Sanji x fem!reader | domestic fluff | cooking lessons | close-contact flirting | hand-over-hand guidance | playful banter | flustered reader | teasing Sanji | kitchen tension | One Piece Live Action | 3.1k words
The first mistake was believing you could surprise Sanji.
The second mistake was believing you could do it in his kitchen.
You had waited until the afternoon lull, when most of the crew had drifted off into their own corners of the Going Merry. Nami had gone below deck with a map. Usopp and Luffy were arguing over something loud and pointless up above. Zoro was either napping or pretending not to listen to the world. Chopper had wandered off after making you promise not to touch anything sharp, hot or suspiciously bubbling.
Which, in hindsight, should have been your sign to stop.
Instead, you’d tied your hair back, rolled up your sleeves and decided that, for once, you would make something nice.
Nothing complicated. Nothing dramatic. Just a simple little caramel dessert you vaguely remembered from home. Sugar, butter, a bit of cream if you could find it, maybe fruit on the side if you didn’t ruin that too. Sanji was always feeding everyone, always making meals look effortless, always setting plates down in front of people like nourishment was just another way he knew how to care for them.
You thought it might be nice to return the favor.
You also thought, foolishly, that sugar would be simple.
Sugar, it turned out, was evil.
“What do you mean it’s not done yet?” you muttered, staring into the pot like the bubbling amber mess had personally offended you.
The sugar had clumped first. Then melted too fast. Then turned grainy. Then somehow gone from pale gold to something alarmingly dark and bitter-smelling in what felt like half a second. You had tried stirring, which made it worse. You had tried lowering the heat, which did nothing. Now the pot looked like it might need to be buried at sea.
You leaned back from the stove and coughed as a curl of angry smoke rose up.
“Okay,” you told it. “That feels unnecessary.”
“Talking to the sugar now, are we?”
You jumped so hard you nearly dropped the spoon.
Sanji stood in the galley doorway, one shoulder against the frame, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He looked far too amused for someone who had just caught you attempting culinary sabotage in his domain. The afternoon light from the window cut across one side of his face, catching gold in his hair and the faint smirk already tugging at his mouth.
“I wasn’t talking to it,” you said too quickly.
“No?” He pushed off the doorway and wandered in, all dangerous ease. “Could’ve sworn I heard you trying to negotiate.”
You set the spoon down with as much dignity as possible. “I had it under control.”
Sanji came to stand beside you and peered into the pot.
There was a beat of silence.
Then he looked at you.
Then back at the pot.
Then at you again.
“It appears,” he said carefully, “that control may have escaped.”
You groaned and covered your face with both hands. “Don’t.”
His laugh was warm and low. “Darling, what exactly were you trying to do?”
“Make dessert.”
“With burnt sugar and wounded pride?”
“I said don’t.”
He laughed again, softer this time, and reached past you to turn down the heat. The movement brought him close enough that the edge of his shirt brushed your arm. “You should’ve asked me for help.”
“I was trying to do something nice.”
You didn’t mean for the words to come out so small. But they did, and Sanji’s expression changed almost immediately. The amusement softened. The teasing remained, because it was him, but gentler now.
“For me?” he asked.
Your face warmed. “For everyone.”
“Ah.” He placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “A cruel distinction.”
You dropped your hands and glared at him. “I’m serious.”
“And so am I.” He looked at the ruined pot again, smile twitching. “Mostly.”
You folded your arms. “Go ahead. Laugh.”
“Oh, I’m going to.” His grin widened at your expression. “But only because you look adorable when you’re offended.”
“That's not helpful.”
“No,” he agreed easily. “But it's true.”
You looked away before he could see how much that line landed.
Sanji, of course, noticed anyway. He always did.
He moved around you without hurry, checking the ingredients you’d set out on the counter: sugar, butter, cream, sliced fruit, a bowl that still had streaks of failed syrup clinging to the side. He picked up the recipe scrap you’d scribbled on and made a thoughtful little sound.
“You weren’t too far off,” he said.
You blinked. “I wasn’t?”
“Mm. Your instincts are decent. Timing terrible, technique criminal, but the intention was there.”
You narrowed your eyes. “That sounded like an insult.”
“A compliment from me is rarely neat.” He set the paper down and looked at you from under his lashes. “Would you like a lesson?”
You hesitated, pride and common sense briefly wrestling.
Sanji saw that too and smiled like he already knew the outcome. “No mockery. No audience. Just me rescuing you from your own sugar.”
“That last part feels like mockery.”
He stepped closer, one hand sliding to the edge of the counter beside you. “A little.” Then, softer, “But I’ll teach you properly if you let me.”
You should have said no, you really should have.
Instead, you heard yourself say, “Fine.”
His smile turned immediately victorious. “Excellent.”
“This doesn't mean you get to be smug.”
“My love, I’m always smug.”
He took the ruined pot off the stove and set it aside with all the solemn respect of a burial. Then he fetched a clean one and placed it on the burner. You watched him move around the galley like he belonged to it more than the floorboards did, graceful even in small motions, hands sure and practiced. There was something unfair about how easy everything looked when he did it.
“Come here,” he said, nodding to the counter.
You stepped up beside him.
“Closer.”
“I am close.”
He glanced down at the space between you, then back at your face with quiet amusement. “If I’m meant to guide you, darling, you’ll have to be a bit braver than that.”
Your stomach did something deeply unhelpful.
Still, you moved closer.
Sanji’s smile went subtle. Satisfied. He handed you the wooden spoon. “All right. Sugar first. Slow heat. Patience. You can’t bully caramel into behaving.”
“That feels aimed at me.”
“Everything I say is aimed at you.”
You stared at the pot very hard. “You are so annoying.”
“And yet, you came to my kitchen.”
Before you could answer that, he stepped behind you. It wasn't necessary, not even a little.
You knew that. He knew that. The entire ship, probably from several decks away, would have known that.
But suddenly he was there, close and warm, the line of his chest just shy of your back, one arm reaching around you to adjust the flame. The other hand came over yours on the spoon, long fingers settling lightly around your grip.
Your brain left the room.
“There,” he murmured near your ear. “Gentle.”
You swallowed. “I know how to stir.”
“I’m sure you do.” His voice dipped lower, threaded with laughter. “Though the evidence we just buried suggests otherwise.”
His hand guided yours in a slow circle through the sugar.
The motion was simple. Repetitive. Intimate in a way it had no right to be.
“Keep it moving,” he said. “Not too fast.”
You tried. Truly. But it was difficult to focus with him this close. He smelled like citrus and smoke and whatever warm spice always clung to his shirts after cooking. Every time he leaned in to check the pot, the side of his face nearly brushed your temple. His breath ghosted over your hair when he spoke.
“Like this,” he murmured.
You nodded.
“Mm. You’re tense.”
“I’m not tense.”
His hand tightened lightly over yours. “Darling, if you get any stiffer, I’ll have to pry the spoon from your fingers.”
“That is because you are standing on top of me.”
A pause.
Then, softly amused: “Ah. So we’ve found the problem.”
Heat rushed up your neck. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant.” There was a smile in his voice now, unbearable and warm. “Though I confess I rather like hearing you say it.”
You considered elbowing him.
You also considered not moving ever again.
Instead, you stared into the pot, where the sugar was finally beginning to melt evenly, pale gold spreading along the bottom. “So what happens if it burns again?”
“Then I’ll save you again.”
The answer came too quickly, too smoothly, like he hadn’t even thought about it.
That somehow made it worse.
You tried to concentrate on the sugar.
Sanji’s fingers shifted over yours, guiding the smallest tilt of the spoon. “Better.”
“You say that like you’re surprised.”
“I am.” He leaned in, his mouth very near your ear now. “You’re actually listening.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
The annoying part was that he sounded so sure.
The more annoying part was that he was right.
The sugar darkened from pale gold to amber, glossy now instead of grainy. Sanji’s hand slipped from yours only long enough to reach for the butter.
“Now the dangerous part,” he said.
You frowned. “The dangerous part was me being allowed near the stove.”
“That too.” He placed the butter in your free hand. “Ready?”
“No.”
“Perfect.”
You gave him a look over your shoulder. Big mistake.
He was already watching you, smile lazy, eyes bright and far too pleased by the way you had to tilt your head to see him. This close, you could count his lashes. Notice the little curve at the corner of his mouth that meant he was trying not to laugh outright.
Your pulse fluttered.
Sanji noticed. Of course he noticed.
Slowly, his gaze dipped to your mouth, then back to your eyes.
“Sanji,” you said, because it felt like something had to be said.
“Yes, love?”
“You are very bad at teaching.”
“I’m excellent at teaching.” His hand found yours again, bringing your attention—barely—back to the pot. “You’re just distractible.”
You nearly laughed. “I’m distractible?”
“Mm.” He closed your fingers around the butter. “Go on.”
You dropped it in.
It hissed and foamed immediately, and you startled so hard you nearly smacked his wrist with the spoon.
He laughed outright this time. “Easy.”
“That was violent!”
“It was butter.”
“It sounded angry.”
“You’re very dramatic for someone who spends time with Luffy.”
“I learned from the best.”
“Tragic.”
He reached for the cream next, then paused. “This will spit if you pour too quickly. Slow and steady.”
You nodded.
His arm came around you again, hand over yours on the small pitcher this time. The cream hit the caramel in a pale ribbon, bubbling furiously, and you sucked in a breath. Sanji’s other hand went instinctively to your waist, steadying you before you could flinch back.
It was probably practical.
Mostly.
That did not stop your entire body from going aware.
His hand stayed there.
Warm. Broad. Certain.
When the bubbling calmed, you realized you had gone perfectly still. So had he.
For one strange second, the whole galley seemed quieter than it should have been. The distant voices on deck faded. The sea itself felt farther away. There was only the low simmer of caramel, the warmth of the stove, and Sanji’s hand still resting at your waist like he had forgotten to move it.
Then he cleared his throat.
“Well,” he said, a touch too lightly, “you haven’t set anything on fire yet. Progress.”
You looked down at the pot because looking at him felt dangerous. “High praise.”
“The highest.” He removed his hand, but slowly. “Now stir.”
You did, and he watched over your shoulder while the caramel turned smooth and glossy.
“There,” he said after a moment. “That’s what you wanted.”
You looked at it, then at him. “That actually looks… good.”
Sanji put on an expression of exaggerated shock. “Did you doubt me?”
“Yes.”
“Cruel.”
“But reasonable.”
His laugh brushed over you again. “Fair.”
You took the pot off the heat under his direction and poured the caramel over sliced fruit in a shallow dish. It settled in shining amber ribbons, far prettier than anything you had produced by yourself twenty minutes ago.
You stared at it. “I can’t believe that worked.”
Sanji leaned one hip against the counter beside you. “You can believe it. You had a very handsome instructor.”
“There it is.”
“There what is?”
“The part where you ruin it.”
He pressed a hand to his chest. “Darling, I enhance everything.”
You snorted.
He looked absurdly pleased by the sound.
You dipped a spoon into the warm caramel and held it up, watching it fall in a slow golden thread. “So what’s the trick?”
Sanji’s gaze followed the spoon, then moved to your face. “Patience. Attention.” A beat. “Good ingredients.”
“That sounds annoyingly simple.”
“The best things often are.”
His voice had gone quieter somehow. Not by much. Just enough that the line felt less like a joke than it should have.
You licked a drop of caramel from the edge of the spoon.
And immediately regretted it.
Sanji froze.
His eyes dipped to your mouth so fast it might have been involuntary.
You felt heat bloom all over again, sudden and fierce. “What?”
He blinked once, as if returning from a great distance. “Nothing.”
“That was not nothing.”
A smile started at one corner of his mouth. “You’ve a bit more on your thumb.”
You looked down.
He was right. A glossy streak of caramel clung to the pad of your thumb where it had dripped.
“Oh.” You reached to wipe it off on a cloth.
Sanji caught your wrist before you could.
Not tight. Just enough to stop you.
His gaze lifted to yours, asking something without words.
Your breath caught.
Then, slowly, still watching your face, he turned your hand and ran his thumb over the sticky smear instead. The touch was warm and deliberate.
“You really are a mess in the kitchen,” he murmured.
“You are making me worse.”
“Am I?”
His smile widened when you didn’t answer.
He took the spoon from your other hand and set it down. Then he stepped in close again, backing you lightly against the counter, one arm braced beside you. With his free hand, he lifted yours between you.
Your heart was suddenly far too loud.
“Sanji—”
“No, no, darling,” he said softly, eyes glinting. “Like this — unless you’re trying to distract me on purpose.”
And before you could decide whether to breathe, he brought your thumb to his mouth.
It was barely anything.
A brief touch. Warm lips. A teasing flick of his tongue to taste the caramel from your skin.
But it might as well have been lightning.
You made a small, strangled sound.
Sanji pulled back just enough to look at you, and the smugness on his face lasted all of two seconds before it softened into something far more dangerous.
Because you were definitely blushing.
And he knew it.
“There,” he said, voice lower now. “Waste not.”
You stared at him. “You did that on purpose.”
“My love,” he murmured, “everything I do is on purpose.”
That should have annoyed you. Instead, to your horror, it made your stomach flip.
You looked away first, which only seemed to delight him further. His knuckles brushed lightly under your chin, coaxing your face back. “Don’t hide now. You were doing so well.”
“I hate when you say things like that.”
“No, you don’t,” he said again, and that awful certainty was back.
You exhaled a shaky laugh. “You're impossible.”
“And yet.” He glanced down at the dessert, then back at you. “Still standing here.”
He had a point. An unbearable one.
To save your own life, you reached for the dish and cut yourself a small piece of fruit glazed in caramel. You took a bite and went momentarily quiet.
Sanji noticed that too, instantly more attentive. “Well?”
The caramel was rich and buttery, balanced with just the right bitterness at the end. The fruit cut through the sweetness perfectly. It was, annoyingly, wonderful.
You swallowed. “Okay. That’s really good.”
His whole face lit with satisfaction. “Of course it is.”
“No, I mean—” You smiled despite yourself. “Thank you.”
Something in his expression gentled.
It was always startling when that happened—when the flirting eased just enough for you to see the sincerity underneath it. Like watching sunlight shift on water and suddenly realizing how deep it goes.
“You don’t have to thank me for teaching you,” he said.
“I do if you saved me from making everyone eat burnt sugar.”
He leaned down slightly, just enough that you had to tilt your head to keep his gaze. “I’d save you from worse than that, darling.”
The line should have been ridiculous. It landed somewhere warm and quiet under your ribs.
Before you could answer, footsteps thundered overhead, followed by Luffy’s voice booming through the ship. “SANJI! IS THERE DESSERT?”
You closed your eyes. “Saved by chaos.”
Sanji sighed dramatically and straightened. “A curse upon my captain’s timing.”
Another voice—Usopp this time—shouted, “If there’s caramel, I call first!”
“No you don’t!” Nami yelled back.
Chopper’s smaller voice carried after them. “Don’t eat anything if she made it by herself!”
You gasped. “Traitor.”
Sanji laughed so hard he had to put a hand on the counter. “He’s not wrong.”
You smacked his arm.
He caught your wrist easily, still laughing, and before you could protest he pressed a quick kiss to the inside of it.
Warm. Fleeting. Effortless.
Then he let you go as though he hadn’t just scrambled every thought in your head.
“Come on,” he said, picking up the dessert dish and offering you his other hand like a gentleman escorting you into battle. “Let’s show them what we made.”
You looked at his hand.
Then at him.
Then, trying very hard to appear unaffected, slipped your fingers into his.
Sanji smiled—slow, pleased, devastating.
“Careful,” he murmured as he led you toward the stairs. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll start thinking you want another lesson.”
Your face went hot all over again.
From the deck above, Luffy shouted, “HURRY UP!”
You squeezed Sanji’s hand once and said sweetly, “Take one more second and I’ll tell everyone you held my hand because you were scared I’d drop the dessert.”
He grinned without missing a beat. “Darling, I’d hold your hand for far less noble reasons than that.”
That's everything I know about love- valentine's special!
⋆˚꩜｡pairings: spencer agnew x fem!reader, best friend!anthony padilla x fem!reader, platonic!smosh cast x fem!reader (no use of y/n)
⋆˚꩜｡tags: established relationship, secret relationship, lowercase intended, reader is inexperienced in relationships, reader is closed off and introverted (no its not self-indulgent wdym...), reader is a little flawed but aren't we all, fluff, teasing, angst i think??, idk it might be hurt/comfort instead of angst
⋆˚꩜｡summary: the cast bombards you with questions when they spot a rather romantic gift on your desk on valentine's day. this kind of freaks you out a little a lot.
⋆˚꩜｡wc: 2.5k (reading time 13 minutes)
⋆˚꩜｡a/n: can you tell i love introverted x readers,,, this fic might honestly be very bittersweet (and insanely self indulgent im very sorry about that). anyways ive always wanted to do a themed fic and i know its not valentine's anymore but I thought this was a cute idea so enjoy!!
spencer and you didn't start out the best. honestly, he doesn't even know how you agreed to date him a year ago. the two of you were polar opposites; he was lively, open and he knew how to take control of a room (he is the director of smosh games after all).
you, on the other hand, were observant, calm and you quite frankly liked to keep a lot of things to yourself. it's one of the reasons spencer didn't even know you had a thing for him in the first place. he honestly thought you hated him.
well, that is, until you had asked him to get a drink after work. and that's how your relationship started. you still remember that day as if it were yesterday.
"do you wanna get a drink after work?" you asked. it was the end of a shoot week and everyone was exhausted and had plans with friends or family.
the two of you were the last ones staying behind on the games stage, cleaning up after the last wrap of the week. spencer had been quite obvious about his feelings towards you whenever he spoke to you.
you weren't an idiot, and you've had enough of pretending to be one. so you decided to make your feelings known too.
spencer almost jumped up and down in glee before he remembered he probably needed to stay calm.
"you mean like...as co-workers?"
"I think we both know that's not what I meant." and oh, he was done for.
a year later, and valentine's day was rolling around. with the agreement from ian and anthony (and human resources), yours and spencer's relationship had been approved in the workplace and had agreed to not disclose it to the rest of your castmates to maintain a professional workplace.
personally, you didn't care for valentine's day. like, a day all about love? all days were about love if you allowed it to be. it was a weird sentiment, but whatever.
you say that, but after spencer had asked you to be his valentine using a commissioned card game that the two of you were playing after dinner, you thought maybe it wasn't so bad after all.
"ha! I won," you smiled smugly at spencer across from your dining room table, spreading the cards that you had collected to win the game.
spencer smiled sweetly, "did you?" you tilted your head in confusion, "what's that supposed to mean, spence?"
"you might want to read what all those cards spell out," spencer leaned his head on his hand, gazing at you in a way you could only describe as the male version of a girl batting her eyelashes at the guy she likes.
"the cards?-" you muttered to yourself as you gazed at the cards that you had just spread out.
funnily enough, in order, they spelled out, "please be my valentine im desperate."
"how did he even-" you thought as you shook your head. you read through the words again and couldn't help but chuckle.
"desperate?" you locked eyes with spencer, who chuckled at his own choice of words that he decided to put on the cards.
"extremely." spencer reached over to grab your hand with the widest grin on his face. you rolled your eyes, tightening your grip on your interlocked hands.
"so?" spencer tilted his head at you before glancing back at the cards, then at you.
you pondered for a moment before shrugging with a chuckle, "sure, what the hell."
on the big day itself, coincidentally it was also the first day of a shoot week. early in the morning, spencer and you left for work in seperate cars despite living in the same house to not raise suspicion. to the rest of the cast, the two of you looked like close friends and nothing more.
once you stepped into the office, your eyes immediately landed on a small but neat bouquet of flowers, a cup of coffee and a big box of chocolates on your desk with a note on top of it.
of course, you couldn't see much of it since every single cast member surrounded your desk. you raised an eyebrow, trying to manoeuvre through amanda and trevor (seriously, what are they feeding them?) to see the note clearly. you picked up the note with a confused frown.
"hey girl, are you yoda? because yoda-licious (insert exaggerated wink here)" you read outloud, your eyebrows furrowed as the cast members practically push against you which causes a slight discomfort.
"i didn't know you had a partner?!" amanda squeals, placing a hand on your shoulder as she gives you the widest smile you've ever seen.
angela jumps up in glee, "no, literally! I was almost about to set you up on a date with someone," she looks at the note and smells the flowers almost cartoonishly, "are you gonna tell us who it is?"
"oh, the note is so cute," arasha and courtney gush over the little post it that spencer had written and scribbled all over. (though they didn't know that)
olivia, keith and noah repeat your name multiple times for you to unfreeze, glancing at them with wide eyes.
"are you alright?" olivia asks and you're not sure if you can answer that right now. you and spencer had promised to keep the relationship under wraps to not attract any attention, but this? this was too much for you.
"yeah, im perfectly- um, guys, can you maybe not crowd my table?" with a slight crack in your voice, you politely scooted over some cast members to place your bag down at your seat. the members all muttered their own form of sorry's.
"it's fine, guys. I'd just prefer to keep this," you motioned towards the romantic gesture behind you, "to myself for now. at least until im ready to talk about it."
"of course, honey. we understand," courtney smiles sweetly at you, which you match almost instantly, "thanks."
"so, does that mean we can't have some of those chocolates?" trevor perks up from behind the group with an awkward smile. you roll your eyes playfully, "sure, you guys can have some, I wasn't planning on finishing these anyways."
you grabbed the coffee that spencer had surprised you with and walked to the kitchen, not before sneaking a glance towards the cast members who grabbed a chocolate from your place before returning to their work.
once you had entered the kitchen, you rested by the kitchen counter and took a sip of your coffee. yep, definitely spencer. you thought as you tasted your usual coffee order.
"mornin' dude," your ears perked up at the sound of a slightly raspy, masculine voice. your eyes flicked up and saw anthony, making himself a cup of coffee.
"hey anthony," you sighed, taking another sip from your paper cup. you sipped almost desperately, alerting your very observant best friend in front of you. anthony paused what he was doing, which was stirring in sugar and oat milk into his coffee, to face you fully.
"are you...alright?" he hesitates slightly, not knowing if he should push. you set down your cup of coffee next to you, before crossing your arms, "it's too early in the morning for this."
anthony hummed before checking his phone for the time. he glanced over his phone screen before putting his phone back into his pocket, giving you a small yet secure smile, "i've got time."
you sighed again, "it's...about spencer." anthony's eyes widened at the sudden mention of your boyfriend's name.
"you're not breaking up with him, are you?" he assumes almost immediately which has you matching his expression, "what- no! god, no."
anthony relaxes with a sigh of relief and you smile, amused that he would even think that, "no, it's-"
"is this about the stuff he left on your desk?"
you nodded intensely, "yes, exactly that."
anthony nodded, before looking around the kitchen, "do you wanna go to my office? so that people don't hear us talking about this."
you nodded in agreement before trailing behind anthony with your coffee, following him into his office and closing the door behind you and sitting across from him.
"so, the gifts," anthony started, taking a sip from his coffee with his eyebrows raised. your hands instinctively wrapped tighter around your coffee cup, gaze locked on the table rather than anthony's eyes.
"its not like i hate it, because I don't. I think the gifts are really sweet," you started, tapping on the table nervously which anthony notices with a slight frown.
"but..?" he questions, which causes you to sigh, "but its unprofessional, and we agreed to not have people find out about us. at least not until im comfortable with it."
"right-"
"and everyone's asking me questions about it, and its just so overwhelming," your hands leave the coffee cup to help exaggerate your sentences, "and you guys know how sensitive I am about this stuff. like, i get uncomfortable with personal stuff and this is all so personal. like would this be considered as an inappropriate act in the work environment?"
"dont be ridiculous-"
"and I dont want people to know about us! at least, not yet anyways. it took me so long to finally get comfortable with him, and I don't wanna be scared off just because he showed what can only be described as a public display of affection in the work place!"
anthony mutters your name once, but it was enough for you to stop your rambling and face him properly. he sighs heavily, "maybe you should talk to him about this? just make sure he knows what you're feeling."
you nodded, taking a sip from your coffee.
"I probably should, I just don’t want him to think we're taking a step back in our relationship, y'know?" you tilted your head slightly before speaking again, "and I wanna move forward."
"wouldn't moving forward consist of slowly making your relationship known? like maybe...letting other people know that you're taken?" anthony leans back in his chair with an almost smug grin.
"damn, you make a good point." you sigh defeatedly with a small smile. anthony hums, "i usually do."
"shut up," you chuckle at the end of your sentence before standing up to leave anthony's office, "thanks, anthony."
"it's my pleasure. just don't make out in the office, will you?"
you roll your eyes as you step out of his office, ignoring his comment with a wave of your hand.
you had to find spencer.
—
you tried to keep yourself busy. keyword: tried. you didn't blame the cast members for being curious. but when chanse had asked about his sixth personal question in a row while everyone was wrapping up a games video, you couldn't help but excuse yourself to your desk.
isolation often calmed you down after moments like these.
"hey," you tilted your head up at the sound of a voice. one that you've grown accustomed to, "you running out of the games stage on me now?" spencer smiles sweetly at you.
"sorry I didn't mean to, I-" your eyes glanced at the flowers on your desk, now resting in a glass vase filled with water, and a half-empty box of chocolates, "sorry.."
it seemed that spencer had caught your line of vision because his smile fades slightly, "did you not like the gift?"
"no i loved it, it was just...public," you fidgeted with your fingers, "i was asked a lot of questions— personal, relationship related questions by people today because of the gifts."
"im sorry about that," spencer tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear after his soft-spoken apology. you glance around the office to see if anyone was around, and thankfully no one was.
"im scared, spence," you stated with a nervous sigh, "im scared what'll happen when people know about us."
spencer tilts his head in acknowledgement before pulling up a chair to sit next to you. he hums for you to continue, knowing that if he says anything now, it will risk the chance of you not continuing to open up.
"I don't...do valentine's day. I don't do relationships or— or public displays of affection or anything like that. but when I saw that gift on my desk this morning, I was scared. I was scared but I loved it, spencer."
"for the record," spencer smiles as he glanced back to the flowers, "i got you these because you deserve to be loved, okay? celebrated, even. and i didn't leave my name on it because I knew you wouldn't want me to."
you tilted your head in confusion, "you...you did?" spencer chuckles, "of course I did."
then, you remembered yours and anthony's conversation a couple of hours ago.
"I probably should, I just don’t want him to think we're taking a step back in our relationship, y'know?" you tilted your head slightly before speaking again, "and I wanna move forward."
"wouldn't moving forward consist of slowly making your relationship known? like maybe...letting other people know that you're taken?"
you smiled silently at the words before looking at spencer, "we can. just...slowly."
"can...what?"
"we can avoid hiding our relationship as much." spencer's eyes go slightly wide at your sentence, "are you sure?"
"yeah," you look around before holding spencer's hand, "it doesn't feel scary. you don't make this feel scary." spencer hums, "you have no idea how ecstatic I am about this."
—
lunchtime came around and you, spencer, damien, shayne and courtney had all eaten lunch together before getting ready for the next video shoot, which was a reddit stories with spencer and courtney while you and damien were heading to your desks together.
"hold on let me just get my bottle," spencer called out to courtney and shayne as he passed you and damien to rush to his desk. however, he almost immediately slowed down at the crowd that started forming around his desk.
"hey, what are you guys—" spencer's confused frown disappeared after he noticed what everyone was freaking out about.
on his desk, there's a singular rose and a pink fuggler with a note that scribbled "this thing is fugly, but you sure aren't <3"
chanse and angela were loving and hating the fuggler, amanda was gushing over the gift and the cute note, and arasha and trevor were practically rapid-firing questions in spencer's ear as he arrived.
you and damien joined the crowd as the man beside you patted spencer on the back and muttered a witty comment beside him while you chuckled, "wow spencer, seems like your valentine is trying to one-up mine, huh?"
spencer playfully glared at you, to which you send him a teasing wink, satisfied after getting your revenge.
anthony passed by the crowd in confusion before noticing the gifts on spencer's table and making eye contact with you. you shrugged with a grin and anthony shook his head before mouthing, "no making out in the office," to which you chuckled at.
and maybe, you thought, this semi-public relationship thing wasn't as bad as you thought.
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