Title: In His Service
Author: @weusedtotalktilmidnight
For: @invcnio-patcr
Pairings/Characters: L, Watari, Roger, Roillsh (Roger Ruvie x Quillsh Wammy)
Rating/Warnings: Mostly G, like one sentence towards the end of T
Author’s Note: Editing credit to @kiranatrix because otherwise this piece would be in unenviable shape.
“How do you and Roger know each other anyhow?” L was trashing emails from INTERPOL without opening them as Watari watched.
L took a small, delicate sip of his TWG Earl Grey, and calmly continued in his monotone, “He’s never deserved your loyalty. But then, neither have I.” Today was a rare day of personal questions and a not so rare day of self doubts though those were seldom vocalized, “Young sir,” Watari took his hat off to underscore his deliberate choice of words, “Regardless of titles, I have only ever been in the service of royalty.”
He paused before giving an answer. He’d been L’s caretaker since he’d adopted him at 6 years old, and L had maybe asked a personal question once every few years. He supposed L was old enough to handle the information, “We met in a government program in our youth. He was there as a researcher and I was there as an operative.”
—————-
I was around 30 at the time, and tasked to brainstorm with another agent about the logistics of a lab break in the US. I remembered the first time I saw Roger, his pronounced hook nose had been buried deep in some dusty tome. He’d glanced up to glower intensely at me when I sat down, but it wasn’t as if I had sat down uninvited. I’d been forced to tap Roger on the wrist when he wouldn’t look up again after the glare ended, “You are Roger Ruvie, if I am not mistaken?” The hawkish man gave a dissatisfied huff, sitting up in his fine tweed jacket tailored to his thin form, and continued with his earlier glare. “And you’re Wammy, Quillish. Code name Watari. 30 years and half that in experience. I’ve finished my side of this assignment and already sent in my results, so you should check your inbox at the headquarters. All the details are there regarding what you should avoid upon entry into the facilities, as well as how you might extract the chemical agent without coming to very much harm.” “Very much, eh? Our superiors have asked I discuss this chemical weapons lab with you directly. Not that I merely read your exhaustive missive.” “Alright.” Roger heaved haughtily, then spoke to me like a child. “The coordinates are for an underground lab in Rochester, New York. Yes, the chemical agent you’re procuring is known to have deleterious effects on the central nervous system, in a manner that maims but does not kill its victims. In the mood to shoot some things? Well, don’t. The whole lab may contaminated by placei has storage of the compound if you do. Honestly what more is there to say? You will be fine as long as you carefully observe all my advice and heed my warnings. There. We’ve fully discussed this matter now, and my advice is still to read my research very carefully should you wish to avoid harm.” “Yes, you are making it very clear you believe I am incapable of reading comprehension.” “Godspeed. May you be successful on England’s behalf. Should you fail it will jeopardize my own career.” “Long live the Queen.” I was amused because Roger looked practically ready to spit in my face when all I’d done was sit down and ask basic questions. It was time to needle him. “You aren’t a bloke that fancies company much?” Needle met steel. “What I fancy, Mr. Wammy, is the respect due to my profession… which should inform your own but need not interact a position such as yours, sniper.” I laughed tastefully and took my heavy wool coat off to drape it across the back of the chair, indicating I intended to stay awhile longer. “I’m a chemist as well as a marksman, you know. Quite a few of us in the Royal Service have an intellect that matches our physicality . It was a bit more selective than university.” Roger reddened at my cool one-upsmanship. I noticed the beads of sweat forming on Roger’s brow, and that his hands were slightly shaking on the table beside his book. He really wasn’t one for confrontation was he? An uncouth glee came over me and I continued my verbal assault, “You’re on temporary contract to the crown. That makes me your boss.” I realized Roger answered to me within this hierarchy and not the other way around. “What is your point? Are we done here?” “No.” I laughed, “We will discuss this over a drink in front of my hearth later since you can’t relax enough to stop repeating yourself like a broken record. Roger Ruvie, you will report to my quarters at 19:00 or I will have to throw out your research and send for another scientist.” Roger looked like he was weighing an option between being set on fire or drowning. Finally he replied, “Fine. I will make sure this is the last assignment I ever have with you, but you will not waste 4 months of my work because I offended your ridiculous need for attention.” When Roger left the table abruptly, he left the book behind. I picked up the English translation of Dante’s Inferno and went to check it out myself. I bet this man was a romantic. It turned out that Roger had no tolerance for alcohol. And I had no tolerance for more words. Instead of a meeting of minds, we snogged in my study, the tension releasing from both of us and Roger sighing into my neck, cutely enraged. No, I won’t tell L that part. Instead I simplified all those crazy death defying years, and stated that Roger and I met in the service of the Queen. Then remained on in the service of one another.