Work Text:
“Alright, alright.”
Kabru turned the lever for the shower and began to wash his hair. He paid half a mind toward the others joining him in the wet room. A blessing or a curse to a gay man: locker rooms with open style showers where a naked, toned, FBI agent could stand within five feet of you or be catching your spray and it wouldn’t be seen as bizarre. Hell, Laios was standing right beside him now, prattling on about some guy they were chasing. Kabru did, however, ignore him. That was probably the easiest thing in the world to do: not look at Laios. It took him one lunch date to know that Laios was to be generally avoided for his sanity to remain intact. The guy was off.
The others, however, were fun. They didn’t dwell on work or how ‘amazing’ a killer was to come up with their methods. And though Kabru has unintentionally likely checked out each of them, any fancy he might have held toward any particular one’s physique was trampled by their ridiculously straight-man coded auras. He was convinced that if there was anyone else even remotely interested in the opposite sex, it was solely Laios, and Kabru has firmly shut that man out as a contender.
He did have a nice body, however, from what Kabru could tell outside of the locker room when he would look him in the eyes. He was bigger than Kabru both in height and stature, seeming to expand from his strong shoulders and more to create the illusion of an impassable human wall. He was strong too. He was always carrying large boxes around or helping shift new agents' desks until they were satisfied. That’s part of why Kabru ever entertained him as an option, but five minutes of talking to him was enough to be turned away.
“Megan Fox or Alexa Demie?”
One of the men to Kabru’s side snorted. Kabru massaged water into his face, trying to scrub off the remaining sweat from his workout. “Megan Fox, duh. That’s a fuckin’ woman. Scarlett Johansson or Angelina Jolie?”
“Seriously? Always go for the younger ones. Scarlett. Great figure.” Kabru’s eyebrow twitched, but he smiled all the same, playing into their little antics without saying a word as that agent thought for a moment, then said, “Maizuru from the morgue or Mithrun?”
Kabru sputtered out water that caught in his throat as his jaw flew open. Laios reached over and patted his back with two harsh hits– this man doesn’t know his own strength– fuck– Kabru caught himself, pursing his lips. He misheard. It must have been Misyl from records. She was cute, unbelievably short, had long, pale hair and wore conservative clothes. She wasn’t the obvious choice due to being as silent as a mouse in church, but he’s certain that horny agents might try their luck to make her a sex symbol in their monkey brains. Was she even an agent? She could easily be an intern, and be even younger than he suspected. He liked them younger, right? So it was probably a rude comment toward her.
Kabru stiffened as the men around him broke into laughter, their conversation shifting into something that twisted his stomach.
“Mithrun?” one of them repeated, his voice dripping with glee as he slapped his fellow agent. “Any day. If you asked him nicely, I’m sure he’d even put on some make up or one of those fuckin’ dresses. Or at least let you press his face into the pillow if he didn't.”
Kabru kept his eyes on the wall ahead of him, the smile sliding off his face as he reached for his soap. He made quick work of it over his arms.
“Please. That guy’s so tightly wound he’d probably thank you for asking before you even got the words out. Needs someone to work him over before he dries out.”
“Mithrun wouldn’t need asking. Just snap your fingers, and he’d be on his knees– good department bitch that he is.” Kabru shut off the water and stood there for a moment, taking in a breath free from the beads of water. He wiped at his eyes, a stone building in his throat. “Always getting special treatment.”
“Bet he’d do anything you wanted,” another voice added, knocking around in Kabru’s skull as he began to calmly make his way toward the lockers. “No hesitation. You say spread ‘em– he’s already halfway there!”
The room erupted into laughter, and Kabru felt his stomach churn. He plucked his towel from his locker and buried his face into it, grimacing once he was thoroughly hidden in the cotton. He pulled away after a moment to drop it on his head and shake the wetness out, his hands moving and scrunching his hair without a plan for how to make it not look ridiculous once it was dried.
“Seriously, though,” another voice cut in. “It's like he’s got that stick so far up his ass, he’s begging for someone to pull it out for him. Probably doesn't come in here to join us so we don't see what he's really good at.”
“Not just pull it out—replace it with something better,” someone snorted, and the group howled. Kabru’s chest tightened as the comments grew filthier, the air thick with lewd laughter. It’s too late for him to make a comment on Megan Fox and divert their attention without them throwing a fit for being a prude, being sensitive– Kabru knew how men were. He had to ride this out. More showers turned off as Kabru got out his undershirt.
“Hell, bet he’d like it rough,” One of the senior agents added as he unlocked the locker beside Kabru’s. Kabru pulled on his shirt to avoid acknowledging his comment, even as he was nudged encouragingly by a shoulder. “Push him against a wall– He’s light enough.”
“What about you, Kabru?” one of them asked with a sly grin. “Do you think Mithrun is easy? You should give it a shot. You guys are practically joined at the hip all day anyways. Might as well have some fun.”
“Unless he’s already put out?” A man bumped into Kabru from behind and the agent stumbled a step forward, catching himself with tightly pulled lips and his hand on the locker.
He shook his head quickly, plastering on a neutral expression. “Nah, not my thing,” he muttered, hoping to kill the conversation without drawing attention to himself. The men roared with laughter again, moving on, thankfully, to their next bout of their little game. Kabru forced another strained laugh to their antics, his face burning with a mix of shame and anger. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Kabru didn’t feel relieved from not involving himself though. The knot in his stomach only tightened as he finished changing, grabbed his bag and headed for the door.
Just as he was making his way through the wall of naked men, the door to the locker room slammed open. A hush fell over the tiled room from sheer surprise as the door handle cracked against the wall behind it and a short man stormed in. Kabru almost felt his soul leaving his body until he realized how short the man was— it wasn’t Mithrun. Kabru recognized him from not long ago when they officially met, albeit briefly. Chilchuck was Laios’ partner after, as he was told, Laios’ last partner, Shuro, was assigned a different partner. Kabru had a feeling it had something to do with Laios as a person than anything Shuro could have done.
The silence lingered, broken only by the faint dripping of water from the showers and Kabru’s own heart pounding in his ears. All eyes turned toward the door, where Chilchuck stood, his small frame like a cat bristling with fury.
“What an enlightening conversation on our unit I just overheard. Do you think our department policy on respect and professionalism doesn’t apply once you step into the locker room?” The men exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier confidence for jeering remarks dissolving under Chilchuck’s glare. He stepped forward, his polished shoes clicking against the tile as he walked through the small hallway to the entrance to the lockers. He waved a clipboard that was hanging at his side, a piece of twine connecting to a pen dangling in the air.
“Let me make something very clear,” Chilchuck continued, enunciating every word like a punch toward the deflating crowd who began to look between each other or distract themselves by hurrying through their changing. “Sexually degrading comments about coworkers are a direct violation of workplace policy. Page twelve, for those of you who’ve never bothered to read the handbook.”
Chilchuck snatched the pen with his free hand and clicked the end, his eyes scanning over the group. One of the older agents, Kabru recognized him from when he was initially onboarding, shifted uncomfortably. Kabru also recognized him as the one who wanted Mithrun in a dress. “We were just joking.”
“‘Just joking?’” Chilchuck repeated mockingly, taking a step closer. “Great. Then when HR calls you all in for individual meetings and then asks me why you’re all in violation of department policy, I’ll tell them just that. I’m sure that’ll go over well when they’re updating your personnel files.”
The one who wanted to spread Mithrun’s legs shut his locker door loud enough to cause some looks. Kabru didn’t wince; he stood frozen near the lockers, his gym bag clutched tightly in his hand as guilt twisted in his chest.
Chilchuck shook his head. “I’ll be standing right here at this door. Each and every one of you will give me your name as you leave.”
There was an audible intake of breath from several agents, but Chilchuck wasn’t finished, even as Kabru felt like the floor was going to open and swallow him down. He didn't participate. He was already on thin ice. Could he play it off like he was listening to music and hadn’t heard a peep? Not being able to hear over Laios’ ramblings? Kabru’s eyes darted around the room and his eyebrows raised high. Where was Laios?
“This is a workplace, gentlemen. Agent Mithrun may not be here to defend himself, but I’ll be damned if I let this kind of shit slide. That man has more integrity and character than this entire room combined. His effort and work alone should deserve utter respect.”
One of the agents, the same man who had slammed his locker shut, the one who wanted to be between Mithrun’s legs, the one that wanted Mithrun exposed for him, muttered something under his breath. Chilchuck’s head twitched with the noise. He spun on his heel, narrowing his eyes. “What was that? Something to add? Speak up; I’d love to hear it.”
The man shook his head, his jaw tight.
“Great,” Chilchuck said, stepping back to his post by the door. “So we are all aware, I’ll make it my personal mission to ensure every single one of you faces consequences. This will not happen again unless it’s following termination. Is that clear?”
A few murmurs of assent followed, but Chilchuck wasn’t satisfied.
“Is that clear?” he barked, his voice echoing off the tile walls.
“Yes, sir,” came the muttered response from the group, though no one dared to meet his eyes.
Chilchuck nodded, his gaze still hard. “Good. Now, as I said, line up and give me your names as you leave. Sneak out, and I’ll know. I’ve got all night to submit this, gentlemen.”
The men began to shuffle toward the exit as they finished changing. Kabru hung back, his stomach churning as he tried to decide what to say when Chilchuck inevitably asked for his name. He knew Mithrun looked at his personal file– did he check it often? It’s not like much changed on it that he, as Kabru’s partner, wouldn’t know about. He had to not be actively checking it anymore, but if he was written up for something like this… it would be noticeable. Especially if he was called into the office to talk with HR whilst Mithrun was stuck at their desks, waiting. He’d know something was up if that happened.
Once only more panicked stragglers laid in wait, Kabru adjusted his bag and made his way to Chilchuck. It was done mostly because he could feel the man’s eyes burning into him from across the room, daring him to face the music. As he got up to the man, Chilchuck reached out his hand with his pen and grasped Kabru’s arm tightly.
“A word, Kabru.” Kabru froze, the lump in his throat making it hard to breathe. Of course, even if Mithrun and him weren’t partners for very long, there wasn’t much hiding here with the lacking staff. That, and Mithrun raised enough waves that he was hardly flying under the radar in the general departments. It’s likely why he was targeted at all despite Kabru feeling like he was an off choice. Whatever. As long as no one found out about Kabru’s own preferences— in which there’d likely be escalated harassment– it was just a clean sweep for Mithrun. An ‘unsavory’ idea of him with no backing. If he was hurt by their words, that was just plain old masculine insecurity: it wasn’t an actual hate crime. He nodded stiffly and stepped to the side as the other agents, realizing they were next, filtered out, their names jotted down one by one.
When the last of them was gone, Chilchuck turned to Kabru. “Mithrun’s told me about you.”
Well, fuck. That could mean anything—Mithrun wasn’t exactly shy about his opinions, and Kabru wasn’t always sure if Mithrun had ever gossiped with him, much less gave him more than a few harsh hatchets to the chest or passively said something tentatively nice. If Mithrun could be considered nice. Kabru doubted that.
“He says you’ve got good instincts,” Chilchuck continued. Kabru’s eyes widened as he finally looked down into the others glare. “A solid sense of justice: He thinks you care about doing the right thing and doing it right which is severely lacking in this department as you have just witnessed today.” Chilchuck drummed his fingernails on the clipboard. “But he also says you’re in over your head. That you’ve got the whole ‘woe is me’ shebang you hide.”
Of course Mithrun would say something like that. It wasn’t like anyone ever took the time to see things from his perspective given he’s already on a thin thread with the agency. How he was trying, how much he was holding up– he wants to do good. He wants to show he can do good, and that he can save people. He wants to show that Rin was the last one.
“You’re stuck in your own head, convinced everything’s stacked against you. That you’re always one step away from failing, or that someone’s going to pull the rug out from under you. And you know what? That’s probably true. But that’s no excuse to just... stand there.” Kabru bit the inside of his cheek. “Mithrun told me you’ve got potential, but potential doesn’t mean shit if you drown yourself in these ways. Do you think you’re the only one struggling? The only one who’s had it rough? Grow up, Kabru. You’re not special.”
Kabru swallowed hard, his throat dry. Of course, this would be his pep talk. Absolute bullshit because Chilchuck didn’t understand. It is different. He deviated, and now he’s on a different field. They don’t get it, Kabru thought with growing irritation. None of them know what it’s like to always feel like you’re one misstep away from losing everything. Kabru didn’t even know what he’d do if it all fell. After the operation, he worked solely to get back into headquarters. He didn’t have a backup plan. It was always here. He needed to be here. He needed to
Learn from his mistakes and rectify them.
If he couldn’t do at least that much, it is the same as saying everything he’s ever done has been a mistake from the very moment he walked into this building.
“This was your moment to rise above and prove that assessment to contain at least a lick of falsehoods,” Chilchuck said, his tone hardening again. “And you let it slip by. Mithrun sees something in you, and you’re lucky he does because if I was assigned to you, you’d be gone.”
Kabru nodded slowly, his jaw tight. What could he even say? I’m doing my best? It doesn’t fucking matter what someone says in a locker room? Kabru was starting to feel that. Hell, he’d have happily offered himself as a target to avoid this. He should have. He didn’t.
“I didn’t participate,” he muttered, though even as the words left his mouth, he knew how hollow they sounded.
Chilchuck scoffed, shaking his head. He let go of Kabru’s arm and clicked his pen closed. “Silence isn’t neutral, Kabru; it’s complicity, and a sign that you’ll just do whatever is needed to float by, even if you knew it was wrong. Could be because you and Mithrun hardly get by in each others company, but even if I hated someone, I wouldn’t have stood by idly. You lacked courage, lacked control over what you could do–”
I take ownership of my mistakes and work to rectify them.
I take ownership of my mistakes and work to rectify them.
I take ownership of my mistakes and work to rectify them.
“And even if Mithrun was wrong about your sense of justice,” Chilchuck droned. Kabru flinched, his face burning as shame crept in, "I’m not filing a report with your name on it. Not because you deserve a pass, but because I’m not willing to make Mithrun deal with the fallout of potentially have to defend with someone as spineless as you."
The words felt like a slap, but Kabru stayed silent, his throat too tight to speak. Chilchuck sighed as if the very sight of Kabru was exhausting. He gestured toward the door with his clipboard, but continued on. "I can’t imagine you’ll be around for long, Kabru. When you go, make it clean."
As Kabru brushed past and reached for the door, he heard a faint, offhanded call of: "And stay away from Laios. Not a suggestion."
As Kabru walked down the hall, his breath increased up to fragmented huffs. He stopped by a water station and swallowed two cupfuls before panic spiked at the thought of— Chilchuck changing his mind and already being at Mithrun’s desk when Kabru arrived. Fuck, Mithrun hardly cared about anything; would he even care if Kabru just ignored childish behavior? Would he agree that Kabru had other things to focus on than defending his honor that really didn’t need to be defended?
He felt sick, the guilt weighing heavy on him as he replayed the conversation in his head. He should have said something. He should have stood up for Mithrun. He knew that. He just didn’t do it. Why should he have? Solidarity, mostly, but Mithrun, despite saying relatively nice things to Chilchuck of all people, clearly disliked Kabru and might have had it out for him. Kabru figured as much the moment Mithrun dropped the key to the Cold Case Archive. Being caught with ungranted access to that area was grounds for an immediate termination to some, but Mithrun had yet to press forward. He might have found out Kabru didn’t carry the key on him, but had left it on the ground near the door beneath one of the stacked, empty file boxes outside the door. Did he know that? Is that why nothing has come of it?
As Kabru headed toward his desk, he couldn’t shake the image of Mithrun—stoic, reserved, and completely unaware of the vile things being said about him just a few rooms away. He was already at their desks when Kabru arrived– hair still wet. Kabru distantly remembered that Mithrun never changed with them. He didn’t have any clue where Mithrun washed his hair, and he never provided that information willingly. Hell, he was certain he never saw Mithrun use the men’s bathroom before either.
Kabru sat down at his desk, trying to shake off the lingering gnawing at his bones. He had to ask. He had to make a justification. Something he could say in defense. So, as casually as he could, he glanced over at Mithrun, who was already engrossed in some case files.
"So," Kabru started, "I was just wondering—why don’t I ever see you in the locker room?"
Mithrun didn’t look up from his papers, but his fingers stilled for just a second. A long, tense silence passed, and Kabru felt the weight of it growing heavier. “... You look for me in the locker room?”
Kabru froze for a moment, unsure how to answer the question. No, but some people might be searching for you in there; it’s better to continue your current arrangements. His face flushed. “I—uh, no. I mean, not really. I just noticed you never go in there. Just curious since your hair is… washed.”
Mithrun didn’t respond right away. Instead, he set his papers down slowly, finally looking up at Kabru. There was something different in the way Mithrun looked at him, like he was measuring the sincerity of his question. Like he knew something. Kabru’s hands tightened on his chair arms.
“I use the handicap bathroom,” Mithrun replied.
“The handicap bathroom?” he echoed, his brow furrowing in confusion. He was almost 90% certain that the handicap bathroom did not have a shower. “Why would you use that one?”
“I’m blind in my right eye,” he said.
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“It makes it easier for me to avoid bumping into things. I don’t need to be constantly navigating around people.”
Kabru blinked, absorbing the words, but something didn’t sit right with him. The logic didn’t add up from what he knew of Mithrun— which wasn’t all good things and daisies. He’d seen Mithrun pull into the parking lot every day—he knew the guy got around just fine with one eye, or at least wasn’t in any active court cases for hitting things on the road. That, and he was a seasoned agent. A half-blind agent being beaten by a locker room was… Kabru’s brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to piece it together.
"You’re blind in one eye, so you use the handicap bathroom?" He shook his head, incredulous. "That’s not what those bathrooms are for. I mean, you're not struggling to get around, right? You drive just fine."
"There’s no one here who actually needs that bathroom more than I do. It’s being put to use." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes never leaving Kabru’s. "It’s convenient for me."
Kabru blinked, caught off guard. He opened his mouth to argue but hesitated. There was something in Mithrun's voice, a quiet certainty, that made him pause. Kabru couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it. Mithrun didn’t need the extra space, not in the way people usually did. He’d seen him move around the building just fine, and he had never heard anyone mention that Mithrun was actually disabled in any other significant way. In fact, he was certain Mithrun would never have brought up his disability at all, and that Kabru would have taken longer to figure it out, if it hadn’t been for his car stalling that one day. Mithrun just didn’t appear to be struggling.
And avoiding a common area like that… Did Mithrun know? He had to know. He had to.
Or maybe Kabru was making excuses. Spineless. In over his head. Kabru pinched the fabric of his pants.
"That’s okay," Kabru muttered, but his words sounded uncertain, even to himself. "Just seemed a little strange, that’s all."
Mithrun gave him a small nod. "It's not strange. Drop it."
He let the conversation die there, but he didn’t see the end of his anxiety until weeks of checking his file and awaiting to be called into HR. Nothing happened, nor did things change, besides Laios frequenting his desk less often until he stopped coming all together.