#HUMMMMMMMM M M OKAY

[drawbauchery]

Crisis to Crisis

(fic by cartoons-tothemoon)

Skipper was beginning to think that his reputation was being tarnished.

Well, maybe not completely disregarded, but his men have been giving him more back-talk lately. He’d have to fix that.

Somehow.

He was beginning to wonder how he even kept such a tight lid on his squadron in the first place.

Rico was a loose cannon, but vaguely amiable as long as he got his daily dosage of kaboom, Julien, and sushi, one of the three anyhow…

…Kowalski was incredibly smart, but he was also incredibly dumb and emotional which practically necessitated a sturdy rock in his eternal stormy sea of…whatever emotional labor he was going through this week. Someone to guide him, and earn approval from.

Private probably only listened to him to be nice, now that he thinks about it. Or because Skipper has this natural confidence that gives him his natural leadership qualities, but Private seemed to be incredibly cheeky as of late, and Skipper could only imagine why.

He had become more confident as of late, ever since Julien gave him his old clothes that seemed to frame his body better than his old, more conservative wardrobe.

Not that Skipper ever thought of what clothing frames anybody’s body for that matter. Except maybe Miss Kitka’s because, uh, wow…

He was just being objective, is all.

That’s an important trait in a field agent, after all, the ability to take an objective perspective on anything that may pertain to the scenario at hand, be that Geneva Convention-violating torture, or Private’s soft stomach, that peeked out of most of the clothing he wore nowadays.

Look, with “King” Julien around, business had slowed down a bit. Sure, they tangled with Blowhole and Savio every once in a while, but at the moment, that was more on a weekly basis than every other day like it used to be. This gave Skipper a lot of time to think, when he wasn’t washing dishes or entertaining the day’s newest crisis.

Today he was doing both.

“Guys look, Rico’s on the telly!” Private cried, in his “it just has to be fake” British accent.

Speaking of his aforementioned majesty, apparently he had run out of ibuprofen. Skipper didn’t know why it was such a big deal, but he didn’t get half the things Ringtail did anyhow. He was an enigma, but like, annoying about it.

On Rico’s side of things, Kowalski, Private, and him watched entranced as Rico went from simply robbing the three drug stores closest to their base to stealing a delivery truck. A highly specific delivery truck, at that. Then puppies got thrown into the picture.

“Puppies?” Private exclaimed, his voice filled with pure joy at such a thought. Just think of it! 90 puppies! Retrievers, labs, beagles, corgis, huskies…He’d be practically drowning in the fluff! It would be sublime!

However, Kowalski and Skipper’s thoughts were elsewhere. Very clearly elsewhere.

For one, Kowalski was wondering what to do with that many dogs. There’s no way their base would have enough space for 90 dogs. He wouldn’t even say they have enough room for two, though.

Skipper, however…He was there, but his mind was elsewhere. He’d finally noticed what Private was wearing.

It was a sleek black outfit, comprised of leggings and a thick black sweater that allowed for his pudgy tummy to peek out.

Surely, Skipper could be honest with himself within the space of his own mind, right? He doesn’t have to mask, or pretend, or fear what he thinks here, really, right? No one would judge him here.

Private….Looks cute.

Yeah, that’s an understatement. That’s literally a combat strategy of his, being cute. But he wasn’t cute to Skipper the same way that a puppy was, or at least, not only as cute, he was…he is…

He likes Private. Of course he does, who doesn’t? Even Savio has a soft spot for the guy, though that may be more sus than anything else. He likes Private, but he’s come to the understanding that he may…Like him more than most may.

“Like him more than most may?” Jesus christ, is he repressed. Normally you’d assume that being a secret agent just does that to you, but, they run a very non-standard operation as is. He runs a very non-standard operation, where one of his worst enemies would leave him alone if they ate lunch together every blue moon and their landlady can enter their heavily booby-trapped lair with the raw energy of pure spite.

Everyone likes Private, but nobody likes Private in the same way Skipper does. Probably. Again, Savio seems sus.

But he probably already knew all this. He’s probably went through this whole tirade three times this week, as he bounced from crisis to crisis.

He did this on Tuesday when Private discovered knee-high socks. He’s sure he’ll do it again soon.

As this crisis went on, apparently after ending up on national television, Rico thought it was the perfect time to call. Kowalski briefly admonished him for being on his phone while driving, but, after Private pointed out that he’d already robbed a drug store and stole a truck AND stole 3 litters worth of puppies, he might as well roll up to the liquor store and really test his luck.

Well, he didn’t say liquor store, but Skipper sure read into that. Skipper was the one who’s usually say something as deadpan and snarky as that, and the fact that he hadn’t so much as laughed probably said something to the men around him, which only served to heighten his anxieties.

“Yeah, Rico, we saw you. Sick flip off that ramp, by the way.”

Skipper swore that he could feel heat rising to his cheeks as Private giggled after that sentiment, and he felt Kowalski’s eyes burning into his head. Not glaring or critical or anything, but they were there, and they were hard to ignore.

“Oh…no, you have to return the puppies. I checked, we can’t keep any.” His tone soon turned mournful. Private was so expressive. He should be an open book. Surely Skipper would know if Private…

Private laughed again. “Haha! No, Rico. That’s illegal, and you know it.”

Kowalski had finally caught onto the game, and the glare had returned. It wasn’t a scornful or judgmental one, but, a tired one. A tired glare that was less “I hope you burn to ash due to the pure heat of my gaze” and more, “we can’t keep doing this.”

“I’m shaming you.”

Skipper, the fearless leader, seemed to buckle under his gaze, as he turned his head to the side, and avoided his eyes.

“I know.” He murmured.

(I literally CANNOT find any Skipper X Private fics on the web…So I wrote one myself. Please give me some recs, and I will write more! This is your devil’s bargain, Shads. Live or not read penguin fanfiction, make your choice.)