Title: escape room

Prompt: seven, mc, fluff

A/N: I haven't written in 2nd person in so long and Seven is the hardest one for me to grasp, so I hope this came out well. Written for purinblossom for the mystic messenger secret seanta

Summary: Seven might be better at being Sherlock but you're determined to prove you're no Watson.

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"It's kinda funny," Seven comments, turning over a chess piece to examine the bottom. "To be on this side of the law."

For him, it must be. You wouldn't know—unlike the hacker-extraordinaire, you haven't done worse than maybe a parking ticket or two. Well, that and maybe that time you stole a water bottle (completely by accident, leaving it in the shopping cart until you noticed in the parking lot and it was far too late to go back). You pick up a magnifying glass of a nearby desk, lifting it to your eye. "Really?"

He snorts at the sight and you break out into laughter yourself. The glass warps the room into a funhouse mirror and you have no idea how anyone uses such a thing. Then again, it might not even be a real magnifying glass—this is an escape room, after all. It can be a clue or a red herring.

"Yeah, really, Miss. Bug-Eyes." He gestures at the room, at the filing cabinet in the corner and the desk stacked with folders and coffee mugs. It looks like an old detective's room, you have to admit, almost like the set piece from a movie. "We're cops. Considering my backstory, it's elementary."

Well, that was the setting provided before you entered the room. Seven liked picking strange and fun dates and after hearing that you could get trapped in a room with no escape but your wits, he wasted no time asking you to come. The scenario of this room is that you are detectives trying to break into the room next door and catch the thieves before they escape.

"It's kinda funny." You echo his choice of words, a brow raised, "To try and escape from a room after spending a week doing nothing but that."

"…true." Seven rubs his head, a sheepish grin on his face as though this hadn't occurred to him.

"At least it's more fun this time." You go back to examining the room because really, it is much better than getting trapped in a room with a ticking time bomb and a boy who ignored your every advance.

And who knows, maybe this time you can escape on your own. Though, judging by the pace Seven was working, it seems like a slim chance. Within the first twenty minutes, Seven already solved three puzzles and you aren't sure if it is his whimsical personality that helped him or just dumb luck. A mixture of both, probably. Half of these puns and riddles felt like something he'd put in the chat room. This whole room might be a little too easy for him but he is having fun and that is all that mattered.

Well, that and beating him. At least in one clue. You aren't sure exactly how seriously Seven is taking this—he had dressed and acted like Sherlock Holmes the moment you stepped on the property, but you are more than just Watson.

Hopefully. Triumphantly, Seven pulls out a folder from one of the drawers and you can almost see the light bulb over his head. "Aha! By jove, I've got it!"

You're pretty sure he's slipped character again but you're not certain what detective he's pretending to be now. Instead, playing along, you peek over his shoulder at the file. Holding the magnifying glass to your eye, you squint. "Yes, I see it, the future of the company is at stake."

"The company?" Seven almost drops the paper, shock written all over his face. "No, then who will feed Elly?"

"Not us, I'm afraid." You pat his shoulder comfortingly, shaking your head sadly. "We can barely feed ourselves."

"No, not Elly!" He sniffs, once, twice, and then slowly starts to organize the set of cue cards hidden within the folder. "I'll save her. I'll save us all."

Sometimes it was too easy to slip into a scene. You perch on a nearby chair, examining the chess pieces now. Beneath each is a number but you don't know what it means. Seven's humming a made-up ditty as he circles a letter on his cue card. "Like a transformer, we'll combine chess and the cards."

"Are you saying a Decepticon did it?" You eye the computer suspiciously.

He grins, a thing of light, and you're glad you've put the spyglass down or you'd go blind. "Maybe, maybe not." Picking up a cue card, he points to the capital letter at the top of the card. "Combine this with the chess board and tadahhhh!" He writes down a series of positions and moves the chess pieces to each position. "A chess match!"

"A chess match," you repeat, nodding your head. "Harry Potter style?"

"Buzz, buzz!" He crosses his arms, shaking his head. "If only."

"If only," you sigh in agreement, before adding seriously, "So we finish the match?"

"Ding ding ding." He squeezes your hand before moving to the chess board. Tapping his chin, he stares at the board for a moment before moving the knight, then the bishop, and finally the queen. "Checkmate. A7." Excited, he practically runs to the computer and starts typing. "Combine the letters from the other moves with this one, it's an anagram and—" He presses the enter button triumphantly.

Only for an invalid password error to pop up.

"Huh?" He stares at the screen blankly. "Maybe it's a different anagram?" Seven tries again only to get the same warning.

You're missing something. You move back to the chess board, returning the pieces to the initial positions. Maybe Seven made a wrong move or—

Or maybe it is something simpler, far simpler than his over-active mind could comprehend. You laugh as you stare at the pieces, at the single letter the chess pieces make. From Seven's angle, it hadn't been obvious, but from where you're standing you can see the K. While he's still distracted with the computer, softly muttering how he is a hacker and he has broken into security systems far more advanced than this one, you practically skip to the filing cabinet and pull out the K folder. Inside, you find a small scrap paper with the word Knight scrawled on it.

"I've got this," you announce, pushing him out of the chair.

He plops to the ground with no protest, staring up at you curiously. "Ohhhh? A challenger appears?"

"A champion arrives," you correct, typing in the password.

It doesn't work. As you stare at the screen, flustered, he chuckles. "Where's the champion?"

You glower at him before a stroke of inspiration hits you. Looking back at the chessboard one last time, you spot where the knight stands—E3—and type that instead.

The computer screen loads and Seven's jaw drops. It's adorable, really, and even though the timer is still counting down (only fifteen minutes left!) you steal a kiss. He's not too shocked to not lean in and you push away before your quick peck turns into a full on make out session.

You are really competitive, after all, and Seven still has three clues on you.