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Mitchell holds his breath and waits for his target’s breathing to even out. There was almost no moonlight in the room and Mitchell’s eyes were still adjusting to the darkness so he couldn’t tell if the other man was still asleep. Waiting another few minutes to make sure, Mitchell carefully sat back on his heels to give his aching calves a break. This had been a terrible idea. Why had he let Joker talk him into going on this mission? He could have been back in his quarters, sleeping soundly and letting someone else deal with this shit.
Fortunately his target is still asleep and Mitchell shakes himself out of his reverie to continue his mission. The goods he’s been sent after were sitting on the bedside table and Mitchell was just praying he could grab it and get out.
Holding his breath, Mitchell went down on one knee and leaned forward, arm outstretched. The moment the fabric of his prize touched his fingers there was a sharp pain at the back of his head and Mitchell found himself on his back with a dangerous weight across his thighs. It’s as he’s looking up into murderous gray eyes with a hand creeping over his throat that Mitchell realizes he’s messed up.
“G-Gideon, man c’mon.”
There is no recognition in those eyes and Mitchell reaches up to fist his hands in Gideon’s t-shirt. Trying to throw the other man off.
“Gideon, c’mon. Wake up, it’s me! It’s Mitchell!”
The hand at his throat tightens for a moment and Mitchell has a legitimate fear for his life. Gideon is one of Atlas’ best hand to hand fighters, and there’s not a chance in hell Mitchell can beat him like this. Not when the other man is just going on instinct. He should have known better.
Mitchell gets a hold of Gideon’s shirt collar and is able to get his elbows up between Gideon’s arms to break the stranglehold on his neck. He fights off a coughing fit that claws at him and pulls Gideon down to knock their foreheads together. “Fuck Gideon, it’s Jack! Now wake the hell up!”
The body astride his legs goes slack and Mitchell breathes a sigh of relief. He releases Gideon and throws his arms out to the sides. “Oh, thank fuck.”
“Mitchell?” There’s a confused lilt to Gideon’s voice that would have been hilarious in any other situation. Right now Mitchell just feels like an ass. “What the bloody fucking hell are you doing in my room?”
“On a mission, Captain.” If he’s going down he’s taking everyone else with him.
Gideon sits back against Mitchell’ thighs, unconcerned about their position as he crosses his arms. Mitchell swallow hard.
“Mission?” Gideon asks. “And just where did this mission come from, Private?”
Shitfuck, the rank has been broken out. He’s done for.
“Joker, sir. Said it was a stealth mission only I could complete.” Mitchell knew it was bullshit from the start, but he’d taken it anyway. He’s beginning to think the only reason Joker suggested it was because MItchell’s the only one that might pull this whole thing off without getting killed.
Gideon groans and rolls off of Mitchell to get to his feet. “I’ll kill that fucking bastard.” He mutters, turning to glare down at Mitchell. “Well? What are you waitin’ for? An invitation? Get the hell out of here and let me sleep! Mission fucking failed!”
Mitchell jumps to his feet and bolts like the room is on fire. Gideon’s cursing follows him all the way back to his room. And it is only there that Mitchell allows himself to smile. He tugs Gideon’s hat out from where he’d stuffed it into his vest and pulls it down onto his head. Joker is gonna owe him forever after this.