#this is my freak Benji agenda

[helyiios]

White button up

or, Benji’s really worried about his shirt.

Ethan was not panicking. He was not. He was perfectly fine, and he was running, because what’s the point of being Ethan fucking Hunt if you’re not, like, sprinting for your life on a regular basis, and he was perfectly relaxed.

[Hum,] Luther says in his ear, [we lost signal of B—]

“I KNOW !” he yells back, growing more and more upset, “I’m going towards his last known location. I still have amo, let’s just hope he’s still there.”

[Copy that.]

The worst part, he realises, is that he knows that Benji can handle getting roughed up a little. Wasn’t it the whole point of being an agent ? Getting your ass kicked on the regular ?

Doesn’t mean he likes to think about his friend in that position. He likes to think about him in many positions, but not this one.

He groans and keeps running, his gun kept by his side as he takes a sharp turn left, feeling the soles of his shoes screech on the pavement, and he almost loses his balance, and before he can start running again he hears some shouting at least two streets from where he was.

He picks up the pace, trotting towards the origin of the noise, and he does end up finding Benji—who was standing in front of a man, one hand raised defensively.

Technically, he should be jumping to his defence. Which is what he was just counting on doing, before catching the light glint of a sharp object held behind his friend’s back.

So instead, still hidden by a wall, he stands still and watches.

“I’m non-violent,” Benji nervously calls out to his attacker, hands still raised, “come on, there’s no need to resort to violence to solve this, is there ?”

“You and your friends blew up our headquarters and killed our boss,” the man seethes, visibly furious, “and you think you’re going to get out of it so easily ? Oh, I think the fuck not.”

“Well, technically I didn’t blow it up, it was my mate. If you really want to get specific, you’ll have to fight him. He doesn’t know how to, though…”

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it’s not fucking funny ! Stop talking and come closer so I can fuck you up.”

“But I don’t want to,” Benji whines, his right hand still holding the sharp tool, “c’mon, please ?”

The other man snorts, his fighting stance unmoving despite his raised eyebrow.

“Are you seriously negotiating I let you go ? Man, you are not a good agent, aren’t you ?”

“It’s not that,” he moans, visibly upset, “it’s just…”

He sighs, running his free hand through his hair.

“This is tailored Loro Piana, and I don’t want to get it dirty.”

From his hiding spot, Ethan has to slap a hand on his mouth to keep silent. Was Benji seriously worried about his clothes ?

“Shut up !” his assailant finally roars, running towards the agent at full speed, “be a man and FIGHT !”

With a sharp move Benji slashes the guy’s face, using the element of surprise of the concealed knife to slam his cheek as powerfully as he could, sending him stammering a few steps back. Quickly he gets back into position, and he aims for the neck, eyes and skull first, surprisingly ending up with cutting the tip of the man’s nose, and he can’t help but grimace out of disgust at this, pulling away to avoid getting punched.

His next move isn’t so lucky, because the man is suddenly tackling him, and his head hits the pavement so hard he thinks he passes out for half a second, but before he gets the chance to fight back, there’s a strong jab at his jaw, and he furiously spits out a mouthful of blood.

Thankfully his knife is still tightly held in his hand, and without thinking he shoves the blade inside the other’s left eye, twisting and straining, pushing the man off him as he leaves the weapon there, hopping back a few metres away.

He looks down at himself and at the red stained crisp shirt, and he groans.

“Really ?!” he protests, spreading his arms disbelievingly, “do you know how expensive this is ?! You guys have no respect for textile !”

His attacker is still halfway on the ground, trying to pull the knife out without screeching in pain, and Benji can’t help but stare, his upper lip raised in absolute disgust, his arms crossed. He’s still at a safe distance from him.

“I’m getting really tired of having to fight back idiots who think it’s okay to go after the little tech guy, because oh, of course he’s going to go easy on us ! Well guess what,” he spits out, genuinely upset, “some of us also like the thrill of the field ! If you wanted to vanilla fight with shitty punches, just ask Luther ! I love the man, but he’s shit at hand to hand combat, okay ?! And honestly, like, did you think I didn’t expect at least one person to run after me ?! Do I look stupid to you ?!”

“You’re…a fucking…lunatic,” the other man difficultly chokes out, unable to get back up, blood pouring of out of his face. “Who the fuck…are you ?”

“And like, it’s almost insulting they only sent one guy after me. Like what, I couldn’t take more people on ? I’m not Ethan, but I’m not that helpless ! And I especially brought my knife so I could switch the mood a bit and not get it done too quick with a head shot, do you realise how disappointing this is ?! And you ruined my favourite shirt !”

The man seems to give up on him, because as soon as the knife is out of his eye, he collapses on his back, breathing heavily. He tracks Benji’s movement as he watches him walk back towards him, crouching by his side. The agent inspects him throughly, patting him in search of the disk they’d been after. He finds it in his left pant pocket.

“Don’t mind me,” Benji pouts, taking it out and putting it in the inside pocket of his coat, “no bad feelings, nothing personal, mate. Huh, does it hurt ?” he then casually asks, chin resting on the palm of him hand.

“…what ?”

“The whole eye thing. Did it hurt ?”

The other man closes his eyes, letting out a breathless laugh.

“Like a bitch.”

“That’s interesting.”

Benji gets back up, dusting his pants a little uselessly, grabbing his knife again and putting it back in his place.

“Great doing business with you.”

“Go fuck…yourself.”

“Jesus. So rude.”

Ethan, who’d been somewhere in between mesmerised and horrified, finally steps out, waving awkwardly at his field technician, almost shy.

“Huh, not interrupting anything, I hope ?” he asks sort of lamely, “are you alright ?”

Benji almost jumps out of his skin, clearly not expecting him. He manages to swallow down his helpless and high pitched yelp.

“Huh—yeah,” he says instead, slicking his hair back, “I was just finished. Do you want to, like, put a bullet in him ? I don’t have my gun on me.”

Ethan shrugs.

“He’ll die soon enough,” he decides.

His friend hums, not caring enough to contradict him.

“I got the disk, by the way.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw that. Congrats, Benj. And huh, sorry about your shirt.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame,” he sighs, shaking his head. “How did you find me ? I lost comms with you at least twenty minutes ago.”

“I kind of, just ran around,” Ethan admits. “This city isn’t really big.”

“Is it weird that I’m really craving bolognese right now ?”

“Dunno if there’s the required ingredients at the safehouse, but I could come up with something.”

“That’d be lovely.”

“Well,” the older man smiles, holding out his hand, “let’s head back.”

Benji grins, taking it gratefully.

“Yeah, let’s.”

#mission impossible #mission impossible fic #benji dunn #ethan hunt #benthan #this is my freak Benji agenda