Mission Report
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just like writing about them! So read and enjoy! ^_^
He's here already. Hell for all I know he didn't go home last night. Seven hours later and he's exactly where I left him, completing mission reports. A sideways glance over his shoulder is the only greeting I get, and I can't help my smile, he's as sociable as ever at the god awful hour of six AM. I approach with caution, placing a mug of coffee on his desk, his usual, black and sweet just the way he likes it, it's enough to stop him typing at least. Leaning his elbows on the desk he runs his hand through his hair before sinking back against his chair. I take up my usual spot, perched on the edge of my desk, watching him take a drink and waiting for him to break the silence. I know better than to risk speaking first, I learnt that one pretty quick when we first started sharing this office, after a couple of years I finally mastered the routine. He takes another sip and mutters "Thanks" in that level monotone that he does so well, I can help but flash him one of my white teethed smiles.
"Please tell me you slept" I ask, but a glance from his bloodshot green eyes is the only answer I need. I heave a sigh "Shit Tro' You're gonna burn yourself out at this rate," trying to keep the irritation out of my voice as I rub my neck in frustration. He shrugs like a scolded child and goes back to his coffee. I roll my eyes and huff. I'm not sure which annoys me the most, my partner running himself into the ground again or the fact that now, I'll have to send him home and go through this shift alone. It's was hard enough trying to keep on top of my own division without having to worry about Barton's. Two teams of Une's best and brightest, all with big egos and an overly healthy rivalry. Today might be more of a headache than I expected.
"Delta have circuit training with Yuy" Trowa's stormy expression makes me wince, five straight hours of pain with the captain, poor bastards.
"What they do to deserve that?" I smile uneasily, Barton keeps a tight leash on his team but this was extreme even for him.
"Brawling" His simple response made me blink,
"Wait… Are you talking about Rowland and Salter? Trowa, he slept with the guy's sister! Hell I'd have broke his nose too, he has a baby on the way!" his icy stare cuts through me and I know I have no case.
"They can kick the shit out of each other on their own time. While they are here, they are expected to have each other's back. If they can't put their issues to one side, there's no point them being here" The acid in his voice made his irritation obvious, I have to admit he has a point, but sometimes, Like Yuy, Barton forgets how hard it is to stop the heart from ruling the head. It's not that Barton doesn't care, in fact it was the exact opposite, Barton cares about his division way too much. All seventy five members of the team he knows by name and capability, he watches over them like a hawk, plans his missions so precisely that in the four years of working together there's been no fatalities and only six minor injuries, not even I can compete with that.
He finishes his coffee and I make my move, pulling his swivel chair away from the desk I turn him towards the door "Go home" I say with as much authority as I can manage, giving his back a playful nudge. He looks over his shoulder at me, staring for a moment before compliantly getting up. His six foot three frame towers over my measly five foot eight and a half, he breaths a sigh "Get that report to Une for me?" his plea emphasising his fatigue. I give a gentle smile "Sure, just go get some sleep" I urge, knowing full well that he'll probably be back in the office by early afternoon. He grabs his jacket and I watch him leave, preying he can stay awake long enough to get his motorcycle home in one piece.
I stretch out tall and yawn feeling my spine click before falling into Trowa's chair. Leaning back against the warm cushion I rub my eyes lazily,. Four years of sharing this office and working side by side everyday has had its ups and downs but I can honestly say that there's no one else I'd have rather spent it with. Laying my cheek against Trowa's chair I close my eyes for a moment, breathing in the soft sweet scent of his cologne, feeling the loneliness taking root deep inside my chest. Wrestling down that queasy uncertainty that I hide away so well, I force in another breath.
It's strange how the very smell of Barton is enough to settle my nerves, like an instant salve for an aching soul. Willing my eyes open I push myself forward, setting the report to print, resting my chin on my hand. My glance falls to Trowa's empty mug, the logo 'smiling on the inside' pulls my mouth into a lopsided smirk, last year's Christmas present from yours truly. Well I thought it was funny, I think that maybe Barton does too.
Honestly he isn't as miserable as everyone thinks, catch him in the right mood and he has a pretty twisted sense of humour, and there have been times when his blunt wit has made me laugh myself to tears. It took a while for both of us to learn to trust each other. Hell, when it comes to the whole sharing and caring crap Barton and I both have issues, and let's face it, we weren't exactly BFF's during the war.
Back in those days I was too obsessed with Heero to even notice anyone else. I guess everyone is young and stupid once, and man did that end in disaster, turns out the only person Heero Yuy has eyes for is the man in the mirror. We managed a couple of months before reality bit us on the ass, we salvaged what was left of our friendship and went on from there. It makes work interesting, not many people have the privilege of knowing what their boss looks like naked, or knowing that they like to be fisted. Yeah, that's a mental image that stays with a guy forever, luckily, for Yuy, I'm not the black mailing kind.
Slumping back into Trowa's chair, hands in my lap I lazily twirl the end of my braid around my fingers. Twenty eight years of age, according to the physical, gay, single, good job, fast bike, a home to call mine and no responsibilities other that work; not bad for a street punk with no one to call family, but I'd trade it all, in a heartbeat, for one chance to be with Trowa.
I sink down into Trowa's chair and feel my mind wander off. I remember the first time I saw Barton again, after all of those years. Being called into Une's office to meet my new partner was my idea of personal hell expecting to see the most irritating punk she could find, just to fuck me over. I waltzed in ten minutes late purely just to piss her off and there he was, I was blown away, no more trademark turtleneck and skinny jeans, oh no, this time it was black boot cuts and a long sleeved Tee. He was taller, broader, bangs cut shorter, clean shaven and smelt like heaven. If love at first sight is supposed to knock you off your feet then I was drop kicked straight onto my ass, and here I sit four years later, still just as dumbstruck as I was back then.
I snap myself out of my daze and heave myself to my feet, grabbing the reports and killing the PC. I head to the door and a glance to the heavens is the only prayer for strength I can manage, with one last sigh, its times to suck it in and face the day.