explicit language, brief mentions of violence 650 words
It’s not even often that they make mistakes like this one, but this clusterfuck of a cock-up is so huge that their boss is probably considering sodomizing himself with it just to die from internal trauma. In the privacy of his own office, Koutarou yanks at the knot of his tie and sighs, runs his hands through his hair and considers his options. He can break the printer with a baseball bat, which would entail a the cost of a new printer coming out of his paycheck, but would also mean that it would be broken when the mob inevitably came to their doors with pitchforks.
On the other hand, it probably means that they’re not going to make it out of the building alive when the pitchfork-holding mob realize they have nothing to break. Koutarou has been on the receiving end of Concerned Citizen Sawamura’s wrath before and would just as much like to prevent that from happening ever again. He can hear, down the far end of the hallway, and through the door, his life expectancy drastically shortening while Oikawa finally realizes that it’s him in the flyers. The accidental flyers. God.
He’s thumbing in a familiar phone number before he even really registers what he’s doing. He is going to be fired, so he might as well have this last consolation. “Hello?”
“Hello? Tetsu, it’s--”
“Kou? Hey, is this thing on the news about the dick flyers true? Is that you guys?” Koutarou makes a quiet dying noise that he doesn’t even bother extinguishing. “It is you! I was just gonna call, actually--”
“I’m so glad you picked up, dude, oh my god--” The words rush from Koutarou like a swiftly coursing river. “I think I am going to die here, my boss just fired our communications head and I think Akaashi is hiding a cleaver in his folio. Nobody will say who did it, but I swear to God it didn’t look like this when I approved it in the print queue. I swear. Oikawa won’t even believe me. He says those pictures were taken in confidence.”
“Okay, woah, deep breaths. Yeah. Okay, I believe you. It would be hilarious if you did it intentionally--but it’s okay, you’re not gonna be fired.” Koutarou takes deep breaths and listens to Tetsurou's voice, deep and self-assured as ever. "It's good you called, anyway. You're not going to be fired because you need a new director of communications and I happen to know someone who fits that role."
"Offer up a solution while pointing out a problem," Koutarou recites, and perks up. "Is it you?"
"Funny you should ask." Koutarou can hear the grin in his voice. "I'm on my way to your office now, actually." It's the same smile that promises good things for him in the near future.
His doorknob rattles. Koutarou whimpers, his temporary peace shattered. "I think the mob is coming for me." He considers hiding under his own jacket, but Oikawa would see through that immediately. "And the government salary isn't much."
"I knew that when I started dating you," Tetsurou laughs. It strengthens him, somehow, to know that he isn't entirely alone. Koutarou bravely suppresses the next whine of terror when his door rattles again, Oikawa's voice loud and falsely sweet.
"Bokuto-san? I know you're in there--"
"Shit, shit, I gotta go, um. I'll see you soon! If you arrive here get a security badge and make sure I'm still alive!! If I die before you get here tell your dick I loved him, fuck--" Bokuto yells into his phone, pocketing it without hanging up and engaging in evasive maneuver #4: ducking under his desk. "Goodbye, Tetsu," Koutarou whispers. "It was a good life. I love you."
He can vaguely hear his voice, amused and still grinning, emanating from his pocket. "I love you, too."
FILL: TEAM AKAASHI KEIJI/BOKUTO KOUTAROU/KUROO TETSUROU, T
650 words
It’s not even often that they make mistakes like this one, but this clusterfuck of a cock-up is so huge that their boss is probably considering sodomizing himself with it just to die from internal trauma. In the privacy of his own office, Koutarou yanks at the knot of his tie and sighs, runs his hands through his hair and considers his options. He can break the printer with a baseball bat, which would entail a the cost of a new printer coming out of his paycheck, but would also mean that it would be broken when the mob inevitably came to their doors with pitchforks.
On the other hand, it probably means that they’re not going to make it out of the building alive when the pitchfork-holding mob realize they have nothing to break. Koutarou has been on the receiving end of Concerned Citizen Sawamura’s wrath before and would just as much like to prevent that from happening ever again. He can hear, down the far end of the hallway, and through the door, his life expectancy drastically shortening while Oikawa finally realizes that it’s him in the flyers. The accidental flyers. God.
He’s thumbing in a familiar phone number before he even really registers what he’s doing. He is going to be fired, so he might as well have this last consolation. “Hello?”
“Hello? Tetsu, it’s--”
“Kou? Hey, is this thing on the news about the dick flyers true? Is that you guys?” Koutarou makes a quiet dying noise that he doesn’t even bother extinguishing. “It is you! I was just gonna call, actually--”
“I’m so glad you picked up, dude, oh my god--” The words rush from Koutarou like a swiftly coursing river. “I think I am going to die here, my boss just fired our communications head and I think Akaashi is hiding a cleaver in his folio. Nobody will say who did it, but I swear to God it didn’t look like this when I approved it in the print queue. I swear. Oikawa won’t even believe me. He says those pictures were taken in confidence.”
“Okay, woah, deep breaths. Yeah. Okay, I believe you. It would be hilarious if you did it intentionally--but it’s okay, you’re not gonna be fired.” Koutarou takes deep breaths and listens to Tetsurou's voice, deep and self-assured as ever. "It's good you called, anyway. You're not going to be fired because you need a new director of communications and I happen to know someone who fits that role."
"Offer up a solution while pointing out a problem," Koutarou recites, and perks up. "Is it you?"
"Funny you should ask." Koutarou can hear the grin in his voice. "I'm on my way to your office now, actually." It's the same smile that promises good things for him in the near future.
His doorknob rattles. Koutarou whimpers, his temporary peace shattered. "I think the mob is coming for me." He considers hiding under his own jacket, but Oikawa would see through that immediately. "And the government salary isn't much."
"I knew that when I started dating you," Tetsurou laughs. It strengthens him, somehow, to know that he isn't entirely alone. Koutarou bravely suppresses the next whine of terror when his door rattles again, Oikawa's voice loud and falsely sweet.
"Bokuto-san? I know you're in there--"
"Shit, shit, I gotta go, um. I'll see you soon! If you arrive here get a security badge and make sure I'm still alive!! If I die before you get here tell your dick I loved him, fuck--" Bokuto yells into his phone, pocketing it without hanging up and engaging in evasive maneuver #4: ducking under his desk. "Goodbye, Tetsu," Koutarou whispers. "It was a good life. I love you."
He can vaguely hear his voice, amused and still grinning, emanating from his pocket. "I love you, too."