Disclaimer: "Scarecrow and Mrs. King" is copyrighted to Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Productions. The plot is mine, but not the characters. This story is meant for enjoyment purposes only. No infringement is intended.
Friday, February 12, 1988
"Happy Valentine's Day," muttered a disgruntled Austin Smyth under his breath as he strode through The Agency's bullpen reading the bright red and pink banners strung across it. Clamping his cigarette holder tightly in his teeth, he paused at Francine Desmond's desk as he took a long slow drag from his cigarette, blew the smoke out slowly, then barked at her, "Just who might I ask is responsible for..." he gestured to the lavish display throughout the room of hearts, paper roses, and cheery, fat cherubs, "...revolting exhibit of adolescent puppy love?"
"I...um...Sir...I-I-" She glanced around looking for an escape as rose to her feet and made a show of neatly smoothing out her pencil skirt, then straightening the pile of file folders on her desk, anything that she could do to avoid looking at the Director of Covert Operations.
"Cat got your tongue, Desmond? Or is it perhaps Cupid who's rendered you speechless? Tell me, has he aimed his arrow your way?" When Francine flushed slightly, he grinned at her. "Tell me, who is the dreamboat?"
Recovering her composure, Francine replied with an arched eyebrow, "That is none of your business...Sir." She snatched up the files from her desk and in a haughty tone, added, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go file these away in the vault upstairs. You know, to give Lee and Amanda a hand since they are leaving on their second honeymoon tonight."
Her escape route was thwarted, however, by Lee and Amanda entering the bullpen hand in hand as Lee was saying to his wife, "Only five more hours to go and we are out of here."
"Oh, hey, Francine, we were just coming down to get those," Amanda said to her cheerfully.
Crap, Francine thought. "Oh...well...you know...I thought I'd just bring them up to you...Save you the trouble." She gave her a pleading look with a slight nod behind her to Dr. Smyth.
"That's nice of you, Francine, but really not necessary," Lee argued. "Amanda and I have it covered. Thanks thou-" His words were cut off by Amanda nudging him with her elbow and giving him a scolding look, then he abruptly switched gears, "You know, on second thought, the vault is a shambles. We can really use all the help we can get." He then laid a hand on Amanda's back to guide her back the way they'd come, Francine in tow. "Not to mention my desk. Maybe you and I can work on the vault and Amanda can work her magic on my desk the way she always does."
"You're going to have a lot of making up to me to do on our trip if you expect me to go near that pit you call a desk, " Amanda challenged her husband with a salacious grin as he held the door open for both ladies.
"Ugh...Amanda, did you really have to go there?" Francine groaned and shook her head.
Again, Dr. Smyth grimaced while watching the exchange. He leaned against Francine's desk for a moment and observed the other goings-on in the bullpen, Beaman gazing after Francine longingly from across the room as she disappeared down the corridor, Fred Fielder chatting up Jill, the receptionist and June, the young intern who'd moved up from the steno pool, swooning over Leatherneck as he was showing her different types of locking mechanisms and who appeared oblivious to her affection for him. It was funny though because he'd have sworn a couple of years ago, she'd fixed the elusive Scarecrow with that same starry-eyed gaze. But of course, everything had changed since the office grapevine had come alive with news of his clandestine marriage to his partner.
Letting out an ill-tempered sigh, he entered Billy's office with a growl. "Melrose, I need to have a word wi-" He stopped short when he heard the section chief cooing into the phone with his back to him.
"I'm looking forward to it too, Jeannie," Billy said softly ignorant of his boss' scowling behind him.
"Melrose!" Smyth's voice boomed.
Billy snapped to attention, quickly stated into the phone, "Gotta' go, Baby," whipped his chair around and hung up the receiver.
"That's better." Smyth smiled smugly at having gotten his attention. "Are you aware..." He gestured wildly to the bullpen, "...Melrose, that your operation out there looks more like an episode of The Love Connection than an intelligence agency?"
"I...uh...I..." Billy stammered.
"I blame myself, of course," Smyth went on as he paced back and forth in front of Billy's desk as he puffed on his cigarette. "I knew for months that there was something between Stetson and King and I turned a blind eye to it because their partnership has been so dammed effective." He paused and looked down at Billy. "Where I made my mistake though is not putting a stop to it once they stopped keeping in under wraps. Things were great when the cat was still firmly tied up in its bag, but once it began to mewl and whimper to be let out, all hell broke loose. Now, every Tom, Dick and Harry thinks it's mating season here and that I'm just going to let it go on because I kept my trap firmly shut in their case."
"Well, technically...there aren't any specific rules that forbid it," Billy pointed out. "And you can't really let Lee and Amanda work together without allowing it for others. You do have to have the same rules for everyone."
"Don't try to logic your way out of this, Billy. You're equally to blame, you know. Letting your agents carry on like that out there...decorating the place as if an army of cherubim descended on the whole place."
"I didn't really think that you'd object. After all, we decorate for Christmas and you always make an appearance at the office party."
"But that's different."
"I don't see how," Billy smiled at him. "It's just another holiday."
Smyth glared at him. "I'm beginning to understand why there was a St. Valentine's Day massacre. You start keeping your agents and their hormones under control or there'll be another one."
Billy chuckled softly and replied, "I'll do what I can."
"Or maybe I'll do it for you." Smyth snorted in disbelief as he violently stubbed out his cigarette, stormed out of Billy's office, back into the bullpen and began yanking down the offensive Happy Valentine's Day banners. "Happy Valentine's day," he grumbled as he tore one down with a satisfying ripping sound.
"Hey, don't you think you're taking this a bit too far," Billy protested as he attempted to stop his boss' destruction.
Smyth whipped around and scowled. "No, Billy, I don't think it's gone quite far enough." He then turned to the occupants of the bullpen, waved the torn banner at them and snarled, "Let me inform you all of something. If I don't start seeing you all being the busy little beavers I know that you are capable of being, NO ONE is going to have a Happy Valentine's Day because you will all be working the rest of the weekend." This halted the group as he reached for another banner and gave it a firm tug.
"HEY!" Lee's voice called loudly from the doorway as he hurried to them, Francine and Amanda following closely behind him. "Stop that! We all worked very hard putting all those up."
"Yeah," Leatherneck chimed in from his perch at June's desk as he rose to his feet.
Even Beaman spoke up with, "What's the harm? We all need to have a little fun once in a while," as he sidled up to Francine.
Smyth looked around at the group that had gathered. "You were ALL a part of this," he inquired incredulously.
As the size of the group increased around him amid a chorus of affirmations, he realized he was defeated and stopped his assault on the decorations. "Fine!"
Amanda approached him slowly and said, "You know, Sir. Maybe the reason all of this upsets you so much is because you don't have any plans yourself or someone special to share the day with. You know, my mother knows a lot of nice ladies-"
Amanda's words were sharply cut off by an icy glare and a wave of Smyth's hand. "Who says that I don't? Just because I maintain some level of decorum and don't flaunt it at the office like a love-struck teen the way the rest of you do, that doesn't mean that I don't have my own plans."
"Ooh-la-la," Francine crowed in schoolgirl-like delight as she gave their boss a curious eyebrow. "Anyone we know?"
"I don't see how that's your business, Desmond," He retorted acidly as he made a big show of balling up the banners he had ripped down and tossing them into a nearby trash can. "Now, you'll have to excuse me. Some of us have work to do." He gave them all a pointed look as he headed for the doors.
"Right," Lee nodded as the occupants of the bullpen began to disperse. "We did come back down here for more files to take upstairs."
Smyth stopped just as he stepped outside the glass doors, reaching into his pocket for his cigarette case, but paused before extracting a new smoke as he smiled slightly at the inscription on its inside cover; For the man who lights my fire, your loving Edna. As he reached to take a cigarette from the case and fit it into his holder, he reflected back on the day that she'd told him of Scarecrow's requests for his pension and benefits information and how she'd speculated on who his new "bird" might be. He'd simply smiled and acted as if he didn't have the slightest idea, but he'd known instantly that it was the housewife-turned-agent who'd caught his eye and captured his heart. He'd never said a word though. Who was he to judge when he was doing his level best to keep his own romantic affairs from the prying eyes and ears around the office?
He turned back to glance through the doors and caught the woman in question smiling at him with her knowing "a-mother-sees-all" look, gave her a slight wink as he stowed the case back into his pocket, then bent his head to light his cigarette and headed to the elevator deciding to pay a visit to the benefits department before heading back to his empty office.