Interlude: Bingely-bingely-beep!

[rc45]

Title: Bingely-bingely-beep!
Author: tea_fiend This was her birthday present to me; a slashy interlude starring our Agents.
Rated Mature. Contains cameos from Agents Stormsong, Skyfire, Luxury, Lasa, Mombi, Library, July, Sedri, Iza and Ansela. Continues in julyflame's birthday present to me, a Birthday Party! Interlude. Set 2009 so as not to clash with the 2008 Crisis Double Whammy of Macrovirus Epidemic and Mary Sue Invasion of HQ.



'Bingely-bingely-beep!'
Agent Trojanhorse blearily opened her eyes, and groaned.
'This is your six ay em wake-up call! Would you like to hear your list of Things To Do Today?'
'Sleep,' Trojie murmured, slumping back onto her pillow and pulling the covers over her head. After a moment, something occurred to her, and she cautiously peeked out from under her blanket.
'Don't remember getting a Dis-organiser,' she mumbled sleepily.
'You didn't, Insert-Name-Here! I was purchased by your partner as a birthday gift for you! Perhaps you would like me to recite an amusing rhyme? Or I could tell you the time in New Caledonia?'
'She bought me a Dis-organiser?' Trojie exclaimed, thrusting the covers away and sitting up, a grin plastered across her face.
'Bought is not quite the word I would use, Insert-Name-Here. Would you like to fill out your warranty card?'
'No. PADS!' she hollered, wondering where her errant partner had got to. But the RC was curiously silent.
'Dis-organiser? D'you know where she is?'
'I was told not to tell you, Insert-Name-Here. I was also told to distract you by any means possible and ensure that you're still here at 1000 hours and to make absolutely certain you don't look in the bottom drawer!'
'Which drawer? This one?' Trojie fumbled at the drawer in question. It opened, with only slight resistance, to reveal a selection of lacy pants.
Suspiciously high-pitched sniggering emanated from under a particularly frilly undergarment. Praying to Glod it was clean, Trojie carefully lifted the offending garment and peered, with some trepidation, underneath.
'Why,' she asked, 'did Pads leave you in her underwear drawer?'
'I don't know,' said the Dis-organiser chirpily. 'But I know how to sing seventeen variations on "Happy Birthday", would you like to hear one?'
Sighing, Trojie reached for the first of her birthday presents. She scooped it from the drawer and deposited it without ceremony in one of her many pockets. Pausing only to briefly consider her partner's pants, for reasons she wouldn't care to share, she called to Absinthe to follow her, and strode out of the RC in search of her partner.

***

The cafeteria produced a surplus of Agents. Absolutely none of them wished Trojie a happy birthday, but then, as she had planned to spend the entire day hiding under a rock with her fingers in her ears and singing "Jerusalem" under her breath, it wasn't as though any of her fellow Agents would have heard about the day's significance.
A rumble from the region of her midsection suggested to Trojie that breakfast might be a good notion, and, having acquired such, she chose a chair in an unobtrusive corner of the cafeteria, and settled down to eat. As she chewed, her mind wandered, and her eyes followed suit, alighting first on a rather tired-looking potted plant by the serving window, then on a teetering stack of discarded plates on a nearby table, skipping defensively over two approaching agents sporting identical manic grins and also, incidentally, whiskers, and finally coming to rest on the banner.
It was huge. It stretched from halfway up one wall of the cafeteria to about halfway down a perpendicular wall, it proclaimed "Happy Birthday Agent Trojanhorse!" to the world, and it glittered. If this is Pads's doing, Trojie thought idly, she's clearly not learned enough about the habits of Assassins. Honestly, glitter in the cafeteria! Hang on a minute, whiskers?
The indeed-bewhiskered Agents Trojie had tried not to spot lest they spot her in return dropped into the seats opposite.
'Agent Trojie!' one declared.
'Happy Birthday!' said the other. A few nearby heads turned, and their attendant eyebrows frowned.
'Skyfire, Stormsong,' Trojie nodded warily. 'How did you --?'
'Pads told us,' the weasel said, leaning forward conspiratorially.
'Also, that thing's a clue,' the stoat supplied, indicating the banner.
'Has she done it yet?'
'Did it explode?'
'Was it, you know?' Agent Stormsong made a subtle yet strangely obscene gesture, which was, fortunately, completely lost on Trojie.
'She got me a Dis-organiser,' the human agent volunteered, chewing her porridge industriously. The musteline agents shared a worried glance. 'Why? Is she planning something inventive?'
'Um. Possibly? Oh look, there's Manx!' Stormsong leapt away from the table with unseemly haste. Skyfire, with a rueful smile, lingered a moment longer.
'I know you don't want anyone making a fuss, and we haven't had too much practice at real-world present-giving yet, so we haven't got you anything. But...' Skyfire reached into her pocket, and pulled out a slightly rumpled piece of paper, which she handed to Trojie. It took quite a while for them to unfold the paper; what had looked to be A4, on closer inspection, turned out to be more like A-6. Several tables, plus occupants, were hurriedly shifted out of the way, and Trojie and Skyfire carefully laid the paper out on the cafeteria floor.
It contained a solitary Triceratops footprint. Trojie twitched slightly, and, noticing this, Skyfire hastened to point out the other footprints picking out intricate patterns around the main print; those of a tiny ferret.
'It's from Marsha and Molly,' Skyfire explained. 'The Nursery wouldn't let them out to come and see you, obviously--'
'Obviously,' Trojie agreed, smiling fondly as she thought of her enormous, hormonal and spiky-headed foster-daughter.
'--So they sent this with me. It's supposed to be a card, I think.'
'I'm not sure my mantlepiece is big enough. In fact, I'm not sure if I have a mantlepiece.'
'You'll find somewhere, I'm sure. And Marsha would very much like it if you went over there with some cake later.'
'Cake? I haven't got any cake.'
'Oh! Um. Yes. No, of course not. But... it's your birthday, so... Perhaps they said they were making cake, oh dear, where has Stormsong got to, must dash, byeeee!' And the weasel darted out of the cafeteria.
Mildly bemused, Trojie began the arduous task of refolding her birthday card.

***

The door to RC#45 swung open, and Absinthe bounded in, panting enthusiastically. She held the door open for the extremely large bunch of flowers that was wavering in the doorway. Their petals rustled, and a muffled curse heralded an unseen Trojie dropping the 10lb box of chocolates on her foot.
'Pads!' she hollered, unable to see anything for petals.
'Bingely-bingely-beep! Good morning, Insert-Name-Here! I'm afraid your partner told me most specifically to state that she is not here at all!'
Trojie would have frowned suspiciously at that, but suspected that there was little point, as only the backside of a bunch of flowers would see. Instead, she wriggled her foot out from under the chocolates, hobbled over to her bunk, dropped the flowers unceremoniously on the floor, and sank back into the pillows.
The chocolates she could understand, having expressly told Pads to bring her vast quantities of the stuff a year previously. To give credit where it was due, Pads had done supremely well on that front, and Trojie now had enough in supply to last her at least another year. Today's box, by far the biggest and shiniest of all those that had found their way variously into Trojie's pockets, Bag and bed in recent weeks, had been thrust into her hands by a grinning Agent Luxury, whom Trojie had bumped into after leaving the cafeteria. The flowers, meanwhile, displaying Pads's somewhat eclectic eye for fashion with an assortment of daffodils, roses and montbretia, had reached her courtesy of Agent Gypsy.
Agents Lasa and Mombi had produced an assortment of plectrums and a life-sized cardboard cutout of Kurt Cobain. Paddlebrains had signed it, although fortunately not on the face. Really going to have to do something about that territory thing Trojie had thought to herself, attempting to hoist the figure under one arm without dropping any of her other presents.
Agents July and Library, somewhere near FicPsych, had not been immediately visible. After some careful manouevring around the yak, and a pause to read the note attached to its collar ("Ask and ye shall receive, O melon-breasted tender sweetling, O ruler of my heart and all Earthly joys"), Trojie had run away as fast as she could while juggling a life-sized cardboard cutout, a large bunch of flowers, and an enormous box of chocolates.
Agents Sedri and Iza had picked her up off the floor, inquired as to the origins of curious smell, declined to enquire as to why Pads had thought a yak a fitting birthday present, and presented her with a box that, on closer inspection, proved to contain numerous aids to a healthy relationship. Trojie had once again scarpered, feeling that, on balance, there were better ways to spend her birthday than listening to Iza explain sex toys to her partner.
Absinthe, finding Trojie by the simple expedient of following the scattered rose petals, gave her absolutely no present from Pads at all. Unless they'd been sharing doggy kisses again; but no, the drool had that peculiarly sticky quality she always associated with Absinthe, and it didn't smell like an ashtray in which a pack of feral dogs had been having a party. Trojie was infinitely thankful for this; she could see where Pads was going with these presents, and didn't really want to be considering dog drool at such a time.
Trojie sighed, shifted her head on the pillows, and opened her eyes. With perfect timing, there was a knock at the door, and she answered it warily.
'If you've come bearing gifts, I'm not in.'
'I haven't!' came the voice of Agent Ansela from the other side of the door, which Trojie gratefully opened. Her face fell when she saw the box in Ansela's hands.
'That looks suspiciously like a present to me.'
'Well, it is, but it's not from Pads. This is though,' and Ansela presented Trojie with a small bag, which the Bad Slasher hurriedly set aside. 'Aren't you going to look?'
'It's probably not suitable for the public eye, whatever it is. So what's in the box?'
'Birthday present from me.' She handed the box over, and Trojie carefully lifted the lid. 'I wanted to get you a weapon, but Pads said anything phallic was right out, and it's definitely not phallic, in fact if you sort of squint it looks a bit like just the opposite, and, well, I can take it back if you don't like it...'
'It's beautiful' Trojie breathed, lifting the crossbow from the box and running a finger admiringly down the polished walnut stock.
'It's a--'
'Burleigh and Stronginthearm. Oh, Ansela, you're a goddess!' And Trojie launched herself at the Floater, enveloping her in an enormous hug.
When they had disentangled themselves, Ansela checked her watch, and smiled a trifle worryingly.
'Stay put and get comfy, I'll be right back.'
'Oh dear,' Trojie sighed, but she settled down obediently on her bunk anyway. To pass the time, she pulled the Dis-organiser from her pocket, and began examining its functions.

***

'Bingely-bingely-beep!' the Dis-organiser announced. Trojie, startled, dropped it. 'It is ten ay em precisely! Happy Birthday!'
The RC door creaked open, and Trojie looked up apprehensively.
The doorway was filled with what appeared to be a very large cake. On wheels. Trojie shuffled forwards on her bunk, and gripped the duvet reflexively. Ansela's hair was just visible bobbing behind the cake, but when she'd wheeled it into the RC, she shut the door and left, with a last call of 'Happy birthday! I hope...'
And then the Dis-organiser began to sing.
Its offkey warblings had Trojie scrabbling for the mute function (a small hammer, which appeared at the push of a button, and beat the imp over the head repeatedly), and when she looked up, the top tier of the cake was already rising, and the nervously smiling face of Agent Paddlebrains could be glimpsed peering from the depths of the gigantic cake.
'Oh, Glod, you didn't...'
'Happy birthday to you,' Pads began to sing, a slight wobble betraying her nerves. So much hinged on this one moment; if Trojie ran for a nunnery now, Pads would have no option but to admit defeat. But she was nothing if not a persistent little bugger, and so she had decided to venture all on this last wild attempt. 'Happy birthday to you...'
'I... you're... oh.' Trojie fell silent as Pads straightened up, the cake coming only to her waist, and revealing that she had decided to go down the literal route when choosing her suit for the day. Trojie didn't close her eyes though, which Pads viewed as a positive sign.
'Please tell me you're wearing underwear.' It wasn't quite a question.
'Happy birthday dear Trojie,' Pads crescendo'd softly, praying to Glod the faux-throaty voice wouldn't set off another consumptive fit.
'Oh, thank Glods,' Trojie said, as Pads climbed over the top of the surprisingly sturdy (Trojie vaguely suspected some sort of struts inside it) cake and leaped fairly inelegantly to the floor, demonstrating conclusively that she was, indeed, wearing underwear.
'Happy birthday to you,' Pads finished, straightening up and standing in front of Trojie, looking slightly abashed but strangely determined. This latter expression was quickly explained when the Animagus agent leaned forward and came within an inch of her partner's lips, but then Trojie suddenly ducked, examining Pads's feet.
'Sorry to spoil the moment--'
'Just a bit,' Pads observed.
'--But what the hell have you got on your feet?'
They were big. They were hobnailed. They looked to be made of extremely elderly and well-worn leather, and they had pink stitching. They looked like they could kick through a brick wall, and still remain dainty enough to take tea with the vicar afterwards. When Pads raised the right boot for inspection, Trojie could just make out the words 'operty of Rosi' written in pink ink on the side.
'Lord. You didn't?'
'I did.'
'You can't -- how? When? Why?'
'Last week, when you were off hunting for more petri dishes. And you know why.' Pads's fingers trailed delicately up Trojie's arm. Trojie shivered.
'You stole me the... the Boots of...'
'The Boots of Reasonably Priced Love,' Pads finished, and this time, when she leaned forwards, Trojie didn't reverse.

***

'Bingely-bingely-beep!'
Trojie made a soft noise, and burrowed further under the duvet.
'This is your six pee em wake-up call, Agent Paddlebrains!'
The agent in question groaned, and shifted her limbs. After a few moments' confusion, she detangled an arm, and reached for the Dis-organiser, hitting mute before the idiot imp could give the game away.
'Wstfgl,' Trojie said.
'Much though I'd love to say 'let's never get out of bed again',' Pads pointed out, flexing her fingers idly and smiling at Trojie's surprised yelp, 'that's actually our cue to get up.'
'D'we 'av'ta?' muttered Trojie, curling sleepily around Pads's limbs.
'Yep. We've got to go to. Uh.' She tried frantically to remember the agreed-upon fib to get Trojie out of the RC, but all she could think of was how much nicer it would be to bolt the door and stay in bed until at least sometime next month.
'Mm?'
'See the, uh, the SO,' Pads improvised. 'He wants to, er, wish you a happy birthday, I think.'
Trojie's eye cracked open. 'The SO doesn't do birthdays.'
'Well, he is doing for you. Come on, up you get...'
'D'n wanna.'
'Trojie,' Pads cajoled. 'If you get up now, when we get back, I'll do that thing again.'
'Which thing?' Trojie asked, opening the other eye.
'That thing with the...' Pads made a very obviously obscene gesture. Trojie frowned.
'What about the one with the... y'know.' She made an equally readable, though somewhat more subtle, hand movement. 'Liked that,' and she yawned sleepily.
'I'll go one better,' Pads decided, and this time her hand signal was so subtle Trojie almost missed it, until she caught the accompanying eye gleam, looked again a bit more attentively, and grinned, mind suddenly awake and racing with possibilities.
Pads had never seen her partner get dressed and ready to go so fast. She would have to remember that one. Might come in handy one day. Or every day, she amended, as she ushered Trojie out of the door, called Absinthe to heel, took her partner's arm, and led the way to their mystery destination.

Comments

[elvenpiratelady.livejournal.com]

Aww, very adorable. (And it reminds me that I should really, really get around to posting the rest of my missions...)

[tea-fiend.livejournal.com]

Technically this one should have been posted a while ago. It's only up now because it's going to be reworked. Adorable's a good thing, right? Please tell me we haven't created a fluff-ridden travesty.

[elvenpiratelady.livejournal.com]

No, there's enough snark to keep the fluff content at acceptable levels. :D

[julyflame.livejournal.com]

That reminds me, I'll need to do minor changes to mine or something what with it being 2009 instead of 2008.

Sometime.

[hsavinien.livejournal.com]

Very cute. Criminy, you lot are prolific. I've only managed two missions so far...

[agenttrojie.livejournal.com]

It's the having two people writing thing :) It means we can bounce stuff off each other.

[hsavinien.livejournal.com]

*cough* Yes, theoretically, that could be an asset. Possibly if my partners were a bit more communicative and a trifle less busy...

[agenttrojie.livejournal.com]

Possibly :)