Work Text:
“Tech, hypothetically speaking, what would you do if I asked for your permission to put a collar on you?”
Rev had rehearsed the question three times on his way to the lab. The first attempt had sounded too casual, the second too suspicious, and the third had been interrupted by his own laughter. He'd eventually settled on hypothetically speaking, which he considered a stroke of genius right up until Tech turned away from his monitor.
“I would ask why you're presenting me with a hypothetical question when you're already holding one.”
Rev looked down at the collar in his hands.
It was a perfectly reasonable question, technically speaking. Unfortunately, Tech had a habit of making perfectly 'reasonable questions' (at least by Rev’s standards) feel like personal attacks. The pink collar sat innocently between Rev's fingers, its silver buckle catching the laboratory lights. He'd spent far longer choosing it than he cared to admit, and now he was beginning to suspect that all that careful consideration had been wasted on a man who could dismantle a joke before it had even finished being told.
“You know what? I hate that you do that.”
Tech returned his attention to the diagnostic report on his monitor, the movement was so unhurried it almost felt deliberate.. “Do what?”
“Making things impossible to have a normal conversation with you.”
“Your opening question in the middle of the night involved putting a collar on me." The corner of Tech’s mouth curled upward, just enough to suggest that he was enjoying this far more than he intended to admit. "I would argue that this conversation was already abnormal by everyone's standards.”
He swiveled his chair around to face Rev fully, settling back against it with his hands folded neatly in his lap. There was something infuriating about the ease with which he composed himself, as though Rev had wandered into the lab to deliver a particularly uninteresting weather report rather than ambush him with a pink collar.
"Also, which part, specifically? My ability to observe things directly in front of me, or my refusal to participate in your increasingly transparent attempts at subtlety?"
"You're doing it again!"
"Doing what?"
"That!" Rev waved the collar at him. "The talking! The words! The— the you-ness of it all!"
Tech tilted his head a fraction. One ear twitched, and his expression settled into an approximation of sympathetic concern so unconvincing that it only made Rev want to throw something at him more. "What an unfortunate condition. I've consulted several specialists, but none have found a cure. Such a shame, truly.."
Rev pressed a hand to his chest, looking thoroughly wounded. “Wow. And here I thought you were going to appreciate my honesty.”
“Your honesty is not the issue.” Tech said without missing a beat. He even had the audacity to look faintly puzzled by Rev’s reaction, as though the distinction were perfectly obvious and Rev were simply being difficult for the sake of it. Which, to be fair, he was—but that was beside the point.
“Then what is?”
“The fact that you're distracting me from my work.”
Rev’s tail feathers lifted slightly, betraying his interest before he could even think to disguise it. “Ohhh.. So I'm distracting you?”
Tech’s fingers, which had already begun drifting back toward his keyboard, stopped halfway there. For one brief moment, his gaze lingered on Rev’s face, as if he were reconsidering whether answering at all would be worth the trouble. “I said no such thing, all right? When I said you're distracting me, I don't mean anything like what you're thinking.”
The speed of the clarification was, in Rev’s humble opinion, extremely suspicious.
“That's exactly what you said.” Rev sauntered closer, swinging the pink collar around one finger. The little silver tag attached to it jingled with each turn. “And here I thought you liked having me around.”
“I tolerate having you in my lab. I also consider you my lab partner. Not to mention, this is the same lab you practically begged me to let you use for your inventions.” Tech turned back to his monitor, apparently considering the matter sufficiently clarified. His hand resumed its place on the keyboard, and the steady tapping of keys filled the brief silence between them.
“Aw.. You tolerate me.” Rev leaned over Tech's shoulder, peering at the monitor with exaggerated interest. “That's practically a love confession coming from someone like you.”
Tech’s typing slowed down. He turned his head just enough to give him a withering look. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“Not when I'm having fun with you even though it's one in the morning.”
“Clearly.” The word came out dry enough to make Rev snicker.
He straightened and placed the collar on the desk beside Tech’s keyboard. The silver buckle clicked softly against the tabletop, followed by the delicate jingle of its tag. For a moment, Rev simply watched it sit there between them, absurdly pink against the clutter of wires, tools, and neatly organized components.
It looked almost out of place in Tech’s laboratory. Then again, so did Rev. He tapped the buckle thoughtfully, his grin growing more mischievous by the second.
“So, hypothetically speaking,” he continued, drawing out every syllable, “if I were to ask you again, would you give me a proper answer this time?”
Tech’s fingers hovered above the keyboard. His gaze dropped to the collar. He examined it for a moment, his expression unreadable, before lifting his eyes to Rev’s face. The pause was brief, but Rev seized upon it with the enthusiasm of someone who had just discovered a winning lottery ticket lying on the floor.
Tech, meanwhile, seemed to have reached a conclusion.
“No.”
Rev blinked and burst out laughing.
“OH, YOU'RE TERRIBLE AT THIS!”
“At what?”
“Playing along!” Rev slapped a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to contain his laughter. “You could at least pretend to consider it! You know, for my sake?”
“I did consider it. My answer was no.”
“How heartless.”
“Practical.”
“Cruel.”
“Accurate.”
Each answer came faster than the last, Tech meeting every accusation with the same infuriating composure. By the end of it, his mouth had settled into that familiar, faintly smug line, and Rev was beginning to suspect that the entire exchange had been less of an inconvenience to Tech than he’d originally assumed.
Which was, of course, unacceptable.
Rev leaned against the desk, watching Tech return to his monitor with the apparent satisfaction of someone who believed the matter had been settled. He nudged the collar a little farther from his keyboard to clear some space, then resumed his work as though nothing particularly noteworthy had happened.
Rev grinned, his gaze drifting toward the collar before returning to Tech’s face. He lingered for a moment, clearly contemplating his next move.
Without looking away from the screen, Tech sighed. “Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is still no.”
Rev made a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and an offended gasp. “I DIDN’T EVEN SAY ANYTHING?!”
And just like that, Rev was laughing all over again. He leaned against the desk, shoulders shaking with barely restrained laughter. Tech remained focused on his work, apparently convinced that Rev would let the matter go. That was his first mistake. His second mistake was underestimating Rev's determination to keep it going.
“Fine,” Rev announced, suddenly straightening. “New proposal.”
Tech sighed without looking away from the screen. “I am already regretting this.”
“You haven't even heard it!”
“I have a remarkable ability to predict disasters.”
“Then predict this.”
Rev stepped away from the desk, lifting the collar between them. The playful grin remained on his face, but something in his posture changed. He stopped swinging the little accessory around his finger and instead held it out properly, allowing Tech to see it without the distraction of his usual theatrics.
“You don't have to wear this degrading bullshit," he began. "I just thought it might be fun to try something different. We could switch roles, you know? You spend so much time telling everyone what to do. I figured you might enjoy letting somebody else take charge at least for once, starting from me.”
Tech finally stopped typing.
The sudden silence seemed louder than the steady hum of the laboratory equipment. His hands rested on either side of the keyboard, motionless, while his gaze shifted from Rev's face to the collar between them.
For once, Rev didn't immediately fill the pause.
He watched Tech carefully, his teasing smile softening at the edges. He was still enjoying himself, certainly—his tail feathers gave an occasional, restless flick behind him—but he wasn't interested in making Tech uncomfortable just to get a reaction. There was a difference between getting his friend to indulge a ridiculous idea and pushing him into something he didn't want.
Tech appeared to recognize that distinction.
“And if I don't enjoy it?” He asked.
“Then we stop.” Rev shrugged. “Suit yourself! No big deal. Of course I'm not going to force you into anything, Tech.”
Tech's eyes lingered on him for another moment. Then they dropped to the collar again.
It was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. He was a highly capable inventor, a trained field operative, and a member of a superhero team. He had faced down supervillains without blinking. And yet, somehow, a pink collar was proving to be a surprisingly complicated problem.
“...For how long?” he asked at last.
Rev's eyebrows shot upright in pure disbelief. For a brief, glorious moment, he seemed to have forgotten every word in his vocabulary. His mouth opened, closed, and opened again. He glanced at the collar as though it had somehow acquired the power to grant wishes, then snapped his attention back to Tech.
“Wait.. Are you actually considering putting it on?”
“I'm considering the parameters of your proposal.”
“Oh, my gosh.” Rev clutched the collar to his chest, his eyes sparkling. “You are!”
“I said considering, not agreeing.”
“Right, right. Of course.” Rev nodded solemnly, his expression radiating an insincerity so profound it ought to have been studied in a laboratory of its own. “We must respect the parameters.”
“Stop smiling like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you've just discovered a new way to annoy me.”
“Oh, Tech, buddy.” Rev leaned forward, bracing one hand against the desk. “I discover new ways to annoy you every day. It's how I maintain my free rent of headache space inside your mundane brain.”
“That is precisely the problem.”
"Yet you’ve never tried to put a stop to my advances." Rev laughed again, then gently placed the collar in Tech's open palm. "So, I'll always take that as an 'It's ok, I'm into it' thought. But it's your choice, genius."
Tech held out his hand.
The gesture was so unexpected that Rev's mouth snapped shut. He looked at Tech's open palm, then at his face, searching for some hint that this was a joke or another elaborate setup for a sarcastic remark.
Tech merely raised an eyebrow.
“Fine..” he prompted. “Are you planning to stand there all night with that collar?”
Rev's expression brightened immediately. He placed the collar in Tech's hand with an almost ceremonial degree of care, his fingers brushing the edge of Tech's palm before withdrawing.
“There you go.”
“Thank you. I believe I can manage the transfer of a small object without assistance.”
“Just making sure you appreciate the moment.”
“I assure you, the moment is being thoroughly documented in my memory as an example of your questionable decision-making.”
“Aw. You're making memories already.”
Tech ignored him.
He turned the collar over between his fingers, examining the stitching with the same intense concentration he might have given a newly fabricated component. The pink fabric was soft, with a smooth lining and a simple silver buckle. He ran his thumb along the seam, checked the fastening mechanism, and gave the tag a slight tug to test its attachment.
Rev watched him rock back and forth on his heels, his hands clasped behind his back.
“So...?” he prompted.
“I'm inspecting it.”
“Of course you are.”
“The stitching is adequate.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“The buckle is functional.”
“Fantastic. Very important for fastening it around someone's neck, which I would be doing, if only someone actually wanted to—”
“The color is...” Tech interrupted him with the deliberate patience of someone attempting to redirect a conversation before it could descend into complete absurdity.
“Pink,” Rev supplied helpfully.
Tech shot him a look.
Rev grinned. “Sorry. Please, continue your very serious scientific evaluation of the puppy collar.”
Tech's ears angled backward. “Would you like to get smacked across that thin neck of yours or kicked in the ass?”
“Nope!” Rev replied instantly, rocking back on his heels. “I'm good! Thank you for your concern!”
“I wasn't expressing concern.”
“Could've fooled me.”
Tech's fingers tightened around the collar just enough to crease the soft fabric. He took a measured breath, apparently deciding that throwing Rev out of the laboratory would create more paperwork than it was worth.
“Then be quiet and stop with the annoying, immature comeback lines.”
Rev pressed his lips together and mimed locking them shut. He even turned an imaginary key and tossed it over his shoulder, accompanying the performance with a solemn nod.
For approximately two seconds, he managed to keep quiet until he whispered, “Good boy.”
“REV!” Tech's head snapped up so quickly that Rev nearly stumbled backward. His ears stood straight, and the look he received was sharp enough to make a lesser individual reconsider every decision that had led him to this moment.
Rev, unfortunately, was not a lesser individual.
“What?!” he protested, throwing up both hands. “You told me to be quiet! I was whispering!”
He dissolved into laughter, nearly doubling over as he clutched the edge of the desk. His tail feathers fanned out behind him, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut just to get enough air to continue laughing.
Tech stared at him in open disbelief.
“That is not—” Tech stopped, drew a slow breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are enjoying this far too much..”
“I'm enjoying it the appropriate amount.”
“There is no appropriate amount.”
“Agree to disagree.”
Tech lowered his hand and regarded Rev for several seconds. Rev was still grinning, although he had at least managed to stop laughing long enough to stand upright again. He looked altogether too pleased with himself, as though Tech's exasperation were a personal achievement worthy of a medal.
Perhaps it was.
Tech looked down at the collar.
Then at Rev's expectant face.
He could still refuse. He probably should refuse. There were at least twenty logical reasons to refuse, and he could have listed every single one of them in a concise, well-organized report.
Instead, Tech placed the collar on the desk, folded his arms, and said, “If we're doing this, we must establish rules first.”
Rev's laughter faded into an enormous, delighted smile. “Ohhh- absolutely..”
The eagerness in his voice was so immediate that Tech's eyes narrowed.
“Don't sound so surprised. I am capable of negotiating an agreement.”
“I'm not surprised!” Rev insisted, pulling himself upright. “I'm just appreciating your sudden commitment to the scientific method.”
“This has nothing to do with science.” Tech stared at him unamused.
“Everything is science if you think about it hard enough.”
“No embarrassing me in front of the others.”
“Deal.”
“Rule one. No embarrassing me in front of the others.”
“Deal.”
The answer came so quickly that Tech paused.
He'd been prepared to elaborate, perhaps to explain that he had no intention of becoming the subject of a team-wide spectacle. Instead, Rev simply nodded, his expression earnest beneath the lingering mischief.
Tech inclined his head and continued.
“Rule two. No recording devices.”
“Obviously.” Rev scoffed. “What would I become if they saw it? A blackmail artist? Please. I have standards.”
“You have a remarkably flexible definition of standards.”
“That's what makes them interesting.”
Tech ignored the comment.
"Rule 3. You do not get to invent arbitrary commands simply because you find my reactions amusing.”
Rev hesitated. For the first time since this entire conversation had begun, he appeared to be giving a rule genuine consideration. His gaze drifted toward the ceiling as he mentally reviewed the many possibilities that had already occurred to him, some of which he had been planning to improvise on the spot.
Tech noticed the hesitation and narrowed his eyes. “Rev.”
“Okay, okay! Deal.”
“Your hesitation was noted.”
“My hesitation was a tragic misunderstanding.”
“Of course.”
Tech unfolded his arms and placed both hands on the desk, leaning forward slightly. The change in posture was subtle, but it brought his face closer to Rev's and lent his next words a seriousness that cut through the remaining jokes.
“Lastly, if either of us wants to stop, we stop immediately.”
Rev's expression softened. “Promise.”
There was no punchline this time. No exaggerated salute, no playful jab at Tech's expense. He met Tech's gaze and gave a small, decisive nod.
Something in Tech's posture eased. “Good.”
For a moment, the teasing faded, leaving only the quiet hum of the laboratory. The monitor casting pale light across Tech's face and the scattered equipment on the desk. Rev's fingers toyed with the edge of the collar, but he didn't pick it up again until Tech's attention returned to him.
Then Tech made another stupid mistake of asking the obvious question.
“Now, what exactly did you have in mind?”
Rev went very still. The corners of his mouth began to curl upward, and the expression that spread across his face was so unbearably smug that Tech regretted the question before Rev had even answered.
“Oh, I've thought about one or two, Tech..”
“No.”
“You haven't even heard—”
“I recognize that expression of yours.”
“Good!” Rev stepped closer, apparently taking this as an encouraging sign rather than a warning. “Then you know I'm about to make this very educational.”
“Your definition of educational is not exactly reassuring, I should've done some preparations to prevent less loss.”
“Hey, you agreed to hear my proposal!”
“I agreed to establish rules. I have yet to agree to whatever is happening inside that head of yours.”
Rev picked up the collar and held it between them, pinching the strap near the silver buckle. He tilted his head, studying Tech with exaggerated consideration, as though he were evaluating a particularly promising candidate for a highly specialized position.
His tail flicked behind him.
Once.
Twice.
Tech's eyes followed the movement before returning to Rev's face. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“I'm trying to decide where to start.”
“You could start by reconsidering the entire proposal.”
“Too late. I've already made a list mentally.”
“Of course you have.”
“It's a very good list, too.”
“I'm sure it is.”
Rev's grin widened. He raised the collar slightly, allowing the silver tag to catch the light between them.
“So, Tech...” His voice dipped into a conspiratorial hush, and he leaned forward just enough to make his intentions unmistakable. “First things first. Would you prefer to put it on yourself, or would you like me to help?”
Tech looked at the collar before returning to Rev, with the exhausted patience of a man who had just realized that agreeing to one question had somehow opened the door to an entire interview, he muttered, “On second thought.. I should have stayed in bed.”
Rev burst out laughing. “Aw, don't worry, buddy. I'll make this worth your while."
He gave the collar a little shake, the silver buckle catching the light. Honestly, he'd expected Tech to keep arguing, maybe throw in another overly elaborate explanation of why this whole idea was ridiculous. This sudden change of heart was so unexpected that Rev couldn't tell whether Tech was actually entertaining the idea or simply humoring him to get the whole thing over with.
“You may put it on me,” Tech said at last. “I assume that is what you have been waiting to hear all evening.”
Rev blinked, momentarily thrown off by how readily he'd agreed. “Wait. Seriously? Actually?! Are you positive? Like, you're really letting me put it on you?”
“I have already agreed to let you try the collar, have I not? There's little point in making you ask the same question five different ways.” Tech held his gaze. “Go ahead, Rev.”
Rev's grin returned in full force. “Well, aren't you full of surprises?”
“Don't make me regret this.”
“Wouldn't dream of it.” Rev stepped closer, the collar resting carefully in his hands. “Now, if you're going to let me take charge, you have to stop acting like you're in charge.”
“I am perfectly capable of following instructions.”
“Uh-huh, you're considered a dog after all.”
“For the last time— I am NOT A DOG!" Tech's ears flattened against his head. "I'm a COYOTE! There's a big difference!”
“Then let’s test that theory of mine! What if coyotes are capable of enjoying praise and attention just like other canines?”
Rev gestured toward the chair beside the workbench with an extravagant sweep of his arm, as though presenting Tech with a throne rather than an ordinary, slightly battered laboratory chair.
“Now take a seat.”
Tech stared at him.
Rev stared back, his smile growing wider with every passing second.
He even had the audacity to fold his arms across his chest, rocking forward on the balls of his feet as he waited. There was an almost unbearable amount of anticipation in his expression, like he was waiting for a particularly entertaining experiment to produce its first result.
“...You're serious.”
“Completely.”
“You want me to sit in a chair.”
“That's generally what chairs are for, yes.”
Tech muttered something about the catastrophic decline of scientific discourse.
Nevertheless, he pushed himself away from the desk, caught the back of the chair, and pulled it out with a short scrape against the laboratory floor. Tech turned and lowered himself into the seat, adjusting his position until he was comfortable before crossing one leg over the other.
“There,” he said, settling back with an air of deliberate indifference. “Satisfied?”
Rev's eyebrows climbed. “Oh, wow. You actually listened.”
“You asked me to sit.”
“Yeah, but I thought I'd have to negotiate.”
“Do you want me to stand up again?” Tech leaned back farther, resting one arm against the chair's armrest. His other hand settled neatly in his lap, and his expression acquired that infuriatingly composed quality that usually meant he was preparing to dismantle Rev's confidence one sentence at a time.
“No!” Rev caught himself, then cleared his throat and attempted to look dignified. “I mean, no. That would defeat the purpose.”
“Anything else, Your Highness?”
“Don't patronize me, Professor.” Rev pointed at him, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Then stop providing such convenient opportunities.”
Rev's jaw dropped. “OH, YOU'RE GOING TO REGRET GIVING ME THAT MUCH POWER.”
“I already regret it from the start of our six-minute conversations."
“Too late!” Rev approached the chair, the collar dangling from his fingers. For all his teasing, he paused in front of Tech and met his eyes. “Still okay?”
Tech looked at him for a moment. Then, with a small, resigned nod, he said, “Yep. All good.”
“Good.” Rev's voice softened.
He stepped behind the chair, moving slowly enough that Tech could follow his movements without having to turn around. The change in position made Tech's ears swivel instinctively toward him, tracking the quiet rustle of Rev's movements behind his shoulders.
“Your goggles are going to get in the way. Honestly, you should get a new pair; you look very silly in them,” Rev observed.
“I am aware of that.”
“Just making sure.”
“Your concern for my equipment is touching.”
“Your gratitude is overwhelming.”
Rev reached forward, then paused just short of Tech's goggles. “Mind if I move these?”
Tech lifted his chin slightly to make it easier. “Go ahead.”
With careful fingers, Rev nudged the goggles up and away from the base of Tech's neck, making sure they rested securely before bringing the collar around from behind. The teasing grin on his face had faded into a concentrated little frown, his attention focused on the task.
Tech, for his part, sat remarkably still.
The soft material brushed against the fur at the base of his neck.
His shoulders stiffened.
It was an absurd response. He knew it was absurd. The collar wasn't heavy, and Rev's movements were careful. There was nothing threatening about a strip of pink fabric and a little silver buckle.
Nevertheless, Tech suddenly found himself acutely aware of every movement behind him.
The faint whisper of fabric. Rev's fingers adjusting the strap. The little metal tag tapping softly against the collar as he brought the ends together.
Tech's hands curled against the chair's armrests.
He told himself it was merely the unfamiliarity of the situation. He was accustomed to handling equipment, to being the one who measured, adjusted, and controlled every variable. Sitting still while someone else fussed over him was simply... different.
That was all.
The buckle clicked.
“There,” Rev said.
Tech swallowed and immediately lifted his chin.
Not much. Just enough to make the silver tag swing.
Rev noticed.
Of course he noticed.
But for once, he resisted the urge to comment on it immediately.
“Is it too tight?” Rev asked, his teasing temporarily set aside.
“No. It's fine.”
“Comfortable?”
“Ye—” Tech stopped, cleared his throat, and adjusted the collar as though the slight movement might somehow restore his dignity. “I guess.”
Rev's eyebrows rose. “You guess?”
“It's a collar, Rev. Not an ergonomic laboratory chair.”
“Hey, I'm just checking! You're the one who insisted on trying this out.”
“I insisted with sensible rules.”
“And I'm being sensible.” Rev lifted both hands in surrender, though the grin tugging at his beak made the gesture less convincing. “Can you get it off easily?”
Tech tested the buckle again, familiarizing himself with the fastening mechanism. It released without difficulty, and he let the strap settle back into place.
“Yes.”
“Perfect.”
Rev straightened, looking genuinely satisfied. Then his gaze wandered back to Tech's face.
More specifically, to the pink collar around his neck.
Rev's eyes widened as his beak parted. Both hands rose slowly toward his mouth.
Tech narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Rev, I swear to god.”
“Nothing! It's just—” Rev's shoulders shook. “Oh, my gosh, Tech. You actually look—”
“Finish that sentence and I will dismantle every device you own.”
“—really cute.”
Tech's face went hot.
He stared at Rev with an expression of such profound betrayal that Rev nearly fell against the desk laughing.
“CUTE?” Tech repeated.
“Very cute.”
“I am not cute.”
“You're wearing a pink collar with a little silver tag.”
“Well, duhh!! The color was your choice!”
“And you agreed to wear it.”
“Under controlled conditions!”
Rev leaned forward, bracing his hands on the arms of Tech's chair. His eyes gleamed with mischief. “Then I guess we'll have to maintain those conditions, won't we?”
Tech opened his mouth and closed it. His ears twitched sharply backward.
Rev's grin became positively wicked.
“Oh, this is going to be so much fun.”
“I'm changing the rules.”
“Nope! You already agreed.”
“I can revise an agreement.”
“Not without consulting the other party, Professor.”
Tech looked away, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a complaint about legal technicalities and the intellectual shortcomings of his lab partner.
Rev tilted his head, watching him.
There it was again—that little shift in Tech's composure. The way his fingers had moved to the collar as soon as Rev called him cute, only to retreat when he realized what he was doing. The way he kept lifting his chin, as though posture alone could somehow compensate for the fact that he was sitting in a chair wearing a pink accessory he'd previously described as ridiculous.
Rev was going to remember this for the rest of his life.
Possibly longer.
He straightened and gave the collar a light, affectionate tap with one finger.
“Now, let's see how well you follow instructions.”
“Within reason.” Tech rolled his eyes.
“Of course. Within reason.” Rev stepped back and folded his hands behind his back, doing a remarkably convincing impression of someone trying to look authoritative. “All right, Tech. First instruction: Look at me.”
Tech's eyes were already on him.
Rev glanced at his eyes, then at the rest of his face. “Properly.”
“I am looking at you properly.”
“Uh-uh. No glaring.”
“I'm not glaring..”
“Your eyebrows are doing that thing.”
“My eyebrows DO NOT do things.”
Rev giggled. “Oh, they absolutely do.”
Tech sighed hard before he made a conscious effort to relax his expression.
Rev's smile softened into something genuinely fond; his tail feathers gave an enthusiastic flick. “That's better.”
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
The laboratory hummed quietly around them, filling the silence with the low whir of cooling fans and the occasional electronic beep from Tech's unattended monitor. Rev stood close enough that Tech could see the individual feathers around his face, along with the barely concealed amusement dancing in his eyes.
Then Rev reached out.
His fingers brushed the pink strap where it had shifted slightly against Tech's fur, gently straightening it until the little silver tag rested neatly at the center of his chest. The movement was brief, almost absentmindedly tender, and Tech found himself following the motion before he could think better of it.
His smile returned, slow and delighted, spreading across his face as he straightened the last little wrinkle in the collar. He was standing rather close now, close enough that Tech had to tilt his head back a fraction to maintain eye contact.
“Oh?”
Tech's expression immediately soured. “Don't.”
“I haven't said anything.”
“You're thinking it.”
“Can't help what I think.” Rev chuckled, withdrawing his hand and clasping it behind his back again. “Fine. Next instruction.”
Tech watched him warily.
Somehow, he suspected that 'fine' was the most dangerous word Rev had used all evening.
He straightened in his chair, settling his shoulders against the backrest and arranging his expression into one of studied indifference. If Rev was going to continue with this ridiculous experiment, then Tech would simply have to demonstrate that he was perfectly capable of participating without surrendering his dignity.
An entirely reasonable objective.
One that became considerably more difficult when Rev leaned down until they were at eye level. His elbows rested lightly against his knees, and his grin took on the infuriatingly sweet quality that Tech had learned to associate with impending trouble.
“Ask nicely if you want me to keep petting your head.”
Tech stared at him in disbelief, he genuinely wondered whether he'd misheard. His gaze flicked toward Rev's hand, which hovered just beside his head, then returned to the road runner's face. “Absolutely not.”
“Okay!”
Rev straightened immediately and walked away.
Tech blinked.
That was it? No argument. No smug little remark about Tech's stubbornness. No attempt to bargain for a different answer. He simply turned on his heel and wandered over to the workbench, humming cheerfully to himself as though Tech hadn't just rejected his offer.
He watched Rev pull open a nearby drawer and begin sorting through its contents. The roadrunner examined a screwdriver, set it aside, and picked up a small component that appeared to interest him far more than anything happening behind his back.
Tech remained motionless.
He'd been fully prepared for a fight. A verbal sparring match, at the very least. Rev had made an entire production out of the collar, the rules, and the supposed transfer of authority. Surely he wasn't going to surrender his newfound privileges at the first sign of resistance.
Apparently, he was.
Tech's fingers loosened around the arms of his chair.
He glanced toward the workbench again.
Rev was humming.
Humming.
The absolute nerve of the man.
Tech shifted in his seat, the silver tag on his collar giving a faint jingle against his chest. He could still feel the lingering warmth of Rev's fingers where he'd adjusted the strap. It was an entirely unremarkable sensation, and he had no intention of dwelling on it.
He had work to do.
Actual work. Important work.
There was a diagnostic report waiting on his monitor, a half-finished repair on the opposite bench, and at least three calculations he'd meant to revisit before Rev had decided to turn the laboratory into a glorified obedience school.
Tech drew a breath.
Then another.
Finally, he cleared his throat.
“...Rev.”
“Hmm?”
Rev didn't turn around. He was now peering into the drawer with the concentration of someone searching for a very specific tool.
Tech's fingers curled around the chair's armrests. “This is a profoundly unproductive use of our time.”
“Probably.”
“We have actual work to do.”
“Definitely.”
“And you're simply going to stand there?”
Rev looked over his shoulder, his expression perfectly innocent.
“You told me absolutely not.”
Tech stared at him.
Rev turned back to the drawer, apparently satisfied with his explanation.
The silence stretched.
Tech's ears slowly angled backward.
He could practically hear the smugness radiating from the other side of the room, and what made it worse was that Rev wasn't even doing anything. He wasn't teasing him, wasn't making suggestive remarks, wasn't so much as looking in his direction.
He was simply giving Tech exactly what he'd asked for.
Which, Tech was beginning to suspect, was considerably more irritating than the alternative.
“Rev.”
“Yeah, buddy?”
Tech opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Rev's ears perked slightly, though he continued to face the workbench.
Tech looked away, jaw tightening as he attempted to formulate a sentence that wouldn't immediately be weaponized against him.
There were several possibilities.
You may continue.
Too permissive.
Your previous offer remains under consideration.
Utterly ridiculous.
Come back here.
Absolutely not.
He settled for a frustrated exhale.
“This is childish.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Every word.”
“Then stop pretending you aren't aware of what you're doing.”
That finally got Rev to turn around.
He rested one hip against the workbench, folded his arms, and regarded Tech with an expression of dawning comprehension. His eyes traveled briefly to the chair, then to Tech's face, and finally to the hand Tech had unconsciously lifted a few inches from the armrest.
Oh.
OHH..
Rev's grin returned so quickly it was practically a jump scare.
“Tech? Don't tell me.. Do you actually—”
“Rev.”
“—want me to pet your head?”
Tech covered his face with one hand.
Rev made a tiny, delighted squeak.
“I KNEW IT!”
“Could you PLEASE lower your voice?” Tech hissed, his fingers spreading over his forehead as though he could physically hold his dignity in place. “If anyone sees this, I'm dragging you straight to hell for making me regret not regenerating when I had the chance.”
“I'm sorry,” he managed, although the words came out strangled by laughter. “I'm sorry, I just—”
“Then stop laughing!”
“I'm trying!”
“You are doing a remarkably poor job.”
That only made Rev laugh harder.
He finally pushed away from the workbench and hurried back across the laboratory, his steps light and quick. Even now, with Tech looking as though he was contemplating the destruction of every object in his immediate vicinity, Rev's expression held a peculiar softness beneath the mischief.
He stopped beside the chair rather than immediately reaching out.
“I just didn't realize my genius partner was so easy to train.”
Tech lowered his hand.
“I am not trained.”
“Of course not.”
“I am cooperating voluntarily.”
“Absolutely.”
“And this conversation is over.”
“Sure, buddy.” Rev lifted his hand. He gave Tech just enough time to see it coming before resting his palm gently on the top of his head.
Tech went still.
The first touch was little more than a tentative pat, Rev's fingers settling carefully between his ears. For a moment, Tech seemed uncertain what to do with himself. His shoulders remained squared, his chin held high, and his expression retained the rigid composure of someone determined to demonstrate that he was above such trivialities.
Rev, to his credit, didn't immediately make a joke about it.
He simply stroked his hand over the fur between Tech's ears, moving slowly enough that Tech could pull away if he wanted to. His fingertips traced a gentle path over the crown of Tech's head before coming to rest near the base of one ear.
“There we go,” Rev murmured. “Not so terrible, is it?”
Tech's ears twitched beneath his hand.
One flicked outward. The other followed a moment later, shifting against Rev's fingers in a way that made the roadrunner's smile threaten to return in full force.
He resisted.
Barely.
Tech stared straight ahead, his eyes fixed on a particularly uninteresting section of the opposite wall. His posture remained stiff for another few seconds, but gradually, almost imperceptibly, the tension began to leave his shoulders.
His hands loosened on the armrests.
His chin dipped a fraction.
And when Rev's fingers moved gently through the fur between his ears again, Tech's eyelids lowered before he caught himself.
He opened them immediately.
Rev said nothing.
Which was somehow worse.
Tech shot him a suspicious glance. “...It's acceptable.”
“Acceptable?”
“Don't push your luck.” Tech tried to act natural, but his tail was giving away what he was truly feeling.
Rev laughed quietly and gave him one last affectionate ruffle. “Wouldn't dream of it.”
His hand continued moving in slow, gentle strokes, careful around the base of Tech's ears. Rev had expected a sarcastic remark, perhaps another lecture about the scientific impossibility of training a coyote, but the longer he continued, the less inclined Tech seemed to be to resume their argument.
Not that Rev was going to point that out.
He valued his life.
Mostly.
Instead, he allowed himself a small, pleased smile as Tech's ears gradually relaxed, the tension finally leaving his posture. There was something unexpectedly satisfying about being trusted with a moment of quiet like this, especially by someone who spent so much of his time making a point of handling everything himself.
Rev knew Tech well enough to recognize that the stubbornness wasn't going anywhere. It was simply taking a brief break and Rev had every intention of appreciating the occasion. He let his hand rest between Tech's ears for a moment longer before finally pulling away. Tech's head tilted a fraction toward the touch before he could stop himself. A small, involuntary whine slipped from his throat as the warmth disappeared, his ears dipping ever so slightly in its wake.
He went still.
Rev went still, too.
For one glorious second, neither of them said a word.
Then Rev's grin began to spread.
“Aww.. Tech.”
Tech's eyes snapped open.
“Don't you dare.”
“I didn't say anything!”
“You were about to.”
“Okay, okay.”
Rev withdrew his hand, holding both palms up in surrender. He even took a small step back, as though demonstrating that he could, in fact, exercise restraint when necessary.
Tech straightened in the chair, smoothing the fur on top of his head with a few quick passes of his own hand. He adjusted his goggles, lifted his chin, and did his best to reassemble the dignity Rev had thoroughly dismantled over the last several minutes.
“There,” he announced. “Satisfied?”
“Very.”
“Good. Then we can proceed with something productive.”
“Absolutely.”
Rev leaned down again.
Tech eyed him with immediate suspicion.
“What now?”
“Just one more thing.”
“No.”
Rev's grin widened.
“Aw, come on. You were doing so well.”
“I will throw you through a wall.”
“Noted.”
He reached forward, but instead of touching Tech's head again, he tapped the little silver tag hanging from the collar.
It jingled softly.
Tech looked down at it.
Then back up.
Rev leaned closer, lowering his voice into a conspiratorial whisper.
“Good boy.”
For one beautiful, catastrophic second, Tech forgot how to speak.
His face went scarlet.
His ears shot straight upward, and his tail—previously resting in a reasonably composed position behind the chair—stiffened so abruptly that they might as well have been announcing his embarrassment to the entire building.
“REV!”
Rev recoiled with a delighted laugh, both hands flying up in mock surrender.
“What?!”
“You—YOU—”
“Me?”
Tech pointed at him, apparently unable to decide which of Rev's many offenses deserved to be addressed first.
“You did that on purpose!”
“Did what?” Rev asked, eyes wide with the most shameless innocence Tech had ever witnessed. “I was complimenting your cooperation!”
“That was not a compliment!”
“Really? Because you seemed to enjoy the first part.”
Tech made a sound of pure, unfiltered outrage.
Rev doubled over laughing.
“OH, MY GOSH. YOUR FACE!”
“GET OUT OF MY LAB!”
“It's your lab? I thought this was a shared workspace!”
“REV!”
“Okay, okay! I'm going!”
Rev backed away, still laughing, his hands raised as he made a show of retreating toward the door. He had barely made it three steps before he glanced over his shoulder, caught sight of Tech sitting rigidly in the chair with his pink collar and flaming cheeks, and nearly lost it all over again.
Tech snatched a nearby cushion from the spare chair and threw it at him.
Rev dodged with an undignified yelp.
“VIOLENCE! In the workplace!”
“GET OUT!”
“Love you too, buddy! GOODNIGHT!!”
The door swung shut behind him a moment later.
Silence returned to the laboratory.
Tech sat motionless, glaring at the closed door.
His ears slowly lowered.
Then, after a long and deeply offended pause, he reached up and touched the collar's silver tag.
It gave a small, traitorous jingle beneath his fingers.
Tech stared at it.
“...Unbelievable.”
He turned back to his monitor, squared his shoulders, and resumed his diagnostic report.
He lasted approximately twelve seconds before his hand drifted back to the top of his head, smoothing the fur Rev had ruffled.
Tech stopped.
His hand froze in midair.
He looked toward the door.
Then, with the grim resolve of a man determined to bury all evidence of his own behavior, he lowered his hand and returned to work.
He was not enjoying this.
He was not.
And if the faintest hint of a smile threatened to tug at the corner of his mouth, well—
That was nobody's business but his own.
Especially not Rev's.
Especially not—
A small red light blinked in the upper corner of the laboratory.
Tech's fingers stopped moving across the keyboard.
Slowly, very slowly, his gaze shifted upward.
The camera.
Mounted beneath the ceiling panel, it had been installed after a series of incidents involving a certain roadrunner who apparently interpreted RESTRICTED ACCESS as a personal invitation.
There had been the infamous NO TOUCHING MY PROJECTS incident, followed shortly by the equally memorable NO REV RUNNER IN THE LAB incident.
Neither had accomplished much.
Rev had simply bypassed Tech's lock system, wandered in whenever he pleased, and somehow managed to cause even more chaos than before. The camera had been Tech's solution: if he couldn't keep Rev out, at least he could document whatever nonsense the roadrunner got up to.
Tech stared at the little red light.
Then his expression slowly changed.
It recorded everything.
The collar. The chair. Rev's hand on his head. His own humiliating attempts to convince Rev to come back without actually asking him to.
And—
“Good boy.”
Tech's face went hot. He stared at the camera as though it had personally betrayed him.
The irony was, frankly, offensive.
He had been the one to insist on no recordings. No photographs, no videos, and certainly no preserving any of this for posterity. He'd made that perfectly clear, hadn't he? The entire point was that whatever happened in the lab stayed in the lab.
And yet, somehow, he'd completely forgotten that the laboratory itself had a surveillance system. His surveillance system. The very one he'd installed himself. Tech slowly lowered his head into his hands.
Of all the security oversights he could have committed, forgetting the existence of his own CCTV camera was an achievement of spectacular proportions.
“No,” he muttered into his palms. “Absolutely not.”
He could delete the footage. He was the administrator, after all. One quick adjustment to the system, and the entire evening could disappear into oblivion.
But Tech stopped himself.
He wasn't going to destroy security evidence simply because it happened to contain a moment of personal embarrassment. That would be irresponsible, and he was not irresponsible.
He was a scientist.
A professional.
A man who had, unfortunately, just spent several minutes allowing his partner to pet him while wearing a pink collar.
Tech closed his eyes.
“...I hate this place.”
Still, curiosity eventually got the better of him.
After finishing his diagnostic report, he opened the surveillance archive.
“For documentation purposes,” he informed the empty laboratory.
The footage began with Rev crouching beside the access panel, tampering with the lock until the door finally clicked open.
Tech's eye twitched.
“You little—”
Onscreen, Rev slipped inside, turned toward the camera, and gave it a cheerful wave. Then he pointed at the lens and mouthed something that looked suspiciously like Hi, Tech!
Tech paused the recording.
He stared at the frozen image of Rev's grin.
“I am replacing the entire system.”
He resumed playback.
The footage continued through the evening's events, capturing everything from the appearance of the pink collar to Tech's increasingly desperate attempts to maintain his dignity.
Then came the moment Rev asked him to ask nicely.
Tech's ears slowly flattened.
Onscreen, he refused.
Rev immediately walked away.
Tech watched his recorded self grow progressively more agitated, glancing toward the workbench and shifting in his chair until he finally managed to get Rev's attention again.
“Oh, this is unbearable,” he muttered.
And yet, he kept watching.
He watched Rev return to his side, watched his hand settle gently between Tech's ears, and watched the tension gradually leave his own shoulders.
His recorded self even tilted his head toward the touch while his tail wagged.
Tech went very still.
“...That is an inaccurate representation of events.”
The footage continued.
Then Rev tapped the silver tag.
“Good boy.”
Tech watched his onscreen counterpart turn scarlet, his ears shoot straight up, and his tail feathers stiffen before he shouted—
“REV!”
Tech immediately paused the recording.
Silence filled the laboratory.
He stared at the frozen image of himself, pink collar and all, pointing accusingly at a laughing Rev.
For several seconds, he couldn't bring himself to move.
Then he closed the video.
“There,” he announced, straightening his goggles. “Security breach documented. Evidence preserved. Nothing further to discuss.”
He closed the archive.
That was all. No further review was necessary.
He certainly wasn't going to watch it again.
His gaze drifted toward the camera. The red light blinked innocently.
He would not think about the recording. He would not think about Rev's hand between his ears, and he certainly would not think about that ridiculous, affectionate whisper.
The footage had been saved for legitimate security purposes.
Entirely legitimate.
And if Tech happened to remember the evening with the faintest hint of warmth in his chest, well—
That was nobody's business but his own.