Work Text:
Unscheduled Vacation
19th Site was starting another busy day.
Well, the Foundation was never exactly not busy. At least not since Iceberg had joined up. Lately, Gears and Iceberg had both been putting in an especially brutal amount of work. The pace had been relentless enough that a day off felt almost impossible to imagine. Gears sat at his desk, going through report after report until the stack of paper threatened to reach the ceiling. Iceberg, meanwhile, had been sent out on field duty with a group of D-Class. During that mission, he’d also had one of those near-death experiences that would make for a good story later, assuming he lived long enough to tell it. But this was the SCP Foundation. For the two of them, that was just another ordinary day at work.
Iceberg was only now making his way back to the Site after that whole ordeal. Of course, there would be no real rest, and he hadn’t exactly expected any. To put it simply, he still had work to do. While he’d been away, a D-Class who had survived an SCP-related experiment needed to be interviewed. He could have left that interview to someone else, but there was no one better suited for it. The Foundation was always short-staffed, and it was no different this time.
But the more important reason Iceberg himself had to handle the interview had nothing to do with the Site’s chronic manpower shortage.
It was Gears.
While Iceberg was putting away his personal items and writing up his field report, Gears had suggested that once he finished that last bit of work, he might as well head home early. That seemed reasonable enough. Of course I’ll do it. Leave it to me, he’d said with complete confidence. But that wasn’t the point.
Gears?
Only after Gears had turned away and gone back to his own office did the suggestion start to make Iceberg’s heart beat a little faster. He couldn’t tell whether that was because he was looking forward to the rare chance to rest, or because Gears had been the one to say it. Which, honestly, was the important part.
Accidents happened often, whether people let their guard down or not. Some jobs were simply more prone to them. This was the kind of unexpected accident Iceberg had just run into. A D-Class who had returned after exposure to an anomalous entity had apparently hidden a weapon inside his body. At this point, Iceberg had to wonder whether anyone had bothered to search him at all. You couldn’t expect perfection in the Foundation, but you could at least expect people to stay safe.
The D-Class who had struggled with Iceberg was subdued soon enough, and he would be dealt with. Iceberg wanted to ask what the field team had been doing until it got this bad. At the very least, the interviewer’s safety was supposed to be secured before the session began. Still, the Foundation was the kind of place where all sorts of things happened, so maybe this shouldn’t have been all that surprising.
He hadn’t expected him to have a weapon hidden inside his body.
Since the interview had taken place soon after the subject’s return from an SCP exposure incident, Iceberg assumed the man probably hadn’t done it with much thought. He hadn’t even heard the usual kind of grudge-filled rant about the Foundation. Besides, this D-Class had been meeting Iceberg for the first time.
It was a dagger. The blade had dulled a little, so it wasn’t especially sharp, but the D-Class had handled it so clumsily that the stab and tear had still damaged the surface blood vessels, and the bleeding was fairly heavy. Iceberg quickly stepped back and clutched the wound. He cursed and ordered the guards to restrain the D-Class by force. The injury was not as deep as it had first seemed, but the man clearly had no real skill with a blade, since the wound spread across a fairly wide area. Even if Iceberg was lower on the totem pole than some of the other doctors at the Foundation, it was still unthinkable for a D-Class to attack the person in charge of his interview. In any case, there would be consequences. The staff involved in the incident, including the D-Class himself, would be disciplined. Iceberg honestly didn’t care.
There was now a wound on Iceberg’s arm that he’d clearly be carrying around for a while.
Apart from the injury, the draft of his report was more or less wrapped up, so that was one problem off the table. All that remained was to report the incident. Iceberg thought about it that way as he headed for the one place he needed to go.
Gears’s office, with the nameplate that read Dr. Gears.
It was the office they shared for work. Gears, sitting at his desk, paused his work when Iceberg came in.
“Welcome back, Iceberg.”
Iceberg answered half-heartedly and walked over to him, holding out his arm with only a temporary bandage wrapped around it. The blood had soaked through the makeshift dressing, and the stain was easy to see. He could have stopped by Medical on the way over and had it changed, but Iceberg had another purpose.
Look at this. I’m bleeding over here and still working.
He didn’t say it out loud, but he could tell the message had gotten across. In response, Gears’s eyes moved slowly over Iceberg’s arm. There. Can I lower it now? Iceberg silently skipped ahead and started speaking.
“Dr. Gears, I’ve finished everything you asked me to handle. And something came up during the D-Class interview, so I’m a little late. It’s what you’re thinking. Just a minor cut, really. But this arm’s basically done for now, so can I clock out? And if possible, I’d like to use some leave until the day after tomorrow. Actually, make that through the day after tomorrow. I’ll tack the weekend on and get some rest.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll take care of your leave request. However, please wait a moment.”
Gears adjusted his glasses and rose from his chair. He was the same calm man he always was, completely unshaken in tone. On his desk sat a red rose, arranged as decoration. Iceberg had sent it over only half a day ago through the delivery service, and it was still blooming fresh and bright. Gears stood and began to examine Iceberg’s arm. This time his gaze was more careful, more deliberate, as if he were studying it like an observer. His gray eyes stayed fixed on the bandage, taking in the bloodstain in detail. It was strikingly similar to the color of the rose on the desk, and the way he looked at it seemed almost like a trace of emotion, or maybe not. It left Iceberg feeling vaguely strange.
...Okay, maybe it’s a little weird to feel embarrassed just because someone is looking me over that carefully. It’s not like I’m naked or anything. Can I even be embarrassed about this? He’s just checking how bad the injury is, right? He’s worried about me?
Before Iceberg could sink too far into that line of thought, Gears spoke in his usual slow, measured voice.
“Are you in pain?”
“Well, I’m hurt pretty badly, so I can’t exactly say it doesn’t hurt. I mean, I feel kind of like sh—”
“Julian.”
Gears had said his name.
Julian was his real name, not the one he used as an employee. Gears tended to switch between Iceberg, his subordinate, and Julian, his lover, whenever the situation called for it. Iceberg guessed—though he’d never asked—that Gears thought using a real name was somehow something special between lovers. Once they’d started dating, that had become one of Gears’s habits. Iceberg was going to have to ask about that someday. When Gears called him Julian, Iceberg called him Charles in return. It had started after they got together. In that sense, names mattered quite a lot.
...The fact that Gears had just said Julian out loud sent Iceberg’s heart into a brief, stupid little drop. Was he being called as a lover right now? By that Gears? And in a place that wasn’t a bed?
“Please take care of your body.”
That said, for such a dramatic choice of name, the actual advice was still very much in the tone of a workplace superior. The way he was looking at the wound, the way he’d used Iceberg’s real name, and the way he’d given such a plain, almost impersonal warning... Even Iceberg knew it was a little too early to be getting this flustered. Right. Stay calm.
Damn it. What a cruel thing to do. Getting flustered over this.
“I understand, Charles. I’ll be extra careful during interviews too.”
“One more thing. When you ask for leave and leave early like this, I am to understand that you are asking to see me after work tonight. I am interpreting your decision to come here with an untreated wound as a sign that you require a lover’s attention.”
No, that was completely wrong.
Sure, he had been planning to act a little spoiled, but still. He hadn’t been thinking anything like that, Gears... He’d only come here to get off work early and request leave because he’d been injured. But then again, Dr. Gears... Had I said something misleading? Why would you interpret it like that? You weren’t like this before, were you? At least, not before we started dating. Although, thinking about it now, as a lover, it’s kind of adorable. It’s nice, even. Is it really okay for me to question this?
“If you want, Julian, you can stay with me for your entire leave. Including the weekend, that makes five days. I will take two days off as well. During that time, consider it a vacation. The duration is up to you. I was thinking two or three days, but you may choose as you like. You and I both need a chance to recover.”
“...Huh? Yes. If we’re going, we might as well go for the full five days. That’s honestly amazing, and of course I’m not going to refuse, but... so, we’re going on vacation together, Doctor? Great. I’ll pack right away.”
“Very good,” Gears said briefly.
But that obviously was not enough to satisfy Iceberg’s curiosity.
“Hey, Charles, can I ask one thing? Um... what’s the occasion?”
“Today is the day you injured your arm.”
“Not that. I mean, can’t you tell me what you’re actually thinking?”
“Wanting to be near one’s lover is generally something lovers desire. In that sense, you and I are fortunate. We work together. However, in the workplace, those desires are often constrained. More importantly, you are injured. I imagine other lovers would also want to be near a wounded partner.”
Even while he said that, not a single muscle in his face moved. Gears was a man who was more emotionless than anyone else, almost machine-like. Iceberg knew by now that such a man could say words like lover and desire without the slightest difficulty. It was just that nothing in his tone ever sounded emotional.
But that wasn’t really a problem.
He didn’t show much, but he still did everything he needed to do.
Iceberg, now used to how little Charles showed his feelings, had long since decided that he would be the one to react more intensely. Besides, it was kind of fun to catch those tiny changes in Gears’s expression.
“Having a chance to spend more than twenty-four hours with your lover outside of work isn’t exactly common for a company couple, you know.”
“How touching,” Iceberg said. “Really brings tears to my eyes, Charles.”
“Since this leave was arranged in such a hurry because of your injury, we will not be going anywhere. Given the condition of your arm, there is little we can do beyond rest.”
“There is. There really is.”
Iceberg grinned and held out his injured arm again. Left arm. Not the right—left, the one that had taken the dagger because he’d blocked it with that side. Luckily, since it was the left arm that had been hurt, that meant his right arm was still free for anything.
“The right one’s fine. As you can see.”
“That is fortunate.”
“So that means we can do all the things lovers do. Hugging. Kissing. And, you know, in bed too.”
“That is also fortunate.”
When Gears answered in that utterly flat voice, Iceberg pouted and shot back at him.
“Come on, shouldn’t you at least sound happy about it? You’re going to be like this for all five days we spend together?”
“Five days, then. I will make an effort.”
Iceberg knew better than anyone that Gears trying to make an effort still wouldn’t produce anything that sounded like joy. But that was fine.
As always, the love between them came down to reading the other person’s way of expressing it.
When Iceberg pulled Gears into an embrace with his right arm, Gears didn’t push him away. When Iceberg hugged him from behind, Gears would turn his head slightly and meet him with a brief kiss. Letting Iceberg use his home, and his bed, as a place to share affection—those were all Gears’s ways of saying he cared.
“Still, I’m glad. I mean, the injury should heal eventually, and I’m really happy I get to stay at your place, Charles.”
“Is that so. That is only natural for lovers.”
“It also kind of means we’re practically living together, doesn’t it? If we get along well enough, maybe we could make it permanent someday.”
“I will consider the possibility.”
Sharing a bed with a man who was seven degrees below zero was, honestly, a little unbelievable. Gears might not be thinking about living together yet, but still. Iceberg felt good. It made him feel like this was what being in a real relationship was supposed to be. His left arm still throbbed with pain, but he was genuinely happy.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Oh, come on, Charles. Don’t ask things like that—just do it. You can do it when the mood is right.”
“...Yes.”
Gears looked up at Iceberg and gave him a short kiss.
It was a very brief kiss, but it carried everything it needed to carry.
And with that, Iceberg found himself quietly looking forward to the even longer kisses—and all the affection—that Gears would be giving him for the next five days at his home.
Could he really handle his young lover?
Well, there was no reason he couldn’t.
If that was what Iceberg imagined an ideal lover to be, then Gears was willing to prepare himself, act, and accept it.
From the day they became lovers.