In the Beginning
Summary: In the beginning, Owen genuinely disliked David Xanatos.
Spoilers: Vows mostly.
Warnings: possible language
Disclaimer: Gargoyles… Disney… Buena Vista… Greg Weisman… not me.
A/N: So what happened was Porn Bunnies invaded and killed all the Plot Bunnies, I got really really busy, and NO ONE WAS REVIEWING so I kinda forgot I was writing this... (Which happens a lot for all my stories. So Review!) And then when I remembered it turned out my notes got so extensive that I had to give names to the different events and then number the sections (Post-Move arc # 3 for a random, nonspecific example). Sigh.
Chapter 11: Of Meddling Kids and Picking Your Battles
Research was as dull as David had known it would be but the archives were as interesting as Belinda had suggested and David subtly got himself transferred. Subtly as in not at all and transferred as in "whatever just stop bothering me."
The basement had been completely untouched by both disaster and maintenance crew for many years. The dust was, by David's estimate, at least an inch deep but the files were relatively well protected in their poorly marked cardboard boxes. The yellow light made reading slow and for the first day and a half David carried boxes back and forth from archives to his desk until his back just couldn't take the strain anymore.
"Youth is wasted on the young," he complained in a good natured tone when he recruited Owen into helping him take the musty and - though interesting - completely useless files back to Archives.
"So I've been told sir," Owen hefted one large box just as the phone on David's desk rang. The older man picked up the receiver with a dismissive gesture.
"Hello?"
"Hi David. Tiffany and I want to take you and Owen to dinner on Thursday, how's that sound?"
"Just a minute Fox," David put his hand over the mouth piece. "Owen, come back for a second," the blond had already started walking away. Owen came back and set the box on David's desk with a loud thud. The dark haired man winced sympathetically. "Janine wants celebrate the fact that our building didn't burn to a crisp by taking us to dinner Thursday night."
"Does she?" Owen's voice was bland but his expression implied that the blond very much doubted every word coming out of David's mouth. To his credit, David did try to smile convincingly.
"That's right. I'll tell her you'll come?" David raised his eyebrows in question but lifted the phone to answer before the blond had even opened his mouth. Owen let out an annoyed huff, picked the box back up and, if David wasn't horribly mistaken, even rolled his eyes before stalking off again.
"You didn't let him decide for himself did you?"
"Of course not; he'd have said no," David said cheerfully. "What time?"
"Sixish? Make him dress down, we're going to a pub."
"A pub?" David's eyebrows rose to his hairline.
"They serve food at pubs," Janine insisted. David didn't quite manage to stifle his laugh. "You laugh now, but you'll sing a different tune when we get our food."
"Of course I will dear," David soothed, still laughing. On the other end, Janine huffed at him. "I have to get back to work now. See you in a few days."
"If you can call what you do work."
(Line Break)
With the last of the boxes returned to their shelves, David - feeling very disillusioned about the whole Archives thing - let Owen lead the way back out to the surface. It wasn't until he realized that they'd been walking for five minutes and had yet come to the elevator that the dark haired man realized that Owen hadn't been leading them to the exit at all.
"Owen are we lost?" David asked sharply, coming to an abrupt stop. Owen stopped a few feet ahead of him and looked back. The dark haired man raised a hand before the blond could speak. "Because this isn't a short cut."
"No sir," Owen pushed up his glasses and David narrowed his eyes at the other man. "I was taking the scenic route."
"Owen, that's what husbands say to their angry wives when they've ended up in the middle of a forest with no idea how to get back onto the main road," the older man said pointedly. A pair of grey suit clad shoulders shrugged at him. David felt his face warm in anger while the younger man turned away, apparently idly studying the faded marking on the shelves of boxes on his right. "Why didn't you just-"
"In all honesty sir," Owen pushed his glasses up again. "I'm looking for something."
"Stop that."
"Sir?" Owen froze, hand half raised to touch a box on the nearest shelf.
"That thing with your glasses," David mimicked the movement and Owen's eyebrows jumped up. "You need to stop doing that. People will get the wrong impression."
"Ah," Owen's posture was dismissive and the blond returned his attention to the shelf. He seemed to change his mind and brushed the dust from the label on a box lower down. "I shall endeavor to break the habit, sir."
David didn't answer and Owen eventually dropped his hand from the box and started walking again. The blond rounded a corner and disappeared leaving David to glance at the box. It was marked as an abandoned project. A glance inside revealed three files and a few loose sheets; more chemical formula.
"Sir, the elevator," Owen's voice drifted toward him from somewhere to his left. David grabbed the box and began walking again.
(Line Break)
"You what?" Halcyon Renard wasn't doing well, if the rasp in his voice was any indication. David politely declined to comment on the older man's health.
"I wanted to know if you had any interest in continuing your work with these..." David glanced down at the file he was holding. "Medical grade-"
"David," Renard interrupted in a coddling tone. David's jaw clenched. "CyberBiotics is a robotic engineering company. I let you play around with your little..." the old man waved a dismissive, wrinkled hand. "Your little chemical mix on the off chance it would prove useful as a fuel base. Which it didn't. So now it's time to get back to doing the real work. The work I hired you to do."
"Well," David smiled tightly. "Since you aren't interested in it any more, why don't you let me have it?"
"Let you have it?" Halcyon's eyebrows rose impossibly high. "Let you have it? For what?"
"To tinker with in my free time?" David suggested mildly. "It isn't doing you any good sitting in your basement. I'll even buy it from you."
Renard held out a hand and David gamely handed over the file. Beside the old man, Vogel was giving David a poorly disguised look of disgust. The older man suddenly let out a sharp, barking laugh. He held the open file up for Vogel's inspection and the stiff man bent at the waist to look it over, expression becoming gradually more smug as he read.
"Alright," Renard handed the folder back. "You want it so bad? Fine. Vogel, clear it with the legal office so our dear Mr. Xanatos here can have his little combination of chemicals. Hell, let him have the whole project."
"Yes sir," Vogel made a note in his planner. He was less efficient at the one-handed note taking technique, David noted, than a certain blond he could name.
"Thank you," David smiled. "In the meantime, I've been asked to start cleaning out older archive files. Put them on computer and make room for new things," Renard nodded vaguely, no longer paying David the least bit of attention. "It's a big job, I was hoping I might get a bit of help."
"Sure," another dismissive hand wave. "We're still cleaning up that mess in the labs, there should be plenty of people available. Take your pick."
"Owen," David said with a pleasant smile. Predictably, Renard scowled at him.
"No."
"You just said-"
"I know what I said," Renard snapped. David schooled his expression into something nicer than rebellious. "Owen has other duties, far more important than catering to your whims. Find someone else."
"He seems to rather enjoy catering to my whims," David said a bit more viciously than he'd intended. Cold steel eyes narrowed at him from across the desk. "Why don't we leave the decision to him?"
"Because I. Will. Not," Halcyon's voice rose in volume with every word and he slowly stood from his chair. David held his ground though he would have been far more comfortable backing away. "Allow such a talented young man to commit career suicide. Most certainly not for you."
David was frozen where he stood and Halcyon was breathing heavily from the outburst. The two stared for a long moment with Vogel sending worried glances toward his employer.
"Now," a low, dangerous growl. David didn't let the worry show on his face though it was a challenge. "Get out."
"Yes sir," quiet and respectful David turned to leave the room.
"Xanatos," David tried not to think too much about the way his shoulders stiffened as he obediently came to a halt though he didn't grace the old man with a look. "Have fun with your new toys."
(Line break)
He was in a particularly foul mood when Myra planted herself in the chair across from him. The break room was far more favorable to her than the cafeteria and David was finding that it was a far more agreeable place when he found himself on the edge of making poor career decisions. That Myra was usually there with calming words was either a side benefit or the whole reason for his choice in venue. He never stopped to think about it too much.
"So," the woman made no effort to pretend to be doing anything other than waiting for David to share his feelings like a child to his mother. The dark haired man sighed into his hand.
"I got exactly what I wanted," he said shortly. Myra nodded. "It worked out almost perfectly and then..." he made a vague gesture and dropped his hands."I don't know. I shouldn't have been surprised. Everyone knows that Renard watches out for him like a son."
"Alright," Myra nodded. "So why did you push your luck?"
"Because I-" David broke off. How did she know what he was talking about? Maybe she didn't and was just playing the part of a willing listener. Maybe the entire building knew about the shouting match in Renard's office that David had lost horribly. More likely the context clues were all there and David just hadn't noticed how perceptive the older woman could be. "Owen is useful," David finally said to fill the silence. Myra nodded. "He... I enjoy working with him."
"I thought we all agreed that he doesn't like you," she said gently. David didn't point out that Myra herself had argued that Owen couldn't possibly dislike anyone, never mind having a personal dislike for David.
"He probably doesn't. But I enjoy his company."
"Well... then what's the problem?" David stared.
" 'What's the-' Myra, Renard warned me off like I was a teenager with a van trying to pick up his daughter," David didn't think too hard about the fact that Renard hadn't been anywhere near as protective of Janine since that was likely due to the older man not knowing the extent of their interactions.
"Mhmm," she chose that moment to get up and get herself a cup of coffee. David knew by then to wait patiently for her to return to the table before expecting the conversation to continue. "We - and when I say 'we' I mean the older office ladies, myself included - like to think of Owen as... just a boy," the woman settled back in her chair and set down her mug.
"Right..." David was having a hard time seeing how that had anything to do with his current situation.
"I suspect that you and Renard have a similar view," she paused, giving David a long look. Fully prepared to argue that fatherly instincts or whatever Myra was implying had nothing to do with it, David opened his mouth just in time for the woman to shush him and continue. "The fact of the matter is that Owen Burnett is a grown man. Not a very old one, I'll admit, but he's old enough to make his own choices."
"I agree," David said heartily, scowl firmly in place. Myra shook her head at him, very much amused.
"Well, then what's the problem?" she repeated. David frowned.
"I told you. Renard-"
"Mr. Renard nothing. Owen is a grown man that makes his own choices and makes his own schedule," she smiled at David's look. "You didn't know that did you? After clean up got underway Owen was put directly under Mr. Vogel who doesn't give a rat's behind about what Owen does as long as he's in the building being productive for eight hours a day. Now, you've got two choices. Appeal to Mr. Vogel who will agree with Mr. Renard or... talk to the man who makes the schedule."
(Line Break)
"When you've finished filing those records correctly, you can begin cleaning up your workspace. Personal items are perfectly acceptable. Trash and disorganization are not."
The intern, a little slip of a girl who could not have been a day over nineteen, muttered something under her breath that might have been "yes, Mr. Burnett" but was just as likely "insufferable bastard" before hurrying away, files pressed to her chest like she thought they would explode if they were not properly compressed. Owen, apparently not realizing he had an audience, dropped his head to his chest and sighed.
"Management not your cup of tea?" David asked brightly. Owen's shoulders stiffened just enough to let David know that Owen really hadn't known he was there.
"Not particularly sir," Owen turned, lifting his head to meet David's gaze. "I've a preference for research."
"Funny. I've always preferred being in charge of people. Perhaps you'd like to switch jobs?" David gave the blond a joking wink that the other man apparently decided to ignore.
"Hardly appropriate sir. As it is I'm only stepping in because it seems no one else wanted the pleasure of setting Ms. Harker straight."
"Well I doubt you'll have to worry about her anymore," Owen wasn't going to tolerate the small talk for much longer, that much David was certain of. "Actually Owen I- this will sound silly but I was wondering if I could get your help with something."
Owen tilted his head at the other man, curiosity or permission to continue. David smiled.
End Note: Not a particularly good Chapter for which I apologize. Review. Please. In all honesty it does make writing easier/more fun for me.
