Forge and Paige (and eventually PIE!)

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Because clearly there was not enough to giggle over tonight; Paige goes to pester her lab partner while he's working. She makes it Very Clear that all things regarding them and Jono are not a big deal. Forge picks her up. Then there is pie racing!


Forge swore under his breath as the soldering iron pressed briefly onto the circuit board, a whiff of acrid smoke sealing another connection. It hadn't been enough that his leg was STILL jury-rigged after Miami. It hadn't been enough to have it tweaked and twisted in a game of flag football. Then of course, Marius had to decide to take off with it and half-bury it in the back yard.

Five minutes in the sonic cleanser had cleaned all the dirt and wolf-slobber off, but the overall damage to the circuits and stabilizers was enough to require a complete rehaul. This time, Forge had decided, in a safely-sealed lab where no prank-loving suitemate was going to ambush him.

“You should really find another way to get yourself some privacy than sealing the lab,” a voice said from behind him, a girl voice in fact, that could only be his lab partner. “I mean, even if I don’t have any work to do in here, as soon as I see those little lights blinking... Well, let’s just say it a good thing I already have the access codes.”

Paige swung her leg over a chair and pushed herself towards him, grabbing a pair of safety glasses as she rolled by. By the time she arrived by his side, her chin was already resting on her arms that were folded over the back of the chair and eyeing his work curiously. “Oh, and no cursing in the lab, yaddayadda, pretend I meant that.”

Forge stuck his tongue out at Paige, squinting through his goggles at the inner workings of his knee joint. Moving the multimeter closer, he started probing and testing connections. "When you have to go on one leg and a cane to dig your own foot out of a flowerbed? Let's see you go a day without swearing." Shifting on his stool, he winced slightly as the anchor post that extended from the stump of his left thigh bumped against the workbench.

"So," he asked without looking over at Paige, "was the touchdown dance really that silly?"

“I’m a lady! I do no such cursing. And yes. It was,” she answered, finding no challenge in keeping a straight face. This was pretty much the norm, after all. “Of course, I could bring up the fact that all touchdown dances are silly, but I won’t, because having you all mortified is entertaining like you wouldn’t believe.”

"No," Forge replied without smiling. "Mortified is when you and Jubilee BOTH tackled me and then Kyle decided to jump on top. Sorry for grabbing your... um... yeah. Totally unintentional."

Paige just resisted reaching out and poking, well, something. She was still trying to decide between him and the shininess. On the one hand, poking Forge always turned out to be fun, but on the other, well. Shiny was shiny, and this shiny went whir. Of course, it was also possible that she’d break something in his leg and that was just rude, no matter how much she was intrigued by it. “Of course it was. You would never take advantage of a situation like that, no.”

"Oh no," Forge protested. "I totally would. I just wasn't thinking of it at that particular time, with a pile of folks on top of me. It's a very advantageous situation, you have to admit." Finally he grinned, pushing his goggles up on his forehead. "I noticed a distinct lack of Jono out there. Not too much for the American football, eh?"

“He thinks we’re all, well, I won’t repeat it, but it was very British and rude.” Paige turned a little, her cheek switching places with her chin on her hands, but she was definitely grinning right back. “Of course, he thinks that of just about everything. It’s probably for the best. However would you take advantage of me otherwise?”

Forge grinned wickedly, leaning towards her and wiggling his eyebrows. "In ways that a polite and cultured British gent would never consider, and you know it." Letting that rest for a moment, he snorted and went back to his work with a smile. "Of course, if you knew any polite and cultured British gents, that'd be applicable."

Paige laughed, swatting him playfully on the hip, just where it wouldn’t jerk him into making a mistake. “He is rather Heathcliffesqe, I suppose. Woe, woe, moors, snark-snark, woe,” she said with a wave of the hand. “Of course, only I am allowed to say this. Everyone else gets smacked. You’ve been warned.”

Pushing his goggles over his eyes, Forge reached in with his mechanical hand to solder another set of connections. "Ah well. No accounting for taste," he remarked, watching his detached ankle move as he manipulated wires and connections. "But I," he said as he swiveled on the stool, his good leg out for balance as he flipped onto his back to get a better angle on his work. "I get the singular privilege of enjoying some of your best features that Heathcliff there will never begin to comprehend. I get to work side by side with that lovely and breathtaking brain of yours, my dear."

Prodding at a damaged connection, Forge patted his hand around on the countertop. "Hand me the microcaliper, would you?"

“If it’ll keep you from informing me how large your reproductive organs are and how far they can dispel of urine? Sure,” Paige bantered back easily, spinning herself around and handing them to him as she came full circle. “Is there much damage? I’m trying to figure out if I should go into the recycling for yesterday’s paper to roll up.”

Forge smirked as he made a few more adjustments. "Damage is pretty minimal, actually. Marius and I only made temporary repairs to the feedback system. The magnetization from Malice's little tantrum did the worst of it. System's demagnetized over time, I just need to reinstall the firmware." He craned his neck to look over the countertop at Paige. "Stronger anterior support fibers, a remodeled cross-bracing system, and as long as I can avoid Jubilee shoulder-blocking my leg again, I'm golden."

He rolled up to a sitting position, absently tucking the loose leg of his cargo shorts over the stump of his left thigh. "I'm not trying to compete with Jono," he said plainly. "He's your boyfriend, I'm your partner. After everything, I know not to get the two confused."

“Yeah, I know,” Paige replied calmly, not bothering to look up from where she was enthralled with his work. She trusted him enough to know that it wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in what he had to say, so much that she’d decided that it, and this in general, all of this, wasn’t worth getting upset over. “No major upgrades? I was expecting major upgrades. And having to bring you lots and lots of that drink thing you boys like so much.”

Forge let out a small sigh of relief. And here he'd been worried that admission would be complicated or something. "Upgrades?" he said with a smile. "Watch this."

A few quick connections, then he picked up the prosthetic, fastening panels and cables. "Nothing up my sleeve..." he murmured, rolling up his shorts enough to connect the prosthetic to the anchor, hearing the hiss of vacuum pressure and automatic connectors followed by the sudden shock and tingle of sensation from the anchor on down to his foot. Yes, this was much better.

Hopping forward onto the prosthetic foot, he hooked one arm under Paige's legs and one behind her back, sweeping her off the stool with a whoop. Bending his knees, he let his weight rest on the artificial leg, crouching almost to the floor then back up again. "Upgrades," he said with a smile.

Shrieking, Paige looped her arms about his neck, tightly closing her eyes and waiting to be dropped at any given moment. It was only after he’d reversed the process, bringing them back up again, that she managed to open one eye cautiously. “Of course, this would be more impressive if I weighed more than 90 pounds, but shit. Upgrades indeed.”

Forge raised an eyebrow. "More than 90, partner mine," he chided, easing her onto her feet. "Although I have to credit Doctor Grey being a slavedriver in the physical therapy arena." He flexed comically to make his point. "Few more hours in the gym, few more upgrades in the lab, and Pinocchio can be a real boy, huh?"

“But that whole nose thing was such a hoot at parties,” Paige whined, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder as she leaned one hand on her chair, effectively ruining her posture. “Proud of you, sugar. I don’t say it enough, I know how it is here, everything getting lost, but I am.”

That gained an honest smile from her lab partner. "Lorna said something about pie," Forge said conspiratorially while adjusting the leg of his shorts. "Race you up the stairs?"

Paige didn’t answer that, not really, only grabbed his collar, dragging him behind her, and dashed out of the lab, her laughter echoing in the hallway. She also decided not to mention that she’d already had some.