Chapter Text
The corridor outside Command hums with that early-morning, half-alive energy as Kyle is heading for Price’s office, with one hand hooked in his pocket, the other lifting his mug for a sip he immediately regrets, as he burns his mouth. Again.
“Every day,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head as he rounds the corner—
—and promptly collides with someone solid enough to knock the breath clean out of his chest.
“Woah—shit—sorry, sorry—”
Folders scatter like startled birds. A clipboard skids across the floor. A pen rolls toward the wall. Kyle reacts on instinct, reaching out and steadying the person he bumped into, and drops to a crouch to help pick up the mess. “That’s on me. Completely on me. You alright?”
He looks up.
Oh.
Oh, hell.
You’re kneeling too, frozen mid-reach, fingers hovering over a stack of papers like you’ve forgotten how to take them. New face, civilian clothes; nice, formfitting ones. A lanyard that still looks stiff and untouched. Hair slightly mussed like you’d wrestled it into place this morning and lost by a narrow margin. Eyes wide, staring at him with your mouth slightly opened in surprise.
Totally his type.
“No, yeah—yeah, I’m fine,” you say quickly, then wince. “I mean. Yes. I’m fine. I’m so sorry, I should’ve been watching where I was going.”
Kyle snorts softly and shakes his head. “Nah. That one’s on me. I walk like I own the place before 0900. Bad habit.”
That gets a small smile out of you. Victory.
He gathers the folders, neat and careful, reading the tabs without meaning to: Intake, Personnel, Scheduling. Administrative. You must be the new secretary he had been told about.
“Well,” he hands them back, deliberately not rushing, “if this is your first day, welcome to the glamorous world of controlled chaos.”
Your eyebrows lift. “Is it that obvious?”
“Brand-new lanyard,” he says, nodding to it. “Also you still look hopeful. We’ll fix that by Friday.”
You laughs, actually laughs, not the polite little puff of air people give him when they’re nervous around the uniform. It warms something in his chest immediately.
“I’m—uh—I’m supposed to be heading to the admin wing,” you explain, gesturing vaguely down the hall. “But I think I might already be lost.”
Kyle straightens, adjusts his grip on his mug. “You’re in luck. I’m an expert at getting lost and finding things. Which desk you assigned to?”
You tell him and he nods. “Yeah, alright,” he says easily. “You’re coming with me. That way’s a maze and it smells weird.”
“Smells weird?”
“Like regret and instant noodles.” He nods solemnly. “You don’t want that before lunch.”
You huff another laugh and let him take half the weight of the box you’re carrying without argument. Smart; he likes that.
You walk side by side, pace naturally matching, as Kyle points things out as you pass them like he’s giving a tour which only you could be bothered to attend.
“Okay. Important survival info,” he says, dropping his voice like he is passing out classified intel. “Water fountains. The one by the gym? Safe. Cold. Reliable. The one near Briefing Room B?” He grimaces. “Do not trust it. It’s either lukewarm or possessed.”
Your nose wrinkles with amusement. “Noted. Haunted water fountain.”
“Exactly. Now: cookies.” He points down another corridor. “Vending machine by comms, bottom row. Chocolate chip on Wednesdays. If they’re gone, someone named Soap got there first and you’re too late.”
“Soap?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Kyle chuckles. “Just know it’s already over.”
You laugh again, shaking your head. “This place is… a lot.”
“You get used to it.” He glanced at you from the side. “Mostly.”
In no time, you reach the admin area, quieter here, sunlight slanting through the high windows. Your desk is neat, untouched, chair still tucked in.
Kyle sets the box down gently. “Home sweet home.”
You exhale, relief softening your shoulders. “Thank you. Seriously. I would’ve ended up in the armory or something.”
“That would’ve been a very different first day,” he agrees. “Also, last tip. People to avoid before they’ve had coffee.”
You lean your hip against the desk, intrigued. “This sounds important.”
“It is,” Kyle says gravely. “Lieutenant with the moustache? Give him thirty minutes minimum. Anyone with a headset on and one eye twitching? Back away slowly. And—” He taps his own mug. “If you see me before I’ve finished this, assume I’m running on spite and vibes only.”
Another smile. Either you’re just a generally happy person, or he is on fire with his charms today. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Kyle pauses for a moment and watches as you begin to slowly unpack your stuff. Only after almost a minute, he clears his throat, suddenly aware he’s standing there longer than strictly necessary. “Anyway. If you need anything: directions, recommendations, cookie intel...”
He pulls a pen from his pocket, grabs a sticky note from your desk like he’s done it a hundred times before, and scribbles quickly.
“...you can text me.” He slides the note toward you, with a small grin.
“You’re very… thorough in your welcoming duties,” you tease as you accept the note, fingers brushing over the little numbers.
Kyle grins, unapologetic. “I take morale very seriously.”
“I might take you up on that,” you give in. “For… cookie intel.”
“Anytime.” He swallows and looks you up and down again. “Welcome aboard.” He turns to leave, then pauses at the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. “Oh, and hey?”
“Yes?”
“If anyone gives you trouble,” he says lightly, “you tell ’em Gaz sent you.”
Your smile widens. “I will.”
Kyle walks away with a stupid grin on his face, coffee forgotten, already planning his next excuse to pass through admin.
Totally his type.