#straight up guffawed thinking this sentence at work. i probably sounded like i was dying or perhaps hiccuping in an ungodly loud manner

[capaldiera]

nurse dougal having a straight girl moment kissing father mulcahy at the mash reunion because margaret (straight man) thinks its hot

[kiruuuuu]

Ignorance is Blitz

Dearest @magehir​, I wish you a happy birthday and all the best 💖💖 May this next year bring all that you need. Thank you for existing, putting up with me and infecting me with the worst kinds of ideas :) This is a first part to the long-promised Wikihow fic, though it functions just as well as a standalone, and I hope you enjoy it! (hints for Blitz/Rook, Rating T, humour/fluff, ~5k words)

.

“How to give passive-aggressive gifts for Christmas”, Mute murmurs.

Rook’s brain shuts off mid-sentence. He supposes this is one of the situations where people claim to be thinking of a million possible responses when his thoughts have instead come to a screeching halt and the last syllable died on his tongue, never to be accompanied by its brethren which would’ve formed the rest of the term best describing the all you can eat buffet he went to recently: culinary extravaganza.

“How to find hot people to be friends with on Facebook”, Mute adds just as quietly as before, apparently oblivious to the sudden silence as his two friends merely stare at him in vague disturbance. “How to act like a modern vampire.”

“What the fuck”, Rook addresses him and attempts to catch a glimpse of his screen, now thoroughly concerned. “I hope to god this isn’t your google search history you’re reading right now or else we’ll have to start carrying around garlic soon.”

Mute, now having finally noticed their attention, is grinning down at his phone and announces: “How to hide an erection.”

“I could’ve used advice on that in school”, Glaz states drily, startling Rook into a laugh.

“How to be okay with having a communist friend.”

“Are those actual – what the hell are you reading?”

It’s yet another one of their lazy days, meaning they’re draped over various pieces of furniture, dying of boredom and hoping fate plops anything exciting into their laps. Their standards keep dropping with every passing second and it’s happened before that a small caterpillar became the highlight of one of their afternoons – they spent more than an hour simply feeding it and watching it eat and Glaz ended up almost crying when Sledge threw it outside to motivate them for kitchen duty. At this point, Rook would give his left arm for a balloon or a piece of string, though he keeps dismissing Mute’s claims about the internet harbouring enough entertainment to last several lifetimes. Maybe he just doesn’t know where to look, however.

“How to trick people into thinking you’re possessed.”

“Step one: be Mark Chandar on too many energy drinks.” Mute throws the Frenchman a glare and earns an innocent smile in return. “Seriously though, pretending to be possessed by a demon must be hilarious around Maestro, he’d probably cry.”

“He’d cry for you”, Mute informs him. “With me, he’d offer to put me down before even thinking twice about an exorcism. Do you think we should pick one of these stupid articles and actually do what it says? It could be entertaining.”

“Are there any remotely nice ones?”, Glaz wants to know hopefully. “Like ‘how to break into somebody’s room and clean it without their knowledge’?”

“Oh, here’s one for Jules – ‘how to love’.”

Before Rook can even threaten bodily harm, Glaz sighs and mumbles: “That one I definitely don’t need to read.”

Fighting down the urge to just hug him and never let him go so no one can ever hurt him again, Rook suggests: “They probably have stupid suggestions for really normal things too, don’t they? Like really detailed descriptions of how to shower for example, we can take those and exaggerate them a bit. How does that sound?”

“In that case I’ve got the perfect example”, Mute replies excitedly. “How to date. Short and sweet but the very first point is setting yourself up for success, so this should be good. If we follow this like a recipe, we’ll be dating left and right no problem.”

“Somehow, I doubt that”, Glaz sighs. “Who do you even want to date?”

“What do you mean, ‘you’? Shouldn’t you be the one to do it?”

“I’ll do it”, Rook volunteers to gloss over the fact that the last time Glaz asked anyone out on a date was likely ten years ago whereas he himself flirts with everything that moves, therefore making an unsuccessful attempt sting less. “So, how do I trick myself into being successful?”

“Define your expectations”, Mute quotes the article with a grin. “Are you looking for a lifetime commitment?”

“Sorry, mystery guy, but I’m already in a committed relationship with -”

“- yourself”, Glaz butts in, making Mute snort and break out into immature giggling as soon as he notices Rook’s indignant expression.

“… I was going to say my bed and food, but I guess that works. Thank you for the vote of confidence, in any case. Am I that self-absorbed? I don’t think I am, I’m a good listener, right? And it’s not like I talk over people or ignore them, or as if I’m lacking awareness of talking too much about myself. You wouldn’t call me egocentric, would you? I definitely don’t fit all of the criteria, after all I’m not -”

“Decide how you want to date”, Mute interrupts him quite rudely, Rook finds. “You’re absolutely not going to snag anyone on the internet, we may be out for a laugh but you’re not catfishing anyone.”

“Why would I catfish?! The only fitting part of that is the fish, since I’m a real catch”, Rook protests and causes the other two to groan.

“Yeah, no, I’m not letting you on the internet because you’d need a likeable personality for it. Oh, one of the options is having a friend set you up. I like that – Glaz, who should he try to date?”

“Craig”, the Russian deadpans immediately. Concerned silence follows as the other two attempt to assess whether he’s joking or not. “You can go watch a film with him and get kicked out when he won’t stop talking loudly.”

“I’d say Seamus but -”

“- there’s no way I can compete with Italian sausage”, Rook chimes in and feels a grim satisfaction at Mute’s grimace. He really reacts as if they were talking about his real parents. “Have you seen his bruises? The worst I’ve done is accidentally slap someone in the face.”

Glaz is horrified. “How do you… accidentally?”

“Listen, I was drunk, the guy kept getting louder and louder about wanting me to spank him but I at that point didn’t know how it’s done, so I just…”

“Maybe this was a mistake”, Mute grumbles and rubs his temple. “I would have you date Seamus now just out of spite but he’d chuck you out the nearest window as soon as you started babbling nonsense or acting weird. We need someone who’s more lenient, ideally someone nice so they don’t hold a grudge when we tell them it was all for shits and giggles, maybe shy because then your chances are better, and someone who doesn’t dislike you. So Fuze is out.”

“What, why?”

“Are you telling me you’d like to date Fuze?”

“No, I mean – why doesn’t he like me? He never talks to me, but he never talks to anyone.”

“It could be the fact that you helped Dom dye his teeth blue while he slept. Not only is it fucking creepy, he also looked like he ate all the Smurfs for a day.”

“What about Elias?”

Again, Glaz’ contribution gives them pause, albeit a noticeably more pensive one this time. He’s right, what about Blitz? Together with Sledge, Thatcher and Montagne he makes up Team Dad, meaning they look out for everyone but especially the younger operators, take them under their wing – yet it also means neither of the three are particularly keen on details about their love lives, which is why Mute’s thoughts instantly went to Sledge as a form of punishment. Blitz is similar in that vein, though he fits the Brit’s description to the letter: he’s quick to forgive people, has an atrocious track record concerning relationships as far as they know and he seems to enjoy Rook’s company. He might indeed be a good target for this.

“Rather him than Gilles or Mike”, Rook hastens to reply as soon as he realises that if he rejects the German, this is where his friends’ worrisome thoughts are going to end up. Both of them could easily be his dad, unlike Blitz who might have a fatherly protective attitude towards his younger colleagues but at least no grey hairs yet.

“I’m sure you could win them over with your boyish innocence”, Mute deadpans, making Rook grimace. “They might be a tad too old for your tastes though. I think Mike even owns a Cat Stevens CD.”

“Remember how Elias and Marius talked about a DOS-based game? I think he is, too, but he’s the best out of the three.”

“Ten years older isn’t too old.”

Glaz and Rook exchange a meaningful glance and merely raise their brows at an increasingly flustered Mute who looks ready to smack himself in the face with his phone, given how much he’s suddenly fiddling with it. “I’m not sure we’re talking about Julien and Elias anymore”, the Russian states drily, and Rook nods up a storm.

“Look”, Mute begins to defend himself to two expectant expressions and eventually just sighs in frustration. “Whatever, let’s not talk about my crush -”

“Oh, so it is a crush now, is it?”

“Shut up.” Rook wasn’t aware that Mute’s ears could be this shade of red. “James is… a good friend right now.”

“You say this as if you hadn’t thought about whether he sounds in bed just like the time Seamus accidentally pelted him in the balls with Diana’s tennis ball and he whimpered for an hour straight.” Rook feels a rush of pride at his comment when Mute suddenly looks ready to murder. It seems like he hit the mark, just like Sledge had done: right in the crotch.

“He strikes me as someone who’s had dog slobber in that particular area before”, Glaz murmurs probably as an aside and looks almost shocked when Rook’s instant guffawing lets him know that he said this out loud. Even Mute doesn’t seem sure whether he should be horribly offended or deeply amused.

.

In the end, they do decide on Blitz being their victim. Glaz gets cold feet halfway through the conversation, raising the issue of morality and deceit but gets shot down quickly when Mute lists some of the pranks with which Bandit got away and which had exceedingly far-reaching consequences. The West wing of their building still has no running water. Not that Rook is complaining about sharing their showers with some of its occupants, no, not at all.

“We’re going to Bond you up”, Mute announces while digging through one of the many, many drawers in the workshop that are filled with… stuff. Rook is waiting for the day this stuff starts pouring out of every cupboard they have, because it means it’ll all get cleaned up and tidied by someone who’s not getting paid enough and maybe then they’ll find the remote for the TV again. He’s sick of bribing people to turn the volume up or down by pressing buttons on the device directly, especially because his candy stash has run low by now because of it.

“What are you guys doing?”

Only Rook and Glaz turn away from the unmanageable mess of cords, cables, plugs and other electric parts in which Mute is elbow deep right now, and maybe Rook should worry about it turning sentient and swallowing the Brit whole at some point, but right now he’s worrying about one thing only: the possibility of Bandit catching wind of what they’re doing. He’s pretending to make nonchalant small talk but really, he must’ve smelled blood. He always knows when they’re up to something.

“Befriending communists”, Glaz replies politely.

“Hiding boners”, Rook supplies.

Bandit’s eyes narrow suspiciously but he remains silent as Mute produces a triumphant noise and pulls out what looks like an earring attached to a cable and a few other things, with a small box at the end. “Here we go! You can wear this, Jules.”

“In my life I’ve only fucked one guy who wore earrings”, Bandit deems it necessary to divulge. “And when he got dressed, he’d do sock shoe sock shoe.”

Rook snorts. “I’m not surprised you’re friends with James since you seem to have prior experience with psychopaths.”

“Let’s go, boys, we have all we came for”, Mute tells them, an unambiguous signal to not engage Bandit any further or else he’s never going to leave them alone, and starts herding them out of the workshop. To their collective annoyance, Bandit follows, unperturbed by the waves of get lost rolling off of them.

“If I give you a Curly Wurly, will you leave us alone?”, Rook addresses him and earns a scoff.

“Please, as if I could be bribed with sweets. This is an interesting device you’re undoubtedly going to misuse somehow and I want to see where it’s going.”

“And four hobnobs. The ones with chocolate.”

“I just told you -”

“Add a chocolate orange to that.”

“Deal. Have fun!”

.

“I feel extraordinarily gay”, Rook mumbles into his collar and prays that no one else in the canteen is paying any attention to him hovering uncertainly at the edge of the room, waiting for Zofia to be done talking to his mark. Blitz looks comfortable in the middle of the room, paperwork spread out on the table before him and an open bag of crisps by his elbow – only he would still be working during his lunch break. Considering all the people in front of whom Rook could be thoroughly embarrassing himself, he’s one of the better options as his smile is not only contagious but also very pretty. So even if this will influence his reputation for a while, Blitz is likely to be a good sport about it all.

Rook is wearing an apron reading Kiss the cook because one of the items on Mute’s blasted list involved making him look ‘approachable’, and since the pink t-shirt they gifted Glaz with the slogan ‘single and ready to flamingle’ is in the wash, this was the next best option. The earring which serves as Mute’s and Glaz’ way of communicating with him during this whole ordeal is not only garish but unfortunately a clip-on, so Rook couldn’t refuse wearing it. He feels like a budget version of an undercover agent, only much, much shadier.

“You look it, too, so it’s perfect”, Mute’s tinny voice reassures him into his left ear. They’re both sitting at the other end of the canteen, sharing popcorn and crunching infuriatingly loudly into their mic. “Make eye contact, smile and raise your eyebrows – that’s the first step, according to this masterpiece.”

It’s the perfect opportunity to implement a technique Rook has mastered almost twenty years ago: he starts out by rolling his eyes over his friends but as soon as he notices Blitz looking over, Zofia nowhere in sight, it transforms into a bright smile. This instantaneous switch in facial expressions has served him well over the years, especially around unlikeable teachers or bosses – only this time, he thinks a little too much about what Mute has said and ends up with a manic grin instead of a friendly smile while lifting his brows so high he must look either utterly astonished or inexplicably anticipatory.

Glaz masks his snort as a cough whereas Blitz reciprocates his bloodthirsty smirk with a much milder lifting of the corners of his mouth. Even from this distance, Rook can detect his concern which is probably fighting Blitz’ omnipresent drive to be social, accepting and open-minded. He always looks like this when Twitch’s current explanation has left him lost half an hour ago or when Tachanka jovially reminisces about early Spetsnaz training (and who in the world thinks that being chased through a hallway filled with blood and guts by a massive dog in the middle of the night was in any way, shape or form fun).

He’s starting to feel bad. Only a little, but honestly, when Blitz put on the clothes his blind roommate laid out for him this morning (because how else does he explain his usual attire), he probably wasn’t expecting to become a wikihow experiment today.

“I swear you’re gonna make me choke on this popcorn”, Glaz mutters and, like clockwork, Rook immediately replies: “Sounds less entertaining than choking on cockporn.”

More strangled noises in his ear, but fortunately Mute takes over to rescue him from certain death via being cast out of society by informing him of the next step: “Indicate interest and project confidence during social situations. Go on, be interested and confident. You’re as great as you are misguided in one of those, and terrible at the other.”

Rook ignores the slight (really, just because he once paid no attention to what Mute was telling him and they ended up stranded in the wilderness with no more gas doesn’t make him a bad listener, and him self-assuredly flirting his way into some stranger’s car who then became a little too interested in him doesn’t necessarily mean he’s overconfident), and approaches his target with a cocksure swagger he’s practised for exactly three seconds on the way to the canteen. “Hey, what are you doing, I like you, is this equipment paperwork, I’ve actually done a ton of these so I’m an absolute pro, how are you this fine day?”

Blitz stares at him. Maybe Rook should’ve let the other two know that he gets the worst case of stage fright whenever he feels observed in social situations and that it manifests in casual blabbering. “I, uh, I’m good, thanks. Are you alright?”

He sounds hesitant and Rook can’t blame him. After plopping down opposite of the German with a slightly less manic smile, he attempts to ignore Mute and Glaz whom he can very clearly see over Blitz’ shoulder and who both seem to be shoving their fists into their mouths to try and not giggle too obviously. “Peachy”, he beams. “How’s the work going? Is it just as work-y as always?”

His contagious laugh falls on deaf ears, at least from the man he’s talking to. Glaz looks about ready to cry.

“I suppose so.” Bless Blitz for his endless patience. The doubtful tone is still present and betrays his suspicion of something going on, but as Rook neither attempts to steal or set fire to the papers nor to shove a cake into his face, he probably figures there’s no immediate danger. “Have you actually filled out these kinds of forms before?”

“Confidence”, Mute squeaks into his ear, still suppressing his mirth, and Rook suddenly wonders whether Smoke would like to know about the time Mute despaired over his new laptop not working, troubleshooting it for several days and refusing any and all outside help until an innocently passing-by Jäger pointed out that it wasn’t plugged in. So far, the event has been contained but Rook has long been waiting for an opportunity to unleash this knowledge.

“Of course, I used to do them all the time as homework, I could do them in my sleep”, Rook lies through his teeth.

“Great!” It seems Blitz failed to get the memo about projecting entirely misplaced confidence because he goes on to ask: “Could you help me with this one detail then? I’m not sure what -”

And while he explains his problem, Rook’s brain long having shut off, Mute informs him of the next step: “Make engaging small talk. Ask broad, open-ended questions like ‘so, what got you interested in rock-climbing’.”

“So, what got you interested in rock-climbing?”, Rook interrupts Blitz’ detailing completely out of the blue. A distance away, Glaz is putting his head in his hands.

Blitz forgets to close his mouth for a few seconds, and Rook almost wishes he didn’t stop talking but instead ignored Rook’s question entirely. “I… am not particularly interested in rock-climbing, if I’m honest. Why do you ask?”

And while Rook flounders and stutters out a non-committal oh, you know, Glaz, the absolute angel on his shoulder, decides to step in and save him: “Perfect opportunity, the next step is don’t take yourself too seriously. Try making a joke at your own expense if you say something you think is utterly stupid. You can save this, Julien, I believe in you.”

“Well, uh.” Think, think, think. Rook feels like Winnie the Pooh and barely stops himself from tapping his temple. As usual, his mouth is writing checks long before his brain has earned the money, and so he witnesses in unfortunately non-mute horror as the words come over his lips: “It’s just that your muscles are as hard as a rock and I suddenly thought how awesome it would be to go rock-climbing.”

Smooth.

Blitz is genuinely gaping now.

Behind him, Mute nearly falls off his chair while shaking with silent laughter, and Glaz is wearing the all too familiar expression of ‘if anyone asks, I will forever deny knowing you’.

“I, um, well, thanks? I guess? Julien, are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

“I’ve never felt better in my life.” Confidence, right? What was the other thing? Open-ended questions? “Speaking of, what do you want to achieve in life?”

How Blitz hasn’t gotten whiplash yet is a mystery. Maybe Rook will be able to make Mute laugh so hard he’ll drop dead. He’s looking a little blue in the face already. “Why do you ask? Do you really want to know?”

“Yes!”, Rook responds too forcefully and thanks whoever is responsible for Blitz being completely resistant to weird behaviour, merely accepting it as a fact of life and glossing over it. On second thought, the reason for this is most definitely Bandit and Rook would rather gnaw off his own toes than thank Bandit for anything.

Blitz’ eyes lower and he absent-mindedly moves some of the papers around. His entire demeanour… shifts. “I want to make a difference somehow. And I know this sounds horribly cliché, and everyone here has the same wish – but does that make it in any way less special? I don’t think so. We put our lives on the line to ensure some girl will have a mother when she grows up, to inspire some people to turn their life around, so that people have a roof over their head and peaceful sleep. And I don’t care if some say there’s better ways to do this. This is mine, this is something I’m good at, and my capabilities are useful here where they would be lost as a politician or anything else. And there always will be more to do, I’ll never be done, but that’s okay. I’ll know I’ve done a bit, and I’m happy with that already.”

Something flutters.

He hasn’t felt it in a while, not like this, usually stemming from a different place in his body or more concrete, aided by alcohol or general giddiness, but paradoxically his heartbeat is calming down despite the tingling sensation in his chest. Speechless, he stares at the man in front of him, trying to do what he always does when people’s sincerity makes him uncomfortable – joking about it in his head, react with sarcasm, discard the notion as sentimental or naive. Only right now, it’s his cynicism which feels fake instead of Blitz’ words.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you with a speech”, the German adds sheepishly and laughs a little. It’s cute. It’s the cutest thing Rook has seen today and if he does that thing where he scratches the back of his head because he’s embarrassed and a little lost now, Rook might pass out on the spot, just lose all body tension and glide to the ground like a jelly pancake because no one, and that includes genuinely happy Glaz, no one has any right to be this adorable.

Blitz scratches the back of his head.

“I’m going to faint”, Rook informs someone, he’s not even sure who, whether it’s Mute and Glaz and this is a badly hidden attempt at getting them to come to his aid, or whether it’s Blitz to inform him that the cute police is on his case.

“Oh, that’s right, it’s lunch and you haven’t eaten anything yet, no?” If his next sentence is something along the lines of ‘let me offer you food’, he’ll have to propose. There’s no way around it. “I’d offer you something more substantial but I only have the crisps. You can try them if you want, but they’re a little hot.”

Right on cue, Mute whispers in his ear: “You should find some common ground and then ask him out. This is already a disaster, no need to prolong it.”

“I love hot things!”, Rook exclaims cheerfully and it’s not even that big of a lie, except that ‘food’ isn’t on the list. But if Mute wants his common ground, he’s going to get it. Without checking the packaging, Rook reaches into the bag and shoves a few of the suspiciously red potato crisps into his mouth.

“He’s going to die”, Glaz utters full of concern, just as the spiciness hits Rook full force.

Blitz seems to be convinced of the opposite. “Really? That’s great, I’ve not found anyone who likes this type. You should try some of the Indian dishes I make now and then!”

Rook’s consciousness is fading, slowly being replaced by unadulterated fire. This must be what it’s like to be burnt alive, he reckons, and right now he’d rather eat glass than ensure a second more of this brilliant pain. His eyes are watering and he’s doing his best to efficiently chew without letting any more of it touch his tongue so he can swallow it as fast as possible, in the process ruining his throat. Now it, too, feels like he ate glass. “I’d love to”, he croaks and sniffles pitifully while a cold sweat breaks out on his back.

“Are you ill? You’re a little…” Blitz’ concern is as heartwarming as it is unwelcome; it only makes everything worse.

“Yes, actually.” He can’t cough now. If he does, all is lost, he won’t be able to stop, ever, and it’ll invade his lungs and slowly cook him from the inside out.

“You need to get out”, Glaz informs him, sounding troubled, “and eat your emergency chocolate. Now. Ask him and then bolt.”

This is it, huh. This is what he’s been working up to for the last half an hour: posing a question while sounding like he’s been smoking for longer than he’s been alive, choking back tears which make it almost impossible to see Blitz, and faced with all the kindness and compassion of a man he suddenly doesn’t want to disappoint.

And so he asks.

.

“I am still in shock”, Mute says. The others nod.

“I have no idea how it came to this”, Glaz says. More nodding.

“I can finally feel my tongue again”, Rook slurs and downs the third glass of milk, just to be safe. He feels like he ran a marathon, solved maths problems and had an allergic reaction all at once. Not to mention the overarching shame of having embarrassed himself in front of someone who turned out much more sympathetic than he thought.

“I don’t understand.” Mute’s rational brain is rejecting this reality, Rook can almost hear the gears crunching. “Why would he say yes?! Where did we go wrong?”

He’s hesitant to tell them that he actually wouldn’t mind getting to know Blitz better because the memory of them shoving oversized condoms into Glaz’ pockets in order to embarrass him in front of his crush is still all too fresh. “This was a success then”, he very inaccurately summarises the unholy catastrophe of whatever it was that happened in the canteen twenty minutes ago. Maybe he can just… pretend he doesn’t want to actually go on the date but go nonetheless, be far, far from either of these two so he might end up enjoying himself – and if something comes out of it, he still has ample time to let them know.

“You don’t seem sad about this result”, Mute picks up on his careful neutrality and squints. “Are you telling me you actually want him to make you groan with something other than his terrible dad jokes? Is that it?”

“We probably should’ve picked Shuhrat after all”, Glaz muses with a sigh. “He wouldn’t have accepted. He might’ve refused to ever go near you again, but at least we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Wait.” Mute is on his phone, which is never a good sign if the Thomas the tank engine toy he modified into a fully functioning flamethrower after having watched a video of someone else doing it was any indication. A sense of dread starts rising in Rook. “There’s instructions for a first date here, too. We can do the same thing again, give you instructions and have you follow them. At this point, we kinda have to do this.”

Rook pictures it. All he can see is carnage, chaos and more catastrophes. It’ll be a disaster, he’s already struggling with multi-tasking without it involving another largely unpredictable person, and his nerves don’t deal well with expectations of any kind.

He weighs this against the alternative: admitting that he’d like to go on the date without their interference and facing endless mockery as a result. He remembers his own mental threat against Mute to divulge embarrassing stories of his past to Smoke. He thinks of the time his tongue got stuck to a pole because Mute told him this only happened to children, not adults.

“Alright”, he agrees with a sigh and regrets his decision as soon as Mute’s and Glaz’ eyes light up.