#then i remembered im writing a slowburn Sternclay fic and I've been dying to write something where they're already together

[ohducknewton]

“What do you mean we’ve lost contact with Agent Stern?”

As Director Johassen stares her down from across the desk with a glare almost too composed for comfort, Agent Raynal wishes more than ever that she didn’t have to be the bearer of this bad news.

Don’t shoot the messenger has always been more of a guideline to Director Johassen than a rule and she knows it.

“Well you see, Agent Stern is stationed in the National Radio Quiet Zone, so we can’t get a hold of him on his cellphone unless he leaves the area and calls us, which he hasn’t in a while. And we wanted to send letters but all we have on the place he’s staying at is that it’s called Amnesty Lodge. There’s no address, no website- We even tried calling to a forest service station out there to get the address and the Ranger we talked to informed us that he had never even heard of Amnesty Lodge.”

He had also said the word ‘fuck’ approximately nine times, but Agent Raynal decided she would leave that tidbit out from her report.

Director Johassen taps his fingers on his desk as he maintains eye contact, locked in a staring contest they both knew he would win. “Agent Stern once called up from the landline of the hotel,” he finally states. “Do we still have that number on file?”

“Yes, but uh, I wouldn’t recommend calling it, we think the number might’ve changed and-”

The tapping on the desk stops and Agent Raynal tries not wince. “Get me the number. I’ll call them myself.”

A few minutes of digging through files later, Director Johassen dials in the number and waits stony face as it rings out.

“Sup?”

“Yes this is Director Johassen, FBI. Is this Amnesty Lodge?”

The person on the other end goes silent for a moment before replying, “Nah, this is Jake,” and then promptly hangs up.

And as Director Johassen’s face goes beet red, the veins in his forehead bulging out, Agent Raynal really hopes that Stern has a damn good reason for going off the grid like this because if he’s just sitting in a hot tub drinking margaritas somewhere, she’s going to kill him herself.

As Stern soaks in the hot springs behind Amnesty Lodge, a glass of wine in hand with Barclay’s arm wrapped around his shoulder, keeping him pressed to his side as they chat, he can think of no place he would rather be.

“Hey uh dudes?” Both Barclay and Stern look over at Jake as he steps outside. “Yeah totally sorry to interrupt date night, but like the FBI called again.”

“Oh did they?” Stern takes a sip of his wine. “Who was it this time?”

“Some Director guy, Johassen I think.”

Stern takes a longer drink of wine. “They’re getting desperate if he’s calling. I should probably contact them and officially quit, hm?”

“Probably,” Barclay agrees with a light chuckle, waving goodbye to Jake as he heads back inside. “But that can wait til tomorrow.”

Moving his hand up from Stern’s shoulder to the nape of his neck, Barclay starts to gently run his fingers through Stern’s hair. Practically melting at the light touches, Stern lets out a content sigh and curls in closer to his boyfriend’s side.

“So, have you thought about what you’re going to say when you quit?”

Stern hums out a low note. “I found Bigfoot and therefore completed my mission?”

He just catches the way Barclay playfully rolls his eyes at that. “Very funny.”

“I realised I couldn’t keep working for UP with a good conscience?”

Barclay’s fingers go and trace over the sensitive shell of Stern’s ear, sending a shiver through him despite how hot the water is. “That might raise some questions, don’t you think?”

Pausing for a second, Stern smiles before saying,“Okay, how about I fell in love with an incredibly kind and caring and handsome chef and I want to spend as much time with him as possible?”

It’s Barclay’s turn to pause.

Then, Stern just has enough time to set down his glass before Barclay pulls him into his lap and kisses him, slow but with heat and the subtle taste of wine mixed in. When they do finally pull apart, Barclay gives him a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling up in a way that Stern loves.

“We’ll workshop it.”