[FIC] Meanwhile... In Denmark (AGENT AU- 3)
Title: Meanwhile... in Denmark.
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Denmark
Word Count: 612
Warning/s: AU, human names used
Summary: While on suspension from his team’s current mission, Mathias has to find some way to entertain himself. More a less an intermission piece to “Following Protocol”
A/N: This is a purely silly piece written because I can’t abide the idea of a mopey Denmark.
Mathias was bored.
Bored wasn’t even a strong enough word for the restlessness he was feeling. He had run out of ideas to entertain himself days ago. Currently, he was trying to grow out a beard simply out of curiosity to see how big it would get. ... Damn thing was itchy though.
When he had first arrived in Copenhagen, he was still smarting from the lashing he’d gotten from Central, and even more so from Aleksander’s rejection. His frustration with everything had first chased him into the pub night after night, but all the drinks and all the flirting with pretty girls and the hangovers the next day had gotten stale. (Plus he’d gotten his wallet stolen when he passed out that Saturday)
The second week, he’d gotten in his car and driven to a small house he’d rented in the countryside. There was a lake nearby, and he had stuffed the back of his car with his rods and a new collection of bait. But, despite his best efforts, the fish steadfastly refused to bite day after day. All he would end up doing is falling asleep in his boat, lulled by the hot weather and slow rocking of the boat, as he desperately waited for something to snag the line. (He called it quits the afternoon he woke up from yet another nap with the bright outline of fingers sunburned onto his face because he’d fallen asleep with his hand over his eyes.)
So here he was, back in his apartment in the city, hiding out until the ridiculous mark on his face faded. If anyone from the team happened to see him, Mathias knew they’d never let him live it down. He could just picture the angle of Aleksander’s eyebrows. (“Why Mathias, I wouldn’t have guessed you were that stupid.”) He imagined the way Berwald’s mouth would twitch with the need to laugh, eyes gloating. Tino would take one look at him and burst out laughing, straight in his face, and then frantically try to apologize at his blunder. Aron would just slap his forehead in disbelief and shake his head before walking away.
...Mathias missed their company. If they had all finished the Initiative together, he would have probably thrown himself into someone else’s plans, just for the company. He might have stuck close to Aleksander, who would have complained the entire time and then never asked him to leave.
Mathias frowned. He’d been cooped up too long, he was getting all sentimental. And with that thought, he went off to the basement, where he had a few exercise tools set up. A new workout routine seemed like a good idea.
The next week found him shouting frantically into his headset.
“SHIT. Behind you! Look out!”
He was forced to watch, helpless, as his team member was blown up by a long distance missile, dismembered bits scattering onto the ground.
“What the hell was that? We lost the match because of you idiots!”
Mathias ripped of the headset and threw it against the wall. He was on his couch, legs dangling over the back as he lay upside down, playing Modern Warfare 3 with the stupidest kids ever apparently.
Frustrated, he flipped himself over and stomped to the kitchen to grab a beer. As he straightened up from reaching into the fridge, he glanced towards the calendar pinned on the wall. Four more days until his flight back to Berlin.
His sunburn had finally faded, and in four days, he’d be back with competent fighters, who could aim a damn gun.
He passed his fingers over his face. ...He’d probably need to shave the beard first though.
END
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Denmark
Word Count: 612
Warning/s: AU, human names used
Summary: While on suspension from his team’s current mission, Mathias has to find some way to entertain himself. More a less an intermission piece to “Following Protocol”
A/N: This is a purely silly piece written because I can’t abide the idea of a mopey Denmark.
Mathias was bored.
Bored wasn’t even a strong enough word for the restlessness he was feeling. He had run out of ideas to entertain himself days ago. Currently, he was trying to grow out a beard simply out of curiosity to see how big it would get. ... Damn thing was itchy though.
When he had first arrived in Copenhagen, he was still smarting from the lashing he’d gotten from Central, and even more so from Aleksander’s rejection. His frustration with everything had first chased him into the pub night after night, but all the drinks and all the flirting with pretty girls and the hangovers the next day had gotten stale. (Plus he’d gotten his wallet stolen when he passed out that Saturday)
The second week, he’d gotten in his car and driven to a small house he’d rented in the countryside. There was a lake nearby, and he had stuffed the back of his car with his rods and a new collection of bait. But, despite his best efforts, the fish steadfastly refused to bite day after day. All he would end up doing is falling asleep in his boat, lulled by the hot weather and slow rocking of the boat, as he desperately waited for something to snag the line. (He called it quits the afternoon he woke up from yet another nap with the bright outline of fingers sunburned onto his face because he’d fallen asleep with his hand over his eyes.)
So here he was, back in his apartment in the city, hiding out until the ridiculous mark on his face faded. If anyone from the team happened to see him, Mathias knew they’d never let him live it down. He could just picture the angle of Aleksander’s eyebrows. (“Why Mathias, I wouldn’t have guessed you were that stupid.”) He imagined the way Berwald’s mouth would twitch with the need to laugh, eyes gloating. Tino would take one look at him and burst out laughing, straight in his face, and then frantically try to apologize at his blunder. Aron would just slap his forehead in disbelief and shake his head before walking away.
...Mathias missed their company. If they had all finished the Initiative together, he would have probably thrown himself into someone else’s plans, just for the company. He might have stuck close to Aleksander, who would have complained the entire time and then never asked him to leave.
Mathias frowned. He’d been cooped up too long, he was getting all sentimental. And with that thought, he went off to the basement, where he had a few exercise tools set up. A new workout routine seemed like a good idea.
The next week found him shouting frantically into his headset.
“SHIT. Behind you! Look out!”
He was forced to watch, helpless, as his team member was blown up by a long distance missile, dismembered bits scattering onto the ground.
“What the hell was that? We lost the match because of you idiots!”
Mathias ripped of the headset and threw it against the wall. He was on his couch, legs dangling over the back as he lay upside down, playing Modern Warfare 3 with the stupidest kids ever apparently.
Frustrated, he flipped himself over and stomped to the kitchen to grab a beer. As he straightened up from reaching into the fridge, he glanced towards the calendar pinned on the wall. Four more days until his flight back to Berlin.
His sunburn had finally faded, and in four days, he’d be back with competent fighters, who could aim a damn gun.
He passed his fingers over his face. ...He’d probably need to shave the beard first though.
END