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That’s Not Very Professional

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“Tss…Emmet, not now.”

“Why the hell not?”

“We’re working, you idiot. That’s why.”

Emmet let out an indignant huff. The orange line train was currently speeding through the subway system, flickering halogen lights giving a gritty glow to the subway car. He had managed to push Ingo down, lying on the terribly uncomfortable seats, and had just taken off his brother’s coat and tie before he was stopped.

“What’s the problem?”

“Because…we should be being professional!” Ingo furrowed his brow. “This is not the time or place.”

“Yes it is. This is the time. This is the place. I want to now.”

“Your manic speech is acting up again.”

“No they aren’t. That’s stupid. You’re stupid.”

“And that’s a wonderful way to get me to break the rules and go ahead with your foolish whims, isn’t it?” he said, pushing his brother away and grabbing his black coat. He started to stand when Emmet put a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back into his seat.

“There’s no rule against it. I’m not foolish. I’m serious.” Emmet gave a devious grin, a little glint of sharp teeth visible.

“Fine, there’s no distinct rule,” Ingo admitted, “but may I ask what you intend to do if a challenger comes in to fight us, hmm?”

Emmet laughed.

“There’s lots of battles on the train,” he purred. “We are number twenty one. Each car has people who won before.”

“I am well aware of that. Your point being?” The man in white clicked his tongue.

“Each car has people with more wins,” he said. “If one person beat twenty, number twenty beat nineteen. Number nineteen beat eighteen.”


“Lots of battles. I worked it out. Not twenty battles before us. There’s thousands.”

“I never knew you to be one for mathematics, Emmet.” He shook his head at the implausible theory.

“I’m not. But…” Emmet purred, straddling his brother’s lap, “we have plenty of time. That’s the point.”

“This has to be one of the most terrible ideas you’ve had in a long time.”

“The best idea,” he said, chuckling and pulling the jacket back off of his brother’s shoulders, leaving it in a heap around their hips. He leaned forward, nibbling Ingo’s left ear and quickly starting to unbutton his shirt. “An exciting idea.”

Ingo’s face started to flush, but his voice managed to stay somber. “Exciting or no, it’s still a terrible idea.” His hands appeared to not agree with his mouth, however, as he fumbled with his belt.

“You like my terrible idea. Admit you do.” Emmet pulled back a little, whipping the belt off in milliseconds and throwing it across the car to where his own shirt already lay. Ingo rolled his eyes, but grew visibly more red.

“It’s…as you said. Exciting.” He looked away as the other man chuckled, lifting his hips and working the black trousers off his brother.

“Very exciting…” Emmet’s grin grew as he stroked the large lump he had uncovered, delighting at the shiver it produced in the man underneath him.

“Oh, shut your mouth…” Ingo choked out before gasping at the fingers that had started to pump themselves around his shaft.

“Hmm mm mmmm?” Emmet hummed, lips pressed tightly shut, but still formed into his signature creepy grin.

“Stop…fu…stop that,” Ingo panted. “You’re…being ridi…culous…”

Emmet just laughed, mouth still closed, and started to stroke faster.


“Yes! And another win for me!” Touko cheered, grinning as her twentieth challenger sadly went to sit with shame. She smiled, waltzing into the 21st car.

She stood in stunned silence at the sight in front of her. Ingo sputtered in shock.

“I…I…Emmet, you said…”

“Hmmmm?” Emmet looked up, too busy with his hands to notice the girl before, and smiled cheerily.

“Follow the rules. Safe driving! Follow the schedule…”