One Night in Vegas

Y/N had expected a lot from her first mission with the Lifeboat team: gunfights, chase scenes, maybe a narrow escape from a historical figure. She had not expected to be married to Garcia Flynn by the end of the night.

“Smile, darling,” Flynn said through a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, his hand pressed firmly to the small of her back. “We’re newlyweds celebrating our anniversary.”

“You told the hotel clerk we were celebrating a first anniversary,” Y/N hissed back, keeping her voice low as they strolled through the gaudy lobby of a 1955 Las Vegas casino. “That means we got married a year ago. You think I wouldn’t notice?”

Flynn’s grin widened, and he gave a small shrug. “Details, love. The important thing is we’re here to enjoy the sights.” He gestured toward the slot machines, ornate and glinting under the neon lights. “Care to try your luck?”

Y/N wanted to argue, but the mission briefing was clear: they needed to blend in while Wyatt and Lucy retrieved the stolen prototype from a nearby vault. That meant playing the happy couple for a few hours. So she let him lead her to a small, velvet-draped table in a corner, where a bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket.

“You ordered champagne?” she asked, sliding into the chair across from him.

Flynn popped the cork with practiced ease. “It’s our anniversary, darling. We must look the part.” He poured two glasses, sliding one toward her. His eyes flickered with something softer than his usual guarded expression. “Relax. I promise I won’t let anything happen to our cover—or to you.”

That last part threw her. She took a sip to hide the flutter in her chest. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” he said, and there was a sincerity in his voice that made her look up. He was watching her, not with the usual detached calculation, but with genuine curiosity. “But even heroes deserve a little fun now and then.”

A band on the small stage started up a slow, jazzy number. Flynn set down his glass and stood, extending a hand. “Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a question. Y/N hesitated, but something about the mischievous glint in his eyes made her laugh. “You’re lucky I’m a good actress.”

“We both are,” he murmured, pulling her onto the floor. His hand found her waist, the other holding hers. Their movements were easy, unhurried, as though they’d done this a hundred times. Y/N felt herself relax, matching his steps, the world around them fading into the music.

“You’re not a bad dancer,” she admitted, looking up at him.

“I’ve had practice,” he said. “Different centuries, same steps.” He spun her once, and when she came back, his grin was less mocking and more genuine. “You know, I wasn’t sure about you when you joined the team. Another wide-eyed idealist, I thought.”

“And now?”

He was quiet for a moment, the music swelling as he guided her through a turn. “Now I think you might be the most refreshing thing to happen to me in years.” He pulled her a little closer, his voice dropping. “This isn’t just a mission for me anymore. And I suspect it isn’t for you either.”

Y/N’s heart skipped. She wanted to deny it, but the truth was she’d spent the last few hours laughing more than she had in months—and not just because the situation was absurd. “Flynn…”

“Garcia,” he corrected softly. “If we’re married, you might as well use my first name.”

She bit her lip to keep from smiling too wide. “Garcia, we’re on a mission.”

“I’m aware.” He glanced over her shoulder, then back. “But the mission can wait a few more minutes. For now, I’d rather enjoy dancing with my wife.”

Y/N gave in, letting him lead her across the floor. For one golden, neon-lit night, the weight of history and loss seemed to lift from his shoulders, and she wondered if this was who he might have been if fate had been kinder.

When the song ended, he didn’t let go immediately. “Thank you,” he whispered, his lips near her ear. “For making me feel human again.”

Before she could respond, Wyatt’s voice crackled in their earwigs: “We got the prototype. Meet you at the Lifeboat.”

They pulled apart, the spell broken. Flynn’s mask slid back into place, but there was warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. “Ready to go home? Or would you like to spend another year married to me?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Let’s earn our anniversary first.”

He grinned, offering his arm. “Then we have all of time to make it count.”