Sleeping Whilst Standing

Paperwork.

Frank. Was. Drowning.

It seemed that to move from here to there, an Auror had to fill out eighty forms. Frank had has his hours lessened so that he could make a transition into also holding a job at St Mungo's as the director of mental health services. He had been so busy lately that he had failed to notice that the stacks of paperwork piling into his inbox had been doubling, tripling... It was not until he saw the post it note on his coffee mug that he really realized how desperate his situation was. You might want to start this. As it is, I don't want to be supervising you when you're sixty."

Got to love the humor of underpaid supervisors.

It was early morning and he had not slept. He had recieved permission to stay late, but he was not sure he had been allowed to just.. not leave, He rubbed his eyes, pushing a hand through his already mussed hair. The stack had been halved and now people were walking in for the day... and his shift was officially starting in a few minutes.

He reached for his coffee mug. Nothing. He sighed and got up. He could brew something instantly, but he liked the choices of the break room. He walked inside, his head pounding as people idily chatted over their own mugs. He sluggishly brewed some black coffee, knowing he still had a ways to go. He stood in front of the coffee pot, unmoving, stirring, snoring a little, eyes closing...

"Frank! The Ministry is on fire!" came the panicked shout of Nemo Omara not an inch away from the fellow auror's ear. The breath that lingered on his tongue smelt strongly of vodka, due to the many shots that Nemo had mixed with the morning's first coffee. But with the casual way in which he held the spiked drink in his left hand, it would be easy to assume that he was convinced he'd been sly about drinking on the job.

He stepped back from the other man, so to force down another gulp of his drink. Simultaneously, he ignored the bemused looks that he was receiving from the other men and women in the room, as though they were not of particular interest to him.

No longer was his face one of seriousness; his expression of mock fear had quickly melted into one of amusement, and he had begun to choke on the laughter that he’d previously attempted to prevent from escaping his lips. But he felt that his joke had gone on for long enough to have the desired effect, and quickly gave in to the satisfaction of having, hopefully, startled the sleeping lad.

Frank would have come to a moment later, surely. A small trickle of coffee was overspilling from his tilted mug, splattering his shoes, and a moment later, the hot liquid would have dripped into his shoe, seeped into his sock, and most definitely burn his foot. Frank had never been unlucky, so this never happened. Though what happened instead could not really honestly be counted as luck.

Someone was screaming fire. He jerked out of his stupor, panicked, and flung the mug's contents away from him, towards the fire, which splattered the brown hot liquid against the wall. He turned to see the smirking face of Nemo Omara. Omara's antics were well known in the ministry, because the guy seemed... well... insane, neurotic. These were the tags that came to mind.

He mumbled an apology- whether to the onlookers or the wall, even he was unsure- and waved his wand, clearing the coffee from the wall. He turned, grumbling, and poured a new mug. He would not rise. He was a bigger man than Nemo Omara. "Morning, Nemo. You seem chipper."

The situation had played out in a far more interesting way than Nemo had original expected it to. Sure, it had been no surprise at all that the man had jumped in reply to Nemo’s shouted words - that, Nemo had counted on. But the mess that he’d made of his cup of coffee was an added bonus. He had certainly gotten lucky; had Frank turned in the other direction, it would have been Nemo that had been burned by the boiling liquid, rather than the wall. With a smirk, Nemo lifted himself up onto the counter that he’d previously leaned his hips against, and filled the empty space that had been left there beside the coffee maker.

At Frank’s words, Nemo brought a hand upward to rest over his heart, “You noticed what mood I am in today? Oh Frankie, you really do care!” he replied. In order to follow through with the joke, Nemo jumped down from the counter top that he had only just made himself comfortable on, and made a move to wrap the other auror in an affectionate embrace. With his arms folded around Frank, Nemo looked towards his audience. Taking things yet another step further, he formed the words “he cares” with silent lips.

Frank was all for fun and whatnot, when it was appropriate. To be honest, he could not conjure a memory of a fun conversation outside of the conversations he had with his insane pap and his neurotic mother. With Alice and Rise out of the house and at school, Frank found that he, sadly, had very few friends. He had his colleagues but the Aurors were typically a serious bunch.

But even if he was currently craving a conversation past plants, plans, and bad guys, he was not sure he was currently in the mood for the type of conversation one Nemo Omara would bring. Not when he was running on no sleep and, now, no coffee. He needed one of the two in his system before he could face the eccentric man without being a total grump.

He made a move to bend down and wipe his shoe, but before he had so much as flinched, the man had thrown his ars around him. Frank groaned and rolled his eyes at the words. A few of the onlookers snickered, though most rolled their eyes and moved on- like he said, the Aurors were a serious bunch. With a grumble, Frank shook Nemo off, saying, "Geroff me. Not in the mood, Nemo!"

For a moment Nemo had pondered the possibility of continuing on in this manner; mocking Frank in front of the disproving eyes of their colleagues. He had been presented the opportunity, after all. As Frank shook himself free from Nemo’s grasp, it would have been far too easy to take another simple step forward and to cling to the man once more. Of course, there was always a point when a joke was meant to end. One could not carry on forever with the same tomfoolery, for it would quickly grow old, and irritation would eventually be replaced with anger.

But Nemo had never quite grasped the concept of rejecting his impulses.

And so, like a magnet being pulled forward by its polar opposite, Nemo outstretched his arms and moved back towards Frank. Upon his face he wore an expression of fondness; with his lips curled slightly into a content smile and his eyes gently closed. “Well, I know how to fix that sour mood of yours. Who needs a hug? Yeah? Another hug? Don’t you worry, Frankie, I’ll make it better,” he consoled him sarcastically. He played the part of the clingy lover exceptionally well.

After a brief moment of remaining in this position, Nemo broke away from Frank. As he’d sighed in mock contentment, the laughter that he’d kept caged within himself had broken free and had caused his shoulders to shake, giving him away. The jig was up. But that was fine by Nemo; he’d had his fun, pestering his coworker. He drew back, smirked to himself, and reached for his spiked cup of coffee.

Frank had heard stories about Nemo and from all of the little tidbits and scraps of gossip, Frank knew that once Nemo had made you the butt of one of his jokes, there was no escaping until he had been thoroughly amused by your particiaption, or lack thereof. So, yes, he began to struggle when Nemo rushed forward, drawn back to Frank by some unknowable force, and enveloped him into another hug. Frank struggled but culd not free himself.

He sighed. Didn't Nemo realize he was making a fool of them both, not just Frank, not just himself? Everyone was really focused on professionalism and the somber severity of the prodession they all had. And here Nemo was, acting as though they had come back to the playground, making a fool out of everyone who even witnessed his behavior.

Or maybe Frank just needed some sleep.

Nemo finally released Frank and Frank grumbled, "C'mon, man, take yourself seriously." He pointed his wand at his feet and the coffee slipped off and then evaporated in thin air. He refilled his coffee and sighed, looking at Nemo. "Is that all? Or can I get back to work?"

Surely, someone had been on Nemo's side that morning. There was no more logical an explanation to the luck that Nemo had been blessed with. Had he waited a single second longer to bring his mug to his lips, and to allow a mouthful of coffee to fill his mouth, the spontaneous thought of spitting the liquid in Frank's direction in response to his words would never have occurred to Nemo.

With such enthusiasm Nemo had spewed the coffee towards Frank, that every man and woman in the room had turned to stare at the pair once more. While many had grown tired of Nemo's antics, and had decided to turn away from the scene before them as he'd gone about snuggling close to Frank, all eyes had returned to Nemo as he spat on the younger auror.

"Take myself seriously?" Nemo repeated as he coughed. "Are you kidding? I take everything seriously. Far more so than those morons," he informed Frank sarcastically, and motioned towards the wide eyes of his coworkers with a simple wave of his hand. It was a wonder that one of them hadn't yet clocked Nemo for having displayed such disrespect towards them. Yet another of Luck's doings, no doubt.

The moment couldn't possibly have played out any more perfectly.

Frank had been sure that he had been enough of a party pooper to dampen Nemo's fun and perhaps earn him a free pass to return back to his desk so he could work. He honestly just wanted to get through all his paperwork, clock out, and go home so he could try and catch up on all of the sleep that he had missed out on that night. But life was not being kind to Frank.

Coffee sprayed all over him and there was a collective gasp, from himself and those around who were witnessing the extent of Nemo's nerve. Frank's body tighetened and he dipped his head o the liquird would drip off of it. He was only half listening to Nemo, while his other hand searched the counter for a towel. HE find one and wiped his face before looking back up at Nemo.

He would not let himself over react, not here. Frank, unlike a certain other Auror, knew you had to act a little more reserved at work. He glared up at Nemo. "Well, I don't see any of them spraying people in the face with coffee..."

Much to Nemo’s surprise, Frank had taken every punch that he’d thrown without a single sign of struggle. Under an ordinary circumstance, such a response – or lack thereof – may very well have amused him. But as he stood, his eyes never leaving his test subject as the other man mopped the spilt coffee from his face, Nemo could react in no other way than with irritation.

Did Frank not know of the hole that he had ripped in Nemo’s makeshift plans by acting in such a way? Could he not bear the thought of simply playing along for the sake of a laugh? Surely, there was something more hidden beneath the surface; a frustration that had not yet been revealed to Nemo’s eyes – but it was there. Nemo had encountered many a robotic employee of the Ministry, and he had learned from those experiences that there was always something human underneath. It just took a bit of digging.

Feigning innocence, Nemo rested his lower back against the cabinet once more and took a swig from his mug. “How many like you do you think I have met, Frank? And I want an honest estimation here. How many cowardly, scrawny, and just plain uninteresting men and women do you think walk through those big ol’ double doors downstairs every year? Here’s a hint: you certainly aren’t the first. But you're just as boring as the rest, I see. Everything you do is thought out. Every word sifted through until deemed appropriate for use in the work place. You should work on that, ” Nemo informed him, before turning away from the coffee machine.

If that didn’t get something out of Frank, he didn’t know what else would. A thumbtack of his desk chair, perhaps? An entire case of thumbtacks? Superglue on the side of his mug? Maybe he could sneak into his office and enchant his paperwork to the ceiling. Nemo pondered over the possibilities, and unintentionally, he smiled. Because Frank Longbottom had it coming to him.