Note: This is humor, so don't take it seriously. I wrote it for the Sensory Overload challenge on LJ. If anyone cares, I used the prompts footsteps, print, and orange, and my given title was The back of another black day. That said, I hope you like it.

-

Flashlights

They were standing in the supply closet when the single light between them flickered twice and blinked out, leaving them trapped, shirtless, and panicked.

"Shit," Alex swore and pulled his mouth reluctantly away from Henry's neck.

Henry rubbed the reddening circle where his boyfriend's lips had just been, narrowing his eyes into two cat-like slits as he tried, unsuccessfully, to peer through the darkness engulfing them. "Was that what I think it was?" he asked.

"With our luck, yes," Alex groaned. With the mood now ruined, he fumbled blindly on the floor, and his hands landed twice on Henry's dressy button-up before he finally found his shirt and pulled it on. "I hate those technicians," he hissed grumpily. "What's their problem, anyway? This is like the third time this month!"

"Fourth, actually," said Henry in a surprisingly calm voice. He picked Alex’s belt off the dirty floor and pressed it into his hands. "Remind me why we picked the supply closet for this?"

"Because no one ever comes in here," Alex replied automatically, and he could feel Henry's glare even if he couldn't see it. He ducked his head and continued sheepishly, "Except during a power surge."

Henry's breath whistled out in a gusty sigh. "Well, this is what you get for seducing me at work."

"I didn't hear you complaining," countered Alex with a toothy grin. He slid his hands underneath Henry's shirt after he'd gotten it back on and traced his fingers over the smooth ribs there, feeling Henry relax beneath his touch. "Besides," he went on, "it's half your fault, anyway."

"I guess," Henry replied and pulled away, searching the shelves for any stray articles of clothing. "Have you seen my tie?"

"No," Alex mumbled, disappointed by the sudden lack of warmth. "Hold on," he said and squatted down to paw through a box, "I'll get a flashlight."

"Hurry up."

"I'm trying," he growled, turning to rummage through a different box. "Ah, here they are—" he trailed off into a rather feminine yelp as the door opened and he hurriedly clicked a flashlight on, shining it directly in the intruder's face. "Who's that?"

"Ow, Christ! It's Steve Kemper!" With his hand held up to shield his eyes, he peered through his fingers and hissed, "Get that thing out of my face, would you?"

"Oops," Alex muttered with a laugh, standing as he dropped the line of light to his feet. "Sorry about that, boss."

Eyes narrowed angrily at the sight of one of his subordinates, Steve grumbled, "What were you doing in here with the door closed, anyway?"

"I don't know," he lied nervously. "I couldn't exactly see the door to know it was closed."

"…I suppose," agreed Steve in a reluctant, suspicious tone. He shrugged it off quickly. "Anyway, I just came in here for a flashlight, so—" he edged unknowingly closer to Henry, presumably for a flashlight.

"Ah, let me get that for you, sir!" Alex panicked and jumped between them, accidentally shining the light directly in his boss' eyes. Again.

"Jesus," hissed Steve. Both hands flew up to cover his eyes for the second as he spun away, growling, "You're going to blind me for life if you keep that up!"

"Sorry," Alex mumbled in a decidedly unapologetic tone. He ducked down to produce another flashlight, handed it to his boss, and stepped carefully in front of Henry, whose shoulders had begun to shake. He felt a brief flash of guilt as he said, "Here you go, sir."

Steve's eyes were set in a distinct glare. "Thanks," he bit out. Looking Alex up and down once, curtly, he nodded and turned on his heel. "Well, then," he muttered, "get back to work."

"Er, yes, sir," said Alex, fidgeting and stalling for time to stay with Henry. With difficulty, he tried to think of a convincing lie. "I'll get some more flashlights and bring them back for the rest of our area."

Eyes lightening at the prospect of making Alex do more work, regardless of what that work was, Steve dipped his head in a nod. "All right, I guess," he agreed, then immediately frowned. "But hurry up," he added, and then, with a final glare, he left.

Alex let out the breath he'd been holding in a large gust of air. "Holy shit," he breathed, "that was close."

Henry burst out laughing.

Shocked, Alex turned to stare at him with wide eyes. "What—" He did a double take, recalling the shaking, scared figure he'd thought he'd seen, and nearly laughed along with him. "And here I thought you were scared," he said with a smirk, privately very relieved.

"Sorry to disappoint," murmured Henry, struggling to regain his composure.

Catching Henry's red tie from the corner of his eye, Alex pointed the flashlight at it and picked it up. "Here," he said and handed it to Henry with a smile.

Henry snorted as he slipped it over his head. "I can't believe I came all the way from accounting for this."

"I can," said Alex, sliding his hand down Henry's side with a sly grin.

Henry batted away the wandering hands. "Quit it, okay?" he hissed. "I have to get back." He finished the tie with a flourish and pinned his companion an expectant gaze. "So, how does it look?"

"Wrinkled and recently molested."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, great," he said, and he had opened his mouth again to retort when they both froze at the sudden sound of footsteps.

"Shit," Alex hissed.

"Yeah, I'd better get going," murmured Henry. He paused long enough to brush his fingers affectionately through Alex’s spiked brown bangs. "I'll see you later, maybe," he said, kissed his mouth once, and darted off into the hallway with Alex’s flashlight.

"Bye," Alex called after him. Unable to keep the smile off his face, he found a new flashlight, clicked it on, and started gathering more to bring back to the office. By chance, his eyes landed on a rumpled pile of black in the corner, and the smile immediately dropped off his face. "Oh, fucking hell," he groaned and resisted the urge to bash his head against the shelving.

Henry had left his blazer.

-

Wyatt had been on a coffee break when the lights had unexpectedly gone out.

It wasn't really a coffee break, though – it was more like a tea break, but the guys in accounting would never let him live it down if they knew that he not only drank tea twice a day, but flavored tea, imported straight from London. Today he was enjoying his favorite brand of orange spice tea, and he sipped at it from his coffee mug and smiled complacently to himself, satisfied with his secret. He may not have been able to see exactly where he was going, but, as luck would have it, he was just around the corner from the supply closet.

He was pleased to find that the door was already open, and he grabbed a flashlight after bumping into and politely apologizing to a spiky-haired man whose name he didn't know. He even proposed a drink of tea to make it up to him – although he called it coffee when he offered – but the stranger had declined, stammering, before he quickly darted off down the hall.

His loss, Wyatt thought to himself and took another drink as he meandered back to his cubicle.

It was only after he'd turned the third corner that he really stopped to wonder why anyone had been sneaking out of the supply closet carrying that many flashlights, glancing around rather suspiciously and dodging shadows, and suddenly, he realized.

Wyatt stopped and turned around, jaw wide open, as his fingers tightened on the handle of his mug.

He couldn't believe he'd just offered a thief a sip of his favorite tea.

-

Henry was halfway to advertisement when he felt a draft from a nearby open window and irritably thought that he needed a new blazer, because the one he was wearing wasn't helping anything.

That was when he realized he wasn't wearing one, and his heart stopped, slammed into his chest, and resumed beating at twice its previous pace.

"Oh, shit," he hissed.

He immediately turned back, just in time to nearly run over his coworker Wyatt Edwards, who was alternately taking large sips from his mug and muttering furiously to himself.

"Can't believe it," he grumbled while gesturing violently with his left hand, "—looked so nice, too—orange tea—that bastard—"

"Er." Henry drew back and squinted at him, unsure of how to handle this particular situation. "Edwards?"

Obviously unaware of his surroundings beyond his cup of tea, Wyatt jumped in surprise and yelped, "What? Who's there?"

"Henry Martin."

"Oh." Immediately sagging in relief, Wyatt shot him a weary smile and raked a hand through his hair. "Hey, Martin."

Henry nodded in greeting. "What's got you so edgy?"

"Oh." The nervous look instantaneously returned to Wyatt's eyes, and he swept his gaze from side to side before he leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "There's a thief in the building."

"…Excuse me?" Henry blinked in shock and disbelief.

"Yeah," said Wyatt, nodding. "I saw him stealing a bunch of flashlights from the supply closet."

Staring incredulously, Henry asked, "What's he look like?"

"Tall, spiky brown hair," Wyatt described, holding his hand a little past his head to imitate the height. He rolled his shoulder in a shrug and said, "I didn't get a good look at him, really, because he screamed like a girl and ran away."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Henry took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.

Alex.

"I'll keep an eye out for him," he said eventually.

"Good," said Wyatt seriously. "I'll tell security…if I can ever find them, that is." He frowned at the darkness distrustfully.

Henry snorted, "Good luck with that." He paused, giving Wyatt a considering look, and asked, "Say, you wouldn't happen to know which way that thief went, would you?"

Pointing in the direction he'd just come from, Wyatt said, "Over there."

"Thanks," he muttered in a distracted tone and strode off purposely down the hallway Wyatt had pointed out.

"Wait—you're going the wrong way!" Wyatt called after him, floundering. "That's where that thief—" he trailed off and watched him disappear into the darkness with a steadily deepening frown. "Forget it," he muttered.

Looking down into the depths of his tea, Wyatt privately thought to himself that the whole world was going crazy.

-

Alex was frantic.

He was also lost.

While searching the floor for Henry, he'd somehow managed to encounter no less than six coworkers, all of whom he'd had to run away from quickly lest they ask too many questions regarding the ten flashlights he was carrying under his arm. Although, to be fair, it was more like five flashlights now, because he'd dropped one nearly every time he'd fled.

After sneakily dashing up and down so many staircases to avoid any inquisitive eyes, he had no clue what floor he was on. Likewise, he didn't know what end of the building he was in due to running in circles at the hint of footsteps just before he made the split-second decision to dart down a dark hallway and hide. Worst of all, he still didn't know where Henry was.

"Alex!" hissed a voice from the shadows.

Oh. Well, that was easy.

"Henry?" he asked.

"Alex," Henry growled, stepping into the circle of light from Alex’s flashlight, "get over here, you ass!"

Trotting over obediently, Alex affectionately slid a hand over his boyfriend's arm and asked, "Where the hell are we?"

"What are you talking about?" Henry asked with a puzzled look. "We're by advertisement."

"What are we doing here?"

"I don't know what you're doing here," said Henry, frowning, "but I'm on my way back to the supply closet."

"Oh really?" His eyes lit up with the familiar glow of a challenge. "Up for another round already, Henry?"

"Don't make me punch you."

He backed down with a sigh, tossing his dark bangs away from his face, but he did not remove his hand from Henry's shirt. "Why else would you go there?"

"To get my suit jacket back," said Henry as though it were obvious, which it was, and narrowed his gray eyes into a glare at Alex’s persistent fingertips.

"Oh!" Alex said, blinking his eyes rapidly as a realization struck him suddenly. "That! I've got it."

"No, you don't," said Henry, staring pointedly at Alex’s hands.

"Yes, I do, it's right—" His face went pale. "Oh shit," Alex said, joining Henry in staring at his hands. "I don't have it."

Henry hissed, "You didn't lose it, did you?"

"Maybe," he admitted in a small voice.

"Alex, you bastard," Henry growled and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "What are we going to do?"

"Sneak into an abandoned bathroom and have sex to forget the pain?"

"Absolutely not." He looked like he had more to say on the subject, but his jaw snapped shut with an audible click as he remembered something and glanced furtively at Alex from the corner of his eyes. "By the way," he began as casually as possible, "why does Wyatt think you're robbing us?"

Squinting, Alex asked, "Who's Wyatt?"

"Tall, glasses, reddish brown hair."

His eyes widened. "You mean the guy who was drinking tea?"

"Actually," Henry's eyebrows crinkled as he pondered the subject, "Wyatt always drinks coffee."

"It was tea, I could smell it."

"Really? That's weird," he murmured and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Wyatt's sort of well-known for his masculinity…"

"Oh yeah?" Grinning, Alex rubbed his hands together and said mischievously, "Wait 'til the guys in accounting hear about this…"

Henry placed his fingers on Alex’s elbow in a firm grip. "Less plotting, more explaining," he ordered in a stern voice.

"Explaining what?" asked Alex innocently.

"My jacket."

"Oh yeah." In an attempt to distract him, Alex looked Henry up and down with an appreciative glint in his eyes and purred, "You know, you look really good all disheveled like that…"

Henry growled in warning.

Holding his hands up defensively, Alex whistled and said, "Okay, blazer it is, then. I must have dropped it somewhere between here and the supply closet."

He was met with a stiff, blank look.

Weakly, he tried again, "So, I guess we'll…backtrack?"

With a hand at the small of Alex’s back, Henry harshly steered him forward. "Start backtracking, then."

-

"So, what happened to all those flashlights?" asked Henry as they swept around another corner, swishing their flashlights like beacons as they squinted at every corner and bump in the carpet for the lost blazer.

"Huh?" Glancing downwards, Alex’s face immediately blanched as he noticed that he was only carrying one rather than five. "Oh, shit."

"You say that a lot."

"I know," said Alex, swallowing nervously.

"You lost all of them?"

Hanging his head miserably, he muttered, "Apparently."

"What's your boss going to say?"

"Nothing," he said with a low sigh and craned his neck back to stare at the ceiling. He licked his lips as he thought harder on the subject. "I'll tell him I got lost," he decided eventually, "which is the truth."

"Yeah," said Henry and placed a comforting, affectionate hand on Alex’s shoulder. He drew small circles on the bone with his thumb, squeezing once before he withdrew. "Besides," he continued thoughtfully, "we're probably not the only ones slacking off during the blackout."

"I'm not slacking off," protested Alex weakly, but he changed the subject after a hard glare from Henry. "Shouldn't they have fixed the lights by now? Or at least the generator?"

Lifting a shoulder in an elegant shrug, Henry murmured, "You never can tell with our technicians."

"True," he agreed with a laugh.

They both stopped in front of the supply closet, Alex with a lingering air of guilt and Henry with a frustrated groan. The latter wiped his face with a palm and sighed a single word, "Fuck."

Alex curled against him from behind, nuzzling his nose against the soft tuft of blond hair at the nape of Henry's neck. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"It's fine, I guess," Henry said. He leaned back into Alex’s arms with a soft noise of comfort and closed his eyes, muttering, "I'll make up some excuse."

Turning his head, Alex pressed a soft kiss to Henry's cheek. "Can I make it up to you?"

"Not right now," Henry murmured unconvincingly, twisting around to catch Alex’s hand between his fingers.

"Why not?" Alex mumbled and pulled Henry's tie to draw him closer. "It's dark," he reasoned, running a tempting hand across his stomach. "No one can see."

"Well—" Henry hummed and dug his fingers appreciatively into Alex’s skin, allowing his head to tip back comfortably. "Damn, you're persuasive," he murmured.

"I know," Alex said with a teasing smirk. "It's part of why you love me."

"You wish," he snorted.

"Haha, I—" his words were lost as the lights flicked on and they both drew away, shielding their eyes with their hands. "For the love of god!" he hissed.

"Quick, in here—" Henry said. Grabbing Alex’s shoulders, he threw open the door to the supply closet and ducked both of them inside, shutting it swiftly behind them with a click.

Alex looked around and commented wryly, "Well, this looks familiar."

"Shh," Henry said, pressing a finger to his lips.

Alex scowled but obeyed, lowering his gaze to the floor, and immediately forgot the request for silence as his eyes chanced upon a lump of rumpled black clothing. "Hey, your blazer!"

"You mean you left it here all along?" Henry growled, caught somewhere between anger and amusement.

"Apparently," Alex said, almost laughing. His lips twitched in a predatory grin as he clicked the flashlight off and tossed it dismissively into a box labeled 'emergency' in bold print, watching Henry through half-slitted eyes. "So, where were we?"

Henry smiled, tilted his head back, and allowed Alex to undo the buttons of his shirt.

-

When the lights came on, the first thing Wyatt noticed was the trail of flashlights surrounding him. Nine flashlights, to be exact, scattered around the building in a trail that inevitably lead to the supply closet.

He was both surprised and embarrassed to encounter some rather amorous noises when he finally arrived, but not even Wyatt was polite enough to resist taking a peek. He immediately regretted it afterwards, however, and he was even more shocked and ashamed to discover Henry Martin pinned against a shelf with a familiar-looking man with spiked brown hair running his fingertips across his bare chest.

Blushing, Wyatt dumped out his tea in the nearest potted plant and wondered if it had somehow affected his brain, or worse, been spiked by that thief in the hallway. When he looked again, Martin was still pressed against the wall by the enthusiastic brunet, and it still didn't make any sense. However…

"Wait 'til the guys in accounting hear about this," he said to himself with a private grin. Holding his mug in a considerably more light-hearted grip, he shuffled off towards the elevators and pressed the button for his floor, very much looking forward to the end of the day.