This Is My Uniform

Black Garters

Pen tapped to paper, words shaky and sloppy. Heat engulfed Mako as he wadded the note up, tossing it over with the others.

"Stop. Watching." He growled at the eyes burning holes in his back.

"I'm not watching!" Wu insisted. "I'm just.." a humming from Wu's throat as he approached. "Curious. Yes, curious how a Detective of such high caliber has such terrible penmanship." Before Mako could respond Wu slammed a fist into his open palm. "I know, why don't we practice?"

"What?" Mako turned in his seat to stare flatly.

This was not happening.

"Yeah." Wu's shoulders lifted as he leaned over Mako, hair falling in his face. "We could practice your writing and words and such." His open grin turned mischievous as he teased, "That way when you write letters you aren't wasting all my paper."

The words weren't mean or snide but Mako still felt the sting of them. "You know," he began defensively, rising when Wu put a hand on his shoulder.

This was not happening.

The contact was oddly gentle. Mako had noted before but took closer inspection of the skin around Wu's fingers. Soft, his nails manicured. No rough skin stuck or tugged on the fabric of Mako's shirt. And he still smelled like that damned expensive cologne. It chafed, and it burned. Something in him was raging; embarrassed. Ashamed?

"Don't get all upset, my good man." Wu grinned, hand patting softly. "There's no shame in it. I've got things I must work on to better myself as well."

"Go figure." Mako rolled his eyes, slouching.

This was not happening.

"Now," Wu proceeded to round the table, pulling his silk sleeves up as he sat, motioning for pen and paper. "Let's start with tracing our letters, shall we?"

This was not happening.

"How about we fuckin' don't?" Mako stood, shoving the chair into the table too hard, making it smack loudly. "I worked hard to get to where I am. It wasn't handed to me like some of us."

"That's not fair." Wu looked at his fingers tangled together now. "I'm not asking about what happened, who you're writing to. It's not my business." Eyes glanced up to Mako, looking pitiful and sad. "I just want to help."

"Well." Mako ran a hand through his hair, placed them on his hips, crossed them over his chest. Anger burning fast and fading just as quickly. Damnit. "That's not-" He growled. "It's not you." He breathed, arms finally falling to his sides. "I'm just-"

"It's okay." Wu nodded, "I get it. 'We're not buddies', right." He smiled again, wide and large and gleaming against his dark skin.

Mako was struck, momentarily, by how wrong that smile was. "No, Wu-"

"You don't owe me anything. It's just a job." Wu stood, sleeves falling down again. Despite his attempts to catch the prince's eyes, Wu hid his face in the shadows. "Tomorrow I have to be at a fashion show. I know." He held up a hand, stopping Mako from complaining. "I know. But I am a public figure and it's my duty."

"Sure." Mako shrugged, sitting back down, pulling the paper and pen back towards himself. "Some duty."

Wu fell forward then, frowning. Fingers resting gently on the table top.

"Anything else?" Mako's arm wrapped around the beginning of his letter defensively.

Wu's mouth opened, closed. He shook his head grinning again. "Nothing, nothing at all old chap." Fingers rapped on the table top. "I've got to get ready for bed-"