Unintended voyeurism

Edgar has been in the cabinet for three hours now. Small whimpering noises can occasionally be heard from inside. Albert stands next to the cabinet; occasionally he taps worriedly at it, trying to elicit some sort of response beyond the whimpering. He hasn’t had much luck, at least, not since officer Breda showed up. He stands a good few feet back from the cabinet now, watching it with some trepidation.
The whimpering dies down for a bit. Breda asks “What got him so worked up, anyway?”

Albert shuffles nervously from his place next to the cabinet; he knows more than he’s letting on. Mercifully, the officer doesn’t notices. He is too busy trying to discover a way out of Patching Up Ed’s Sanity Duty. “I don’t know,” Breda says, shaking his head. “There’s got to be someone else who can get him out of that,” Albert says. “Isn’t Dc Loise here at the moment?”.

 “No! I mean, yes, but–“. Just in that moment Dc Lois enters the room.

“I heard there was a problem here,” he says to Al. “Any idea what’s wrong with your brother?” The cabinet whimpers again. Albert casts a worried glance at it, then looks back at Dc Loise. “I don’t know. We were about to leave when he remembered he had one last report to give the Colonel.” Actually, Ed’s words were more along the lines of ‘If I don’t get this one stupid thing to him right this minute the bastard’ll never let me hear the end of it,’ but Al is not about to say so. “So he stopped back here for a bit and went to see Colonel Michels.” 

“And then?”

“I’m not actually sure,” Albert admits. “I was in the hallway when I heard the door to the Colonel’s office slam, and I saw my brother run by really fast. By the time I got here, he was already in the cabinet.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then the cabinet says, “Never coming out.”

“That’s an improvement over the whimpering,” Dc Loise asides to Albert.

“You know,” Dc Loise says, “I think that’s where Colonel Michels stores his notes.”  There’s a pause, and then Ed speaks again, this time with a nervous edge to his voice. “I don’t know. It’s dark in here.”

A beat, and he adds, “Anyway, they can’t be his. None of the papers in here are sticky enough.”

“Edgar!” Albert says, never mind that he’s not entirely sure what his brother meant by that.

Dc Loise just grins at the cabinet. “Tell him that sometime, will you, Edgar? Where is the Colonel, anyway?”

This time the silence has an edge of terror to it. Albert leans closer to the cabinet.

“Bro?”

“I don’t.” A violent rattling noise comes from the cabinet. “I don’t know!”
“Ed, are you okay?” Dc Loise asks.

“No!” This is quite vehement. “I just saw–I mean–” He slows, the heat leaking from his voice. “Yeah. I’m fine. I’m just. Fine.”

“What happened?” Albert asks. Dc Loise remains silent, fixing the cabinet with a bemused look.

Ed doesn’t speak for another long moment. Finally, reluctantly, he says, “Well…”

He didn’t want to venture back into the headquarters to hand in the report from Panama City. He knew, just knew, that Michels would find some way to rub it in. ‘Why is my door open? Did someone forget to close it when they left? I certainly didn’t see anyone open,oh, there you are, Edgar, I didn’t even notice you beneath that stack of papers that you should be filling out!’.

But if he didn’t, it’d be even worse when he got back the next time. So Edgar made his way down the halls. They were oddly empty somehow, just about everyone had found a reason to be elsewhere. He let out a hesitant breath of relief: maybe Michels wouldn’t be there, and he could just drop the report and run.
But any attention paid to the hallway leading up to the Colonel’s office dispelled this hope.

A low rumble of peculiar noise came from the room: rustling and bumping overlaid by a sharp voice. Curiosity, as usual, got the better of common sense and pushed Ed forward until his hand was on the doorknob. He turned it and pulled the door open just enough for him to get an idea of what was going on.
And he froze, trauma glassing over his eyes and halting his mental processes in an instant.
Lieutenant Rachel Havoc knelt on Michels’s desk–more specifically, she knelt right over him. He was sprawled out on the desktop in a rather dubious state of partial dress. His jacket was draped on his chair and his pants had been wrenched down to his knees and he had apparently not been wearing anything beneath those pants, but at least his shirt was still on his person.

It was entirely open, and it looked like some buttons may even have been torn off. More curious still, one of his wrists was bound to a corner of the desk with a strip of black leather. Havoc planted one hand firmly on Michels’s bare chest for a moment, then yanked his shirt further aside. She was wearing less than usual. Her pants and jacket were also on the chair. More peculiar than that, though, was the fact that she was holding a ragged piece of leather in one hand. It looked like it might have been miniskirt-shaped once, but now it was missing a strip of about the same dimensions as the one tying down Randy’s wrist.
“–much as I appreciated your fine form while fighting Edgar, Colonel,” she was saying, “I will not–“

She paused to take the ex-miniskirt in her teeth and tear off another strip from it. “I will not wear a miniskirt.” She grabbed his free hand, pinned it down, and bound the leather around his wrist. He opened his mouth to speak with a look on his face suggesting he had no idea what he’d say and she gave him a fierce glare. “I will show you that aforementioned appreciation on my own terms.”

She set both hands down firmly on his now-bare shoulders and abruptly shifted her position from a kneel to a very limber split indeed. Michels arched back against the desk, dark hair splaying out in a sweat-damped circle around his head. Without any conscious consent from the calm parts of his brain, he exhaled a ragged gasp that he then tried without much success to turn into something like a pleased sigh. His fingers curled and uncurled, never reaching close to his restraints.

Havoc smiled. She hooked one leg around one of his, then leaned forward and undid just one button on her shirt. “On my own terms,” she repeated.
Michels’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a challenge, Lieutenant?” he purred, and then he twisted one bound wrist to press it against the rough edge of the desk.
She settled her hands on his hips, pressed herself harder against him, and fixed him with a stern glare.

He gestured, and the neatly ordered buttons of her shirt snapped right out of the fabric at the sudden blast of air behind them. Without missing a beat, she slapped him hard across the face.

He blinked. Then he licked his lips and, very slowly, grinned.
All of this took in the vicinity of two minutes. Really, this shouldn’t have been nearly enough time for the tiny scurrying imps inside Edgar’s brain to find their proper places on the thought machine again after being knocked off in the first place. But in light of the circumstances, they found their stations again faster than they otherwise might.

And Ed, still standing behind the barely-opened door, gave an deafening shriek, turned, and sprinted down the hallway.

“And that was hours ago,” Edgar says in a numb voice.
Silence rules the room from door to cabinet for at least a minute. Then, finally, Albert says, “Bro, are you sure that’s what happened?”

His only reply was a low whimper.

“I think,” Dc Loise says carefully, “that I’ll go have a talk with Colonel Michels. Edgar, if you’re comfortable sleeping in there tonight, I’m sure you won’t get in trouble. But you’ll probably be a lot happier if you can leave.” He gets up, offers Albert a quick, reassuring grin, and makes his way out into the hall.

He’s not halfway to Michels’s office when Havoc rounds a corner right in front of him. She salutes and starts to weave around him.
He moves to block her path. “Lieutenant Havoc! Just the person I wanted to see, well, one of them, I was just talking to Edgar!”

She stares at him for a long moment, expression more like steel than ice. He smiles sunnily back at her. “Nothing happened,” she says flatly.
“Okay,” he says docilely enough. “I didn’t say anything did.” She stares at him a moment longer, and starts to walk away. Which is when he adds, “But it sounds like you and Randy very much enjoy a good desk. I know what my wedding present to you two will-“

She spins about and drives her fist squarely into his face, sending him stumbling against the wall. “Nothing happened.“

She salutes and