Fic: Escape Plans
Title: Escape Plans
Rating: For All Ages
Fandom: I Want to Go Home!
Summary: Rudy stages an escape.
Written for calathea on her third fanniversary, and archived for posterity.
Mike sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He shot a weary glance at the clock on his desk. 11:23. He needed coffee. A minute later, he was passing by one of the endless string of white doors that filled this place; unlike the others, this one was labeled with a neat, hand-lettered sign.
'NO TWITS' it read.
A snort of amusement escaped his nose despite his best efforts; a moment later, an arm snaked out of the room beyond and yanked him inside. It was dark and crowded, which led Mike to conclude that it was probably a supply closet.
"Let go of me! I took three years of aikido!" Mike squeaked.
"It was more like two-and-a-half, and you never went, anyway," a familiar voice commented in a bored tone. The grip on Mike's wrist didn't loosen.
"Rudy? What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you." Rudy tugged on Mike's arm, and he stumbled forward into the taller man's chest. It really was quite crowded in the supply closet, although despite the crowding, he felt a little less claustrophobic pressed against Rudy.
"And I'm very disappointed in you, Michael. Have you looked at yourself lately? You're a clone. You're the sixth person I've dragged in here."
"What? Rudy! You're going to get yourself arrested! Or worse!"
Rudy shrugged, a subtle twitch of his upper body. "You have little faith in me, Mike. Of course I didn't drag anyone else in here. You're the only person who'd dare wearing a tie that ugly. I can see why you always change before you come over; I'd mock you mercilessly for it."
A click brought the room to dim lighting. Rudy took a step back to examine him with a critical eye while Mike took a quick look around the room. There wasn't much to look at; it was full of boxes of toner.
Rudy Miller watched Mike with a baleful expression. To anyone else it would have been a calm, appraising gaze, but Mike had known Rudy long enough to recognize annoyance.
"Rudy? What are you doing here?"
The annoyance shifted, giving way to a familiar almost-smirk. "I'm going to help you escape."
"Rudy, I can't escape! I've got a job to do!"
"So do I, but you don't see me staying there after sundown. We might have to go with a classic, here. Tell him your grandmother died. You might even be able to get Monday off, too."
"Rudy, I am not going to tell my boss my grandmother died. I love my grandmother!"
"Which is exactly why he'll let you go if she died."
"Rudy! No death!"
"Oh. I suppose arson is out, as well?"
Mike couldn't help it; there was something about Rudy's deadpan nature that set him off. He snorted. "No fire."
"Well, I had a brilliant plan which made use of your sister's prom dress."
Mike's snort dissolved into giggling. "Rudy, stop it, please!"
"Or, of course, you could just leave."
Mike's giggling faded slowly. "Rudy, I can't just drop everything because you ask me to."
Rudy frowned. "And I'm supposed to cancel all of my other plans and wait up all night for you to show up?"
"Rudy, you don't have any other plans. We always hang out on Fridays."
"The least you could have done was call, you know," Rudy replied reproachfully.
"I didn't know it would annoy you that much. It's not like we're dating or anything."
It was dim, certainly, and Rudy's expression didn't change. His skin, however, did. A flush crept up from Rudy's neck, and his grip on Mike's wrist tightened fractionally. The sheer novelty of seeing Rudy Miller embarrassed held Mike's attention for a moment before the meaning of that blush hit him.
He supposed in some twisted interpretation, the two of them were dating. They had what could be termed a standing date on Fridays. Neither of them dated conventionally, at least not since Rudy had taken indeterminate revenge on the girl who'd broken Mike' heart sophomore year.
And given that Mike was possibly the only person on Earth Rudy could tolerate, it seemed a little obvious in retrospect that Rudy thought quite a bit more of him than previous experience had indicated.
Rudy's flush was starting to fade, replaced by another expression entirely new in Mike's experience with Rudy: the other man was uncomfortable. He let go of Mike's wrist and took a step back.
And Mike wasn't going to let that happen. "Rudy, I have to admit, I'm a little annoyed with you."
The expression he received in response was entirely too wary for Rudy Miller's face, so Mike plowed forward.
"Didn't we agree that your plans work better when you share them with me? I mean-we could have been following through on-on this dating thing if you'd told me about it beforehand."
Rudy's wariness gave way to what, even now, Mike recognized as the rarest of all Rudy Miller's expressions. He was smiling. Not smirking, grinning maniacally, or anything else. Just smiling.
"So I'm thinking we have to change the plan," Rudy replied. "Given that you're in agreement with this leaving thing."
"I never agreed-"
"No arguments, Webster, or you don't eat! Now, give me a boost."
"What?"
"You think I just waltzed in here? We're getting out through the heating vents."
The security guard on duty later reported that the office building was haunted. By what, he couldn't say, but it laughed like a banshee.
Rating: For All Ages
Fandom: I Want to Go Home!
Summary: Rudy stages an escape.
Written for calathea on her third fanniversary, and archived for posterity.
Mike sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He shot a weary glance at the clock on his desk. 11:23. He needed coffee. A minute later, he was passing by one of the endless string of white doors that filled this place; unlike the others, this one was labeled with a neat, hand-lettered sign.
'NO TWITS' it read.
A snort of amusement escaped his nose despite his best efforts; a moment later, an arm snaked out of the room beyond and yanked him inside. It was dark and crowded, which led Mike to conclude that it was probably a supply closet.
"Let go of me! I took three years of aikido!" Mike squeaked.
"It was more like two-and-a-half, and you never went, anyway," a familiar voice commented in a bored tone. The grip on Mike's wrist didn't loosen.
"Rudy? What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you." Rudy tugged on Mike's arm, and he stumbled forward into the taller man's chest. It really was quite crowded in the supply closet, although despite the crowding, he felt a little less claustrophobic pressed against Rudy.
"And I'm very disappointed in you, Michael. Have you looked at yourself lately? You're a clone. You're the sixth person I've dragged in here."
"What? Rudy! You're going to get yourself arrested! Or worse!"
Rudy shrugged, a subtle twitch of his upper body. "You have little faith in me, Mike. Of course I didn't drag anyone else in here. You're the only person who'd dare wearing a tie that ugly. I can see why you always change before you come over; I'd mock you mercilessly for it."
A click brought the room to dim lighting. Rudy took a step back to examine him with a critical eye while Mike took a quick look around the room. There wasn't much to look at; it was full of boxes of toner.
Rudy Miller watched Mike with a baleful expression. To anyone else it would have been a calm, appraising gaze, but Mike had known Rudy long enough to recognize annoyance.
"Rudy? What are you doing here?"
The annoyance shifted, giving way to a familiar almost-smirk. "I'm going to help you escape."
"Rudy, I can't escape! I've got a job to do!"
"So do I, but you don't see me staying there after sundown. We might have to go with a classic, here. Tell him your grandmother died. You might even be able to get Monday off, too."
"Rudy, I am not going to tell my boss my grandmother died. I love my grandmother!"
"Which is exactly why he'll let you go if she died."
"Rudy! No death!"
"Oh. I suppose arson is out, as well?"
Mike couldn't help it; there was something about Rudy's deadpan nature that set him off. He snorted. "No fire."
"Well, I had a brilliant plan which made use of your sister's prom dress."
Mike's snort dissolved into giggling. "Rudy, stop it, please!"
"Or, of course, you could just leave."
Mike's giggling faded slowly. "Rudy, I can't just drop everything because you ask me to."
Rudy frowned. "And I'm supposed to cancel all of my other plans and wait up all night for you to show up?"
"Rudy, you don't have any other plans. We always hang out on Fridays."
"The least you could have done was call, you know," Rudy replied reproachfully.
"I didn't know it would annoy you that much. It's not like we're dating or anything."
It was dim, certainly, and Rudy's expression didn't change. His skin, however, did. A flush crept up from Rudy's neck, and his grip on Mike's wrist tightened fractionally. The sheer novelty of seeing Rudy Miller embarrassed held Mike's attention for a moment before the meaning of that blush hit him.
He supposed in some twisted interpretation, the two of them were dating. They had what could be termed a standing date on Fridays. Neither of them dated conventionally, at least not since Rudy had taken indeterminate revenge on the girl who'd broken Mike' heart sophomore year.
And given that Mike was possibly the only person on Earth Rudy could tolerate, it seemed a little obvious in retrospect that Rudy thought quite a bit more of him than previous experience had indicated.
Rudy's flush was starting to fade, replaced by another expression entirely new in Mike's experience with Rudy: the other man was uncomfortable. He let go of Mike's wrist and took a step back.
And Mike wasn't going to let that happen. "Rudy, I have to admit, I'm a little annoyed with you."
The expression he received in response was entirely too wary for Rudy Miller's face, so Mike plowed forward.
"Didn't we agree that your plans work better when you share them with me? I mean-we could have been following through on-on this dating thing if you'd told me about it beforehand."
Rudy's wariness gave way to what, even now, Mike recognized as the rarest of all Rudy Miller's expressions. He was smiling. Not smirking, grinning maniacally, or anything else. Just smiling.
"So I'm thinking we have to change the plan," Rudy replied. "Given that you're in agreement with this leaving thing."
"I never agreed-"
"No arguments, Webster, or you don't eat! Now, give me a boost."
"What?"
"You think I just waltzed in here? We're getting out through the heating vents."
The security guard on duty later reported that the office building was haunted. By what, he couldn't say, but it laughed like a banshee.