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cit_mickey (![[info]](http://www.journalfen.net/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} cit_mickey) wrote,@ 2006-01-13 04:20:00 |
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A Day at the Office [Mickey, Vin]
Mickey's taken a break from excavating the piles of papers all over the office to unpack the supply order he'd put in the first day. He's been faking it and making do, but now the office has everything it needs to function properly and efficiently, and everything can be found without rummaging around in the supply cabinet and other assorted cubbies and drawers for fifteen minutes. His order'd included a stack of electronic parts boxes and he'd used them to sort out the pens and pencils and erasers and binder clips and other smallish things that tended to float around in a large cabinet. Bach's secretary had used that trick and Mickey'd thought it was pretty cool.
He saves the carton the stuff came in, since he's long ago filled the trash can with stuff he's tossing -- seriously, an entire two-drawer cabinet full of purchase orders from five to ten years ago?? -- and the carton's a good size. And besides, with all the unfiled stuff piled up, he can use the free file cabinet space.
Vin's appointment book is starting to look about as full as it should, too. Mickey'd taken advantage of one of his boss's offsite meetings to scour his office and had turned up a double-handful of napkins, posties, pink phone messages and other odds and ends of paper with appointments scribbled on them. He'd saved the ones that were out of date, to go over with Vin in case any of 'em had to be rescheduled, and transferred the rest into the big book that lived on Mickey's desk. Each morning he made up a three-by-five card with all Vin's appointments and brought it in with his first cup of coffee, with the result that both he and Vin knew where he was supposed to be all day, making both their jobs easier.
Mickey's just sat back down and is trying to figure out which case a packet of surveillance notes goes with when the phone rings. It's reception, letting him know that Vin's two o'clock is early. He thanks Tansy, telling her he'll be right there, and heads out to escort the guy in. Hopefully Vin'll be back on time.
[Former] Senator Marcus Fairchild is in a good mood as he waits for his escort to arrive. Today's business is fairly simple; the hiring of security staff for a charity ball he is hosting could probably have been taken care of over the telephone. However, Marcus has a long-standing debt to repay and he's the sort of man who likes to be face-to-face when paying what he owes and today's charity ball meeting is the perfect opportunity to meet the man who did him such a huge favor so long ago and to begin the process of repaying that debt. The young man who steps out of the lift has a welcoming smile on his face that is matched by Marcus' own. He steps forward, hand extended, and introduces himself, flashing the identity badge the receptionist gave him with the other.
"Senator Fairchild, welcome. I'm Mickey Fontana, Vin's assistant." Mickey checks out the badge with a glance and shakes the man's hand. "If you'll come on in with me I'll get you something to drink while you wait." Tansy buzzes them through the inner door and Mickey leads the senator down the hall to the office suite. "Vin's still at a previous appointment but I'm sure he'll be here on time to see you." I hope he will, I hope he will, he thinks with an inner eyeroll.
He shows Fairchild to one of the comfortable visitors' chairs and says, "We have regular and decaf, or tea if you'd rather?"
"Nothing for me, thanks." Marcus demurs with a smile. The young man, Mickey, looks to be the usual sort of bustling functionary but Marcus has already spotted the work-worn hands indicative of manual labor and knows better. Not just a gloss-and-polish male secretary, oh no. And from what he's heard about xXxellence as a company, very likely not someone to be messed with, either. "Keep me company?" he invites. "I've heard tell of your boss's legendary tardiness and while I don't mind waiting, I do mind being bored while doing so."
"Certainly, sir." Mickey sits down in the chair next to Fairchild and clasps his hands in his lap. "I hope the traffic wasn't too bad on your way over."
"Not at all. My offices are just up the street. It wasn't too much trouble, was it? My getting this appointment on such short notice, I mean." Marcus tilts his head in enquiry, flicking the silver-gray of his hair away from his face with a hand. "I owe your boss a big debt and it didn't occur to me until the last moment that this event would be the perfect opportunity to begin repaying it." Confidentiality is a key element in a security company, so Marcus has no problem with the idea of discussing his business or his reasons behind it with a member of Vin's personal staff. Besides, the time is long since passed that he need be concerned about formerly private matters, his indiscretions of a few years ago now a matter of public record and therefore no longer sacrosanct.
"No, not at all, sir. It was no problem fitting you in." Once I found the note under a potted plant on the windowsill, Mickey thought to himself, his face perfectly straight. "Has the company done work for you before, then? I haven't been here very long and I'm afraid I'm not as familiar with our client history as I should be." Mickey feels himself blushing slightly and makes a mental note to look up visitors in the client records ahead of time from now on.
"Oh God, no!" Marcus laughs, giving Mickey a distracted pat on the knee to let him know not to worry. "In fact your boss was working for my opposition," he says. "It's a good story, actually, and one I'm very fond of telling."
"Oh?" Mickey smiles and cocks his head curiously. "What happened, sir?"
"I was up for re-election is what happened." Marcus grins, happy to have an audience. "And my opposition, in their wisdom, decided blackening my name was an acceptable tactic." He shakes his head in sadness at the depths to which political opponents would sink. "Unfortunately for them, the company they chose to use to investigate me was, and is, headed by an ethical man. Your boss got the report, some of which was, I admit, rather damning. I'd never claim to have lived an exemplary life," he admits. "But in this case there was an innocent child involved and Mr. Diesel came to me with the information, rather than hand it over."
"That was a very decent thing to do," Mickey agrees. Actually, it's an interesting ethical problem but if the senator doesn't give him enough information to puzzle it out then he'll ask Vin later. "What happened then?"
"He berated me over the phone." Marcus can't help but chuckle. "But then he told me that he didn't believe how a man conducts his private affairs should have any bearing on how well or how poorly he does his job. As far as he was concerned, I was doing a decent job and so he intended to pass in the report to his client, leaving out the part about my mistress and my child."
Mickey nods, thinking about it, then takes a chance and asks, "And are you still doing a good job?"
"No. I retired instead of contesting my seat. Took his words to heart and came clean, married the lady and gave my daughter a proper home and security. Now I intend to return the favor and send as much work as I can in your direction. After all, I'm absolutely certain this company is completely trustworthy. At the time, having the existence of my daughter splashed all over the media would have ruined me. But it didn't." Marcus finishes with a smile.
It's not his place to approve, but Mickey does anyway. He smiles back and says, "I'm sure we can provide satisfactory service, sir."
"Oh, I know you can dear boy." Marcus nods and then cocks his head to one side, looking past Mickey and down the hall. "And here he comes, I suspect," he says, nodding in Vin's direction.
Mickey looks up, then rises and nods to Vin. "Yes, sir," he says to Fairchild. "I'll leave you alone now. Unless you'd like some coffee after all?"
"No, no. And thank you." Marcus gets to his feet and greets Vin as he arrives, Mickey's closing of the door hardly heard.
It's ten to five and Vin's trying really hard not to clock-watch. Feet propped up on thousands of dollars' worth of desk, his hands locked behind his head and a million dollar view at his disposal. Life is good. Be better however, were it five p.m. When the door opens, he's glad of the distraction and tunes out the tick-tick of the mantel clock he's not watching to wave Mickey in.
Mickey waves a purchase order and says, "I finally tracked down the specific model-year sniffer-thing Guido wants. No clue what's special about it, but I found a reconditioned one and he says he'd rather have that than a new one that's the 'wrong' model, so...." Mickey shrugs, the weirdness of lab-geeks beyond his understanding. He slides the form onto the desk next to Vin's feet and perches on a free corner.
Using the heel of his boot to bring the form over, Vin straightens long enough to sign on the dotted line and slides it back across the desk to Mickey. "File that under 'Tomorrow.'" He grins. "We're done for the day so Guido and his geek machine can just wait."
"Cool." Mickey shifts the signed requisition to the other side of the desk where it won't get crunched and leans over on one hand. "Anything happening tonight I should know about? Am I likely to have to come get you at the hospital or bail you out or anything like that?" His grin has a teasing light in it.
"No!" Vin pretends to give Mickey a sour look but he's in too good a mood to sustain it and his grin gives him away. "Might drop by the Club though." He contemplates the idea. "Could use a little action."
"That's an idea." Mickey nods, although his grin isn't quite as wide as Vin's. "Worth a try, anyway."
Vin's glance at Mickey's face dulls his pleasure a little. "Whazzup?" he wants to know.
Mickey shrugs. "Nothing major. Just not many people are into what I'm into, you know? YKIOK and all that, but finding someone else with the same needs or wants or whatever is another thing. It's a crapshoot but it's worth a shot. If it doesn't happen I can hang in the library for a while."
"I guess." He's not really thought about it that way. He's easy, can take it or leave it but someone with a hard preference would, well, have it harder. "No one, you know, who you know is like, into it? Someone you could see regularly?"
"Not really." Mickey shrugs again and shakes his head. "Not with the regulars, anyway. There's this one guy but he travels a lot, I don't know if he's an actor or a siding salesman or what, but he's not around much. Most everyone else seems to want the, 'Oh beat me, master, I'm just dying to take your cock!' type and that's not me. I just... don't." Another shrug and Mickey's staring out the window. "Usually I just hang out and hope to get lucky." He glances back with a half-smile that's sly and shy both. "Like with you that night."
Studiously being not looked at usually means there's a conversation taking place beneath the outward talk. A quick frown creases Vin's brow as he tries to get up to speed and work out what's really being talked about here, or potentially so. Then it comes to him. "You wondering if us scening is off limits now?"
Vin's about as subtle as a fist in the face and Mickey feels himself blushing some. "Umm, sorta. I mean, I know you said I could sexually harass you and all, but we were sort of kidding around so I wasn't sure if you meant it. And if you really meant that I'd have to, like, start it? I don't do that. I just... I can't, you know? So...." He trails off with another shrug. Handy gesture, that.
"I wasn't kidding." Now he feels kind of bad for embarassing Mickey and promises himself to remember in future that not everyone's so damned open about...stuff. "I just wasn't specific." Bringing his feet down off the desk and sitting up straight seems like a good idea right now so he does. "We can scene," he says casually. "Neither of us is the sort to get confused about where the line is and I sure as hell don't mind starting something up." A wicked grin crosses his face. "Course," he adds slowly, "there's always the option where I torture you first. With the ole 'expect it when you least expect it' moves."
Mickey feels a shiver run through him that's cold and hot at the same time. He looks back at Vin and makes himself hold his gaze. "That... could be cool," he says, his voice carefully even. "What d'you mean exactly?"
Hiding his smile, Vin responds in the same tone. "I mean the scene starts when I start it. Without warning," he adds helpfully. "But there'd be a hint enclosed there somewhere, naturally."
The image of someone -- someone he trusts, like Vin -- just suddenly grabbing him at random and slamming him down somewhere and fucking him is vivid in Mickey's brain and he feels his cock twitching at just the fantasy-vision. "Yeah! I mean, yeah, that'd be great."
"Then," Vin says evilly, getting to his feet, "when you least expect it...expect it!" He comes round from behind the desk and grabs his stuff, his sunny disposition fully restored. "Come on then!" he urges, knowing the switch is gonna throw Mickey right off. "Sun's over the yardarm and five o'clock has come and gone. Let's go get beer!"
"Umm, okay. Right, beer." Startled by the throttle-up, Mickey scrambles to keep up with his suddenly bouncy boss. He tosses the requisition onto his own desk, grabs his jacket, his coat and his briefcase (and isn't it weird having one of those?!) and trots after Vin.
Mickey's taken a break from excavating the piles of papers all over the office to unpack the supply order he'd put in the first day. He's been faking it and making do, but now the office has everything it needs to function properly and efficiently, and everything can be found without rummaging around in the supply cabinet and other assorted cubbies and drawers for fifteen minutes. His order'd included a stack of electronic parts boxes and he'd used them to sort out the pens and pencils and erasers and binder clips and other smallish things that tended to float around in a large cabinet. Bach's secretary had used that trick and Mickey'd thought it was pretty cool.
He saves the carton the stuff came in, since he's long ago filled the trash can with stuff he's tossing -- seriously, an entire two-drawer cabinet full of purchase orders from five to ten years ago?? -- and the carton's a good size. And besides, with all the unfiled stuff piled up, he can use the free file cabinet space.
Vin's appointment book is starting to look about as full as it should, too. Mickey'd taken advantage of one of his boss's offsite meetings to scour his office and had turned up a double-handful of napkins, posties, pink phone messages and other odds and ends of paper with appointments scribbled on them. He'd saved the ones that were out of date, to go over with Vin in case any of 'em had to be rescheduled, and transferred the rest into the big book that lived on Mickey's desk. Each morning he made up a three-by-five card with all Vin's appointments and brought it in with his first cup of coffee, with the result that both he and Vin knew where he was supposed to be all day, making both their jobs easier.
Mickey's just sat back down and is trying to figure out which case a packet of surveillance notes goes with when the phone rings. It's reception, letting him know that Vin's two o'clock is early. He thanks Tansy, telling her he'll be right there, and heads out to escort the guy in. Hopefully Vin'll be back on time.
[Former] Senator Marcus Fairchild is in a good mood as he waits for his escort to arrive. Today's business is fairly simple; the hiring of security staff for a charity ball he is hosting could probably have been taken care of over the telephone. However, Marcus has a long-standing debt to repay and he's the sort of man who likes to be face-to-face when paying what he owes and today's charity ball meeting is the perfect opportunity to meet the man who did him such a huge favor so long ago and to begin the process of repaying that debt. The young man who steps out of the lift has a welcoming smile on his face that is matched by Marcus' own. He steps forward, hand extended, and introduces himself, flashing the identity badge the receptionist gave him with the other.
"Senator Fairchild, welcome. I'm Mickey Fontana, Vin's assistant." Mickey checks out the badge with a glance and shakes the man's hand. "If you'll come on in with me I'll get you something to drink while you wait." Tansy buzzes them through the inner door and Mickey leads the senator down the hall to the office suite. "Vin's still at a previous appointment but I'm sure he'll be here on time to see you." I hope he will, I hope he will, he thinks with an inner eyeroll.
He shows Fairchild to one of the comfortable visitors' chairs and says, "We have regular and decaf, or tea if you'd rather?"
"Nothing for me, thanks." Marcus demurs with a smile. The young man, Mickey, looks to be the usual sort of bustling functionary but Marcus has already spotted the work-worn hands indicative of manual labor and knows better. Not just a gloss-and-polish male secretary, oh no. And from what he's heard about xXxellence as a company, very likely not someone to be messed with, either. "Keep me company?" he invites. "I've heard tell of your boss's legendary tardiness and while I don't mind waiting, I do mind being bored while doing so."
"Certainly, sir." Mickey sits down in the chair next to Fairchild and clasps his hands in his lap. "I hope the traffic wasn't too bad on your way over."
"Not at all. My offices are just up the street. It wasn't too much trouble, was it? My getting this appointment on such short notice, I mean." Marcus tilts his head in enquiry, flicking the silver-gray of his hair away from his face with a hand. "I owe your boss a big debt and it didn't occur to me until the last moment that this event would be the perfect opportunity to begin repaying it." Confidentiality is a key element in a security company, so Marcus has no problem with the idea of discussing his business or his reasons behind it with a member of Vin's personal staff. Besides, the time is long since passed that he need be concerned about formerly private matters, his indiscretions of a few years ago now a matter of public record and therefore no longer sacrosanct.
"No, not at all, sir. It was no problem fitting you in." Once I found the note under a potted plant on the windowsill, Mickey thought to himself, his face perfectly straight. "Has the company done work for you before, then? I haven't been here very long and I'm afraid I'm not as familiar with our client history as I should be." Mickey feels himself blushing slightly and makes a mental note to look up visitors in the client records ahead of time from now on.
"Oh God, no!" Marcus laughs, giving Mickey a distracted pat on the knee to let him know not to worry. "In fact your boss was working for my opposition," he says. "It's a good story, actually, and one I'm very fond of telling."
"Oh?" Mickey smiles and cocks his head curiously. "What happened, sir?"
"I was up for re-election is what happened." Marcus grins, happy to have an audience. "And my opposition, in their wisdom, decided blackening my name was an acceptable tactic." He shakes his head in sadness at the depths to which political opponents would sink. "Unfortunately for them, the company they chose to use to investigate me was, and is, headed by an ethical man. Your boss got the report, some of which was, I admit, rather damning. I'd never claim to have lived an exemplary life," he admits. "But in this case there was an innocent child involved and Mr. Diesel came to me with the information, rather than hand it over."
"That was a very decent thing to do," Mickey agrees. Actually, it's an interesting ethical problem but if the senator doesn't give him enough information to puzzle it out then he'll ask Vin later. "What happened then?"
"He berated me over the phone." Marcus can't help but chuckle. "But then he told me that he didn't believe how a man conducts his private affairs should have any bearing on how well or how poorly he does his job. As far as he was concerned, I was doing a decent job and so he intended to pass in the report to his client, leaving out the part about my mistress and my child."
Mickey nods, thinking about it, then takes a chance and asks, "And are you still doing a good job?"
"No. I retired instead of contesting my seat. Took his words to heart and came clean, married the lady and gave my daughter a proper home and security. Now I intend to return the favor and send as much work as I can in your direction. After all, I'm absolutely certain this company is completely trustworthy. At the time, having the existence of my daughter splashed all over the media would have ruined me. But it didn't." Marcus finishes with a smile.
It's not his place to approve, but Mickey does anyway. He smiles back and says, "I'm sure we can provide satisfactory service, sir."
"Oh, I know you can dear boy." Marcus nods and then cocks his head to one side, looking past Mickey and down the hall. "And here he comes, I suspect," he says, nodding in Vin's direction.
Mickey looks up, then rises and nods to Vin. "Yes, sir," he says to Fairchild. "I'll leave you alone now. Unless you'd like some coffee after all?"
"No, no. And thank you." Marcus gets to his feet and greets Vin as he arrives, Mickey's closing of the door hardly heard.
It's ten to five and Vin's trying really hard not to clock-watch. Feet propped up on thousands of dollars' worth of desk, his hands locked behind his head and a million dollar view at his disposal. Life is good. Be better however, were it five p.m. When the door opens, he's glad of the distraction and tunes out the tick-tick of the mantel clock he's not watching to wave Mickey in.
Mickey waves a purchase order and says, "I finally tracked down the specific model-year sniffer-thing Guido wants. No clue what's special about it, but I found a reconditioned one and he says he'd rather have that than a new one that's the 'wrong' model, so...." Mickey shrugs, the weirdness of lab-geeks beyond his understanding. He slides the form onto the desk next to Vin's feet and perches on a free corner.
Using the heel of his boot to bring the form over, Vin straightens long enough to sign on the dotted line and slides it back across the desk to Mickey. "File that under 'Tomorrow.'" He grins. "We're done for the day so Guido and his geek machine can just wait."
"Cool." Mickey shifts the signed requisition to the other side of the desk where it won't get crunched and leans over on one hand. "Anything happening tonight I should know about? Am I likely to have to come get you at the hospital or bail you out or anything like that?" His grin has a teasing light in it.
"No!" Vin pretends to give Mickey a sour look but he's in too good a mood to sustain it and his grin gives him away. "Might drop by the Club though." He contemplates the idea. "Could use a little action."
"That's an idea." Mickey nods, although his grin isn't quite as wide as Vin's. "Worth a try, anyway."
Vin's glance at Mickey's face dulls his pleasure a little. "Whazzup?" he wants to know.
Mickey shrugs. "Nothing major. Just not many people are into what I'm into, you know? YKIOK and all that, but finding someone else with the same needs or wants or whatever is another thing. It's a crapshoot but it's worth a shot. If it doesn't happen I can hang in the library for a while."
"I guess." He's not really thought about it that way. He's easy, can take it or leave it but someone with a hard preference would, well, have it harder. "No one, you know, who you know is like, into it? Someone you could see regularly?"
"Not really." Mickey shrugs again and shakes his head. "Not with the regulars, anyway. There's this one guy but he travels a lot, I don't know if he's an actor or a siding salesman or what, but he's not around much. Most everyone else seems to want the, 'Oh beat me, master, I'm just dying to take your cock!' type and that's not me. I just... don't." Another shrug and Mickey's staring out the window. "Usually I just hang out and hope to get lucky." He glances back with a half-smile that's sly and shy both. "Like with you that night."
Studiously being not looked at usually means there's a conversation taking place beneath the outward talk. A quick frown creases Vin's brow as he tries to get up to speed and work out what's really being talked about here, or potentially so. Then it comes to him. "You wondering if us scening is off limits now?"
Vin's about as subtle as a fist in the face and Mickey feels himself blushing some. "Umm, sorta. I mean, I know you said I could sexually harass you and all, but we were sort of kidding around so I wasn't sure if you meant it. And if you really meant that I'd have to, like, start it? I don't do that. I just... I can't, you know? So...." He trails off with another shrug. Handy gesture, that.
"I wasn't kidding." Now he feels kind of bad for embarassing Mickey and promises himself to remember in future that not everyone's so damned open about...stuff. "I just wasn't specific." Bringing his feet down off the desk and sitting up straight seems like a good idea right now so he does. "We can scene," he says casually. "Neither of us is the sort to get confused about where the line is and I sure as hell don't mind starting something up." A wicked grin crosses his face. "Course," he adds slowly, "there's always the option where I torture you first. With the ole 'expect it when you least expect it' moves."
Mickey feels a shiver run through him that's cold and hot at the same time. He looks back at Vin and makes himself hold his gaze. "That... could be cool," he says, his voice carefully even. "What d'you mean exactly?"
Hiding his smile, Vin responds in the same tone. "I mean the scene starts when I start it. Without warning," he adds helpfully. "But there'd be a hint enclosed there somewhere, naturally."
The image of someone -- someone he trusts, like Vin -- just suddenly grabbing him at random and slamming him down somewhere and fucking him is vivid in Mickey's brain and he feels his cock twitching at just the fantasy-vision. "Yeah! I mean, yeah, that'd be great."
"Then," Vin says evilly, getting to his feet, "when you least expect it...expect it!" He comes round from behind the desk and grabs his stuff, his sunny disposition fully restored. "Come on then!" he urges, knowing the switch is gonna throw Mickey right off. "Sun's over the yardarm and five o'clock has come and gone. Let's go get beer!"
"Umm, okay. Right, beer." Startled by the throttle-up, Mickey scrambles to keep up with his suddenly bouncy boss. He tosses the requisition onto his own desk, grabs his jacket, his coat and his briefcase (and isn't it weird having one of those?!) and trots after Vin.
