The Deal (Commander Peepers x Reader)

The Helping Hand

"What's this?" you questioned, curiosity piqued by a piece of loose leaf paper you found underneath the large stack. It showed a colorful doodle of a rainbow-haired unicorn.

"What—NOTHING!" Peepers snatched the paper from your hand in a frantic, then proceeded to shove it into a random drawer. "It's nothing. Not anything that concerns you, understood?"

You snorted. "Alright, whatever you say. The unicorn matters to none."

He narrowed his eye and sent you a dark glare that contrasted with your ever-present smirk. "Shut up."

"Soooo," you began, bringing the commander's attention back to the matter at hand. "Tell me all about this stuff."

"This stuff," Peepers assumed a proud position, "is my work. I make all the plans to be carried out by Lord Hater and his army. The blueprints for new battle armor, for weapons, anything of the sort."

"Impressive," you whistled. "I bet you get a good night's sleep every night. What's your bedtime, Peep?"

"Irrelevant," Peepers affirmed with a dismissive wave of the hand. "But if you must know it varies from night to night. I'm not sure why you'd want to know that, though."

Instead of giving clarification of your random question to the commander, you again found interest in the mound of papers piled on his desk.

"This is what brings you pride, I assume," you said as you put a hand to your chin.

"It's what I do best," Peepers answered, then crossed his arms from behind you. "Just like what being a distraction is for you."

"Hardy har har," you haphazardly moved the sheets to the side, and a few decided to fly off of the desktop.

"It's probably pointless for me to question you about this, but do you mind?" the commander fumed before snatching his documents up.

"No, not really," you responded honestly and nonchalantly.

"I have to work, you know," Peepers repeated. "If you're so interested in it, you can watch. Quietly."

He sat in his chair, picked up his pencil, and to your surprise began to work at once. It was almost as if his business was put on pause, and just now he made the decision to press the play button.

You peered across the desk, keeping your distance. It was a good idea, in your mind, that to actually see his thought process being used in action, you would keep quiet and watch. In other words, you decided to give the guy a break from your methods of torture.

What you saw him do was quite intriguing to say the least. The man was intelligent in areas you would not have guessed upon first glance. He was solving math equations with high levels of complexity dealing with countless variables and numbers. Calculations after calculations were made, everything connected to his end goals. It was a disappointment in your eyes that his education was being used for villainy, but his motivations and determined look in his eye were quite the sight to behold.

He was...fascinating, if that was the right word.

"Personal space," Peepers grunted, and, without a second glance, pushed your head to the side and out of his way, which you realized had drifted ever so slightly closer to the blueprints along with the commander's hand that was used in creating pencil strokes.

You had begun to follow along with his thinking. Each little adjustment, division, and addition all came together like dozens of paths taken that would lead to the same destination...

"OW!" you yelped, startled out of your thought process. You cradled the red, inflamed mark on the top of your hand where the tip of the commander's pencil had been seconds before.