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love is in the air, and on my balcony

Summary:

“A blessed morning to my most esteemed sirs. Would you kindly step away from the balcony overlooking the mess hall and follow me to another balcony. Preferably this one would be overlooking the auditorium instead, as it is today that we are to welcome the fresh graduates from our academy,” Pat tells them. "Forty-five minutes ago."

“No,” both Tom and Tord reply.

Work Text:

Sometimes, Pat forgets that the two before him are the Red Leader and His Right Hand.

 

Though, who could blame him?

 

“–then Olga tells him, it’s over, and you have to know that Gerfried was absolutely devastated.”   

 

“But what about Johann? He must have heard the news, he’s been waiting for months. This could’ve been his one chance.”

 

“It could’ve … If it were not for Mikael .”

 

“No!”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Mikael! Wait, which Mikael? That one–” The damn Red Leader starts pointing. “Or that one?”

 

That one goes by Mikee,” his damn Right Hand replies. “It’s that one over there.”

 

“No!”

 

“Yes!”

 

Pat clears his throat.

 

The damn Red Leader keeps going, leaning in closer. “What do you think? Upgrade or downgrade?”

 

His damn Right Hand keeps replying, their temples end up bumping. “ Duh , downgrade. Johann was right there . They made a promise with each other and everything. His gun’s engraved with her initials.”

 

A scoff, then a soft smirk aimed at the other. “Is that what peak romance is for you? Should I put a little T.T. on my arm?”

 

“I will vomit on you.”

 

“You like it, you like the idea. You’re blushing.”

 

Vomit .”

 

Pat clears his throat, louder. Nobody will know that he actually ends up choking on his spit there, but it doesn’t matter once he finally gets the attention of the two.

 

Predictably, they’re not amused.

 

Good. Looks like they’re all suffering today.

 

“A blessed morning to my most esteemed sirs. Would you kindly step away from the balcony overlooking the mess hall and follow me to another balcony. Preferably this one would be overlooking the auditorium instead, as it is today that we are to welcome the fresh graduates from our academy,” Pat tells them. "Forty-five minutes ago."

 

“No,” both Tom and Tord reply.

 

Pat’s eye twitches. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?” He asks Tom, who has unfortunately gone back to his people-watching. “We’re supposed to be keeping him in line, he’s off his routine today! The change in schedule is going to mess up the training.”

 

Tord frowns. “Why are you speaking as if I am a dog?”

 

“Tord, come.”

 

“Huh? What?” And unfortunately Tord has also gone back to the people-watching. The silver lining to the situation is that neither of the men see Pat miming strangling both their necks. Not even a hair on their heads sways at the gust of his gestures. When he hears a gasp from the goddamned Red Leader, he ceases his movements and quickly straightens up.

 

“Yep,” Tom says.

 

“No!”

 

“Yep.”

 

“No!”

 

Pat walks up to them and he too starts leaning over the balcony. He finds three soldiers staring each other down by the trash bins.

 

“Johann and Mikael…” Tord whispers, one metal hand over his slack jaw. “They look almost identical .”

 

Tom slams a fist on the railing. “Fuck, why would she go for a cheaper copy, when she could’ve had the real deal!”

 

“Olga, girl, just what are you doing?”

 

Pat frowns. “Aren’t they cousins?”

 

Both Tom and Tord turn to face him. Tord doesn’t even bother to conceal his mindless gape, too absorbed by the revelation. In turn, Tom’s visor showcases an actual loading screen. 

 

When the bar eventually completes, there’s this muted explosion Tom does, perhaps to partly avoid being heard by other soldiers below—and partly because it seems that he is at a loss for words. Garbled sounds escape from him, not dissimilar to Pat’s previous gripes from his near strangulation.

 

“Olga, girl , what are you doing?” Tord bemoans, holding Tom back by the waist before he jumps off the balcony. “Dating his cousin? That’s a whole slew of an emotional conundrum!”

 

“No.” Pat waves him off. “Olga and Johann are cousins.”

 

“...”

 

“...”

 

“...”

 

Tom reaches for Tord, one hand over the prosthetic before he pulls him closer. He leans into other’s ear and mumbles: “I really don’t want my initials engraved on this, okay?”

 

Tord nods, smacks a single kiss on Tom’s forehead. “Of course, kjære . Vomit.”

 

One might think that this would be the perfect opportunity to finally get the Red Leader and His Right Hand over to the auditorium. Fifty minutes have officially passed since the official commencement of the program with the fresh graduates. With this gift from the gods, Pat snatches the moment with wide open arms—

 

“Have you heard that Aurora and Vilma got together?”

 

“No!”

 

“Yes!”

 

—and fails.

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