igrab
in
the_grrrrid
Two Weeks' Nothing | Sam/Rinzler
title. Two Weeks' Nothing
author. igrab
pairing/characters. Sam/Rinzler, Alan, Quorra, Ed
wordcount. 1,457
summary. Sam keeps quitting his job - Alan just wants to know why.
The first time Sam Flynn quit his job as the CEO of Encom, it was because his dog, Marv, had run away.
Or so he said.
Alan showed up at the garage that night feeling harried and cross and wishing with all his heart that Sam wasn't such a... such a Flynn. He was even more annoyed to come into the room and see Sam, his butt firmly planted to the couch, cuddled up to Marv, with his xbox controller in hand.
Alan resisted the very bad urge to literally facepalm. He did not live on the internet, repeat, he did not live on the internet.
"Sam," he said, very carefully. "Please don't tell me you quit so you could have a day off to play video games."
"Shh."
Alan, because he was a kind and obedient soul, took this as an invitation to fold all of Sam's laundry and clean off his desk.
"Woah, woah, what are you doing? Hey, I need that!" Sam, finally realizing what Alan was doing, paused the game and got up to try and rescue some of his terrible doodles from the wastepaper basket.
Alan gave him a Very Doubtful look. "Sam. Why did you quit this morning? You know I had a hell of a time all day trying to reassure the board that you were just kidding?" After a moment, when Sam didn't respond, he had to ask - "you were just kidding, right?"
"Sort of." Sam rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. "I'll be back soon."
Alan sighed heavily. "See, this is what I'm talking about. You're irresponsible - "
"It's not like we're doing anything anyway!"
"And," he cut in, "you don't tell me anything. Marv is missing? Seriously?"
Sam chuckled. "Yeah, that was pretty good, huh?"
"No, Sam, it was not." Alan winced. "Look. I don't care. If you need to take some days off, if you need to quit to feel in control of your life - whatever. I don't care. I'll make whatever excuses I have to make. But I have two requirements." Alan held a hand up quickly, before Sam could retaliate.
"One - always come back. No, stop," he added. "I don't even care how long you're gone just please, please come back. Sam."
He was very quiet after that. He waited.
"And second - will you please just tell me the real reason for why you're quitting?" They'd had this conversation before. Many, many times. Just tell me, Sam. You can go, you can do whatever you want, just tell me where you are, and if you're safe.
Sam sighed, ran a hand through his hair again, and looked rueful. "Well, uh..."
Alan waited.
"...The new Halo game came out today..."
He facepalmed. Because really, there was nothing else he could do.
+
The second time Sam quit his job, Alan thought he was kidding.
"No, Sam, I need a real reason."
"That is the reason!"
"'Dillinger's an asshat and a half' is not a real reason."
He could hear Sam on the other end of the line throwing something that sounded suspiciously heavy. "It sure as hell is!"
And he did quit because of that, but he was back in less than a week, and he had only himself to blame for all the work that had piled up in the days he'd been gone.
+
Sam, you can't text me to quit your job. Contrary to whatever exists in your brain, I don't actually run Encom when you're not here.
AB
sure as hell can. explain later. may be moving to buenos aires??? love always
SF
Sam snapped his phone shut and looked up at the two cheerfully innocent faces that greeted him. He sighed. "How I ever thought I could leave the two of you home alone for a weekend is beyond me," he muttered, rubbing a hand through his hair.
Rinzler made that scrunched-nose face that meant he was confused, but he was also grinning, so on some level he knew that this was ridiculous. Quorra, on the other hand, was downright pleased with herself. She knew better than this and she'd done it anyway, just to spite him. What did he do to deserve this?
"We're going to Home Depot," he said, slowly, carefully. "We're getting paint, and then the two of you are going to repaint these walls while I make sure you actually do it. And then I'm probably never letting you out of my sight, ever."
Quorra twiddled her thumbs and her eyes swooped skyward. "I think you're overreacting. Pink is a lovely color." And Rinzler, the traitorous little reconstruction that Sam was having serious regrets about, just scritched at his ear and declined to comment on the matter.
"No. Absolutely not. You did this on purpose, don't even try and play coy with m-" He stopped, as his cell phone went off again.
Pink? Nice job, Flynn. I approve.
ED
He shut his phone faster than a fleeing bit. "Home Depot. Now."
+
After that, Encom was mostly safe from leader defection, though there were several times he threatened to legitimately quit and Alan (or Ed) had to talk (or argue) him down. But those were few and far between, and when Quorra got her own apartment down the street, Sam even felt all right with leaving for a weekend again. Quorra was adjusting, Rinzler was adjusting - jeez, it was almost like his life was stable or something.
Still, he had an override-program-turned-questionable-humanoid living in his house (garage - whatever), his best friend was an evolutionary miracle who was still regularly fascinated by air, his dad was probably a Jedi and his other dad - well, he had another dad, that is to say, he'd grown up with two dads, which shouldn't be unusual but it was. So his life was never boring, but for the moment - stable.
Rinzler still wore his helmet almost all the time. Sam was cool with that; he had other ways of communicating and that was his business, right? Sam would like him no matter what.
Well. Maybe 'like' was a bit of an understatement.
It was Monday morning and he was in the kitchen, making eggs, remembering only at the last second that Quorra wasn't there anymore, before he made too much. It was a Monday morning and he was probably going to be late already - and that was before Rinzler came up behind him, snaked his arms around Sam's bare waist, and gently clunked his helmet into the base of his spine.
Sam chuckled. "Good morning," he said, like he hadn't seen Rinzler all of ten minutes ago, curled up asleep in their bed.
He said something but the helmet made it come out like a sort of rrrrrr.
"Hey, I'm making breakfast, don't start with me. I'm making breakfast, then we're going to eat and then I'm going to work like a responsible adult. There's nothing you can do about it. Deal with it."
Rrrrrrrrrr.
"Hey. You had me to yourself all weekend." He flipped the eggs neatly onto a plate, turned the burner off, then leaned to pop toast in the toaster. Rinzler was still very, very attached.
"You know, babe, any time is a good time to let g-"
He tried to turn around now that the toast was down, tried to prise his - what, lover? boyfriend? pet program? - off his waist so maybe he could push his helmet up and kiss the living daylights out of him, but Rinzler wasn't having any of that. Apparently. Apparently he needed to crouch coiled in front of Sam like half a dozen fantasies, only there was the stupid helmet in the way, and -
Oh.
Somehow, some fucking how, Rinzler was making his helmet vibrate.
Holy shit nman i quit im fiuxcking done holy shit
SF
What? Sam, you're not making any sense.
AB
RINZLERS HELMET VIBRATES
SF
Alan closed his phone, because that was way too much information and he only had himself to blame - after all, he'd asked for it.
author. igrab
pairing/characters. Sam/Rinzler, Alan, Quorra, Ed
wordcount. 1,457
summary. Sam keeps quitting his job - Alan just wants to know why.
The first time Sam Flynn quit his job as the CEO of Encom, it was because his dog, Marv, had run away.
Or so he said.
Alan showed up at the garage that night feeling harried and cross and wishing with all his heart that Sam wasn't such a... such a Flynn. He was even more annoyed to come into the room and see Sam, his butt firmly planted to the couch, cuddled up to Marv, with his xbox controller in hand.
Alan resisted the very bad urge to literally facepalm. He did not live on the internet, repeat, he did not live on the internet.
"Sam," he said, very carefully. "Please don't tell me you quit so you could have a day off to play video games."
"Shh."
Alan, because he was a kind and obedient soul, took this as an invitation to fold all of Sam's laundry and clean off his desk.
"Woah, woah, what are you doing? Hey, I need that!" Sam, finally realizing what Alan was doing, paused the game and got up to try and rescue some of his terrible doodles from the wastepaper basket.
Alan gave him a Very Doubtful look. "Sam. Why did you quit this morning? You know I had a hell of a time all day trying to reassure the board that you were just kidding?" After a moment, when Sam didn't respond, he had to ask - "you were just kidding, right?"
"Sort of." Sam rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. "I'll be back soon."
Alan sighed heavily. "See, this is what I'm talking about. You're irresponsible - "
"It's not like we're doing anything anyway!"
"And," he cut in, "you don't tell me anything. Marv is missing? Seriously?"
Sam chuckled. "Yeah, that was pretty good, huh?"
"No, Sam, it was not." Alan winced. "Look. I don't care. If you need to take some days off, if you need to quit to feel in control of your life - whatever. I don't care. I'll make whatever excuses I have to make. But I have two requirements." Alan held a hand up quickly, before Sam could retaliate.
"One - always come back. No, stop," he added. "I don't even care how long you're gone just please, please come back. Sam."
He was very quiet after that. He waited.
"And second - will you please just tell me the real reason for why you're quitting?" They'd had this conversation before. Many, many times. Just tell me, Sam. You can go, you can do whatever you want, just tell me where you are, and if you're safe.
Sam sighed, ran a hand through his hair again, and looked rueful. "Well, uh..."
Alan waited.
"...The new Halo game came out today..."
He facepalmed. Because really, there was nothing else he could do.
+
The second time Sam quit his job, Alan thought he was kidding.
"No, Sam, I need a real reason."
"That is the reason!"
"'Dillinger's an asshat and a half' is not a real reason."
He could hear Sam on the other end of the line throwing something that sounded suspiciously heavy. "It sure as hell is!"
And he did quit because of that, but he was back in less than a week, and he had only himself to blame for all the work that had piled up in the days he'd been gone.
+
Sam, you can't text me to quit your job. Contrary to whatever exists in your brain, I don't actually run Encom when you're not here.
AB
sure as hell can. explain later. may be moving to buenos aires??? love always
SF
Sam snapped his phone shut and looked up at the two cheerfully innocent faces that greeted him. He sighed. "How I ever thought I could leave the two of you home alone for a weekend is beyond me," he muttered, rubbing a hand through his hair.
Rinzler made that scrunched-nose face that meant he was confused, but he was also grinning, so on some level he knew that this was ridiculous. Quorra, on the other hand, was downright pleased with herself. She knew better than this and she'd done it anyway, just to spite him. What did he do to deserve this?
"We're going to Home Depot," he said, slowly, carefully. "We're getting paint, and then the two of you are going to repaint these walls while I make sure you actually do it. And then I'm probably never letting you out of my sight, ever."
Quorra twiddled her thumbs and her eyes swooped skyward. "I think you're overreacting. Pink is a lovely color." And Rinzler, the traitorous little reconstruction that Sam was having serious regrets about, just scritched at his ear and declined to comment on the matter.
"No. Absolutely not. You did this on purpose, don't even try and play coy with m-" He stopped, as his cell phone went off again.
Pink? Nice job, Flynn. I approve.
ED
He shut his phone faster than a fleeing bit. "Home Depot. Now."
+
After that, Encom was mostly safe from leader defection, though there were several times he threatened to legitimately quit and Alan (or Ed) had to talk (or argue) him down. But those were few and far between, and when Quorra got her own apartment down the street, Sam even felt all right with leaving for a weekend again. Quorra was adjusting, Rinzler was adjusting - jeez, it was almost like his life was stable or something.
Still, he had an override-program-turned-questionable-humanoid living in his house (garage - whatever), his best friend was an evolutionary miracle who was still regularly fascinated by air, his dad was probably a Jedi and his other dad - well, he had another dad, that is to say, he'd grown up with two dads, which shouldn't be unusual but it was. So his life was never boring, but for the moment - stable.
Rinzler still wore his helmet almost all the time. Sam was cool with that; he had other ways of communicating and that was his business, right? Sam would like him no matter what.
Well. Maybe 'like' was a bit of an understatement.
It was Monday morning and he was in the kitchen, making eggs, remembering only at the last second that Quorra wasn't there anymore, before he made too much. It was a Monday morning and he was probably going to be late already - and that was before Rinzler came up behind him, snaked his arms around Sam's bare waist, and gently clunked his helmet into the base of his spine.
Sam chuckled. "Good morning," he said, like he hadn't seen Rinzler all of ten minutes ago, curled up asleep in their bed.
He said something but the helmet made it come out like a sort of rrrrrr.
"Hey, I'm making breakfast, don't start with me. I'm making breakfast, then we're going to eat and then I'm going to work like a responsible adult. There's nothing you can do about it. Deal with it."
Rrrrrrrrrr.
"Hey. You had me to yourself all weekend." He flipped the eggs neatly onto a plate, turned the burner off, then leaned to pop toast in the toaster. Rinzler was still very, very attached.
"You know, babe, any time is a good time to let g-"
He tried to turn around now that the toast was down, tried to prise his - what, lover? boyfriend? pet program? - off his waist so maybe he could push his helmet up and kiss the living daylights out of him, but Rinzler wasn't having any of that. Apparently. Apparently he needed to crouch coiled in front of Sam like half a dozen fantasies, only there was the stupid helmet in the way, and -
Oh.
Somehow, some fucking how, Rinzler was making his helmet vibrate.
Holy shit nman i quit im fiuxcking done holy shit
SF
What? Sam, you're not making any sense.
AB
RINZLERS HELMET VIBRATES
SF
Alan closed his phone, because that was way too much information and he only had himself to blame - after all, he'd asked for it.