Fic - Colorfast
Mar. 2nd, 2008 01:10 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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shadowknightTitle: Colorfast
Rating: G
Universe: Home
Timeline: September, 2006.
Written: September, 2006.
Summary: Rick and Mike attempt to do the laundry.
Note: Originally written the prompt "Day-glo" with an added bonus for "Day-glo underwear". The second half was added by Steff.
“First job?” Mike Nelson gave the front door of the washing machine a quick tug. The white enamel door swung open wide and the tall farm boy nudged a laundry basket up along side the washing machine with his foot. The clothes gently tumbled out, flopping down from the drum into the pale plastic basket. Mike looked over his shoulder and at his assistant, paying little attention to the load at the moment.
Behind, back in Mike's shadow, stood Rick Smith. The laundry room was in the basement, yet it wasn't dark enough to hide that the geek's arms were full with another laundry basket, this one heaped full with dirty clothing. The black rims of Rick's glasses barely peeked over the crest.
“I oosed tu be a mahjisan. Whait.” Rick stooped over and placed his basket onto the floor. As he stood back up he wiped his mouth with his jacket sleeve, attempting to wiped away the fuzzy feeling from talking into a pile of week old socks. “What I meant to say was that I used to be a magician at kid's parties. That was back in high school. Speaking of high school, what was your favorite class?”
Mike looked forward as rolled up the sleeves of his blue shirt and reached deep into the washing machine. The clothes were damp and heavy with water, but this didn't slow the man as he effortlessly pulled the clothing out and into his basket.
“It depended on the day,” Mike said. An armful of clothing landed with a satisfying plop and Mike looked down for a quick inspection. No spare socks had landed on the floor, but gracing the top of the clothing pile...
Rick slowly peeked around the blond farmboy, trying to get a glimpse of blasket. “New question: What is that?”
“I... I'm really not sure.” Mike bent over the basket, blocking Rick's view even more. The scene was perfectly clear to Mike; the clothing on the top of the pile was a mix-matched collection men's underwear and socks of varying shapes and sizes. The uniting theme was the day-glo green dye that covered what should have been a load of whites. He dove into the basket in a rush of blind panic, searching the pieces of clothing as they went by.
“No, no, no...” he said as he dug down into the basket. Every piece of clothing was the same shade of bright, neon lime green.
With Mike up to his elbows in clothing, Rick stepped around him and up to the washing machine. The geek knelt down and peeked inside. His jaw dropped as he witnessed in the true horror of scene: the entire load of laundry had been contaminated with the green dye. Not a single piece had been spared.
“I figured that it would have been a good idea if we got the laundry caught up for the rest of the guys.” Mike brushed back his short hair and shook his head. He grabbed a pair of boxers and shook them in his fist. “How was I to know that Clay's clothes weren't colorfast?”
Rick stared blankly at the back of the drum, holding back at comment about how that explained why a good number of Clayton's clothes shared the same day-glo shade. “This would have worked out if Lorna's under... things were in this wash.”
There was an awkward, silent pause between the two men.
“I mean, figuratively.” Rick hastily added. “If we were washing the girls' things instead of the guys' things. And it's only Clay's in this load, right?” He pointed back at the basket he had carrying earlier. “Our wash is over there.”
Mike slowly turned towards Rick. “DEVON'S wash was in there too.”
“WHAT?!”
“Goodwill gesture, since we'd be in the basement anyway.” Mike nodded towards his laundry basket. “No, I do not seek out a British gentleman's underthings normally. Now...”
“Now, Devon's going to kill us.” Rick whimpered. “He's going to bring the wrath of the British Armed Forces down on us!”
There was another long pause. The silence hung thick in the room.
Mike cleared his throat. “Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to put Devon's things back into the washer with a bottle of bleach.” He pointed at Rick. “You're going to go out and find the biggest tea set money can buy and enough supplies so we can live in a hole out back for a week or so.”
“Tea makes everything better?”
“I hope it does for our sake!”
---
It was rare when Devon was actually home; usually, he was out making connections, gathering information and performing all of the duties that it took to keep a legally gray-area team of covert ops agents from becoming international criminals. Still, since half of ShadowKnight had disappeared into another realm, he had tried to be home more often.
This was one of those times where he remembered why he did spend so much time outside of Westchester. He opened the office door when he heard the knock, and took in the two standing on his proverbial doorstep.
Rick stood to one side. In his arms was one of the largest tea tins that Devon had ever seen. Mike stood behind him.
Their expressions suggested that something, yet again, had happened that he probably didn't want to know about. Generally speaking, that look of 'standing in front of the headmaster's office' only meant trouble.
"What happened?"
Mike stepped forward, cringing, and held out an object.
At first, Devon wasn't sure what it was. It looked, vaguely, like a dishrag that had been used for about ten years straight. But upon closer inspection, he realized that it was a pair of boxers. A pair of oddly green-yellow boxers, filled with holes. A pair of his oddly green-yellow boxers, filled with holes.
Rick tried to explain, "See, a pair of Clay's boxers accidentally got in there with your whites, and--"
"--and we tried to bleach them back, and we put the washer on super-duty, but, uhm," Mike continued, then trailed off.
Devon turned back into his office, took a catalogue out of his top dresser drawer and brought it back. He shoved the catalogue into Mike's hands, then gently took the tea tin from Rick, and closed his office door on them.
Through the thick oak, he could hear Mike say, "He orders underwear from a catalogue?"
And Rick reply, "No, he orders $50 boxers from a catalogue."
"Aw, geez. This is gonna cost us a fortune."
Devon looked at the ceiling and shook his head to himself. Well, at least he got some tea out of it.
Rating: G
Universe: Home
Timeline: September, 2006.
Written: September, 2006.
Summary: Rick and Mike attempt to do the laundry.
Note: Originally written the prompt "Day-glo" with an added bonus for "Day-glo underwear". The second half was added by Steff.
“First job?” Mike Nelson gave the front door of the washing machine a quick tug. The white enamel door swung open wide and the tall farm boy nudged a laundry basket up along side the washing machine with his foot. The clothes gently tumbled out, flopping down from the drum into the pale plastic basket. Mike looked over his shoulder and at his assistant, paying little attention to the load at the moment.
Behind, back in Mike's shadow, stood Rick Smith. The laundry room was in the basement, yet it wasn't dark enough to hide that the geek's arms were full with another laundry basket, this one heaped full with dirty clothing. The black rims of Rick's glasses barely peeked over the crest.
“I oosed tu be a mahjisan. Whait.” Rick stooped over and placed his basket onto the floor. As he stood back up he wiped his mouth with his jacket sleeve, attempting to wiped away the fuzzy feeling from talking into a pile of week old socks. “What I meant to say was that I used to be a magician at kid's parties. That was back in high school. Speaking of high school, what was your favorite class?”
Mike looked forward as rolled up the sleeves of his blue shirt and reached deep into the washing machine. The clothes were damp and heavy with water, but this didn't slow the man as he effortlessly pulled the clothing out and into his basket.
“It depended on the day,” Mike said. An armful of clothing landed with a satisfying plop and Mike looked down for a quick inspection. No spare socks had landed on the floor, but gracing the top of the clothing pile...
Rick slowly peeked around the blond farmboy, trying to get a glimpse of blasket. “New question: What is that?”
“I... I'm really not sure.” Mike bent over the basket, blocking Rick's view even more. The scene was perfectly clear to Mike; the clothing on the top of the pile was a mix-matched collection men's underwear and socks of varying shapes and sizes. The uniting theme was the day-glo green dye that covered what should have been a load of whites. He dove into the basket in a rush of blind panic, searching the pieces of clothing as they went by.
“No, no, no...” he said as he dug down into the basket. Every piece of clothing was the same shade of bright, neon lime green.
With Mike up to his elbows in clothing, Rick stepped around him and up to the washing machine. The geek knelt down and peeked inside. His jaw dropped as he witnessed in the true horror of scene: the entire load of laundry had been contaminated with the green dye. Not a single piece had been spared.
“I figured that it would have been a good idea if we got the laundry caught up for the rest of the guys.” Mike brushed back his short hair and shook his head. He grabbed a pair of boxers and shook them in his fist. “How was I to know that Clay's clothes weren't colorfast?”
Rick stared blankly at the back of the drum, holding back at comment about how that explained why a good number of Clayton's clothes shared the same day-glo shade. “This would have worked out if Lorna's under... things were in this wash.”
There was an awkward, silent pause between the two men.
“I mean, figuratively.” Rick hastily added. “If we were washing the girls' things instead of the guys' things. And it's only Clay's in this load, right?” He pointed back at the basket he had carrying earlier. “Our wash is over there.”
Mike slowly turned towards Rick. “DEVON'S wash was in there too.”
“WHAT?!”
“Goodwill gesture, since we'd be in the basement anyway.” Mike nodded towards his laundry basket. “No, I do not seek out a British gentleman's underthings normally. Now...”
“Now, Devon's going to kill us.” Rick whimpered. “He's going to bring the wrath of the British Armed Forces down on us!”
There was another long pause. The silence hung thick in the room.
Mike cleared his throat. “Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to put Devon's things back into the washer with a bottle of bleach.” He pointed at Rick. “You're going to go out and find the biggest tea set money can buy and enough supplies so we can live in a hole out back for a week or so.”
“Tea makes everything better?”
“I hope it does for our sake!”
---
It was rare when Devon was actually home; usually, he was out making connections, gathering information and performing all of the duties that it took to keep a legally gray-area team of covert ops agents from becoming international criminals. Still, since half of ShadowKnight had disappeared into another realm, he had tried to be home more often.
This was one of those times where he remembered why he did spend so much time outside of Westchester. He opened the office door when he heard the knock, and took in the two standing on his proverbial doorstep.
Rick stood to one side. In his arms was one of the largest tea tins that Devon had ever seen. Mike stood behind him.
Their expressions suggested that something, yet again, had happened that he probably didn't want to know about. Generally speaking, that look of 'standing in front of the headmaster's office' only meant trouble.
"What happened?"
Mike stepped forward, cringing, and held out an object.
At first, Devon wasn't sure what it was. It looked, vaguely, like a dishrag that had been used for about ten years straight. But upon closer inspection, he realized that it was a pair of boxers. A pair of oddly green-yellow boxers, filled with holes. A pair of his oddly green-yellow boxers, filled with holes.
Rick tried to explain, "See, a pair of Clay's boxers accidentally got in there with your whites, and--"
"--and we tried to bleach them back, and we put the washer on super-duty, but, uhm," Mike continued, then trailed off.
Devon turned back into his office, took a catalogue out of his top dresser drawer and brought it back. He shoved the catalogue into Mike's hands, then gently took the tea tin from Rick, and closed his office door on them.
Through the thick oak, he could hear Mike say, "He orders underwear from a catalogue?"
And Rick reply, "No, he orders $50 boxers from a catalogue."
"Aw, geez. This is gonna cost us a fortune."
Devon looked at the ceiling and shook his head to himself. Well, at least he got some tea out of it.
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