Chapter Text
It was a terrible plan.
It was an awful, poorly executed excuse for a plan, Reever Wenhamm thought viciously as he wobbled to his feet and stared at what remained of the Western Wing’s outer wall. He could see so much more sky through it than he ought to.
A chill autumn wind buffeted his lab coat. Reever turned his head.
There were voices in the distance, anxious murmurs and whispers as personnel started descending from the staircases in cautious, tight-knit groups, crowding around those that had been pushed to the ground like Reever and were only just starting to wave the clouds of dust aside and sit up amongst the rubble.
“It sounded like something just exploded.”
“Are we under attack?”
“We’ve only been here two months, I swear if the Science Department is conducting weird experiments again, I’m going to …”
“Hey! Someone get in touch with Medical, I think I see blood!”
Reever ran his hand back through hair that felt undoubtedly singed and did his best not to scream. He was very proud of himself for succeeding.
He should have asked the Chief to give him a copy of this plan in writing instead of letting him do it off the cuff, he thought exasperatedly.
Maybe then he could have nipped this whole display in the bud before it had even taken off and HQ wouldn’t be sporting a new skylight.
“Section Chief!” a shaky voice called out, and Reever turned around in alarm as Johnny Gill extricated himself from behind a pane of sheet iron, spider-like cracks framing his thick glasses. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Reever said shortly, and held his hand out to help Johnny get a leg up over the raised fissures in the tiled flooring. Oh, Assistant Chief Fey was going to have a fit.
“Are you hurt? Where are the others?”
Johnny shook his head. “I don’t know,” he whispered, sounding wretched. “I mean I heard a pop and then there was a flash of light so something definitely broke, but now I can’t see Chief Komui anywhere!”
Reever grimaced.
Hindsight, he thought bitterly, was a real pain in the ass.
3 days ago…
“Favourite colour?” Lenalee asked, a pencil poised over what Reever recognized as a page in an old edition of the Order’s community newspaper as he nudged the office door open with his foot and carefully eased himself into the room so as to not drop important unsealed documents all over the floor.
“Black!” Komui said triumphantly, and then almost immediately sat back in his chair as though another thought had just occurred to him in that exact moment.
“Except black is, realistically, an absence of colour so I’m not really sure if that counts but … well, he thinks it’s slimming and professional? Ah, but he looks really nice in blue too. Blue brings out his eyes …” he trailed off, muttering to himself, before his eyes landed on Reever.
“Section Chief Reever!” he exclaimed, and Reever suddenly felt the urge to turn tail and slam the door shut behind him. “Excellent timing. You’ve got a good brain between those ears. Is black a colour?”
“We’re not debating this so don’t even try it,” Reever told him flatly, dumping the paperwork he had been carrying on Komui’s desk with a ‘thump’ loud enough to make the solid wood shake.
“Hmph,” Komui scoffed, and pursed his lips together before turning back towards his sister with an enthusiasm that was a little worrying. Reever tried to ignore it. “Fine. Forget about colours then. People change their favourite colours every week. Next question!”
Lenalee made a little scribble on the page, trailing her fingers down the printed text. Reever craned his neck to get a closer look at what had both siblings so invested.
“Hmm,” Lenalee murmured thoughtfully, tapping the pencil against her chin as she leaned back against the couch. “How about … favourite food?”
“Anything that isn’t tied down,” Komui replied instantly, in the sort of tone that suggested he felt he was acing these questions with flying colours.
Lenalee made a face. “Brother!” she admonished.
Komui frowned back at her. “What?” he demanded, looking wounded, “You told me to be honest!”
Lenalee glared at him, and Reever watched with interest as Komui slowly folded in on himself, looking a little contrite, which was more than what the rest of them could manage to get out of him, that was for sure.
“Sweets,” he finally muttered, twiddling his fingers together and looking away from his sister’s accusing gaze. “He likes … sweet things. You know, cakes, pastries, parfaits … the lot.” He seemed to shudder a little at that, as though the idea of putting so much sugar into his body was a particularly nauseous one.
“That’s good!” Lenalee said encouragingly, and drew another shape across the page in her lap before holding it up in front of her. “I think we’re done!”
Komui perked up at that, leaning forward hopefully.
Curiosity finally got the better of Reever and he moved around the back of the couch to peer over Lenalee’s shoulder. He noted the circles that scattered the pages and was reminded somewhat of a multiple choice quiz.
“A compatibility test?” he repeated, looking doubtfully at the bold, cheery words stamped across the top.
“It’s supposed to be really accurate,” Lenalee said somewhat absently, adding up the points on her fingers. “Gracia down in Communications swears by it. Said she wouldn’t have met her husband if she hadn’t had this with her at the time.”
“It’s a pretty simple algorithm,” Komui added with an aggravating smile as he propped his chin in his hand, “Not much room for error.”
Reever seriously doubted that.
Were they seriously putting their faith in this or were they just whiling away the long hours? It was hard to say, he thought, especially since one sibling seemed convinced that fantastical creatures such as vampires were real and the other was constantly generating ideas for new inventions that would put a science fiction author to shame.
“I thought the two of you were …” Reever trailed off, making a funny sort of gesture with his hand when words failed to encompass the complete and utter headache that was the Chief’s tumultuous, on-and-off relationship with Branch Director Bak Chang, “… you know.”
“Oh we are, we are,” Komui replied breezily, still smiling in a disarmingly goofy sort of way. “It’s just nice to have proper confirmation now and again, don’t you think?”
Which Reever took to mean that he was relying on a community paper quiz to reassure him that his relationship was perfect for no other reason than to have an excuse to gloat about it.
He could already feel a tension headache start to build up behind his eyes and glanced over at Lenalee to see what she thought about this, but she had fallen silent.
Komui did not seem deterred by this. “Well?” he asked, “Is it 100 percent? It’s 100 percent, isn’t it. It’s all right, you can tell me,” he went on cheerfully, “I promise to act surprised.”
Reever rolled his eyes and prayed for patience.
Lenalee hesitated, the paper crinkling in her hands a little as she looked off to the side. “Oh, well it’s not exactly 100 percent …” she began slowly, and then cleared her throat as though unsure how to proceed further.
She looked at Reever desperately.
His heart immediately went out to her. “All right, all right,” he said, reaching over for the paper and bringing it up to his eye level. “Let me see what the damage is … ah.”
“Ah?” Komui parroted back, his brows furrowing together. “What on earth isthat supposed to mean?”
“Well it’s definitely not 100 percent,” Reever told him, not one to beat around the bush, and Lenalee seemed to relax a little at not having to break the news to her brother herself.
Komui pouted at that, but then waved his hand as though brushing the words away. “Well, you have to take margins of error into account with these things,” he said flippantly, “They’re not constructed by geniuses like you or me so we can’t really expect them to be perfect - ”
“It’s 66 percent,” Reever said loudly, before he could start rambling. It was best just to get this over with.
Komui froze. “What?”
Lenalee made a small, barely discernible sound of worry at that, twisting her fingers together.
“It’s not that bad, Brother!” she piped up earnestly. “Like you said, we have keep in mind that people make mistakes and, well…”
“66 percent?” Komui repeated, sounding both horrified and offended. “But that’s … how can that even … let me see that!” he demanded, holding his hand out imperiously.
Reever shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said, and passed the newspaper over.
Komui snatched it up and spread it out on his desk, reaching for a pen and running it over the pages like he was poring over a war map.
“Come on Chief, you don’t seriously believe in hogwash like this do you?” Reever sighed, leaning over the desk and watching ink splatter as Komui pressed the nib down too hard in some places. Lenalee hovered anxiously in the background behind him.
“It’s a process of elimination!” Komui snapped, counting the points up again, and from the thunderous expression on his face, Reever guessed that the results hadn’t changed by much.
“There is no right or wrong answer, but given the way the structure is set out you should be able to arrive at a successful outcome if you get a suitable number of points regardless - oh come on!” he exclaimed, outraged, at the number ‘70’ that now glared out at him.
“70 percent is good!” Lenalee said quickly, stepping in before he could draw breath for another complaint.
“Seriously,” Reever told him, shaking his head, “it’s not like you scored below 50. 70 percent is reasonable and Director Bak is not going to dump you over the results of a questionable compatibility test anyway.”
“Now this,” he added, feeling a burst of inspiration as he placed his hand on top of the stack of documents he had brought in earlier and patted it firmly, “The Director will definitely have something to say about this if you don’t get these papers signed before the conference this weekend, right Chief?”
“Ngh,” Komui grumbled, and did not sound convinced, as though his desk was not littered with short, sharply written notes from the Asian Branch demanding callbacks, many of which were stuck between pages of paperwork.
He reached for the stack regardless, skimming a handful of papers off the top and arranging them in front of him with the air of a man in a sulk.
“Lousy, inaccurate piece of …” he muttered to himself, dipping his pen into an inkwell and hunching over his desk. “I’m going to have a few things to say to the editors, mark my words …”
“And what?” Reever wanted to know, accepting the signed documents that were being shoved back at him with remarkably good grace, “Tell them their formulae for determining whether a relationship between two people is cohesive is a mockery of science?”
“Exactly!”
“Chief, that test was about as accurate as the reading I got for today’s horoscope.”
Komui looked up at that, curiosity piqued. “Which was …?”
“That my week would start off slow but finish off on a bang after a particularly heated encounter,” Reever replied, shrugging dispassionately. “I mean, how vague is that? We have lab explosions every other day. It doesn’t actually mean anything!”
“He’s right!” Lenalee said, leaning over Komui’s desk and flipping the pages of the community paper till she found what she was looking for.
“Look, see … they wrote up an entire article on superstitions related to love and marriage too. Honestly, what are the chances you’ll have many children if it rains on your wedding day or that you’ll be wealthy if you put a penny in your shoe? It just makes for good gossip, that’s all.”
Komui leaned over too, tilting his head a little as he mouthed the upside-down text. “Your married life will be filled with luck and good fortune if you propose during the full moon?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows and tapping the end of his pen thoughtfully against the desk.
Lenalee nodded her head, looking relieved that her brother was no longer muttering darkly to himself and looking like he was planning to take the Order’s printing presses apart. “Yes! See? It’s silly. Just a bit of harmless…”
“I’m going to do it.”
Dread settled hard and fast in Reever’s stomach.
Lenalee blinked. “Do … what?”
“Section Chief Reever, when is the next full moon this month?”
“No,” Reever said flatly, and Komui looked at him in mild surprise, as though he didn’t know that Reever knew exactly where this was going to lead.
“Doesn’t the Astronomy Division monitor and chart celestial bodies weekly?”
“You know full well that they do Curly,” Reever replied, and cursed himself for not leaving the office earlier when he had the chance.
“Then…?” Komui prompted, and Reever heaved a huge sigh.
“Friday,” he muttered.
“Friday!” Komui repeated, slapping his hand down on the desk and looking triumphant. “Which coincides with the conference which means Bak-chan will be here!”
“In so many words, yes,” Reever confirmed, still eyeing him warily and waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Lenalee too, seemed to have realized where this was going, because she suddenly looked both anxious and exasperated, her pigtails swinging as she hung her head.
“Brother, you’re not going to…”
“I am!” Komui exclaimed, standing up so fast that Lenalee took a step back and Reever made a sound of incoherent rage as all the paperwork went flying in huge, ink-dotted arcs.
Komui took the community newspaper into his hands and scrunched the pages into a ball.
“I’m going to ask Bak Chang to marry me!” he told them, grinning like a madman. “Then we’ll see who’s compatible!”
If he had his way, Komui thought, he would park himself and his desk right next to the Ark Gate to China just so he could propose the moment that Bak arrived at HQ.
It would have been a nice surprise yes, and he might have got a lecture about making use of the people in Logistics to drag his things down at least three flights of stairs, but there was nothing romantic or memorable about it, and so he refrained.
“Are you sure this is a good idea, Chief?” Reever muttered from his place to Komui’s right as the various Branch Directors and Heads of Department filed into the conference room. Bak was, of course, already seated inside, though he had given Komui a very faint smile that nonetheless made his knees weak when he had brushed past him about fifteen minutes earlier.
“All my ideas are good ideas,” Komui said primly, and staunchly ignored the very put-upon sigh that came from Reever’s direction.
“Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” he groaned.
“Because he’s perfect and I’m brilliant and we belong together,” Komui replied, frowning a little when Reever stumbled slightly next to him. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” Reever said, straightening up, “It’s just that there were so many outright lies in that one sentence I thought I was going to collapse.”
“It’s not like I’m deciding to do this on a whim you know,” Komui sniffed, giving him a wounded look. “It’s the logical progression of a good relationship. I’d planned to do it anyway.”
“You couldn’t wait a little longer?” Reever hissed, lowering his voice as people filed past them into the conference room. “Your first anniversary was less than six months ago!”
“First official anniversary,” Komui corrected, as though that made a world of difference. “Besides, he’s right there,” he added, jerking his head a little towards the door. “The timing couldn’t be better.”
“If by better you mean worse then yes,” Reever replied, looking heavenwards as though a higher power would descend and save him from this madness. “We’ve only just moved into new Headquarters. Most of the Departments haven’t even finished unpacking yet. How do you plan to juggle this proposal on top of sorting everything else out?”
“Think of it as another urgent assignment,” Komui said, in the sort of flippant tone that made Reever want to yank the ridiculous curly hairs from his head. “We’re running a series of tests to prove that newspaper is a filthy rag which needs to be banned from further publication and this proposal is going to get us conclusive results.”
“Besides,” he added, “I promised Lenalee that I would tell her everything that happened when she gets back from her mission on Sunday. We’ll see what Gracia from Communications thinks about her ‘accurate’ compatibility test then.”
Reever stared at him. “You’re not allowed to read magazines or look at the Social section of a newspaper ever again,” he said darkly.
Komui glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “So, are you in?” he asked casually, smiling faintly like Reever had not already pledged his life to following him and his ridiculous plans for however long this war lasted.
“What kind of a stupid question is that?” Reever demanded, scoffing and looking off to the side. “Someone’s got to run damage control when this whole thing inevitably goes pear-shaped and you’re sure as hell not going to do it.”
Komui grinned. “I’m going to make you my best man,” he said delightedly. Reever scowled at him.
“Can we not …Could you at least ask him first before you go around saying things like that? Best man,” he muttered, running his hand back through his hair as Komui continued to beam at him, “Jesus. I’m the only man you’ve got. Who else would go along with this shit? Fucking nobody, that’s who.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should have gone to Cambridge. Should have gone to bloody Cambridge and got my professorship. At least then I’d still have my sanity.”
“You’d have also been terribly bored,” Komui pointed out, smiling brilliantly as he rocked back on his heels. “Did you pass on my message then?”
Reever shook himself off and nodded, though at that moment a throng of people had come around the corner, so it was hard to say whether he was responding to Komui’s question or acknowledging their arriving guests.
“I talked to Jerry,” he told Komui, pausing every now and again to shake someone’s hand when it was offered to him, “and he won’t be able to spare any of the kitchenhands to play waitstaff during the end-of-day rush, but he said that if we could find someone to do that ourselves then he would be glad to have dinner sent up wherever you wished.”
Komui hummed thoughtfully. “Check in with the interns,” he suggested, making Reever’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “Tell them that anyone who agrees will get extra credit.”
“For what?” Reever muttered, but made a note to himself nonetheless, “For being a witness in the event the Director drops dead from the shock?”
“You should have studied theatre,” Komui remarked, not missing a beat as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, if entirely unremarkable box, “You have such a flair for dramatics.”
“I don’t want to hear that from someone who thinks an off-the-cuff proposal is a perfectly acceptable reaction to a bad test score,” Reever grumped, leaning over despite himself to get a closer look. He lowered his voice.
“So that’s it then?”
Komui glanced at him and grinned. He popped the lid.
Reever whistled lowly at the ring’s rounded diamond centre and its surrounding sapphire accents.
“Well,” he said appreciatively, “colour me impressed Chief. I didn’t think you’d get it done. What is that anyway, sterling silver?”
“Platinum,” Komui replied shortly, snapping the box shut and placing it back into his coat pocket lovingly.
Reever nearly swallowed his tongue. “Platinum?” he yelped, causing Komui to shush him and look over his shoulder to see if anyone in the conference room had overheard.
“How…” Reever hissed, wringing his hands together so he wouldn’t wring Komui’s neck, “How did you even manage to … did you steal that ring?” he asked, suddenly horrified.
“Of course not,” Komui said, insulted by such an accusation, “I went down to the smithy on Tuesday and they directed me to the jewellers that make all the Order’s chalices and liturgical objects. Buying an engagement ring on a Tuesday is good luck you know,” he added as Reever continued to gape at him, “it guarantees a peaceful and content marriage. The community paper wasn’t lying about that.”
“So you … paid for it?” Reever said slowly, already running numbers because as far as he was aware, Komui’s salary was only slightly less pitiful than his own. “How?”
Komui shrugged. “It’s not an issue,” he replied cryptically, which only made Reever narrow his eyes further, “Well okay, it’s a sizeable chunk of my retirement pension fund gone but that’s not the point.”
He tilted his head back a little, gazing through the gap in the door where Bak was deep in discussion with the Director of the Middle Eastern Branch, Louis Fermi, his nose scrunching up adorably as the older man said something that he clearly didn’t agree with. It was no surprise really, Bak didn’t really agree much on anything unless you could show him why he should.
Komui pressed his lips together briefly.
“He’s worth it.”
Reever looked at him askance. He ran his hand back through his flyaway hair and exhaled deeply. “Ah, hell…” he muttered, and clapped Komui bracingly on the shoulder.
“I hope he says yes, Chief,” he said, ever loyal.
Komui smiled a little wryly at that, his mouth crooking upwards at one corner.
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he replied lightly, his eyes never leaving the Branch Director’s seated form.
“I’m really, really counting on it.”
“Director Bak.”
Bak paused over the papers he was carefully filing back into their folders. Already the Order members who had been seated on either side of him were pushing their chairs back and a mass exodus was headed towards the double doors, everyone no doubt eager to get to the cafeteria or to make use of their free time as much as possible before they all had to return tomorrow for even more talks.
He turned his head to face the shadow looming so close to him and raised an eyebrow.
“Head Officer,” he said politely, and Komui beamed at him as though Bak had just called him by an endearingly embarrassing pet-name in public. Utterly incorrigible. “Did you need something?”
Komui gestured towards the large, arched windows overlooking the grounds and inclined his head for Bak to follow.
“Just a moment of your time,” he said, still smiling and Bak looked around as the last of the people in the conference room made a timely exit, Section Chief Reever saluting Komui briefly before he shut the doors behind him.
Bak frowned at that. Curious.
He got to his feet and made his way over to the window. The setting sun was casting a marvellous combination of reds and burnished gold over Komui’s skin and the stark whiteness of his uniform. Bak cleared his throat.
“All right, out with it,” he demanded. “What do you want - ”
Komui leaned over and kissed him, cupping Bak’s face in his hands as the words died in his throat and he did an embarrassed little squirm on the spot.
Bak pushed him away, his face burning. “What the hell was that?” he hissed. “I swear to God if you keep pulling rank to do this shit I’m going to…”
“Shh,” Komui murmured, and kissed him again, toe-curlingly soft and sweet. “I didn’t get to greet you properly before the meeting started,” he said by way of explanation, tilting his head and pressing curved lips to Bak’s cheek. “Hello.”
Bak squeezed his eyes shut, mortified. “Hi…” he whispered back, a shudder snaking down the full length of his spine when Komui pressed their foreheads together, holding him close for a long moment before releasing him.
He stepped back immediately, straightening out his uniform and willing the flush in his cheeks to go down while Komui continued to look at him as though he were the most delightful thing he had ever seen in his entire life.
“Well,” Bak muttered as he adjusted his hat, “now that the introductions are out of the way I’m assuming you actually do have something to say, right?”
“Would I ever lie to you?” Komui sing-songed, the grin on his face only widening when Bak gave him a flat look that suggested that yes he very much would and had done so before on multiple occasions.
Komui amended his words. “Would I ever lie to you about anything thatmatters?”
Bak opened his mouth.
“Are you free this evening?” Komui asked, cutting in smoothly before Bak could start in on a laundry list of all his apparent faults.
“Define ‘free’,” Bak replied testily, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Komui a suspicious once over. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got plenty of reports to be getting through on top of the notes that will need to be amended for tomorrow’s conference, and that’s not even taking into the account all the…”
“Bak-chan,” Komui said, and gave him a very pointed look that made Bak grimace and glare right back at him.
“Oh, honestly … what is it now?”
“You know what I mean,” Komui told him, and waited.
Bak shuffled his feet, looking for all the world like a trapped animal that was still hoping to spot an escape route. He sucked the inside of his cheek and stared out into the garden below them.
Finally he sighed, dropping his clenched fists to his sides.
“I’m … free,” he grated out, as though admitting to such a thing was akin to torture.
Komui’s entire countenance lit up.
“Good,” he sighed, though Bak had no idea why he sounded so relieved. He tilted his head a little, studying him, but he could no more understand Komui Lee’s whims in that moment than he could have ten years ago.
“Because…?” he prompted.
Komui smiled at that, and covered one of Bak’s hands with both of his own. “Because I would very much like to take you out to dinner if you’ll let me.”
You would have thought that he had just announced his intention to dance naked on the chapel altar the way Bak stared at him, lips parted slightly in surprise.
“Dinner,” Bak repeated slowly, as though his ears were deceiving him. “Not a plate of biscuits in the office after midnight or a sojourn to the cafeteria in a crush of hundreds of other people … That kind of dinner?”
Komui made a show of thinking it over. “Oh, well if you’d prefer those other options…”
Bak’s fingers tightened on his wrist. “No,” he said sharply, quick enough that it made Komui grin. Bak pursed his lips together.
“No,” he said again, much more calmly this time. “I … dinner sounds, lovely.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Do you want me to RSVP and send back a written confirmation?” Bak replied snippily, his hand sliding down Komui’s arm and finding purchase in the starched press of his uniform. He curled his fingers around the material.
Komui’s smile widened. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he remarked cheerfully, moving to rest his hands comfortably on the strong curve of Bak’s hips.
“Idiot,” Bak grumbled, though this time when Komui leaned down to kiss him he made no effort to pull away.
“I’ll be expecting you in the Camellia Room at half past seven,” Komui said, pressing his mouth to every frown line and delighting in the way they smoothed out. “Wear something nice.”
He hesitated; grinned. “Don’t be late.”
Bak actually snorted at that. “Am I ever…?”
Komui raised an eyebrow. “Do you want the polite answer or an account of my personal experience from watching you in front of the mirror?”
Bak thumped him on the arm.
Komui wheezed. “You are a vision of speed and grace,” he winced.
“Ladies and gentlemen, he can be taught.”
“Look, I know it’s not ‘proper’ but don’t even think of refilling his wine glass till it’s empty,” Reever said seriously.
“No sir,” said Emmeline, who was majoring in chemistry and did not know the first thing about fine dining.
“What about the Director?” asked Kieran, another intern who had studied under Reever in the past and was now looking at the silverware as though the complicated formulas he had worked through in the labs were nothing compared to this.
“The Director tends to be partial to a little brandy after dinner, but if he starts looking like he’s about to explode start plying him with as much wine as you can,” Reever replied shortly, snatching the salad fork from Kieran and putting it back in its proper place.
“It won’t do much honestly, he doesn’t absorb alcohol like a sponge the way the Chief does, but it might soften him around the edges a little.”
“But what if he doesn’t…” Emmeline began, and trailed off under Reever’s quelling look.
“What the Director does or doesn’t do tonight is none of our business,” he told them both firmly. “That’s between him and the Chief and I trust that you’ll not go carrying tales once you leave this room.”
“No sir,” they chorused.
Reever’s shoulders sagged a little. “Thank you,” he told them sincerely. “How’s that table setting coming along, Kieran?”
“Almost done,” Kieran replied, very carefully placing candle holders around the centrepiece of camellias and straightening the tablecloth.
Reever nodded. “Will you be all right?” he asked Emmeline, who had been looking increasingly anxious the closer it got to dinnertime.
“Oh it’s not the plates I’m worried about sir,” she assured him as she fixed the ribbon around her neck. “I figure it can’t be any harder than juggling books and test tubes. It’s just. Well.” She bit her lower lip. “The Director can be a little … too much.”
Ah.
“Yeah, he tends to have that effect on people,” Reever sighed, scratching the back of his neck, “but don’t worry, I doubt he’ll be in much of a mood for yelling tonight.” He paused. “Unless the Chief gives him reason to.”
Emmeline thought this over. “I’ll fetch the phonograph,” she said at last. “Place it just outside the door. Lord knows a little music always takes the wind out of my Da’s sails. Maybe it will work on the Director too.”
Reever couldn’t help but grin a little at that. “It might,” he agreed. “And if things get out of hand you can always crank the volume up so people in the neighbouring rooms can have a taste of the classics instead of listening to them screaming at each other.”
Emmeline smiled, looking far less worried now, and bustled off. Reever took the moment to breathe.
“How are we looking?”
Reever inclined his head. “Not a bad job if I do say so myself,” he replied, as Komui stepped through the double doors and took everything in. “In fact I think we just increased your chances of getting the Director to accept your proposal by 80 percent.”
“I’m going to put that in your annual report, just so you know,” Komui told him, brushing his fingers over the camellias and smiling hugely at Kieran, who seemed flustered at being so close to the Head Officer of the Black Order. “A recommendation for your next job. Should have studied theatre and become a comedian.”
“When it comes to dealing with you Chief, you can either laugh or cry,” Reever shot back, “there’s no in-between.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost 7.30. Are you ready?”
“It’s a full moon tonight,” Komui said, glancing up at the stars with an unreadable expression on his face. “Just like we predicted. Thank goodness. I don’t think we’d have had the time to build an air cannon large enough to push any impending clouds away and Lavi’s on a mission so an overcast sky might have ruined everything …”
“Chief.”
Komui let out a gusty sigh and straightened up, adjusting his coat. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he mumbled.
Reever turned and looked at Kieran, who nodded and took off to go wait by the main doors, nearly tripping over his own feet as he did so. The faint sound of violins wafted out into the night. Emmeline had found the phonograph then.
“You know what you’re going to say?” he asked, pushing Komui’s hands away from his tie before he worried it to pieces.
Komui chuckled, though there was a definite note of strain in his voice now that the moment had finally arrived. “I was thinking of doing it after dessert, you know? Let the meal finish on a good note. I left the ring on the food cart with that nice girl over by the phonograph.”
“You actually thought this through,” Reever said, sounding approving as he gave Komui a final once-over.
“A little,” Komui admitted. “How hard can it be? I just have to say ‘Will you marry me?’ and that’s that. Easy as pie. I mean the worst thing he could say is ‘no’, right?” he laughed and then paused, falling quiet so suddenly that Reever looked up in concern.
“Unless he says ‘yes’,” Komui said worriedly, grabbing Reever and shaking him a little. “What do I do if he says ‘yes’?” he demanded, his voice rising slightly in panic.
“What do you mean ‘if’?” Reever snapped, trying to pin Komui’s arms against his sides so his brain would stop feeling like it was rattling around in his skull. “You were all for the Director saying ‘yes’ a few hours ago!”
“ I never planned for the aftermath!” Komui hissed. “What do I do?”
“How the hell should I know, I haven’t exactly done this before either!”
“Um,” said Kieran helpfully, who was standing at the double doors watching them grapple with each other and pointing a little unsurely behind him. “Director Bak is here, Chief Komui sir.”
Komui and Reever stared at each other and broke apart.
Komui cleared his throat and dusted himself off. “Right,” he said, still sounding a little shaky but slowly getting himself under control. “Right … I’ll. Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.”
Kieran nodded and gave them them one last worried look before heading back.
Komui turned to Reever with a hunted expression the moment he was gone. Reever grasped his shoulders.
“It’s not too late to back out Chief,” he told him seriously. “Really, what are you even trying to prove here? If you’re not ready then just … treat this as you would any other date. The Director won’t be any wiser. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” Komui replied. “If I don’t do this now then there won’t be another full moon until December … and I might not even get to see him in December.”
“So wait,” Reever said. “It’s not like he’s going anywhere.”
Komui hesitated. “No,” he murmured, quietly and surprisingly serious. “It’s … It’s been long enough. If I lose him after this and I never …” he squeezed his eyes shut briefly, and when he opened them again he looked more determined, as though this were just another mission he had to monitor.
“I have to at least try.”
Reever gave him a scrutinizing look. Then he rolled his eyes, straightened Komui’s tie and gave him a shove towards the door.
“Then get out there and start trying already, you curly-haired moron.”
Komui shook his head and grinned at him fondly. “Ah, Reever~” he sighed forlornly, placing a hand over his heart. “You’re a treasure. Run away with me.”
Reever barked out a laugh in spite of himself. “I’d kill you a day into the engagement and you know it. Director Bak is welcome to have you.”
Komui’s smile turned self-depreciating. “We’ll see.”
Reever gave him a thumbs up. “I’ll be back tomorrow to check whether he tried to drown you in the soup bowl,” he said, and made a beeline for the side door that led down to the servants’ quarters. “Good luck, Chief.”
“I hope you’re not planning on turning in early tonight,” Komui called after him, “because I’m going to give you a play-by-play of all the gory details later.”
“Thanks but no thanks,” Reever replied, raising his hand slightly in farewell.
Then the door clicked shut behind him and Komui was left to his own devices in a chandelier-lit room with two trainee-scientists-turned-waitstaff and his future waiting just out of reach.
“Let him in,” Komui whispered urgently, when he felt like his heart was going to drumroll its way out of his ribcage.
Kieran startled. “Oh, right!” he exclaimed, and hurried to open the door, “The Chief will see you now, Director.”
“It’s about time,” Bak retorted, striding straight through and only agitating Komui’s nerves further. No backing out of it now. “Honestly, he has the cheek telling me not to be late.”
Then he looked up from the cufflink he had been fiddling with and just stared.
“You came!” Komui said, moving forward to envelop Bak in his arms and hoping he didn’t sound too nervous. It was hard not be tongue-tied. Bak already looked handsome in uniform. Seeing him dressed up for the evening was almost too much to bear.
Bak continued to stare at him, his hands hovering slightly over Komui’s person as though he wasn’t sure where to put them.
“Bak-chan?”
“You changed your shirt,” Bak said at last, sounding simultaneously surprised and delighted as he reached up, fingers carding through Komui’s hair and over the plane of his cheek in such a way that it was a wonder Komui remembered to breathe. “I can’t believe this … did you wash up too?”
“You don’t have to sound so taken aback,” Komui muttered, seizing Bak’s hand and kissing his fingertips. “I said I was going to treat you to a proper dinner, didn’t I?”
Bak shrugged at that, his eyes still raking Komui’s face like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Then he seemed to think this over and paused, squinting at Komui suspiciously.
“What is the occasion that warrants this special dinner, anyway?”
“Are you saying I can’t do something nice for you just because I love you?” Komui wanted to know, spinning him around so he could lead Bak further into the room before he asked too many questions. He made a violent gesture behind his back to Kieran, and hoped he got the hint.
“We don’t do dates,” Bak pointed out, his breath hitching as Komui pushed him through the balcony doors.
“Remember…?” he said desperately, suddenly both overwhelmed and unsure at the sight that greeted them; of the little dining table decorated with candles and camellias overlooking the gardens. “We agreed … oh, Komui.”
He sounded frustrated, Komui thought, but not mad. It was a good sign.
“Well maybe we ought to start,” he said gently, pulling out Bak’s seat for him and giving him his best smile.
“This is too much,” Bak muttered, his face pink even in the candlelight as he slapped Komui’s hands away and shooed him back to his own seat. “Stop being a gentleman. It doesn’t suit you,” he scolded, sitting himself down regardless and admiring the silverware.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Komui offered, just as there was a loud ‘pop’ from behind them and Kieran raced forward with a bottle of pinot noir.
“Oh my God,” Bak said, covering his mouth with his hand like he was trying desperately not to smile. “Who are you and what have you done with Komui Lee?”
“He thought it was unfair that his beautiful, clever Bak-chan worked so hard and never got any appreciation for it,” Komui quipped as Kieran finished filling up their glasses and bowed his way back indoors. “So he wanted to show him a good time.”
“You mean as opposed to stolen kisses in dark corridors and quickies in between meetings,” Bak retorted, still taking in his surroundings with an air of quiet rapture.
“Yes, as opposed to that,” Komui said, unfolding his napkin and placing it on his lap.
“You’re going to have so much work to catch up on after this,” Bak pointed out as he did the same.
Komui gave him an exasperated look. “To hell with work,” he replied, causing Bak to raise an eyebrow at him. “Not a single romantic bone in your body, I swear.”
Bak frowned at that. “Romance is overrated,” he said shortly. “Big, grand gestures to impress just don’t do it for me.”
He did have a point, Komui thought. No doubt young men of Bak’s social standing were always trying to outdo each other with extravagant gifts during a courtship to secure their love interest’s affections. It probably got tiresome after a while.
“What about a small, heartfelt gesture from someone who thinks the world of you?” he asked.
Bak had both eyebrows raised now. “From you?” he wanted to know, looking at Komui doubtfully. “‘Grand gestures’ might as well be your middle name.”
“But this …” he added, gesturing at the beautifully set table in front of him, “… this is very sweet, and I … thank you,” he finished, somewhat haltingly, a little more pink than he had been previously, “for inviting me.”
Komui beamed at him, and privately wondered if it was possible to exude so much adoration for someone that they could feel it. He was certainly going to try, nonetheless.
“Don’t thank me just yet,” Komui said teasingly as he waved Emmeline out onto the balcony, and watched Bak’s grey eyes get wide and round as she wheeled the food cart out to them. “Just wait until you get to dessert.”
He really deserved a commendation he thought, for not dropping down on one knee and proposing on the spot when Emmeline started removing the cloches on each of the dishes and Bak smiled so brilliantly that it dimpled his cheeks.
“I’m glad that you actually ingested something other than coffee tonight,” Bak told him as he set his fork and knife down neatly on his plate. “How you haven’t collapsed yet is beyond me.”
“You underestimate me, Bak-chan. All I need to live is coffee, love and fresh air~”
“That … would actually explain a lot of things,” Bak said slowly, wiggling his fingers at Komui’s forehead as though that single gesture could justify what he liked to think of as bouts of ‘mad genius’ but which Reever had helpfully coined ‘brief periods of insanity’.
“Like why the Head Nurse is always cursing certain pain-in-the-neck scientists who never submit to medical check-ups.”
“Didn’t you try to run away from the hospital ward once?” Komui asked, his mouth curving wickedly when Bak abruptly turned a slight shade of pink.
“You must be thinking of someone else,” Bak retorted, though he seemed to be speaking more directly to his plate than to Komui’s face. “Nevermind the fact that woman has all the bedside manner of a plague doctor.”
“Oh I’m sure you were a perfectly delightful patient,” Komui replied, his grin all teeth when Bak looked up to glare at him. “Positively angelic.”
“You try recuperating in that awful, dingy place with its whitewashed walls and the smell of disinfectant crawling up your nose twenty-four hours a day and see how you like it.”
“Well the new infirmary has windows,” Komui pointed out, unable to help himself, “So just for future reference that excuse isn’t going to wash anymore.”
“Ugh,” Bak said, making a face, and Komui already knew he was making plans in his head to not wind up in HQ’s medical ward the next time there was an Order-wide emergency.
A companionable silence settled over them.
“You know,” Bak said at last, picking his fork up again and chasing a cherry tomato around his plate with an offhandedness that polite society would have labeled as awful table manners, but which Komui found utterly charming, “I had my doubts about Central deciding to move HQ here but it really is much nicer than the old one.”
“Well it is bigger,” Komui admitted, his face propped idly in his hand as Bak finally speared the wayward vegetable and popped it into his mouth, “Not as many stairs though.”
“The fountain is a nice touch,” Bak added, tilting his head a little to look over the balcony at the beautiful stone structure in the garden below, “and the atmosphere is not … well.”
“Utterly miserable?” Komui guessed. That wasn’t strictly true though. It may have been a newer building, but having to share their space with Central’s lackeys hadn’t exactly done much to dispel any feelings of bitterness among the staff.
“I was going to say ‘nothing like the setting in a horror novel or a church graveyard’,” Bak said, swallowing and taking a measured sip from the brandy glass that had been left on the table for him as soon as the main course had finished, “but I suppose ‘miserable’ works too.”
“You were the one who wanted to spend the rest of your career there.”
“I was willing to put aside personal taste for the sake of the war,” Bak replied, alcohol blunting the sharpness of his tone on this otherwise touchy subject between them, “and I would have built a solarium.”
“A solarium?” Komui repeated, finding himself smiling. “We hardly got any sun as it was.”
“That’s because you barely stepped foot out of the labs, you cave fish.”
“This from someone who was actually born and raised in a cave,” Komui said, shaking his head with feigned dismay.
Bak looked indignant. “The Asian Branch is not a damp, filthy cave,” he said loftily, looking down his nose at Komui the way he always did when he thought he was being particularly daft. Granted, it only really worked when they were both sitting down, which Komui found far too funny to be offended.
“It is a state-of-the-art facility, a sanctuary carved out of the mountainside by my great-grandfather, it’s -”
“- an architectural wonder nicknamed the ‘House of the Holy Spirit’ that has stood for generations,” Komui drawled, mimicking Bak. “Yes, yes I know. I’ve done my homework. Still doesn’t make it any less of a cave, though.”
Bak opened his mouth to argue and then abruptly closed it again when he failed to counter that point.
“We do have a conservatory here though,” Komui carried on before Bak could mount a debate on the living conditions of caves as compared to a crowded, clifftop tower. “It’s very pretty, and our trading partners have very generously donated a number of plants from every corner of the British Empire.”
“I imagine all that foliage makes for a great hiding spot too,” Bak remarked shrewdly, but Komui only waggled his eyebrows at him.
“I’m all for finding out if you are.”
Bak snorted. “Tempting,” he answered, “but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”
“A visit to the conservatory or an invitation to have some fun behind some exotic, imported bushes?”
“Well I’m definitely going to do one of those things when you’re not around,” Bak said without missing a beat. He waved his fork at Komui. “I’ll let you figure out which.”
“Bak-chan, I’m appalled,” Komui replied, sitting back in his seat a little, “If you’re going to wander the grounds you should at least take me with you.”
“And face Assistant Chief Fey’s wrath when she finds out I let you loose without her prior permission? Nice try.”
Komui frowned at that, his cheery facade dropping into a pout. “Why is everyone more afraid of Ms Fey than they are of me?”
“You mean besides the fact that she’s from Central?” Bak wanted to know. He patted Komui’s hand sympathetically. “Spatzi … you don’t have a single mean bone in your body.”
“What?” Komui exclaimed, sitting up straighter. “No! I can be strict. I’m totally strict.”
Bak gave him a flat stare.
“Don’t look at me like that, it’s true!”
“If you mean the fact that you’re harder on yourself than on any of your subordinates, then yes you’re strict,” Bak replied, with so much clarity in that moment that it was almost terrifying, “but I don’t think that really counts.”
Komui dragged a hand down his face. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he muttered.
“Do what?” Bak asked, as though he hadn’t just laid Komui’s inner workings bare; like he had merely been making an observation and didn’t even realize that he had pulled off a bit of a cleverly constructed mask without meaning to.
“Forget it,” Komui said, and hid behind his wine glass under the pretense of having a drink despite the fact that his glass was still mostly full and had been all evening. He wasn’t going to take any chances with a loosened tongue, nerves or not.
When he finally put the glass down Bak was idly plucking at camellia petals, his expression unusually soft and thoughtful.
“Thank you, really,” Bak said quietly, and Komui almost had to strain to hear him over the sweet tones of phonograph music in the background. “For tonight I mean. I don’t think I’ve gone on a proper date in nearly two years.”
Which, in fact, coincided perfectly with their last and messiest breakup and confirmed that Bak had been entertaining the company of other people while Komui had whiled away the days feeling like his heart had been gutted from his chest, but now was not the time to dig at old wounds. He swallowed the spike of jealousy down, where it settled bitterly in his stomach.
“It’s not much,” he replied, almost as quietly, taking care to look up at the full moon instead of at Bak. Mask or no mask, he’s been told before that jealousy and anger have always shown up starkly on his face, and he doesn’t want Bak to see him making such a fierce expression if he can help it.
“I mean … Jerry prepared the meal and Reever recruited a couple of interns from the Science Department to help out, so I didn’t really do …”
“It’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me,” Bak told him, “It’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever done for me … which is saying a lot really, given how much of a soft touch you are.”
There is so much sincerity in his voice that Komui has to look at him, though he almost wishes he hadn’t.
Bak is smiling. He is smiling in that crooked, slightly uncertain way that crinkles his eyes at the corners and makes him look about five years younger. He is smiling like he has never smiled at anyone else and it wasn’t fair, Komui thought, for anyone to look so effervescent and good in the warm candle glow, as though he were made to walk in starlight and light up all the dark places.
“Bak-chan…” he began, curling his fingers over Bak’s hand.
He hesitated.
He hasn’t lived for his own sake since Lenalee had been born. He has been brother, parent, minder, supervisor and he is fine with that. He has given himself wholly to the Order for love of his sister. He has given when there is already barely enough left to give. Sometimes he wonders if he has stretched himself too thin.
He has nothing. He is not an Epstein or a Leverrier or another glorified noble who has contributed something grand to the history of this organization.
What does he have left to pledge to this man besides a love so fierce he feels like he might one day burst under the strain of it? Still, he wants, so much that he can feel it like an ache in his chest.
He wants, and so he must try.
Komui tried to smile. It didn’t work very well.
“I believe I promised you dessert.”
“You don’t have to look so grim,” Bak remarked, tangling their fingers together as Kieran came forward to clear away their plates. “I know sweets aren’t really your thing.”
“A promise is a promise,” Komui said firmly, and wondered if rubbing the knuckle of Bak’s ring finger would be too obvious a play. He cleared his throat.
Emmeline bustled in, carrying a small chocolate cake innocuously topped with a pink buttercream rose in each hand. She glanced at Komui, who gave her a minute nod, before setting each plate down in their respective places.
Bak stared at the cake. “You’re a disgusting, unrepentant romantic,” he eventually said.
“I have no idea what you mean,” Komui replied innocently, watching Bak tilt his head this way and that to admire the little dessert from all sides.
A little hole had been carved out of the centre of Bak’s cake before its rose “lid” had been put in place, and that is where Komui had placed the ring beforehand, carefully wrapped in rice paper.
He will probably have to surrender his own dessert after this, he thought, smiling in spite of the fact that he could now hear his heart thundering in his ears, because ring or no ring, Bak is going to feel cheated.
Komui would surrender the entire plate of cakes to him if that is what it would take.
“Your hand is sweating,” Bak said suddenly, startling him. He was tapping his dessert fork absentmindedly against the tablecloth and looking at Komui curiously.
“Ah, well … it’s a little warm out,” Komui lied, releasing Bak’s hand to wipe his palm quickly on his napkin.
“It’s the middle of November,” Bak replied, frowning a little and looking even more suspicious than he had before dinner. “Komui …”
“Bak-chan,” Komui exclaimed abruptly, causing Bak to jump a little in his seat, looking baffled.
“I … you were right,” he said at last, jiggling his leg and taking Bak’s hand in both of his own. “I do have an ulterior motive for inviting you here tonight and I … I have something very important that I would like to say if you are willing to hear me out.”
Bak’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “You had me at ‘Bak-chan you were right’,” he admitted, leaning over the table a little as though the secrets of the universe were about to reveal themselves to him. “Go on.”
Courage, Komui thought desperately, and cleared his throat, cheeks prickling with heat.
“Bak-chan,” he says again and then stops. “Bak,” he corrected himself, and Bak looks at him like he has never seen him before in his life.
“I realize … I know that in the past my being elected Head Officer must have hurt you, even though that was never my intention,” even though it wasn’t my fault, he doesn’t add, because the last thing he wants right now is to draw Bak’s ire over this one petty dispute that lingers between them, “and for that I am sorry.”
The quiet that follows his words is almost deafening.
“I know you are,” Bak said softly, just when Komui feared he would go mad from anxiety, though his eyes rake Komui with a laser-sharpness that seem to be dissecting him down to his core.
“You did what you had to and I … I brought shame to my family name and made a real tit of myself trying to prove you were just like Leverrier. So I…” he trailed off, pursing his lips together. “I’m sorry too.”
It’s a breakthrough. For Bak, who is as stubborn as the stone of the mountain under which he was raised, to actually swallow his pride and apologize when Komui has never even managed to wrangle a shred of remorse from him before …
They smiled hesitantly at each other and Komui would have forgotten what he wanted to say next if the emotion wasn’t sitting so heavy in his chest and crushing all the breath from his lungs.
“I love you,” Komui said, so raw and so heartfelt that he felt Bak’s fingers curl under his own in apprehension. “I have loved you for an age, even when I wasn’t supposed to, even though I had more pressing responsibilities to take care of … I have loved you through hardship and loss and duty and I have never wanted to choose because I could not bear the thought of not choosing you.”
“Komui …”
“I love you still,” Komui continued fervently, dropping his forehead down on their joined hands, “and I would love you for many more years and forever no matter who or what tries to persuade me otherwise.”
“Spatzi, it’s fine.”
“I would give you something as a token of my commitment and I can only pray that you’ll -” Komui stopped and lifted his head, frowning. “What do you mean it’s fine?”
“You don’t have to wax lyrical at me,” Bak said, chewing carefully around his words as he shook his head. “You know I hate that drivel. It’s water under the bridge now.”
Water under the … Komui stared at him in disbelief. Wait, what was he even eating?
He frowned and looked down. The cake was gone.
Horror swooped fast and thick in Komui’s stomach. The ring.
“Bak-chan…” he said slowly, though he feared he already knew the answer. “What happened to your cake?”
Bak suddenly stopped chewing and looked at Komui with round eyes before setting his fork down on the table. “…What cake?”
“Bak-chan!”
“What?” Bak exclaimed, “You apologized, I apologized … I thought that was the end of it!”
He swallowed it, Komui thought hysterically, bringing a hand up to his mouth before he gave in to the urge to laugh himself sick as he looked at the chocolate crumbs on Bak’s plate.
He swallowed his own engagement ring.
“Komui…?” Bak asked, looking more than a little worried now. He wondered what the expression on his face must have looked like. “Are you all right? Was I … Was I not supposed to eat the cake? Should I call that girl back in here and ask her for another one?”
Komui pressed his lips together and shook his head. If he started laughing now he might not be able to stop.
Whatever made him think this was going to be easy? Dealing with Bak was never easy.
He rose from his seat. “Come here,” he said, moving around to Bak’s side of the table and dropping down to his knees beside his chair. He held out his arms, feeling overwhelmingly fond.
Bak looked at him like he was hiding a bear-trap under his coat. “Why?” he demanded.
“Water under the bridge,” Komui repeated, and smiled at him, “Also I love you very, very much. Did I mention that?”
Bak’s shoulders sagged, his hackles dropping. “It’s getting you to stop that’s the hard part,” he muttered, turning in his chair a little to put his arms around Komui’s shoulders before leaning down to kiss him. Komui responded by putting his arms around his waist in turn.
He tasted like chocolate.
“… You know, I don’t feel much like eating anymore,” Bak murmured when they pulled away, pressing his forehead to Komui’s own as more kisses were trailed across his face. “Take me to bed?”
Komui grinned against his mouth. “If that’s what you want~”
“You’re terrible at being coy,” Bak replied, and pulled gently at Komui’s bottom lip with his teeth. “Also, Komui?”
“Yes, Bak-chan?”
“I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but there is nothing erotic about you trying to shove your fingers into my mouth.”
…… Well, the chances of him getting the ring back now were slim to none anyway.
“Right. Sorry,” Komui said and thumbed the corner of Bak’s lips before kissing him again.