Chapter Text
Twitch is concentrating so hard on her drone that she doesn’t hear the workshop door open.
There’s something not quite right with the steering controls - she noticed it on the day of the mission, was rather embarrassing, considering her main role in the team is Intel, and whilst it hadn’t had any impact on the mission at all, it easily could have done if she had needed to use it to disarm someone and missed due to the slight list to the right that comes with driving in a straight line.
It’s now the day after the mission, and this is the third thing she’s done since coming home, behind saying hello to her squad mates and accepting a sandwich from Montagne. It’s a good thing she had, because it’s been three hours, she’s still wearing the ragged old tracksuit she likes to fly in, and she’s no closer to figuring out the solution.
She picks up the voltage gauge for what feels like the hundredth time and tests one of the capacitors responsible for wheel movement. Once again, she comes up with nothing; all the components are working exactly how they should be, none of the wiring is damaged in any shape or form, and the microchip isn’t malfunctioning.
She groans in annoyance and considers slamming her head into the workbench to see if it helps her think.
“Still having trouble?”
She flinches at the sudden voice, hand automatically going for the nearest weapon, which happens to be the soldering iron, and brandishes it at the intruder.
Glaz holds his hands up in surrender, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth, and Twitch relaxes.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” she says, putting the iron down and dragging a hand through her hair.
“It’s okay, I should have knocked,” Glaz shrugs. He makes his way over to the bench, sitting down opposite her and leaning forwards to peer at the drone. “What’s wrong with it?”
Twitch sighs and launches herself into an explanation of what she’s done and what the problems could be, Glaz humming and nodding whenever she pauses for breath. It’s not the first time she’s used him as a rubber duck, and it’s almost become routine to find herself babbling away at him in search of an answer to all of her technological problems. She’s not sure when it started but she sure as hell isn’t complaining - it’s useful to speak it though with someone who doesn’t interrupt, and she likes Glaz. He’s good company and he’s reliable and he’s very easy on the eyes, and she’s not sure when that became something she thinks about, either.
He smiles softly as she talks and it’s oddly soothing, and if she’s a little more dramatic than usual, in a (successful) attempt to make the smile grow, then nobody has to know.
When she finishes her tale, she still hasn’t found the answer to her problem, and she finds that she’s not as annoyed about it as she’d have expected to be.
Glaz tilts his head and mulls it over for a second. “Have you checked the wheel itself?” He asks, an odd expression on his face. “Maybe there’s a stone caught in the frame that’s limiting the movement?”
Twitch freezes before slapping a hand to her face. “No. I didn’t even think to look.”
Glaz watches as she goes back to the drone, unscrews the wheel in question, and plucks out a tiny lump of what looks like mud.
“I’m an idiot,” she says, shaking her head at the mud. Glaz grins.
“No, you’re just focusing too much on the complex things. Sometimes the simplest explication is the right one.”
“Occam’s razor,” she sighs, unable to hide her pout as she screws back on the wheel.
When she looks back up, Glaz is watching her with soft eyes and that small smile again.
“What?” She asks self consciously.
A light flush appears on his cheeks. “Nothing. You’re just. Cute. When you pout like that.”
“I’m cute all the time," she says before thinking about it, as though she’s bantering with IQ or Rook, and feels herself blush in embarrassment when her brain catches up to her mouth. “Wait, I mean-”
“No, its true,” Glaz says simply, then looks suddenly sheepish, as though he’s just realised what he’s said. She feels her blush deepen, and hides the smile breaking across her face in her hand.
For a moment, they just look at each other in a silence that somehow isn’t awkward. The tops of his ears are red and he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek. It’s ridiculously endearing, she thinks
“Want to go out to eat one day?” She blurts out, and promptly slaps a hand back over her mouth.
To her surprise, he smiles a proper smile that makes his eyes crinkle and dimples appear in his cheeks, and if she were a lesser woman she might have swooned. “I would like that,” he replies, dark eyes sparkling with that something that Twitch tentatively calls excitement.
She’s pretty sure that she’s smiling like an idiot, but she can’t find it in herself to care. “Then it’s a date?"
"It’s a date,” he agrees.