but it's all right now, chapter 5

His next assignment is East Germany, which promises to be even worse than Leningrad.

“Why’s that?” Terry asks, making a big show of peering at him over the top of her sunglasses.

Her sunglasses, like her enormous straw hat, are unnecessary: it’s been raining steadily for the past two days here in Blackpool. Terry’s gone from annoyed to enraged to a sort of calm serenity about the whole thing, probably helped by Jack being very generous with the cocktails.

“Because, darling,” Jack says, reappearing right on cue from downstairs with two drinks and an ice cream cone, “East Germany is worse than everything.”

“Spoken like a man who’s never been to Bed Stuy,” Terry replies. She takes her drink from him along with a kiss on the cheek. Peter returns his gaze back to the popcorn ceiling.

They’re sprawled out in Peter’s room, which had become their designated central locale despite the fact that Terry and Jack’s room is bigger and has a balcony. Terry is currently pretending Peter’s bed is a lounge chair and has a towel draped over it, idly waving a big fan that says DISNEYLAND’S MAIN STREET ELECTRICAL PARADE, while Peter has settled down on the floor with his feet propped up on the side of the mattress. Jack sits himself down on the too-small captain’s chair and leans over to hand Peter his ice cream, the chocolate already dripping down the cone and onto his fingers. Peter swears at himself for ever thinking this was a good idea.

Though to be fair, he hadn’t.

Since I haven't done a good job of explaining how great "Jumpin' Jack Flash" is and how y'all definitely need to watch it, here's some youtube clips (I don't know how to clip movies myself so I gotta go with what's already out there) mostly featuring Terry and Peter (aka Marty) because as much as the movie itself will sell you on Terry and Jack's romance (which, to be clear, I adore), I also think these two are MFEO.

Please note that this scene a) is immediately after Terry witnesses the murder of another spy who saved her life after throwing her in the Hudson and b) is the second time Terry and Marty/Peter have ever met, but they're already extremely Weird both about and with each other.

Also special guest star Gerry Marshall (Penny's brother) as the asshole racist detective is amazing.

This one is later on after Terry has been given truth serum by the bad guys; she blearily returns to work and ends up confronting her shitty boss (played, of course, by Peter Michael Goetz). Once again, Peter aka Marty is there being extremely normal and not at all suspicious.

(Until watching the movie this time, I never realized how handsy they are with each other? Basically every scene with the two of them they're fussing over each other or holding each other or, in Terry's case, trying futilely to beat him up.)

And yes, this movie randomly has Carol Kane, Jon Lovitz, Phil Hartman, Jim Belushi and John Woods in it, I don't know how Marshall convinced them all to do this but god bless her for it.

And because this scene plays on repeat in my head at least once a week, please enjoy The Phonebooth Scene, which still makes me laugh almost forty years later.

You're welcome.

but it's all right now, chapter 4

It was a trip, hearing all about the last two weeks from his side of it; how Archer Lincoln had told Peter that Jack and Harry were traitors based on Talbot’s phony “information,” but he hadn’t believed it. How he’d been trying to figure out how to make contact with Jack somehow, how he’d started to suspect someone at the British consulate was a mole but couldn’t prove anything.

“And then Jack’s ping comes through some mid-level bank—"

“Excuse you, we’re one of the top 250 banks in the country—"

“Contacting some strange woman—”

“Excuse you—"

“Who went home and then spent half the night listening to ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash’ and yelling at her stereo,” he finished, holding his arm out so she can smack it some more.

“You asshole, you were spying on me that first night? I hadn’t even done anything yet!” It sounded better in her head than out in the world, but Peter smiled anyway and offered her a deviled egg.

I don't think I've ever been more offended in my life.

but it's all right now, ch 3

Archer sends Peter to Leningrad in early April. “It’s lovely in the springtime,” he says, as his assistant hands Peter his packet.

“Leningrad? Yes, sir. A real treat.” The last time Peter had been in Leningrad in the springtime, he’d gotten shot. Mark and Jack had carried him three miles, Harry watching their backs as he’d told them all about the time he had gotten shot, and how it was a lot worse than this, Petey-boy, quit your whining. Which had started an argument between Harry and Jack about “whining” versus “whinging” that lasted them all the way to the safe house, whereupon they’d appealed to Mark for a tie-break vote. I’m Dutch, you all sound like imbeciles, he’d told them as he’d cut Peter’s shirt off.

but it's all right now, chapter 2

It turns out that Jack expresses affection mainly through 

a) cooking 

b) sex

c) espionage

There’s lessons on encryption, which is cool as hell — Jack’s actually seen an Enigma machine — and how to swallow and “retrieve” messages, which is less cool. “Are you seriously suggesting that I, Terry Doolittle, Vice President of Foreign Exchange Trades at the First National Bank—"

“It’s a very impressive job title, darling,” Jack says, agreeable, holding out what looks like an oversized pill. It’s a good thing he’s cute.

“—that I, your girlfriend of three months—”

“We’ve been together for four months,” he corrects, less agreeable, frowning.

“You called me your girlfriend on March 12,” she reminds him.

“And you only called me your boyfriend on April— this is hardly the point,” he huffs.

“No, the point is that I’m not upchucking that into a bowl or something just because you want me to be the next Pussy Galore.”

“Naturally not,” he says, though there’s the telltale wrinkle of his nose that happens whenever she mentions James Bond. Apparently he’s based on a real guy and Jack hates the son of a bitch. “You simply allow it to pass through, and retrieve it in due course.”

Terry refocuses on their conversation. She wishes she hadn’t. “‘In due course’? Jonathan Beauregard Neville, I am not sifting through my own shit even more than I’m not upchucking into a bowl, and I was already not gonna upchuck into a bowl.”

So I rewatched "Jumpin' Jack Flash," aka the best spy movie ever made, and looked to find that there is ONE fic for that movie and it's not even a Terry/Jack/Peter OT3 like God intended and so sometimes you have to be the change you want to see in the world

x

Peter catches a flight to DC the day after Jack and Terry finally have their dinner together.

He’d planned to stay in New York for a few more days — catch up with Jack, make his case to Terry again that she had the makings of a world-class Company woman, find out what had actually happened these past two weeks while he’d been flailing around undercover and the two of them had apparently been taking down the biggest mole operation in the past ten years — but then he goes to Jack’s apartment that morning and knocks on the door and Terry opens it.

“Mart— Peter, fuck, Peter, Peter, I swear to God I’m gonna get it eventually, see, this is why I can’t be a spy, do you understand what I'm saying?” she laughs as she ushers him in, all sunshine grin and and sparkling eyes. She’s wearing one of Jack’s rugby shirts that hangs halfway down her thighs and a pair of penguin-shaped slippers, and it’s like getting smacked with the tennis racket all over again. Only this time he doesn’t have the luxury of showing the pain.Instead he has to smile back and shake his head as she takes his coat, has to follow her in where Jack’s already making breakfast — “Something called a full English, which I’m pretty sure is what I had last night,” Terry says, nudging Peter in the ribs.

“Complete with sausage,” Jack replies as he pulls out a third plate. Terry laughs. Happiness looks good on her. Good on them both. When was the last time Peter had seen Jack happy? “I’ve champagne in the fridge, sweetheart, if you’d be so good.”

Peter turns to Terry, to offer to get it instead, but she’s looking at him expectantly. “‘Sweetheart’ is your nickname now,” she informs him. She makes a big show of propping her elbow up on the counter. “I told Jack I’m only accepting ‘darling.’ He says it so nice, don’t you think? ‘Daaahling.’ Not an ‘r’ in sight, it’s great.”

“Sure,” Peter says around the stone in his throat, and he slides off the stool to squeeze past Jack to his fridge. There’s champagne and orange juice, along with a half-dozen things Jack’s never eaten in his life and probably wouldn’t at gunpoint: Terry’s favorites.

He manages to eat something, though when he thinks back on it later he has no idea what it was or how much, and makes his excuses as quick as he can. Terry gives him a kiss on the cheek and retreats to the bedroom to change, but Jack walks down the stairs with him and down to the street.

“I’ve put in my resignation to Department C,” he says, without preamble the way he always does. Jack’s never believed in small talk with his friends; he’s claimed for years that it’s because with friends, you grow closer through silence, but Peter thinks it’s just because he hates the tedium of it. “They weren’t happy, but Archer’s made noises about a job at the company, which may prove more suitable. Considering,” he adds with a glance back toward his apartment.

It conveys a lot. Too much. But Peter’s field assessments have always lauded his attention to detail; his care in confirming information. So he can blame his training for the way he says, “So you’re serious. About,” and he gestures back in the same direction.

Jack looks up at him, surprise in his expression. Is he surprised? Jack’s had flings before: with civilians, with other agents. There’s a persistent rumor that he and Talbot had some sort of mutual understanding for a while, which was why Talbot had such an easy time convincing MI5 Jack had turned; no one can betray you quite like the people you’ve slept with. Or the people you love.

“I’m serious,” Jack says, and Peter nods and claps him on the back and hails a cab and gets the hell out of there.

FYI!

My twitter account's been hacked, and it looks like I won't be getting it back any time soon. I haven't used it much since last year anyway, so it's no big deal, but if you're still following me there I can only advise you to go find me on bluesky instead.