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Aug. 22nd, 2006 01:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teddogSteff wrote a follow up to my silly little story Colorfast, wherein Mike and Rick have to deal with Devon personally. She said I can post it, so I will.
It was rare when Devon was actually home; usually, he was out making connections, gathering information and performing all of the duties that it took to keep a legally gray-area team of covert ops agents from becoming international criminals. Still, since half of ShadowKnight had disappeared into another realm, he had tried to be home more often.
This was one of those times where he remembered why he did spend so much time outside of Westchester. He opened the office door when he heard the knock, and took in the two standing on his proverbial doorstep.
Rick stood to one side. In his arms was one of the largest tea tins that Devon had ever seen. Mike stood behind him.
Their expressions suggested that something, yet again, had happened that he probably didn't want to know about. Generally speaking, that look of 'standing in front of the headmaster's office' only meant trouble.
"What happened?"
Mike stepped forward, cringing, and held out an object.
At first, Devon wasn't sure what it was. It looked, vaguely, like a dishrag that had been used for about ten years straight. But upon closer inspection, he realized that it was a pair of boxers. A pair of oddly green-yellow boxers, filled with holes. A pair of his oddly green-yellow boxers, filled with holes.
Rick tried to explain, "See, a pair of Clay's boxers accidentally got in there with your whites, and--"
"--and we tried to bleach them back, and we put the washer on super-duty, but, uhm," Mike continued, then trailed off.
Devon turned back into his office, took a catalogue out of his top dresser drawer and brought it back. He shoved the catalogue into Mike's hands, then gently took the tea tin from Rick, and closed his office door on them.
Through the thick oak, he could hear Mike say, "He orders underwear from a catalogue?"
And Rick reply, "No, he orders $50 boxers from a catalogue."
"Aw, geez. This is gonna cost us a fortune."
Devon looked at the ceiling and shook his head to himself. Well, at least he got some tea out of it.
It was rare when Devon was actually home; usually, he was out making connections, gathering information and performing all of the duties that it took to keep a legally gray-area team of covert ops agents from becoming international criminals. Still, since half of ShadowKnight had disappeared into another realm, he had tried to be home more often.
This was one of those times where he remembered why he did spend so much time outside of Westchester. He opened the office door when he heard the knock, and took in the two standing on his proverbial doorstep.
Rick stood to one side. In his arms was one of the largest tea tins that Devon had ever seen. Mike stood behind him.
Their expressions suggested that something, yet again, had happened that he probably didn't want to know about. Generally speaking, that look of 'standing in front of the headmaster's office' only meant trouble.
"What happened?"
Mike stepped forward, cringing, and held out an object.
At first, Devon wasn't sure what it was. It looked, vaguely, like a dishrag that had been used for about ten years straight. But upon closer inspection, he realized that it was a pair of boxers. A pair of oddly green-yellow boxers, filled with holes. A pair of his oddly green-yellow boxers, filled with holes.
Rick tried to explain, "See, a pair of Clay's boxers accidentally got in there with your whites, and--"
"--and we tried to bleach them back, and we put the washer on super-duty, but, uhm," Mike continued, then trailed off.
Devon turned back into his office, took a catalogue out of his top dresser drawer and brought it back. He shoved the catalogue into Mike's hands, then gently took the tea tin from Rick, and closed his office door on them.
Through the thick oak, he could hear Mike say, "He orders underwear from a catalogue?"
And Rick reply, "No, he orders $50 boxers from a catalogue."
"Aw, geez. This is gonna cost us a fortune."
Devon looked at the ceiling and shook his head to himself. Well, at least he got some tea out of it.
