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Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Horatio/Archie/William/Edrington, implied other pairings.
Feedback: Fave lines, constructive crit.-anything you want, at any length.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Modern-day AU. I picked Peter for Gillette's first name and used Alexander for Edrington.
Summary: Behind the scenes in the intelligence world.
***
"Well, I suppose it's not a bad place to spend the night." In all truth, the cannon on which Horatio was perched was digging into his rear, and thanks to the fact that Archie was taking up all footrest space on the wheel, he had the beginnings of a severe crick in his lower back. But as he suspected that Will had wired some extra voice-taps into their surroundings, it didn't seem exactly politic to complain.
"With your boniness, I'm surprised you haven't chipped something yet." Grinning to soften the remark, Archie carefully attempted to stretch out on top of the cannon. He failed, but narrowly escaped embarrassment by a deft twist that saw him land safely on his feet. "God, if all meetings with contacts take this long-ow! Horatio!"
Who, blank-faced, withdrew his elbow and nodded toward the doorway. Theodore was slouched there, tie carelessly undone and shirt-sleeves rolled up his arms. It was impossible to tell whether the dark shadows under his eyes were from exhaustion or from accidental dirt smears; he'd spent the last hour poking about the basement of the museum in an effort to cover all possible exits. "No, they don't usually take this long. Then again, we generally leave the street-lords up to Sparrow's crew. The…more dignified crime bosses are much more prompt."
"In other words, we're slumming it?" Amused as always, Alexander had somehow discovered the only surefire way to lounge on a cannon barrel without looking a complete idiot. On the other hand, it did make him-
"-seems like he's at home," Archie whispered, face upturned to display mischievous eyes. "Begging for some traffic, is he?"
William rolled his eyes and shoved Archie's head down. Having made no attempt to settle himself on the only possible seats in the entire room, he'd spent the past hour with arms folded and back leaning against Horatio's cannon. Consequently, his movements were beginning to betray a bit of cramp. "Someday, someone's going to close your mouth and you won't enjoy it."
"Ahem." To judge by the faint amusement in his face, Theodore had definitely overheard the byplay. "No, we're not slumming it. Slumming it would be gun-running over the pirate memorabilia cases and then walking in here to catch Will Turner bending your superior over that one."
Horatio hastily covered his exclamation with a cough, glancing first at Theodore and then at the cannon. "That one?"
Alexander lightly slid off, stepped back a pace and considered his erstwhile seat, fingers thoughtfully pressed to lips. "It is the broader of the two. Imagine you have better support."
"Been researching the subject, have you?" Expression a cross between disgust and bemusement, William hastily backed away from his own. After a moment, he made Horatio and Archie get off as well. "If you've regularly used this place as a neutral zone-"
"Anamaria's surprisingly flexible." Although his lips wouldn't stop twitching, Theodore manfully kept his face straight. "And I'm fairly sure Scarlet trapped Peter against one of them on their first real date."
Snorting, Archie surreptitiously swiped at his arse. Less secretively, he tried to do the same to Horatio's. "This is his idea of a first date?"
"The rigging swatches in the next room are rather provocative," Alexander murmured. He exchanged a look with Archie, and then the both of them turned to stare at Horatio. Just like cats with mice.
Not being a fool, Horatio beat a hasty retreat behind William. "No. It's always me, and besides, you'd be ruining historical artifacts. Which cost I don't believe is covered by our expense accounts."
"Aren't there any cannons that haven't been…baptized?" Alexander continued, a calculating gleam in his eye. Horatio did his best to shrink behind the shorter William, who was merely looking at the ceiling and muttering what sounded like exasperated prayers.
"I wouldn't know. Tom likes the sword displays." Something beeped and Theodore winced out of his smugness, then put a finger to his ear. A snappy wrist-flick saw him both checking his watch and slipping back into business mode. "Right, then. Showtime, gentlemen."
***