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Piers was bored. Not the kind that makes him productive, that makes him think about the dishes he still has to clean or the laundry that's spilling over his designated “dirty clothes” chair. No, it's the kind of boredom that makes everything seem unappealing, like he’s stuck in that endless boredom-void forever and there’s nothing that can pull him out.
Maybe, he thinks, it might just be that he hates writing this report, which makes him a tad over dramatic.
“Piers.” Chris's exasperated voice breaks through his staring contest with his laptop screen, and he flicks his eye up to look quizzically at his captain. “Stop with the sighing.
Piers’ cheeks tint red in embarrassment. He hadn't even realised he had been sighing. “Sorry,” he mumbles, sheepishly looking back to his screen where the blank report is mocking him, “This is just so…” he makes a floppy gesture with his hands and settles on “blegh.”
“Articulate.” Chris chuckles and Piers looks over again to see that the captain was hunched over a stack of opened files, the crease between his eyebrows prominent as ever and his lips pulled in a grim line.
Piers thinks for a second, bottom lip pulled between his teeth, that he should ask if Chris wants to take a break. The man had been working already when Piers arrived in their shared office hours ago and hasn't even gotten up since. Piers was a workaholic, he can admit as much, but an hour ago he got up and took a lunch break, Chris has not moved an inch and Piers fears for his superiors back something fierce.
He’s shaken out of his procrastinations with a chime from his phone, eye darting to the lit up screen next to his laptop that shows a text message from Sherry.
After Lanshiang they had gotten a lot closer, Piers was tentative to call them friends at first, but when Sherry had shown up one late night soaked to the bone and shaking from an OP she had just gotten home from, that had reminded her a bit too much of her childhood, Piers had decided firmly for himself that they weren't friends—they were close friends.
Which made the text, which was just a simple Sorry, incredibly worrying.
“You okay?” Piers glanced at Chris, who was critically roaming his eyes over Piers’ face that was pinched in tense worry.
“Not sure yet..” He mumbled back before unlocking his phone and calling Sherry.
It only rung two times before she picked up, which did little to ease Piers’ worry, but that did mean she wasn't in a situation where she couldn't speak—no immediate danger.
“What happened?” He asked immediately as the lime clicked through, leg bouncing under his desk.
Sherry sighed and there was rustling, “Nothing bad, don't worry.” Her tone was light and carefree, which made the tension bleed from his shoulders.
“Don’t fucking do that,” He reprimanded while slumping down in his chair, waving Chris questioning gaze off, “I thought someone died.”
Sherry huffed a laugh, “You always assume the worst, you’re almost as bad as Leon.”
“Leon would've been at your door by now.” At the mention of the agent Chris once again looked over with interest, but Piers ignored him and began swiping his finger distractedly over the track pad of his laptop. “So, what happened?”
The groan Sherry let loose was world weary and tired. “Jake was here.”
Piers waited for her to continue, though she kinda made it sound like that in and of itself was a reason for her to text him Sorry at two in the afternoon on a random Thursday. “That’s not weird?”
“We had a discussion and he stormed off.” Piers made an understanding face, suddenly very aware of the problem.
One thing Jake Muller was amazing at was arguing, another was impulsiveness. Nobody had him beat, Piers was convinced.
“That doesn't really explain why you're sorry?”
“He said he needs your opinion. His phone is still here.”
Piers’ sigh was long, weary and accompanied by his eye closing and his head falling forward. Chris merely glanced up before continuing to work, having deduced that the world wasn't ending so it didn't require his attention.
“Sherry why would—”
Piers and Chris both jumped at the sudden thunk of their office door slamming open against the wall. In the frame, panting and with a determined gaze, stood one Jake Muller.
“Sorry.” Sherry said again, and then the line clicked off. Disconnected.
Piers and Chris blinked at the ex-mercenary, waiting for him to do something besides catch his breath in their doorway.
“Muller,” Piers said, a trademark pending exasperation in his voice that he only got around Jake, “Come in and close the damn door.”
With quick movements Jake slammed the door shut and leaned against it, and if Piers didn't know better through his call with Sherry, he’d assume that the man was being chased down by someone.
“Okay,” Jake started, slightly breathless still, “I need your opinion.” He looked straight at Piers, ignoring Chris' perplexed stare as it jumped between the Lieutenant and Jake—who, last time Chris remembered, hated each other.
“This couldn't have waited?” Piers lowered his laptop lid slightly so he could see Jake better, propping his head up with his fist.
“Absolutely not,” Jake shook his head as he dragged a plastic chair over to Piers’ desk and plopped down, throwing his feet up onto the surface—a habit Piers has long given up on correcting. He still thinks Jake does it because he knows it annoys the other, as evidenced by the smug gleam in his eyes every time Piers glares at his feet. “This is of vital importance.”
Piers gestured with his chin, urging Jake on to talk.
“Okay, so. Sherry and I met up and we got into the stuff that she can do due to her infection with the G-virus.” Jake placed his hands behind his head, relaxing fully into his seat as he looked at Piers, and the Sniper knew that he was in for a ride.
“So, she has that freaky super-healing thing right? And then we were discussing the stuff I can do because of my dad,” Jake glanced uncertainly over to Chris, possibly making sure the man wasn't going to explode on him for bringing up his heritage, but Chris simply worked on his files. “And you already know about the virus immunity stuff, but in China I fought that Ustanak guy.”
Piers was used to military efficiency when people reported things to him, even when his colleagues and friends in the B.S.A.A. and similar military organisations told stories they were often very concise and to the point—beaten in through the job, most likely—so it always annoyed him a little when Jake just went on. Part of him, the part that has grown exponentially since China and threatened to consume him every time he saw the younger man, was terribly endeared by the fact that Jake loved to talk so much.
“Hand to hand.” Jake said pointedly, noting Piers’ glazed over look and relishing as the Lieutenant balked at the remark. He had heard the stories, saw the files that were released with the official D.S.O. report to the B.S.A.A. that guy wasn't just an absolute mountain but also smart, smarter than the usual bio-weapon.
“Yeah,” Jake huffed, and Piers could see the pride in the man clear as day, “Anyways, then we got into speculating about stuff like super-strength and what we both thought I could fight hand to hand.”
Piers could see Jake getting fired up again, and he recognised that this was the crux of why he was currently in their office and not his living room or any other location that was appropriate for a hypothetical strength test discussion.
“The long and short of it is that I say I could fight a moose and Sherry called me an idiot.”
Piers blinked at Jake slowly, sitting up from his relaxed sitting position, looking at Jake like he was insane—which, really, was how he looked at the man most of the time.
“Fight how exactly?”
Jake shrugged, foot wiggling on his desk with restlessness, “It’s a moose, just knock it over.”
Piers stared at him, eyebrows drawn “You’re gonna knock over a moose?” He asked incredulously. He might have to talk to Jake’s doctor for a psychiatric evaluation.
“Yeah?” Jake said with confidence, like he wasn't talking about knocking over a moose.
“Question,” Piers leveled him with a stare, “Do you think you could pick up a truck? Like where does it end?”
Jake blinked at him in confusion before frowning, “What? Are you trying to tell me a moose is as big as a—how big is a moose?”
Piers quickly opened up his laptop again properly, the clicking of his keys echoing between them. “A male moose,” he started, “can go from eight-hundred-forty pounds to fifteen-hundred pounds.” He looked over to Jake's contemplating face, “Push that over?”
Jake hummed, “Pretty big. Look up a female.”
“Four-hundred-forty to one-thousand-one-hundred.”
“That’s more doable.”
Piers looked at him with wide eyes, brows drawn tightly together. “Oh yeah, only half a ton!”
Jake pursed his lips, “Alright I’ll-I’ll confer, I’ll give in. I’ll concede…”
“You can't push over a fucking moose, Jake!”
Chris looked over to them now, abandoning all pretenses of working as he stared baffled at the two men. This was the oh-so important thing that couldn't wait? Chris had seen Piers bark at Jake with genuine hatred, yet this seemed almost playful.
“I– Can you let me talk?” Jake said annoyed, the scar on his cheek pulled tight with his frown. “I’ll concede,” he reiterated pointedly, “I’ll take a page out of your book. The female I could beat up.”
There was a choked sound from next to Piers, which made him remember that Chris was still here, and temporarily forget his offense at that statement. He shook his head at Jake with a suppressed smile, the absurdity of the conversation getting to him now.
“No you could not.” He said with a light laugh, raising a brow as Jake tried to interject. “Listen to how fast they are.”
Jake pointed with his chin, indicating that Piers should tell him. Another round of clicking keys before Piers murmured to himself part of the search result and loudly declared: “These large animals can run through the forest quietly with speeds up to thirty-five miles per hour.”
“Okay.”
Piers blinked up from the screen, “What do you mean okay?” His tone was edging into genuine annoyance now. He couldn't believe Jake thought he could fight a moose by pushing it over.
Jake’s smirk was slight enough that Piers didn't even notice it, “That’s not so bad.”
“What?!” Piers exploded, “You’re saying you could outrun a moose?!”
“Can’t be that hard, thirty-five miles is what, like twenty kilometers?”
Piers sputtered, “Are you an idiot?” the question came out so genuine that Jake couldn't hide his grin anymore, reveling in Piers’ incredulous almost-genuinely-mad face. “No. No!” more keyboard clicks, "That's fifty-six kilometers per hour, Jake! You cannot run that fast!”
Jake shrugged again, eyes full of mirth, “Nah, I definitely can. Just run downhill.”
“I–”
“Okay, is this actually what you two talk about?” Chris' interjection ripped the two younger men from the weird bubble they had found themselves in during the discussion. Piers’ face reddened with the realisation. They had the whole conversation in his office, the office he shared with Chris. Chris, his superior and friend. Chris, who he hadn't told about Jake.
“We–uhm…” Piers stumbled over his words, avoiding Chris' raised eyebrow.
“The Puppy and I only have intellectual discussions.” Jake said with a sharp grin towards the Captain, who barely glanced at the ex-merc before redoubling his stare at Piers.
“The last time I knew you were complaining about how infuriating he,” Chris pointed at Jake, “is. You were muttering to yourself about it like, two days ago.”
Piers wanted to die.
“Aw, you talk about me?” Jake cooed, taking in the deep blush Piers was desperately trying to hide behind his hands. “C’mon Puppy, I already know you think about me all the time.”
In his mind Piers was mapping the fastest route to the armory. He’d steal a gun and end it right there because this cannot be how he has to tell Chris.
“Jake,” Piers groaned, “Shut the fuck up.”
“What are you so tense for? Didn't you tell me this place was swarming with gay people?” Piers usually found it cute when Jake was this clueless, because he would tilt his head like a puppy and frown but right now he was busy trying to make the earth swallow him whole.
“That's not the issue,” Piers hissed, though he knew unless he was actually whispering into Jake’s ear, Chris could hear them.
Tentatively Piers looked up from where he had hid his head behind his hands. Chris looked stunned between him and Jake, looking like he was on the brink of solving a puzzle. Jake followed his line of sight, blinking at Chris’ expression before realisation hit him. He formed a silent Oh with his mouth and slowly lowered his legs from Piers’ desk, sitting up straighter.
Unlike Piers and Jake, who had gotten over the fiasco between them after China, Jake and Chris hadn't tried to forge any kind of relationship. There was a brief stint of apologies just after the events but Piers knew that Jake wasn't ready to delve into all of that history and Chris wasn't forthcoming about it either.
So now here they were, on the brink of a possible disaster and Piers could see the muscles in Jake’s body tensing, ready for a fight.
“You two…”
Understanding dawned in Chris’s eyes as he looked at Piers for confirmation and the young Sniper sighed to himself.
“We’ve been dating for six months…” He said. Timidness wasn't something people usually associated with Piers, and he himself felt odd sounding so, but Chris was important to him. They weren't just Lieutenant and Captain, coworker and colleague, they were friends, Piers had almost died for Chris, had spent half a year searching for the man after the Edonian civil war. Chris had moved heaven and hell to get Piers his prosthetic, had helped him in his rehab and physical therapy to bring him back to shape, had even asked if he was sure he wanted to get back into the field.
Chris was almost paternal at times, and this was almost as nerve-wrecking as introducing his ex-mercenary boyfriend to his actual parents.
“Damn.” Chris said, face stunned, eyes flicking briefly to Jake’s assessing face before going back to Piers. “You didn't tell me.”
It wasn't a question, though Piers could hear the hurt in it, the actual underlying why buried deep within.
“I wasn't sure when the time would be right…” Piers chewed on the inside of his cheek, avoiding Jake’s look as he stared at Chris, trying to catch any anger.
“Hey,” Jake said suddenly, “If you got a problem with that then duke it out with me. Piers didn't tell you because he knows you don't like me. You’re important to him.”
Chris looked at Jake in surprise. Usually they went with avoiding each other, going barely beyond a hello and even that was rare.
“I don't hate you,” Chris said matter-of-factly, earning a disbelieving huff from Jake. “I don’t. You’re not your father, Jake. I’m sorry you thought you couldn't tell me.”
Piers was stunned, and even Jake froze his glare into a baffled frown, as if Chris just told them the sky was green.
“Sorry, Captain.” Piers said eventually, “I just… didn't know how you’d react. You never talk to each other so I thought…”
Chris sighed and gave each of them a small smile, which made Jake look at him funny. He doesn't think that Chris has ever looked anything but dead serious since he knew him. “As long as you're happy, I’m happy.” He looked at Jake for a long moment with narrowed eyes before bringing the same look to Piers, “Be good to each other.”
“ ‘Course,” Jake said with a grin, slipping back into that careless smug attitude Piers knew so well, “I’m a damn delight.”
Piers rolled his eyes at the other, “Yeah, right. Until you put dirty dishes into the clean dishwasher.”
Jake rolled his eyes at him, glaring playfully, “Right, what about you always forgetting the laundry in the washer? The laundry I have to wash twice because you leave it in there for days!”
Piers bristled, “You—”
“Hold on, hold on,” Chris interrupted again loudly, “Do you live together?!”
Jake had the distinct pleasure of watching Piers face flush again as he slowly closed his eyes in resignation.