Out of Retirement

Sore-ing Through the Air

Briefly, the Handler woke up when the sun just started to sink through the windows, then went back to sleep.

He would then wake up again later, when it would shine pale grey through the window curtains. The flower of his conscience bloomed awake as he rubbed his eyes. He laid for a moment, absorbing the environment around him.

It would then occur to him that he wasn't as warm as he remembered being earlier. He looked to his right and did not find Phoenix there.

He yawned for a moment and rolled over, feeling the blanket cool around his legs, as he looked at the clock time.

9:49.

He enjoyed the image of the wooden end table and lamp softly emanating the white light and 9:49? 9:49??! He felt fear rise in his chest as he flailed out of bed. He would NEVER sleep that late, AND missed his meeting with Geo! Through few strides, he quickly opened the bedroom door.

Phoenix sat on the couch, with the laptop closed on the coffee table, drinking something out of a medium-sized paper cup. Oh! Good morning.

The Handler drew his finger along his bottom eyelid. "Did.. did you get the meeting?"

Phoenix simply nodded. And you should have enough time to get ready at your own pace.

The Handler felt himself calm despite his racing heart. He sighed. "Okay... okay." He walked over to the off-green couch and sank down into it, leaning against Phoenix and trapping them between him and the arm of the couch. They placed their drink on the windowsill and draped an arm around the Handler, hugging him close.

He snuggled his face against Phoenix's rough dress shirt. "Can I just... stay here for a moment..."

Phoenix protested none. They combed through his bedhead, parting his hair correctly as he relaxed against them. How's your forehead?

"... a little sore, but I'll manage."

It might bruise.

"It most likely will. I'll get over it. Can't be that bad." His voice took a slight upturn.

They sat there, fully enamored in the other's presence.

You should take a shower.

And so he did, returning to Phoenix's side in similar attire. To Phoenix's dismay though, he did not lean into them like before.

"What happened in the meeting?"

Nothing about the mission itself. Geo just talked about our courier and the flight. The courier has our tickets, and they'll be arriving at, what, 11 am? Approximate. They said they'd escort us from our room down, so I guess they'll come straight to our door. We gotta be ready.

The Handler took this as a challenge. "Alright." With newfound determination, he walked around the room, organizing and delegating suitcases. He was hyper-aware of the case with Phoenix's soup in it, which he doubted was still hot but did not doubt that it was delicious, and left it as is.

Phoenix sipped on their cup as they watched him. And, frankly, the Handler took pride in doing this all for Phoenix. He was a Handler, this was what he was meant to do. He did a whole two years at the Agency of just file-sorting, to understand the Agency's system and how they worked. Not by color, but by importance and then by alphabetical. He tuned the radio out and fit it into it's according spot where it once was. He enjoyed this the most. A place for everything and everything in it's place.

This, somehow, passed the time along an hour, and 11 AM approached quicker than expected. A minute passed, enough for the Handler to consider long enough for the courier to mosey their way up, and a knock sounded on the door.