Work Text:
Eric Daimon, the new head of museum security, glared at the two men sitting on the other side of his desk. He had worked with them for a few years now, and known them even longer. That knowledge still didn’t make it any easier to meet with them in this manner.
It made it worse.
Dr. Aziraphale Fell, the museum’s executive curator, sat prim and proper as always with a cheery smile. White-blond curls neatly combed. Beige suit, worn waistcoat, light blue button-down, and tartan bow-tie. The epitome of an esteemed middle-aged professional in cultural matters.
Dr. Anthony Crowley, the museum’s executive exhibition coordinator, lounged in his chair—barely held in it by gravity and his apathetic sneer. Black suit coat, leather waistcoat, charcoal Henley, and tight dark denim trousers. He looked more aging rock-star than the two-doctoral-holding professional and expert he truly was. The dark sunglasses perched on his face did hide the majority of his golden death-glare at the younger security guard, thankfully.
Eric swallowed hard as he looked between the men and then turned to his computer screen. A screen paused on the video evidence of the two men engaged in a full-on snogging affair in the main gallery hall.
Hair mussed. Arms gripping at each other. Clothes askew. Faces locked together.
The security guard turned his attention back to the curator and coordinator, fighting back his awkward blushing, “Gents, I think you know why I called you ‘ere. At least, I hope yeh do. Make it a lot easier for all of us.”
Dr. Fell straightened, “Well—”
“Don’t know, Mr. Daimon. Do you want to tell us?” Crowley interrupted the curator with a sharp lean forward. His elbows rested on the desk as he pushed his glasses atop his head. The snake-like grin and piercing glare dared the security guard to answer.
He’s going to eat me alive one of these days. Eric pushed back his long-time fear of Dr. Crowley.
“Oh, Crowley! Do behave, my dear,” Dr. Fell scolded as he reached forward to touch Dr. Crowley’s arm. “Eric is just trying to do his job. We should appreciate his commitment to his role and responsibilities—”
“Got other things to do, Angel,” Dr. Crowley muttered as he turned back to face the curator.
“I know, dearest, but the poor boy just recently got promoted. He's trying to do his job—”
“And I'm trying to do mine—”
“It's not his fault you were distracted this morning and missed that Zoop meeting—”
“Zoom, Angel! Zoom meeting,” Dr. Crowley growled as he spun in his chair to fully face Dr. Fell. “And I wasn't the one doing the distracting. Someone decided to tease me while I was fixing an exhibit in the main hall.”
“Yes—about that distraction,” Eric tried to redirect their attention back to their meeting.
“Well! I was merely paying you back for your teasing during breakfast this morning,” Dr. Fell argued back, fingers smoothing out his waistcoat as his cheeks tinted. “I over-steeped my tea and had to brew another batch. And we were all out of my usual breakfast blend.”
“Don't give me that pout, Angel. You know I can't—”
“Oi! Can the two of yeh stop makin’ heart eyes at each other while 'm trying to scold yeh for snoggin’ on the museum floor? For the third time this month!”
Both Drs. Fell and Crowley froze and slowly turned their gazes back to Eric. Their wide eyes probably had more to do with their surprise at the security guard's outburst than being caught.
Eric took a deep breath. He was just doing his job. Just trying to comply with the museum's high standards and decorum measures.
He turned his monitor with the blatant evidence of said snogging session towards them.
“I told you the camera could see us from that angle, dear boy,” Dr. Fell primly scoffed as he turned a steely glare at the coordinator beside him.
Dr. Crowley had rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Museum wasn't even open yet. We stopped before then.”
“Only because Dr. Device called out for you over the PA system since yeh were late for the exhibition meeting,” Eric muttered. He corrected his monitor and closed out of the video.
When he accepted this promotion, he had hoped he would avoid these instances of catching and/or warning these two about their passionate encounters while at work.
Now it was just expected to be his problem, no matter what. He did know them the best.
“Look, you both ‘ave nice large offices. Plenty o' space. Plenty o' privacy too. Yeh even know how to shut off the cameras in them.” Eric had been the one to teach them after all. “Can yeh please keep your teasing and distractions in there?”
Dr. Fell and Dr. Crowley looked at each other, a bit sheepish and a bit amused.
“Perhaps we could be a tad more discreet,” the curator sighed. He twisted the gold band on his left hand. “What do you think, husband-dearest?”
Dr. Crowley scowled as he flopped back in the chair, “Not like we're causing any harm.”
Silence swept into the small office as the three men studied each other, trying to gauge the next step.
But Dr. Crowley was never one for silence or decorum, “Besides—ain’t it my job to pin the masterpieces to the wall? Right, Angel?”
His husband groaned at the coordinator's cheeky reply.
Eric rolled his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. He really didn’t want to write either of them up. Write any of this incident up.
With another deep breath, the security guard lifted his head and opened his mouth—
But a prompt series of knocks on the door interrupted him.
Oh…
The curator and coordinator gave him a knowing stare. They both recognized the special knocking.
“Uh, come in,” Eric sighed. He wasn’t getting anywhere with the husbands anyways.
Muriel opened the door with a bright smile and a large insulated lunchbox in their hand, “Hello, hello, hello!”
But when they saw Dr. Fell and Dr. Crowley sitting in front of Eric’s desk, they froze. “Hello?”
“Oh hello, my dear,” Dr. Fell gave them a little wave and loving smile. “How are you today? Were you able to—”
“Not now, Angel.”
“Sorry, Duckkk—Muriel,” Eric jumped up at remembering his planned lunch date with his partner. “We were just finishin’ up our meeting.”
“Yep, we’re done ‘ere,” Dr. Crowley muttered as he leapt to his feet. “Angel?”
Dr. Fell rose slower to his feet but took the outreached hand, “Quite. Thank you for this enlightening meeting, Eric. We shall take your recommendations into consideration. And Muriel dear, I’ll speak to you later about your restorations.”
Both men turned to leave as Muriel sidestepped out of the doorway.
Dr. Crowley gave them a soft smile as he slipped his sunglasses back over his eyes, “Ciao, kiddo.”
Pulled along by their hands, Dr. Fell gave Muriel a quick pat on the arm as he passed. “Have a lovely afternoon, my dear.”
The door closed and Eric collapsed back into his chair. Then he fell face first onto his desk with a frustrated groan.
“Do I want to know why Drs. Fell and Crowley were having a meeting with you?”
“‘cause I owe you and yer brother each 20 quid,” Eric's muffled voice sighed.
“Oh goody,” Muriel giggled as they set the lunchbox down and moved around the desk to their partner's side. “Adam will be delighted. Was he right about the East wing with all the natural lighting? Or was it the South wing with all its little alcoves?”
“Main gallery hall.”
“Oh my! Kissing or full snogging? Or more?!”
Eric had to laugh at Muriel's giddy enthusiasm about the situation. It was merely a work hazard for him to catch Drs. Fell and Crowley in their—impassioned—encounters.
For Muriel, it was just another day…
“They are getting bolder. To feel so comfortable in their love and passion.” Muriel pulled Eric up by his shoulders and back into his chair. They held onto him and gave him a comforting smile.
Eric gazed at his beloved’s cheerful grin and warm eyes, “Why are your fathers like this, Duck?”
Muriel gave a little shrug, leaning against the desk. “Years of repression and having to hide their relationship? Age has made them throw caution to the wind about several things.”
“I just wish they were a bit more subtle at work. Or keep it in their offices at least.”
“Hmm. While Adam and I were growing up they were more subtle—and quiet—about their amorous activities. Though we learned to not disturb locked doors—or when Papa dragged Dad into his study for a discussion—unless it was an emergency.”
Eric groaned. He understood—he did! It just didn’t make it any easier when his partner’s fathers were also the biggest PDA rule-breakers.
“I could speak to them if you want. Let them know how stressful it is being the new security chief and all.”
“Nah, Duckie. It's fine.” Family dinner nights were awkward enough already.
“Do you still want to go for our lunch picnic? I made sandwiches,” Muriel pouted. They learned that look from their papa. Eric'd seen Dr. Fell used as a weapon against Dr. Crowley enough times.
He was just as helpless against it.
“Of course, Duckie. Let me call LaVista to let him know I'm out and we can go,” Eric stood up and unhooked his radio.
Muriel jumped up and ran around the desk to pick up the lunchbox. They started rambling about the perfect spot they found for their lunch picnic.
Eric turned his radio back on—but before he could signal to his team, the static noise suddenly broke into words.
“Uh, Eric? Dr. Crowley just dragged Dr. Fell into the storage closet in the South Wing. Should we do something?”
Eric pinched his brow, “Slap a ‘temporarily closed’ sign on the door and let ‘em be. I'm out for lunch.”