Author's Note: For a friend – who I know as Bohemian Hobbit – for Christmas.

The offices of the Secret Service were quite possibly the least exciting place in the world, at any given time, no matter the occasion. They were as far from fun as you could get, with its humdrum rhythm and its daily hustle and bustle of normalcy and routine. Of course, the more work you had to do, the less fun it became.

So naturally, with – quite literally – a mountain of paperwork, two of the young spies of the Service were having about as little fun as was possible for one afternoon. The light was starting to fade outside, and as the shorter of the two clicked his pocket watch shut, he sighed miserably. "It's comin' up on four."

The taller spy thudded his head down none too lightly to the desk's surface with an impressive though muffled 'thump'. After a groan and then a moment's silence, he muttered irritably, "Ow…"

Huckleberry Finn snorted lightly, trying to cover the noise by loudly clearing his throat afterwards and asking, "You all right?"

"Yeah, just fine… that didn't hurt or anythin'…" Thomas Sawyer lifted his head and stared. "Got any aspirin?"

Huck tugged open one of the stiff drawers on his side of the large, paper-strewn desk, and dug around. Not only were the drawers prone to sticking, but he could never find what he wanted inside. Grumbling to himself about his own organisation skills, he finally pulled out a small bottle. "Aha," he murmured triumphantly with a grin, and tossed the container over the desk, and piles of paper, to his partner.

Tom caught it in both hands, leaning back in his chair, before he took one of the tablets. He'd take another later if he had to, but for now, he wanted to be as alert as possible, and these things made him groggy. Looking back down at the file open and spread before him, he pulled a face and cocked his head. He'd completely forgotten what he was doing. "Oh, for…" Sighing, he looked to his partner. "When are these due?"

"Um…" Huck leaned back in his chair as well, coffee cup in his hand, and faced the ceiling, pensive expression on his face. "Tomorrow. I think… maybe. Not sure." Somewhat ashamed, he looked back down at Tom. "I can't remember. All these words are confusin' my brain."

Tom stated to sift his way through the sheets. There was a note about their deadline in here somewhere… if he could only find it. A few pieces of the paper fell to the floor in his somewhat frantic searching, but he ignored them, desperate almost to find the 'memo'. He finally found it, pinned under his own cup – far too empty for his own liking – and he pulled it free carefully, shaking it off, before reading it over. "We have until… um… uh oh."

Huck pulled a face that seemed as though he were in pain. "I don't like the sound of that."

Tom lifted his green eyes from the sheet and reluctantly met the gaze of his partner, before he looked to the doorway behind Huck, and almost laughed nervously. "Mr. Carter…"

"Finn," Leonard Carter said in his low, grating voice, standing somewhat ominously in the doorway, "Sawyer." He was dressed in his usual immaculate suit, and as he stood there, he brushed down his ugly tie with one hand. "Your reports were due in an hour ago."

Huck winced, still not having turned to face their superior, but when he did, it was with a very believable degree of shame and shock. "Oh, jeez, Mr. Carter… we're sorry. We were just…" Huck looked back to the desk, and subsequently Tom, as if he expected him to think of something, and fast. Tom refrained from widening his eyes in dismay, and fumbled for a moment.

"Well, sir, y'see…"

"I don't want to hear it… whatever it is," Carter interrupted with a sigh. "You two have been non-stop for a little over a month." Then came the words neither spy had ever expected to hear, "Head on home, boys… take it easy. How far are you from finishing the reports?"

Tom and Huck looked down at what they had been slaving over for the last day and a half. "Almost done, sir," Tom noted after organising them somewhat.

"Well…" Carter sounded almost reluctant. "I don't normally do this, and mind you, I shouldn't… but come in the day after tomorrow, and get them finished then." As he was about to walk away, he turned back and pointed a finger. "But no later, you hear?"

Tom and Huck nodded at once. "Thank you, spy," the younger spy said as Carter walked away, and then landed his head on the desk again. This time however, his hands were crossed to cushion his blow, and he let out a deep sigh that caused the paper next to him to flutter somewhat. "That was close!"

Huck laughed, checking Carter had gone, before looking back to Tom. "Tell me about it. Whadda you say we get outta here, huh?"

Tom's head rose at once. "Just try and stop me!" He was out of his chair at once, and he and his partner were neatening their papers for a short while before they grabbed their coats and hats, and were heading out of the offices. A few of the typists smiled at them and waved goodbye, and Huck admired one of the redheads as they were going out the door, almost proceeding to slam into the wall as he went. Tom grabbed his collar and tugged him forcefully to the left to avoid such an embarrassment, and offered the ladies a final farewell with a mild flourish, before sweeping out with a laugh. "You tryin' to look stupid, Huck?"

Shrugging his coat on, and looking uncomfortable, Huck replied, "No, it just comes naturally."

Tom laughed and patted his friend on the pack. "C'mon, let's get outta here."

The two pushed out onto the street, pressing their hats down onto their heads as they went. Washington was always busy, and as such, the two were used to the crowds and the non-stop drone of its life. They walked easily through the streams of people moving here and there, and were silent for a while as they headed back to their apartment building.

"So we're just gonna head home?" Huck asked plainly, looking up at the taller American inquiringly.

Tom looked down for a moment, and shrugged. "I guess so. What else can we do?"

"I don't know," Huck objected, "find a bar maybe? Have a couple of drinks; we haven't done that in ages."

"Huck, it's not even five o'clock."

Huck laughed in amusement. "You sound like your Aunt Polly."

Tom stopped and glared, narrowed eyes only remaining that way for a moment before he rolled them instead and caught up to his retreating friend. "So you wanna go to a bar, of all places?" It was an odd request, but then again, Huck did have a point; they hadn't allowed themselves the liberty of a casual drink for… weeks. They simply had had neither the time nor the opportunity. It wouldn't have been very 'professional' for them to drink whilst on a mission, so they had neglected to indulge themselves in such a manner.

"Why not?" Huck offered cheerily with an expressive gesturing of his arms that nearly succeeded in knocking over an elderly woman. Tom winced and muttered an apology, ushering his shorter companion on their way, to clear them from her withered glare.

"Well…" Tom honestly didn't have any reasons as to why they couldn't do what Huck suggested, so – albeit a little reluctantly – he found himself conceding. "Fine. C'mon. There's a good bar around the corner."

Huck grinned triumphantly and trotted after his partner eagerly. The bar, as expected, was just around the corner. The two agents found the door, and stepped inside without being noticed by any of the pedestrians who were all too busy in their daily activities to pay them any attention; something Tom was a little grateful for. After all, some of these people could recognise the Service agents quite easily by their standard colour of attire, and as such might become somewhat suspicious or disheartened at seeing them partaking in afternoon drinking. But then again, who was to say they weren't here to ask questions…?

Huck pulled off his hat and propped it on one of the hooks by the door, as did Tom. They promptly removed their coats also, seeing that the bar already had a few occupants, but nothing out of the ordinary. The usual customers were present; one or two older gentlemen who were retired from occupation; one woman who was often seeing chatting with the younger men in the bar – and she certainly noticed them arriving it seemed – and quite flirtatiously; and a few other ragtag individuals who paid them no heed as they moved over to take seats at the bar.

Slipping onto his stool, Tom looked around; noticing they weren't being stared at exactly… but people were watching every now and again when they thought the agents wouldn't see. Rolling his eyes, Tom turned his head back to the bar as Huck ordered their drinks for them.

Huck was almost bouncing on his seat, and Tom had half a mind to reach over and force him to sit still… for what little good he knew it would do. The older spy always wanted to have fun in one form or another – when work wasn't involved in a priority – so he thought he should let him enjoy himself.

When the barman gave them their whiskey, Tom eyed his for a little while, noting carefully that a tab had been started. It wasn't unusual for them to do that, but Tom always tried to keep note of how many drinks they were having and at what price they were being charged; it wouldn't do to get swindled.

Huck's drink didn't last very long, and the taller agent quirked a brow, even as his partner looked to him… almost in a challenge.

"You're kiddin' me…"

"Nope," Huck said with a playful smirk. Over the years of their maturing – wherein drinking had become a casual activity from time to time, as was almost expected for men of their age - Huck had been partial to drinking games… one of his favourites being to see who could hold theirs better. Since whiskey was their usual beverage of choice, it didn't take long before the game was forgotten – until the next morning of course – and all that mattered was finding that allusive next measure.

"Huck…"

"Tom…" While it hadn't been a whine, there was that challenging note that the blonde recognised well enough to elicit a sigh.

Defeated, he knocked back his drink, grimacing a little at the liquor's strength as it went down, and he muttered, "Fine."

Famous last words…

By eight o'clock, the bar was getting noticeably more popular, and was filled with some thirty-five patrons, all of whom had certainly noticed the rather hard-to-miss pair at the bar, one of whom was laughing with his head down, a mop of blonde hair all over the place as one palm slapped the wood. A rather unceremonious snort emitted from his companion, the one with mahogany hair at his right, who giggled afterwards, and almost fell off his stool.

The barman either didn't care – so long as they paid their tab at the night's end – or was making an effort to avoid noticing them for fear of bringing the behaviour down on his head, because he did little to calm or quiet them. After all, they weren't doing any harm.

Tom brought his head up from where he had cushioned it against his left arm, nearly out of breath, and noticed his partner's swaying dilemma. He quickly reached out and haphazardly grabbed the scruff of his friend's shirt, tugging him promptly forward again.

"Thanks," Huck muttered with a hint of a slur. He shook his head briskly, and gestured to the barman for another round. "How many have you had, again?"

"Um…" Tom swallowed and furrowed his brow enough to make it look as though he had just about closed his eyes in a squint. He cocked his head in an exaggerated manner and then shrugged heavily. "Dunno. Twelve? More? No idea."

"I take it… you don't know," Huck commented, making his partner laugh and shake his head.

"Nope."

"Right… same here." The barman refilled their glasses for them, whistling a light tune to himself as he went. Tom watched him as if fascinated, and then glanced down at his drink.

"See that girl over in the corner?" Huck inquired, leaning in conspiratorially to Tom, and the two angled their heads to look at the resident flirt who was watching a game of poker from a distance, as if to keep track of who was faring best. "Bet'cha I can get her attention better than you."

Tom snorted disbelievingly, and lightly shoved Huck away, pulling a face. "Nah. Bet you can't."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah…" Tom appeared sly, even as he quipped, "Anything you can do, I can do better."

"That sounded like a challenge, Mr. Sawyer." Huck held out his hand, as if to shake, having downed his fresh drink.

"Why, yes it did, Mr. Finn." Tom slapped his hand into Huck's, and they both eyed the woman, as if scheming. As they were doing this, the younger man said simply, "Y'know we needn't do this to get her attention, right? She'd fall all over you if you said 'hello'."

"I know," Huck stammered with a chuckle. "This is just more fun."

Tom cocked his head again, and then nodded. "Got a point, there."

"Don't I always?"

"Shut up and make your move already," Tom dared with a light jab in his friend's back. Huck squirmed with a glare, and slipped off his stool, considering his options before he sauntered over towards her, making it as though he hadn't noticed her. Tom watched keenly, examining his partner's methods carefully. He had to figure out how to win the challenge… not that they had put a wager down.

Damn… might've been better to do that bit first.

As he watched, like the proverbial hawk, he saw Huck 'accidentally' bump into the woman lightly, making her almost lose her balance; she had been so engrossed in the poker game that she had been caught unawares, and almost squealed lightly in surprise. Huck was talking now, acting overly-charming, but Tom couldn't hear. Huffing quietly under his breath, he looked around. He had to steal her attention… but how?

Shrugging after a moment of thinking, he realised he wasn't going to come up with anything better. Clearing his throat almost dramatically, he hopped cautiously off his stool, and made his way over to a table where an older couple were sitting without drinks. Perfect…

Tom swung his way onto it agilely – without toppling himself, miraculously – and called out once standing up straight and tall, "It's far too serious in this place for my likin'…" Every set of eyes turned curiously in his direction; some people looked more tolerant than others, but one appeared ready to throw his empty glass at the young man, before he continued with a cheery, "Anyone know any good songs? Nothin' like a song to lift spirits!"

Huck was staring with eyes like saucers, the woman at his side watching Tom attentively with an admiring smile on her full lips. Tom tossed her a grin, a hint of smugness aimed at Huck of course.

"How about 'Down The River'? You gotta all know that one!" He laughed, and saw quite a few confirming motions, as subtle as they were. "Well how 'bout it, folks? Worth a try, right?"

And with that, Tom broke into a rather exuberant verse of said song, with a few people staring with open mouths like fish out of water; some with laughter… and then one or two started to join in. Tom made sure to look as though he had never had so much fun in his life, encouraging people to sing as he turned around on the table. Before long, more than half the available voices were lending to the chorus, and quite an impressive volume had been achieved. Huck, of course, was only mumbling the lyrics to himself, much to Tom's amusement, whereas the object of their challenge had joined in with enthusiasm.

Tom hopped off the table with a flourish, and strolled over to his partner, still singing with all the power in his lungs, emphasising every syllable until the song came to a rather heightened crescendo of voices of varying degrees and melodies. With vehemence, they finished their tune, and everyone broke into applause. Tom – probably to the chagrin of the tender – jumped up – with the aide of a stool – onto the bar, and made a theatrical bow, and a parting grin, before lowering himself to sit on it instead, looking to the woman with a charming smile.

"Well you're a cheery one, aren't you?" she quipped, touching his arm almost suggestively. As she sidled closer, Tom threw a victorious glance to Huck, miming 'tab's on you'.

Oh yes… victory is sweet.