Archive of Our Own ^beta

Classified was sure he was going to kill someone once he got home from this party. 

“Just go in and come out after finding and detonating the bomb,” Eva had said, “we’ll send over reinforcements soon,” Eva had said. Here he was, though, stuck at a party for nearly three hours, no terrorists in sight. Just the sweaty, crashing bodies of party goers, lights that were way too colourful being shone into his eyes, and that penguin again, of all places. He downed the drink he’d ordered, partly to take his mind off of the black and white body that sat across the room from him, partly to distract himself from the smells and the sounds of the bar with the warmth that buzzed in his head from the alcohol. 

Skipper was an enigma, Classified thought. To be blunt, he was genuinely the most annoying person he’d ever spoken to, and he spoke to a lot of annoying people as a North Wind agent. Skipper had guts, though, he’d give him that. No matter what, he’d do the wackiest stunts to protect his home with his misfit brothers, and they’d somehow work without any planning too. As soon as the North Wind became their ally, these stunts had only increased tenfold, much to Classified’s initial dismay. Skipper was reckless, and this wouldn’t be a good look on their part at all! Especially if they wanted to keep their status as top secret agents, but the tuxedo’d penguin didn’t even seem to care. What made Classified even angrier about this penguin was how his plans had always succeeded regardless of how stupid or bold they were. So he went up and spoke to him, asked him how the hell he was pulling any of it off. Skipper had just replied that he “wasn’t leading his team like he had a ten foot pole up his ass.” The wolf immediately stormed off at that, enraged, but questioning what he could’ve meant by that. The two had always clashed, there was no denying it, they were basically polar opposites. So how the hell was he supposed to understand Skipper’s chaos at all, especially enough to do… Whatever the hell he was doing?

So he’d watched him, studied him, and then, at a time he couldn’t quite place, started to speak to him. At first it was questions, but after he’d significantly loosened up around the penguin, it became more casual, and he’d learned about what made the penguin tick. Not enough to understand anything Skipper did fully, no, Classified was completely convinced he was insane, actually. Just enough to apply the things he’d learned to his own team, enough to talk to the penguin outside of meetings.

He wasn’t sure what his relationship with the penguin was at this point. Comrades, definitely. Friends? He had a feeling that wasn’t exactly accurate, but he couldn’t put a finger on why.

Classified had spoken to him privately, once, asking him if he’d like to join the North Wind as an agent. Skipper didn’t even think twice before responding with a confident “no can do.” It didn’t matter how high the rank he’d receive. He was in this for his brothers, and he’d never leave them for anything. The grey wolf had tried his best to convince him many times after while they hung out, but the answer had always been the same. He’d be an invaluable ally, yes, but the arctic wolf understood why he declined. This did little to hinder their relationship, but something that’d happened later down the line, something in this same location, the same lights, music, alcohol… Oh, it did.

And there the penguin was, walking up to sit beside the wolf, that same shit-eating grin he’d had that night. 

“I thought you said you hated places like this.” he said as he climbed up the barstool, too short to step up normally. He ordered a glass of ice cubes and downed the entire thing in one gulp.

“I do. I’m only here for a mission. I can’t stand this place.” he replied, swirling the ice cubes that remained in his glass.

“That’s not what the cup in your hand seems to say. Or the fact that it’s empty. Or the fact you have an entire bottle of more booze next to you. I mean seriously, do you do this often? We need to haul your ass to rehab.” Skipper slapped him with a flipper jokingly, but the wolf’s furrowed eyebrow didn’t falter.

“Then why are you here?” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at the bird beside him. “I’m sure the ice isn’t the reason.” 

Skipper gulped down another ice cube, staring at the person beside him in a way that made his fur stand up on end as another trashy rap song was played by the DJ. The lights blurred and intensified as Classified’s breath hitched. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or Skipper, but something in him felt dizzy.

“Can’t stop thinking about you.” he finally said, truthfully. At Classified’s inevitable eyebrow raise, he continued. “We haven’t talked in a while, huh? I’ve just… Been thinking about it a lot. Yeah.”

“Listen, Skipper, that day… You know what happened, and I’m sorry. That was… Unprofessional of me, and I just-” the wolf couldn’t find the words to possibly explain himself.

“You didn’t mean it.” Skipper completed for him, his voice lowering. “You kissed me, Classified. And you didn’t mean it.” 

“Skipper, I’m sorry. For everything, really. That was just… Too much, and I don’t even know why I did it, or what came over me.” a pang of guilt overcame him as words failed him. How could he describe just how monumentally he fucked up?  “I don’t know why I didn’t talk about it with you either. I guess the awkwardness just overtook me, but I was, a coward, or something, and you just disappeared, and-”

“I liked it.”

…What? What did he just say? Before Classified could even process what was going on, before he could even notice the two were stepping back, before he could feel his back press against a wall, the penguin spoke again.

“Did you like it too? Did you… Feel something? Feel something like I did?”

The wolf was convinced the bomb had gone off hours ago. He’d inhaled some weird gas, and he was dead, hallucinating right now with how dizzy he felt as his mouth and Skipper’s just barely touched. He did feel something. No, he felt… A lot of things about Skipper, but he just gulped. 

“If we do this… We’re never going to be able to go back, Skipper. Just think for once in your life if this is what you want.”

Lips crashed together. Too much, this had to be too much, but they continued, logic being thrown away for passion. How long had Skipper felt like this for him, Classified had wondered. How long had he himself felt this way? He didn’t think about it as he pushed into the kiss with reckless abandon, feeling the fur on his neck stick up on end. His body felt both lava hot and ice cold, and he pulled away. They stared at each other, awkward compared to their previous… Doings, until the penguin cleared his throat, the agent immediately noticing how awful his breath smelled.

“Just in case you didn’t pick up on it, I’m like, uh, into you, Classified.” He put a flipper behind his back.

“Yeah, I, uh, think I got that.”

“Oh, and, like, I sort of… Tricked your guys into thinking there was a bomb. There wasn’t a bomb, I didn’t want to see you moping around after what happened, because that’s totally what you were doing.”

“You… What?”

The rest of the night was spent by Classified chasing after the penguin to little success, because while the kiss was nice and all, it was not worth spending four hours in that dump.