Chapter Text
Caendish couldn’t help the sigh that escaped from his lips.
He sat in his and his partner, Dakota Vinnie,'s office, the only source of light coming from the ancient computer in front of him. He had spent the last week filling out increasingly more ridiculous incident reports on it.
Cavendish and Dakota were both from the year 2175 and worked as agents of the Bureau of Time Travel. Their title of agent may as well be a joke, as for the past 3 months, they had been stuck in the year 2016, attempting to save the extinct pistachio nut. The seemingly simple mission was somehow taking them months to complete, the only progress being in the ridiculousness of each mission's failure.
How had he ended up here?
Cavendish thought back to the day he had become an employee at the Bureau of Time Travel. He had been so full of hope and ambition that not even the fact that his partner was an absolute doofus stopped him from taking on each mission with utmost gusto.
But as he looked around the tiny, dark office (which only contained two desks, an old communication device, and a small bathroom in the corner, which his partner was currently occupying) Cavendish had never felt so hopeless.
Sighing again, Cavendish turned his attention back to his final incident report of the night. But he couldn’t bring himself to move. He was so absolutely devastated with his life. Nothing was going right; he couldn't even stop a pistachio cart from being destroyed by a runaway lard truck or from being eaten by a marlin! This wasn’t his fault, It simply couldn't be!
Cavendish's mind began to race, depression quickly turning to disbelief and then to anger. He went through all the possible reasons that he, a time traveler who was once an exceptionally smart young lad, had ended up in an office with concrete floors and computers from further back than he could even time-travel to!! (an exaderation - Cavendish would never downplay the power of time travel if he had been in his right state of mind)
Cavendish knew he was a hardworking, smart, and capable time traveler; his school instructors had told him that many times.
He knew it couldn’t be the Bureau's fault; they were an advanced and all-knowing organization that simply couldn't overlook such a disgusting misassessment of ability!
Cavendish's mind finally landed on the last and only possibility for his failure of a life: Vinnie Dakota. The imbacle was the only common factor in every one of his failures! He never cared for his career and much less the rules - for heaven's sake, on their very first mission as partners, Dakota had derailed the mission and had landed them both in trouble. Cavendish realized that's where it all had started!
Because he had gotten in trouble that very first day, the Bureau assumed he was a troublemaker just like Dakota. They'd then decided it would be best if the two "troublemakers" stayed together and were given minor missions that would not destroy the world in its entirety. Cavendish had to admit, if he were the Bereau, he probably would have made the exact same decision - but that didn't make him any less angry!
Silently blaming Dakota was nothing new to Cavendish; he had often been angered at Dakota's incompetence during their 18 years of working together. But sitting in that dark office, with nothing to show for his years of hard work, Cavendish was just about ready to leave Dakota behind.
And so he would. Tomorrow he would take their time vehicle before Dakota woke, and would travel to the Bereau and would -
“Oi Cavendish, get a load of this!!” A gravelly voice yelled from the bathroom.
Cavendish was more exasperated than ever that Dakota had interrupted his plotting, but Dakota didn’t have a care in the world.
“Seriously, Cav, get over here.” Dokata's curly head poked out of the bathroom, beckoning Cavendish over.
Cavendish may have been boiling with anger, but he had been raised right, and hearing out Dakota was only the polite thing to do. Shutting off his computer, Cavendish stood and walked into the bathroom.
This development pleased Dakota, and he returned to the bathroom sink, yapping the whole way.
“Ok, so I was brushing my teeth like I do every night - well, not every night- like that time we had to save those pistachios from that Mexican restaurant's kitchen? That was the best and worst mission we've been on, I mean, the free food was nice, but I ate way too much and couldn’t make it off the floor! Remember how I couldn't eat chimichangas for like a week after that? I've never gone that long without eating one! Well, not since I was like 12...anyway… what was I talking about?”
Leaning against the doorway of the cramped bathroom, Cavendish rubs his temples.
“I believe brushing your teeth?”
“Oh yeah! So, I was brushing my teeth and thinking about bunny rabbits, you know? How they're so fluffy and cute, but also kinda evil? The rabbit I had as a kid bit me all the time. Well, I go to spit out my toothpaste, and it lands in the shape of a bunny! See?”
Cavendish looks in the direction Dakota is pointing to find a blob of spit and toothpaste, shaped like nothing at all. He can feel himself losing his cool as he turns to look at his partner, fully ready to berate him for being stupid and frankly disgusting.
But his voice dies in his throat when he looks Dakota in the eyes for the first time that night.
The goofball is grinning at him, eyes sparkling in the fluorescent light of the bathroom, toothpaste still collecting at the corners of his mouth. He's wearing worn-out and obviously well-loved pajama pants and a simple white tank top (a wife beater, as Dakota so crudely referred to them). His messy hair and idiotic grin melt away all of Cavendish's anger and plans of jumping ship.
He can’t be mad at Dakota. Yes, he hasn’t been the most helpful of partners, but he was always there for Cavendish. Their relationship was often strained, and not one that Cavendish expected to become invested in, but Dakota had always kept Cavendish going, despite all that tried to stop him. Cavendish realized he genuinely didn't know what he'd do without Dakota.
With that thought, Cavendish smiled right back at Dakota, confirmed the toothpaste’s likeness to a bunny, and walked back out into the office to breathe. He couldn't believe how close he'd been to abandoning and hurting his best friend. Cavendish took a couple of deep breaths, calming the fizzling emotions that had almost just exploded. Looking at the clock, He decided he might as well set up their sleeping arrangements while waiting for Dakota to finish up in the bathroom.
Since they had been given their awful mission, they had been forced to live in the tiny office, each with only a sleeping bag and a pillow. They had learned to adapt, but Cavendish would often lie awake at night, lost in his own thoughts.
Dakota finally exited the bathroom, and Cavendish took his turn to prepare for bed. Finally, the two lay side by side between their desks in complete silence and darkness.
“Dakota” Cavendish whispered after some time of trying to fight the voices in his head, “Are you awake?”
“Yeah,” Dakota whispered back. Cavendish marinated in the silence after Dakota's response, trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to ask. He finally landed on something vague, so as not to startle Dakota by sudden confessions.
“Do you ever regret your life?” He asked. Cavendish could tell his "vague" question had still startled Dakota, as he felt Dakota turn to stare at him. Cavendish ignored his eyes, staring straight at the water-damaged ceiling. Finally, Dakota turned his stare back to the ceiling.
"There are what feel like millions of moments I second-guess, but I try not to regret everything. It’s a waste of time.”
Cavendish could feel the unsaid "why" settle over the two of them. He had no idea what to say now
There was silence for a long time, and Dakota began to think Cavendish had fallen asleep, but he finally spoke after about 5 minutes.
“Good night, Dakota.”
“Good night, Cav.”
And that was that. Cavendish rolled over and closed his eyes. But after a while, a rough whisper sounded from his right.
“… Cav, if you ever need to talk, you know I’ll listen, right?”
Dakota's only answer was Cavendish’s deep and steady breathing. He knew that meant Cavendish was asleep, but he also knew it wouldn't have mattered even if he had been awake; Cavendish never talked about his feelings.