, but that was a small price to pay to see her in the most flawless pair of deadly foot-wear weaponry he'd ever seen. As he quickly told the salesman Gina's usual shoe size, he heard a nagging voice inside his head saying he was turning into a shoe fetishist.

An acceptable consequence.

Walking out with two bags stuffed with Louboutin boxes, and struggling to carry nine full shopping bags around, he set out again to Dolce and Gabbana. He had some lovely dresses in mind at Valentino after that.

Mick Rawson was turning into a shopping addict.

When the Brit swaggered back in to the police station they were working out of, a while after the sun had gone down, Cooper looked up with an irritated expression.

"Where have you been, all day? This mission starts tomorrow, Mick, I need your head in the game," he warned, folding his arms.

"What do you think I was doing, mate? We have to look the part, I was ensuring every minute detail was taken care of. You wouldn't believe the ways you can accessorize a dress wrong! It's so trashy to just start tossing things on, especially if they look so cheap and common. That's why it took me so long, I had to make sure every last cent was spent buying something just perfectly suited," he blurted out, talking so fast everyone had to take a second to understand what he was saying.

"Are you alright man…" Prophet warily asked, nervously eying the colorful, printed shirt Mick still wore and the sassy way he had taken up standing, arm draped over one of the Gucci bags.

"Why wouldn't I be alright? Chanel had everything, it was so easy, I never realized the thrill of the hunt for the perfect outfit rich people have. This unsub will believe we're the real deal and come running to kill us. Absolutely nothing can go wrong when you have the summer season's newest looks," Mick nearly giggled, dragging a finger over a Chanel bag's handle in a rather seductive way.

"Have fun convincing everyone he's straight," Beth muttered to Gina, and turned to quickly exit the room, Prophet and a bewildered Cooper following her.

"What happened to him?" the brunette woman blurted, as soon as the door had shut.

"This rich idiot cover story has gone to his head. He was practically checking himself out in that shirt. Maybe he thinks he's a girl," Prophet replied, nervously glancing over his shoulder as Mick swept the bags away from Gina, telling her she couldn't see until tomorrow.

"Someone remind me to never give him money again," Cooper shook his head, watching as Mick pulled a single outfit out of a bag.

"Oh my God…" Prophet spluttered, while Cooper's eyes went wide.

"He bought a matching dress? His shirt matches her dress? How… what… maybe he's doing this on purpose, trying to get out of this mission, making us think he's gone insane over clothes," Beth mumbled, watching in horror as Gina's face lit up upon noticing the dress and shirt matched.

"They match on normal days too, though. If one wears blue, so does the other. He probably just stuck with what he felt comfortable wearing," Prophet shrugged, hoping there was a valid explanation for all this.

"If she wears a Playboy bunny costume, he'll wear one too?" Beth deadpanned, not convinced.

"No, he'd go as Heffner," Coop put in, a quick nod of his head to show his confidence in the idea.

"I'd hate to see them at Halloween," sighed Prophet, before slowly heading out the door to return to the hotel for the night.

WHAT PROPHET JUST SAID IS ENTIRELY TRUE. Watch for it: Mick wears blue, Gina wears blue (Beth does too). Mick wears dark red/purple, Gina wears light red/purple. They match. Plus they have those matching black trenchcoats in Two of a Kind. Take it as you will, it must be a sign.. they're meant to be together. I do wonder if how often they have matching colors was intentional as a shipping hint or due to limited wardrobe budget (whatever company makes the clothes donated certain color sets) or someone thought it'd be funny to make them look like they go shopping together.

Leave a review if you could, thanks so much for reading, stay tuned for the next chapter as soon as I write it!