Chapter Text
He has a stupid fucking laugh. That was Innes’s first thought upon meeting Muir. The lad had still been chortling at some joke Archie had no doubt graced him with upon landing. Both of them were chuckling like a pair of idiots as they dismounted the heli. The Beira D wasn’t some stuffy office job, sure. Still, new arrivals to the oil rig certainly didn’t usually show up laughing. Not for the first time, Innes wondered why the hell Van der Bjil had made him come up to the helipad to pick up the newest hire. He could be on the deck making sure the eejits didn’t break something that’d get the installation manager on his ass. Not like the man could get lost on the way to Rennick’s office anyway. If the clearly marked walkway couldn’t guide him, the tannoy’s grating shrieks would. Nevertheless, he complied. Van der Bjil wasn’t known for his temper like Rennick, but he had no issues with letting Innes know exactly what he thought at any given moment.
Innes waited for the lad to cross over to the edge of the helipad before thrusting out a gloved hand in his direction. “Ewan Muir, aye?”
Muir simply took his hand and gave it a firm shake, meeting Innes’s severe look with a grin. Innes internally rolled his eyes, keeping his sour look as he waited for the typical stumbling. It was his way of hazing the newbies, practically a tradition. If they couldn’t handle him, they’d piss themselves facing Rennick or, god forbid, Trots when something sets the wee man off. He did it to Scooby when he got down to the deck the first time, and continued to give him the same look the first three times the lad had suddenly shouted from the upper deck to the lower like a banshee. He’d given up after that and resigned himself to the eventual heart attack. Sunil and Gregor had gotten it even worse the first time he found those two faffin’ about instead of working, something about a surprise for the former’s wife.
Truth be told, it always gave him a bit of amusement to bust their balls when they first arrived, and after the fact, of course. It certainly led to less backtalk later on and decreased the amount of paperwork Van der Bjil would eventually give to Innes to fill out. The last time he let his guard down on the deck, Loudon dropped a pipe on Dalgleish’s foot and put him out of action for a week. The thought of those incident reports and Rennick’s yelling filtered through Van der Bjil’s own voice, and he knew it was Rennick's because Van der Bjil wasn’t THAT creative, still gave him a splitting headache. He grimaced internally before refocusing on the lad before him, waiting for his reaction.
“Aye. Do I git a name to put to that ugly face o’ yers, ye crabbit?”
A silent beat wiped out all noise in the area. The jeers and calls from the men on the deck below mingled with the crashing waves of the North Sea. These were the only sounds heard by all on the pad. Innes’s sour look broke into slight shock as he stared at Muir’s unwavering grin. For his part, Muir did not flinch, the smile on his lips settling like it was carved into the rig’s metal floor. He met Innes’s eyes with a steady, challenging glint, body held loose and unbothered. Innes distantly registered that spark in the younger’s eyes. For a moment, something flared hot in his chest—who the hell did this lad think he was, coming in cocky as anything? Under that, a grudging amusement crept in. Innes could feel himself being measured. But there was something almost entertaining about the lad’s nerve. Not just defiance, nor the bravado of a new hire standing up to an old hand. It was like Muir wanted to see whether Innes would shove back or let it slide. The lad was prodding to learn how things truly ran here, who would push and who would fold.
The pair remained locked in a pseudo-standoff. Then Archie broke it with a loud guffaw, practically doubling over with laughter. Muir’s eyes lit up at the sound, shining with a smug light. Innes hid his own chuckle in an aggrieved sigh. Yet from the way Muir seemed to light up even more, he was unsuccessful.
“Terry Innes. Jus’ call me Innes. Most evry’one dae,” he returned gruffly before turning and walking away, hearing the telltale sound of steel-toed boots hitting metal following him as he led the way back down the helipad’s steps. The cold wind nipped at the gaps in his jumpsuit as he strode forward, more knowing than seeing Muir’s curious glances at the mess of boxes, cables, and barrels that made up the underpad. He gave the door a tidy kick at the bottom and walked through before turning and giving Muir a nod to the Installation Manager’s office. “Rennick’s in ‘at wee shack up thir. Try no’ t’cry if he yells at ye.”
“Aye, nae promises though. I been tol’ I look pretty when I dae,” Muir tossed back with a wink. Innes couldn’t hold back a chuckle this time, plain amusement carving across his face.
“Anythin’s an improvement o’er that slag o’ a face ye got goin’ on thir,” Innes replied as he made his way to the crew lift. He heard Muir let out a sharp bark of a laugh before he made his way up the stairs and into Rennick's office, but not before looking back at Innes one last time with a smile, the sun giving the green in his eyes a truly luminous sheen. Innes rubbed at his chest as his heart gave a sharp beat. It took him a second to put a name to it: nerves, or maybe something closer to embarrassment, though he’d never admit it to the likes of Archie or Scooby. There was a live wire of something else too, pulsing beneath his ribs, something he refused to let himself examine too closely. He told himself, as always, that it'd pass. Feelings were trouble; he'd learned that lesson when it mattered, long before any of these lads showed up, and it was better to keep everything locked down tight—less mess to mop up that way. Sliding into the crew lift, he tried to steady himself, jaw tight, and began his descent back down to the deck.
Innes tried to recenter himself before being sharply pulled out of his thoughts by a heart attack, courtesy of Scooby hollering for him shortly after he exited the lift.
“ Christ Scoobs, one o’ these days yer gunna dae me in ya numpty.”
“Sorry, Innes,” he apologized with a shit-eating grin, the cunt, “wis that th’new ‘safety representative’ Rennick hired?”
Innes’s thoughts were cluttered once again with sparkling green eyes and a crooked smile before he caught himself, pulling a sour look on his face and aiming it at Scooby.
“Shut yer gab and git ta work ya daft prick.” Scooby ducked back behind the edge with a noise Innes would be sure to rib him over later. Innes shook his head and made his way back to the center of the deck, dogged the entire way back by a sharp wit and searching eyes.