Little Moments
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
I'm still not over my Nikita obsession so there may be more... Thanks for sticking around!
Birkhoff was lost in sweet oblivion, sitting in front of his computer staring into nothingness. He was jolted out of his reverie by the thundering voice of Michael.
"Birkhoff!"
He jumped startled but his surprise was directed at the piece of carrot he was chewing on. He frowned, remembering that they'd been all too tired after finishing the latest mission to get some real food, so he accepted the vegetable Nikita had offered him before she settled down on the couch with a plate of rabbit food. He eyed the carrot with a disgusted look but soon Michael's commanding figure demanded his attention.
The man was standing in the living room in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs… a pair of baby pink boxer briefs.
Birkhoff blinked… then he gulped. The look on Michael's face was not amused.
"What the hell did you do?" he asked, closing his eyes for a moment – no doubt to muster up some patience – when Nikita's snicker could be heard in the background. Not helping, Nikki, Birkhoff thought.
"Pink looks good on you, Mikey." Birkhoff winced as soon as the sentence left his mouth. So not the time for that. An exhausted Michael was an irritated Michael even without provoking him.
"I do not have pink boxers so I ask again… What the hell did you do?" Now he looked beyond pissed. Seriously? Birkhoff thought. If the man got all wound up because of a pair of pink boxer briefs, he seriously needed some sleep.
And so did Birkhoff. But the murderous look on Michael's face kept him alert. The man could look intimidating even in pink boxer briefs.
"The laundry?" he offered timidly, remembering that Michael, before heading for a shower, absentmindedly grabbed the garment from the pile of clothes he had dumped on the sofa in a messy heap.
Nikita stuffed a piece of carrot into her mouth.
"Did you even think about sorting the white from the dark… or you just stuffed your Angry Birds boxers in together with my briefs?"
"You mean that I shouldn't have?"
"Yeah, Birkhoff, that's what I mean. You don't put your red boxers in with the white laundry because the dye runs out and ruins my clothes."
"Oh... so that's why my tee has a strange shade to it. I thought it was the lights," he pondered inspecting his tee that poked out from under his shirt.
By that point, Nikita was holding a hand in front of her mouth and was concentrating on chewing and not laughing out.
But then her eyes went wide and she shot out of her seat towards the pile of clean clothes. She frantically searched through the pile and groaned when she found what she'd been looking for.
"Birkhoff," she whined holding her favorite teddy that used to be a beautiful shade of yellow but now had a sandy color and its lace trimming was torn, too. "You didn't check the temperature and the washing program, either?"
"What?" He so did not have the energy for that. "You said I should do the laundry. I did the laundry. That's not my fault that you failed to mention that it's more complicated than assembling IKEA furniture… So suck it up." The end of the sentence was somewhat muffled as Nikita's teddy landed on his face. Birkhoff sighed before pulling the garment off of his face.
"You don't hear me complaining about my shirt," he pointed out which earned him a frustrated growl from Michael as he turned, muttering something about sleep. Nikita, however, gave him a bemused smile before following the man.
Birkhoff chuckled when he saw the woman hitting Michael's pink-boxer-clad butt, whispering something to the man as she pressed herself to him. It actually coaxed a chuckle out of the cranky man.
Well, next time they should know better when they want to dump laundry duty on him.