Title: The Near Gnome-Dwarf Shirtsleeve Debacle
Author: scy
Feedback: scynneh@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Not mine
Fandom: The Middleman
Pairing: the Middleman/Wendy
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up through the first episode.
Summary: Wendy notices things about her boss
Author's Notes: For mala, who lamented the lack of fic as we were squeeing about the pilot, svilleficrecs, who thought of several good questions, and cereta who looked this over for me.
July 2008

At first Wendy didn't notice that the Middleman was anything but strange with episodes of scary perceptiveness.

Lacey didn't get why they weren't dating already.

“Did you not notice his pecs? And his biceps?”

When Lacey rolled her eyes, Wendy pointed out that she hadn't seen him with his clothes off. That was true, mostly, if she didn't count that time they both got slimed by that herbivorous land squid that escaped an underwater lab.

And that time, Wendy had been trying to get kelp out of her hair, and other places that no person should ever have kelp.

"Here." The Middleman, and she was so over him just having a title instead of an actual name, had handed her a towel. Wendy glanced up long enough to see skin, a lot of it, then she looked away. She was still mad at him for not telling her that there were going to be genetically engineered exploding anemones, but she had seen his arms, and his chest too. Apparently all that running after mad scientists and mobsters kept him in great shape.

But Wendy wasn't going to start thinking about what her boss looked like without his shirt, not even if he was kind of strange and might not even notice anyhow. This job was the first one she'd ever had that didn't put her to sleep even when nothing was going on, and she didn't want to ruin it.

Lacey was doing enough lusting after the Middleman for the both of them, and it was all Wendy could do sometimes to keep them from tearing each other's clothes off. When the Middleman dropped her off and Wendy reluctantly had him come up so that he could make sure she made it to her door okay, Lacey had on a shirt that barely covered anything but her shoulders and was practically inviting Wendy's boss to get personal in the living room.

Wendy barely got the two of them separated, although to be fair, they both looked kind of guilty for flirting so much in front of her.

“Another time, ma'am,” the Middleman said.

“Count on it,” Lacey said.

“Okay, I want to be able to sleep tonight,” Wendy said, “And that means you need to leave,” she pushed her boss towards the door, “because if I hear any strange noises, I am going to assume there's a couple of weirdos doing something they promised they wouldn't on the rug, and I am going to start throwing buckets of paint.”

“Oh come on, Dub-dub,” Lacey said.

“No, you go on,” Wendy said and separated them with a glare. “I'll see you tomorrow,” she said to the Middleman, and he smiled.

“I'll be around bright and early.”

Wendy sighed. “I know, I'd better get a lot of rest, the early bird catches the worm, right?”

"Exactly."

Rolling her eyes, Wendy pushed the Middleman out the door and turned to Lacey. "Don't even say a word."

Then there were the hazards of her job. No matter what kind of case they were on, mad scientists, robotic armies, plush toys out to conquer the suburbs, Wendy figured that there was a good chance she was going to get into a mess. She coped with that by learning how to get out of any knot, even if she was held upside down in an underwater tank surrounded by ravenous sharks. That was expected, the Middleman didn't say it more than several dozen times a week, but his thinking was, that if she was going to show up even when he told her it was too dangerous, she had to be able to handle the consequences.

"Why does it always have to be slime?" Wendy asked, after she'd ripped her way out of the latest trap and was trying to decide whether she should just give up on having her clothes dry cleaned. There had to be a section in the Agency budget for the loss of this many outfits.

"That's just the way these things work," the Middleman said, frowning at a large splotch on his stomach. "We're just lucky to get here when we did. If these kelp beds had released their specially designed neurotoxins, the whole eastern seaboard would be under the control of a disgruntled marine biologist with delusions of world domination."

"Yeah, we're pretty lucky all right." Wendy sighed. "Do you have my bag in the trunk?" She'd just started bringing along a change of clothes so that she could change at headquarters before she went home. The looks Lacey had been giving her when she walked in the door, squishing her way to her room was getting old.

"Does he throw you in puddles every day?" Lacey asked. "And what do you do after he pulls you out?"

"There is no throwing or pulling of anything," Wendy said.

"Too bad." Lacey wrinkled her nose and turned back to the bird wings she was building, to protest injustices done to the nesting hawk population.

She slid the straps over her arms and frowned at her reflection, turning from side to side. "I should have put a motor in."

"So you can fly at your enemies like a giant mutant bird?" Wendy asked.

"You have to take risks to make people listen to you," Lacey said.

"Just don't jump off a building this time," Wendy said.

"The parachute opened in time."

"Yeah, but the fire department is getting tired of pulling you out of a tree."

"They were tall," Lacey said and smiled, reflecting. "And really hot."

"That's pretty much in the handbook," Wendy said.

“Yeah, and the rules also say that if your boss is sexy, it's all right to hit on him, and if you've seen him naked, it's a requirement.”

“Not for me, and especially not if it's in the line of duty,” Wendy said. Granted, there were plenty of chances for Wendy to see her boss partly naked on the job, but they all involved slime or other unpleasant circumstances, and didn't really count.

“Come on, Dubbie, he's there, he's nice, and easy on the eyes, what's the problem?”

“He's my boss,” Wendy said and went to take a shower. But even though she'd told Lacey that the subject was closed, she kept thinking about it, more than she wanted to admit, but told herself it would pass.

"Some things take time, Dubbie," the Middleman said and under different circumstances, Wendy would have agreed wholeheartedly. However, she didn't think that piece of advice was coined to explain why Venusian space pirates went bad. Or the fact that Wendy still didn't listen when he told her to wait in the car, even when she could tell he got a little fed up with her stubbornness sometimes.

"What did I tell you would happen?" the Middleman asked.

"I didn't think you were serious," Wendy said, struggling against the ropes.

"This isn't a situation that I want you involved in.”

"Is it really dangerous?"

"In a word, yes."

"Why is it okay for you to go in alone?" Wendy asked.

"Because these hooligans know me, and we have an arrangement. Introducing a stranger into the dynamic at this juncture would be counterproductive,” the Middleman said, and somehow he got away with saying stuff like that without sounding as if he was trying out for a part in a drama.

That didn't mean she bought his reasons for making her stay behind though, and Wendy gave the Middleman an incredulous look. "Is this some kind of boys only club?"

"Nothing like that," the Middleman said, and smiled in a way that Wendy was beginning to have no trouble interpreting.

"Yeah, I definitely don't want to deal with the crazed customers who are going to try and get you drunk."

"They know better," the Middleman said.

The ropes were well tied, and even when she twisted, Wendy couldn't reach the knots. The Middleman watched her wriggle around with the hint of a smile on his face, until she let out a frustrated noise and settled down. "I guess I'll wait here, then."

Even though he probably wanted to smile, by now her boss knew better than to take too much obvious pleasure in her difficulties. Even so, the Middleman pressed his lips together as he turned away, and it was a close thing. "Terrific idea, Dubbie, I'll be back in a jiffy."

As she watched him go, Wendy told herself that she was going to practice getting out of these knots too, and that she didn't find the Middleman's bitten off grin cute, not at all.

Later on, working off the tip of one reluctant informant, they made slow progress on how garden gnomes were poisoning the water supply.

“This looks like it's going to take forever,” Wendy said as they sifted through the reports and tried to construct a picture of what had happened. She rubbed her eyes and grimaced. She had worked some places where the manager expected employees to stay over until morning if things weren't going well, but she had less of a problem with it when the fate of the world was at stake.

The Middleman didn't order pizza, but Wendy insisted that they needed to find an coffeemaker and he had Ida call for takeout Chinese.

"What if they're not trying to kill everybody's gardens. I mean, if that's where they live, isn't it kind of dumb to do something like that?"

"Gnomes are notoriously poor planners."

"Maybe they've gotten together on this one," Wendy said.

The Middleman frowned. “You mean, unionized?”

“I guess.”

“It's possible that this is the work of a syndicate, a nefarious off shoot of the Dwarven Carving League.”

“There's a Dwarven Carving League?” Wendy asked.

“Excellent reputation, peerless workmanship in stone, wood, and clay,” said the Middleman.

“Right.”

The Middleman sighed, and sat back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. “If they have organized and are pursuing some agricultural vendetta, then I'd bet dollars to donuts that the dwarfs have heard about it.”

“Why would they know anything?” Wendy asked.

“Earth isn't as solid as you think, Dubbie, and news travels fast underground.”

Wendy felt her eyes glazing over, and blinked, trying to shake off her exhaustion. “How do we get in touch with a bunch of dwarves?”

The Middleman's fingers worked at his cuffs, and he put his elbows on the table, and pushed aside a stack of papers. “We won't have to, this last incident crossed a line, Dubbie, and not just on our side. There are rules in every society, and I'd bet the dwarves have already noticed what's been going on, and are looking to solve this problem, the same as we are.” As he gestured, his cuffs moved, and Wendy stared at the spot where his sleeves rode up his arm. She could see pale bare skin, and for some reason, she didn't know how to look away.

“Is something wrong, Dubbie?”

“No, I just need more caffeine.”

“It's a drug,” the Middleman said, and Wendy made an effort not to roll her eyes.

“Yeah, I know.”

As she got up to get a refill of coffee, Wendy realized that it was the fact that she was seeing the Middleman's wrists that got her flustered, and she almost confused the atomizer with the Martian coffee making machine, which was nearly embarrassing.

She'd seen him without his shirt, and it wasn't like she didn't know that he was human, underneath the uniform and the job, but that brief glimpse of white skin had caught her by surprise. It had been almost vulnerable, and Wendy wasn't sure how to react.

“Are you feeling all right?” the Middleman asked, and Wendy jerked upright and realized that she'd filled her cup several times and it was running over.

“Oh, crap,” Wendy said.

“Here, let me help you.” The Middleman rolled his sleeves up, and Wendy gulped.

“No, it's fine, I'll clean it up.”

“Don't be silly, Dubbie.” He grabbed a roll of paper towels and passed several over. It only took a couple seconds to clear the counter off, but Wendy was distracted the whole time. She noticed things, it was part of being an artist, seeing the potential in something and knowing what it could look like from a different angle. So she knew that seeing his wrists was a big thing, because it wasn't on purpose and it wasn't about the job. She was going to have to listen to Lacey tell her that she'd known this was coming, and that would be almost as bad as figuring out how she was going to handle this newfound fascination with her boss.

When she raised her head, the Middleman was staring at her, and Wendy frowned. “What's wrong?”

“I think it's past time you were in bed.”

“I'm okay.”

“You nearly fell asleep pouring a cup of joe, and for you, that's a sure sign of being ready to hit the hay.”

“Fine,” Wendy said. “But I'm taking this cup with me, otherwise I'm never going to make it into the elevator.”

“That's fine,” the Middleman said and stood up. “Come on, Dubbie, we'll get further on this tomorrow.”

“What about the gnomes' plan for agricultural annihilation?”

“I'll make some calls.”

“Just don't go doing anything stupid,” Wendy said.

“Of course not.”

Wendy aimed her best disbelieving look at the Middleman, and he smiled.

"Don't worry, as soon as I drop you off, I'm headed for dreamland."

When she woke up and staggered into the living room, Wendy was hoping she could forget about last night, but Lacey was at her table, weaving shredded recycled bags together, and she grinned when she saw Wendy.

"So, how's sexy boss-man?"

"Don't call him that."

"Hey you're the one out late again, what's stopping your from going for it?"

"I'd like to keep this job, Lacey, not get canned for hitting on my boss."

"Do they actually do that?" Lacey asked.

"Yes," Wendy said.

"Then you're just not doing it right."

"I don't want to hear how you think I should flirt with him," Wendy said and cut Lacey off. "And that doesn't mean you can go after him either. He is not something to hunt down so you can have your way with him, and as it is, I live with one of your guys and see the other at work every day, it would be too weird." She grabbed her coat. “Now, I don't want to hear about this for another twelve hours.”

“Where are you going?”

“To let Eric know that I'm going to be working tonight.”

Lacey made a face. “I told you, after Ben, that you were in danger of falling into a pattern with guys. Eric is just Ben, with a fetish for right angles.”

“He's an architect.”

AN ARCHITECTURAL FIRM BASEMENT: 3:05 pm

"Eric? Are you down here?" Wendy turned the corner past the filing cabinets and assorted film equipment and pushed open the door to one of the small conference rooms that the architects used for constructing models of projects they weren't actually allowed to build.

"Hey, I justed wanted to let you know that I can't get away from work tonight, so if you want to get a drink, we could do it now." Wendy stood in the doorway, hand still on the frame.

Eric scrambled up, pull his shirt down. "Wendy, I didn't know you were coming by."

Wendy glanced from the camera and tripod to the guy standing shirtless in the corner, probably hoping she couldn't see him. "I get that. Is this a project for work, or do you have something to tell me?"

"It's kind of both," Eric said. "Remember that night when we did drunken karaoke, and I got up on stage just wearing palm fronds, I told you that I wanted to try new things?

"It was a memorable evening."

"So that's what you're doing?”

Wendy nodded. "So you're making out with some guy you paid to help you with this."

"No, Greg told me that he wouldn't mind, and we split the motel room fee."

"You're renting a room?" Wendy asked, hearing her voice going up.

"We wanted to be sure we got the full experience," Eric said.

"I didn't want you to get upset because I was exploring another aspect of my sexuality and growing as a person instead of going out with you.”

Gritting her teeth against some of the stuff she wanted to say, Wendy nodded. "That was really sweet of you."

He smiled. "I'll call you, if I want to try some of the other stuff I found in my new erotica books, okay?"

"Please don't," Wendy said. On the way out, she slid a bench in front of the door.

A BAR AT HAPPY HOUR: 5:05 pm

"Ida, put the boss on," Wendy said.

"Calling in sick?" Ida asked.

"Just put him on, R2, I need to talk to him."

"Middleman here, Dubbie. I didn't expect you in until later this evening, I've found the local dwarf representative here in town, and he's on the same trail we are. We've got an appointment, and I was going to swing by to pick you up on the way. Is something the matter?"

"I," Wendy said, motioning to the bartender, "am going to be a little late. If I'm not there in an hour and a half, go on without me."

"What's wrong?" the Middleman asked.

"A personal problem."

The Middleman waited for a second, and when Wendy didn't explain herself, he cleared his throat. "I can't make a habit of this, but on this occasion, you may be tardy."

"Thanks."

"Everything is all right, though?"

"Yeah, sure. See you later," Wendy said and hung up.

The bartender was leaning on the bar in front of her and Wendy smiled at him.

"I'd like a shot of tequila, and keep them coming."

A BAR AT HAPPY HOUR: 7:28 pm

"Wendy poked at the condensation on the bar. "Has anybody figured it out yet?"

Darrel, the bartender, didn't stop wiping off the counter. "What's that?"

"Life, love, what we're supposed to do when they go wrong."

"Not that I've heard," Darrel said.

"Huh. Too bad, because I think that's a problem that really needs more consideration," Wendy said.

"Well, maybe you can come up with an answer."

"Maybe I will,” Wendy said and couldn't hold onto her glass.

"But you're going to have to do it somewhere else, because when you start tilting on your stool, I cut you off," Darrel said.

"Am I tilting?"

"You're almost sideways."

"I didn't notice," Wendy said.

"I'll call you a cab," Darrel said.

"That's a really nice thing to do."

Darrel loaded her into the cab, and as she lay in the back seat, she frowned. The driver was awfully short. In fact, she could barely see him from the front seat, all that was visible was his shoulder. Then, he turned around, and Wendy noticed he had a beard.

"You're one of the ones that's been asking questions about the League," the driver said.

"Could be," Wendy said. "Really, I don't know what's going on, so if you could just stop the car, I'm feeling kind of sick."

"You won't feel sick for long, I'll see to it that you never feel anything again," the gnome said, raising a pick ax, an just then, something tapped on his window.

The gnome turned, and swore.

"Hello there," said the Middleman, holding a large pulse rifle and smiling. "If you'd be so kind as to step out of the car and surrender, I'd appreciate it."

From there it was a free for all inside the car, the gnome and Wendy fought over his ax, she got lightheaded and tumbled out of the backseat, and the Middleman used one of his gadgets to stun the gnome and turn him into a piece of garden statuary.

"Hey now," Wendy said, grabbing the door handle and pulling herself up. "Does that work on anything else?"

"Objects that have been more than one thing can be changed back into a previous shape," the Middleman said, tossing the ceramic gnome into his car. He scrutinized Wendy and shook his head. "You're intoxicated."

"No, I am buzzed," Wendy said carefully, and swayed on her feet.

"I believe you're more than a little past that," the Middleman said. "By my guess, you're two sheets to the wind, and if I'm not mistaken, you haven't properly hydrated before indulging."

"You're sweet," Wendy said, and the Middleman caught her before she went down. She grabbed his belt, and held on.

"Thank you for saying so, but I think we'd better get you taken care of pronto."

"First, I have to ask you," Wendy said, and poked the Middleman in the chest.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Do you ever lighten up? Let loose, have a good time?"

"I have been known to kick up my heels," the Middleman said, putting an arm around Wendy's waist, and batting away her wandering hand before she got more than two buttons undone.

"Well, I don't. Much."

"I wouldn't have guessed." Moving towards his car, the Middleman got a better grip, and resumed fending off her fingers. "What prompted this lapse in judgment?"

"Nothing, I just took a personal day," Wendy said.

"For what reason?" the Middleman asked.

"You've met Eric," Wendy said.

"Yes, and I thought he was a poor choice in paramours, but I didn't think he and his model buildings could drive you to such a state."

"Oh, it's not him, exactly," Wendy said, and cheered as she got a third and fourth button undone. Now she could see the white of his undershirt beneath his collar. "It's what he did." She stared up at her boss seriously. "You should roll your sleeves up more often."

"Why?"

"You have pretty wrists," Wendy said, and felt her legs go out.

The Middleman put a hand behind her knees and swung her up into his arms.

"Whoa, head rush. Oh, I think I'm going to be sick."

MIDDLEMAN HQ: 7:18 pm

"Ow," Wendy said, after sitting up too fast.

"About time you woke up," Ida said and Wendy moaned.

"Not so loud."

"Went on a bender last night, did we?"

"Feels that way."

"Ida, could you get her a cup of coffee?"

Wendy jerked straight up on the couch and winced.

"Don't get up yet, you might fall over." Ida seemed pleased with the idea, and the Middleman gave her a stern look.

"Please, Ida, coffee, black."

"You're only encouraging this sort of behavior," Ida said as she produced a hot cup of coffee. "And don't think I'm going to make a habit out of this, I'm not a coffee grinder."

The Middleman pulled a pill bottle off the counter and surveyed Wendy critically. She didn't have to try and look pathetic, it came naturally at the moment, and he twisted the cap off neatly.

"Hand out," Ida said, as if Wendy didn't know what was going on. She glared at the android and turned her palm upwards obediently.

Two extra-strength Tylenol fell into her hand, and then the Middleman passed her a glass of water.

"What, no milk?"

"Maybe with breakfast," her boss said, and Wendy's stomach turned uncertainly.

"I don't think I want to take a chance on eating anything."

"Now, a little toast is just what you need." The Middleman took Wendy's elbow and guided her upright. "No lolly-gagging allowed, you need to get something in your stomach, and then you can tell me what brought on this lapse in judgment."

"Right, boss." Even the way he was handling her reminded Wendy of exactly what she'd been doing lats night, and the Middleman must have seen it hit her because he steered her into a chair and turned away to search cupboards.

While he put bread in the toaster and found the butter and jam, Wendy put her hands over her face and tried to decide what she should do. Apologizing would make things more awkward, even worse than having her boss cleaning up after her following a bender that almost got her killed at the hands of gnomes.

The Middleman was buttering toast with impressive concentration when she took her hands away from her face, but she would have bet that he'd been watching her up until a second ago.

"Here you go, Dubbie, slightly crispy," he said, setting the plate in front of her.

"Thanks." Eating meant she didn't have to talk about it, so Wendy took a bite. "Sit down, will you? I'm getting dizzy looking up at you while I eat."

"Of course." He had a cup, which Wendy thought probably had tea in it, and sipped, as she chewed slowly.

"Are we going to talk about this?" the Middleman asked, and she hadn't seen him so uncomfortable since she misread the label on a container and wanted to know whether the goo they'd been covered in really was going to turn them into platypii.

"Which thing?"

"Either."

"Would it help?"

"Honest discourse between friends can be beneficial," the Middleman said.

"Is that what we are?"

"I had hoped we were beyond merely working together."

"Before yesterday, you mean," Wendy said.

"My opinion of you hasn't changed."

"Now you're just setting me up for the big speech."

"What speech would that be?"

"Where you tell me I had great potential, and together we could have done incredible things, but it's over."

"This isn't a job you just give up when it gets rough, Dubbie."

"Telling me I'm never getting out of it is supposed to make me feel better?"

"We Middlemen have a calling, a destiny that is demanding, and that that the public can never know about. This leads to understandable stress, and an occasional misstep is understandable."

"This wasn't like I tripped on the stairs and let the bad guys get away. That would just be embarrassing, this is so much worse."

The Middleman frowned. "Dubbie, self pity never does anything but drag you down, you've got to buck up and look on the bright side of the situation."

"Which is what?" Wendy asked.

He reached out and patted her on the back. "That you aren't defined by your romantic mishaps, but by what you choose to do."

"That something you've learned?"

"Yes, through my own misadventures."

Wendy stared at him thoughtfully. "I have a hard time picturing you having trouble with anything."

"That just goes to show you that I've learned how to deal with my problems in constructive ways. You'll do the same." His fingers moved to her shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Okay?"

Reaching up, Wendy grabbed his hand for a second and held on. She wasn't technically supposed to hold hands with her boss, but just this one time she was giving herself a pass. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"If you'd like, later today we can work on your marksmanship skills."

Wendy tilted her head up, and saw the Middleman give her a look that was too innocent not to be in on the joke. "Can I pick the targets?"

"Sure."

"Then, I'd like that."

As she let go of his hand, Wendy pulled herself up and tried to look professional. "So, what happened with the dwarves?"

As the Middleman sat down across the table from her, his hand staying on her shoulder just a little too long, and began to explain the intricacies of gnome-dwarf politics, Wendy noticed that his shirtsleeves were rolled up a little bit, and she bit off a grin as she listened.


-end