previously | Perfect Fit Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Pairing: Nathan Bateman from Ex Machina x f!reader
Word Count: 3.3k
Summary: A year has passed since you worked and lived with Nathan, since you cut your arm open to prove you were human and not artificial. You see Nathan at a conference. Is he back on his bullshit? Have you moved on?
CW: refer to the masterlist
✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧
PREVIOUSLY on "Perfect Fit"
You jolt awake as the chopper touches down at the airfield. A car is waiting to take you home.
Home.
You're free. It's over.
But now he's all you can think about.
What the hell happened to you?
✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧
You're seated at a table of strangers in a grand hotel ballroom. An overly expensive, entirely too small plate of overcooked chicken sits in front of you, untouched. Your boss allowed you to attend the conference on your new company's dime, to network and socialize.
Your boss also knows that you worked for the keynote speaker. And not only did you work for him, you worked closely with him. This simple fact elevated you right up the ranks in your new job. It's simple: your boss wants and introduction.
For a substantial raise and promotion, you are willing to give it to her. You're ready to see Nathan Bateman again to make it happen.
✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧
He steps up to the mic in a rare public appearance, dressed far more casually than everyone else in the room. He doesn't have to smile - it would only look creepy if he did. There's no need for him to captivate the audience with icebreaking humor - they are already hanging onto his every word. Most of his vocabulary flies over half their heads, but they don't detect the condescension in his tone. They revel in the chance to hear his genius presented directly to them, face-to-face.
He looks handsome. He managed to wear full-length pants - dark gray, lightweight, but expensive. Something he would hike in. He even handled more than a single layer over his torso. A plain, off-white shirt hugs his impressively broad chest, covered by a rust-colored, wool cardigan.
Behind his wire frames, his eyes seem to sparkle a little. Perhaps he is enjoying this, although that doesn't seem very on-brand Nathan. Your heart somersaults in your chest as his gaze lands on you. He never looks away the rest of the speech.
✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧
He's swarmed at the event's end, everyone clamoring for a moment, but your boss buzzes with excitement as he approaches you, ignoring any distraction between the two of you.
Everyone pauses and goes quiet in a circle around you. Your boss grips your arm in anticipation.
He tears his gaze from yours, politely greeting her first, by name and title, shaking her hand. "I have to congratulate you for recruiting my best employee." She's star-struck, but he graciously overlooks it. "I hope I can trouble you to borrow her for a quick word. Promise I won't steal her back."
"O-of course, Mr. Bateman," your boss stammers.
Nathan turns back to you, holding out his hand gallantly, like a prince in a fairy tale. "Could we talk?"
He doesn't say anything clever. He doesn't embarrass you or take any further action to convince you to leave the room with him.
Your chest rises and falls as you exhale shakily. With a quick nod, you accept his hand.
✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧
You're in an elevator, whooshing to the penthouse, because of course you are.
He hasn't released your hand, his thumb stroking yours with disarming tenderness.
"I can't believe you're here. You look beautiful."
You haven't said a word, frozen in disbelief. Clearing your throat, you find your voice. "Thank you."
His eyes search yours. "No tricks tonight. I want you to know right away - I'm Nate. Here, look."
You flinch, withdrawing your hand and pressing your back against the elevator wall.
"It's okay," he assures you, pushing down on his wrist to reveal a panel of wires in his arm. "I made Nathan's speech tonight. He wanted to see if I could do it. But I'm not here to trick you. I wanted to tell you as soon as I saw you."
You wordlessly nod as he returns his arm to its human-looking state.
"You don't have to come with me," he adds, pulling his cardigan sleeve back into place. “I only wanted you to know. Nathan is upstairs. He wants to see you.”
Your body trembles as you wrestle with something potentially terrifying, or at least chilling, and something you’ve longed for every second since a helicopter took you away from that house.
You’re not afraid of Nate, here in the elevator. You’re afraid of what happened to your mind to make you believe you weren’t a human being.
His hand reaches for the elevator buttons. “What floor, sweetheart?”
Your eyes fly to his. “M-mine?” You stammer, then scowl. “As if Nathan doesn’t already know.”
Nate swallows - a new function for him. “He might, but I don’t. And you don’t look very happy see me, not that I blame you. So, what floor?” He lowers his hand. “Or we can switch elevators and go to the penthouse.”
✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧
You pause outside the penthouse double doors, waiting for Nate to unlock it. “Are you sure?” He asks you softly.
You have to go inside. You have to know if he was as mad and manipulative as you’ve made him out to be in your retellings to yourself, to your therapist. Mostly you just want to see him.
Squeezing your hands into fists, you quickly nod.
✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧
Nathan looks completely himself - buzzed hair, bushy but beautifully kempt beard, tank top showing off his larger-than-you-remember, muscular arms and the expanse of his chest, and loose basketball shorts, with bare feet. Dark eyebrows lift over his wire frames as he beholds you for the first time in a year.
"Look at you," he breathes, approaching you cautiously. "You're beautiful."
Seeing you pause, he looks between you and Nate. "He's Nate. I'm Nathan. Did he tell you?"
"H-he showed me." Smoothing your hands over your dress, you shift uncertainly from foot to foot. "He said you wanted to see me."
"Yeah. Of course I do. Come here." He closes the distance between you, pulling you into his arms, granting you plenty of space to breathe or even shrug him off. The familiar scent of his skin and warmth of his embrace weaken your resolve and you melt against him, whispering, "Nathan."
He presses his nose against your temple, inhaling deeply before kissing your cheek, releasing you promptly. Your body almost surges forward for another moment in his arms.
"Want some dinner?" He asks with his typical disarming nonchalance, walking back to where he likely came from - the dining room table, laid with an impressive, healthy-looking spread. "I assume the dinner was shit. Always is, at these things."
You allow yourself the tiniest smile, not that he really sees it. "I would love something."
"All right, have a seat. I'll get more plates."
He saunters into the kitchen, his charming casualness helping you relax. Nate follows you to the table, pulling out a chair for you.
You thank him and he takes a seat across from you. Nathan returns with enough plates for everyone and sits at the head of the table big enough for eight.
Nate is staring at you, but it's not uncomfortable. It feels...adoring, but not invasive. You watch carefully as he and Nathan dish out some food. Nate takes a fork, stabs his vegetable and takes a bite.
"You can eat now."
He smiles at you. "Mm-hmm."
You turn a wide-eyed gaze to Nathan. "That's amazing."
Even Nathan smiles. But it's small and self-satisfied. "He can make speeches too, I gather. Did he convince you?"
"Leave her alone. She's not here for you to collect data," Nate mildly scolds.
Nathan rolls his eyes at his artificial twin, but turns back to you. "Of course. You don't have to answer that. I was watching the speech from here."
Their slight disagreement feels familiar, but not unpleasant. As you enjoy some truly delicious food, you realize how much you've missed them.
"He was wonderful, but I had my suspicions," you finally say.
"You're shitting me," Nathan looks offended. "What did I miss?"
You direct your answer to Nate. "It's your eyes. You were enjoying yourself, but you didn't seem too proud. Maybe you were having fun or it made you feel more alive. But your eyes..."
"What about his eyes?" Nathan prods while Nate holds your gaze.
"I think he likes to be around people. You don't."
"No shit. But what about his eyes, specifically?"
"Jesus, Nathan, she doesn't work for you," Nate groans.
You shrug, unbothered. "They sparkle."
Nathan takes a bite, chews and swallows it down before leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. "Did he see you?"
Both you and Nate turn to him, but he groans. "Don't fucking make me repeat myself."
"Yes," Nate answers. "I saw her."
"There you go," Nathan gestures in an obvious manner with his hand. "That's why you sparkled."
You quickly begin to fall into a familiar pattern of conversation with the two of them. You don't find Nathan intimidating and you start to remember that challenging him can be quite entertaining.
"I'm flattered, but he enjoyed himself. He did a great job and I think he could feel that. What do you think, Nate? That's what matters." You smile at him sweetly.
"I think you're both right," he shrugs. As soon as he says it, he begins to cough violently, appearing to be choking on a piece of food.
You stand to your feet and whisper his name.
"It's all right, I've got him." Nathan quickly powers him down. Noticing your concern, he tries to explain. "I'm not trying any bullshit here. Giving him a digestive system is the most complex thing I've ever done and it's sensitive. He does this sometimes, so I power him down to fix it. I don't want him to suffer."
You've never heard Nathan express any concern over anyone, except maybe you, when you endangered your own life, at the end. Certainly not for an android. Setting your napkin on the tabletop, you scurry around the table, to the other side of Nate's lifeless form.
"How can I help?"
Nathan's eyes meet yours, and in them, you see something vulnerable. "I know much you cared about him. I won't let anything happen to him."
As the two of you work to lay Nate down on the floor, you remember your final dinner and conversation with Nathan alone, where he seemed almost hurt, declaring that you loved his android and couldn't wait to escape his home. 'Message fucking received,' he said.
You were too messed up at the time to realize what he could mean, but with time and prospective, you had played that conversation over in your mind dozens of times, convinced you must have imagined his hurt.
What seemed like despair that you could love his creation but never him - that the antecedent events after creation left his home uninhabitable and him the most undesirable - couldn't be real, could it?
Was he asking you why you couldn't love him? Or simply declaring he understood you wouldn't ever?
You convinced yourself he wouldn't give a shit either way - that he might not even be capable of love.
Soon, Nate's airway is clear and Nathan reactivates him. Before you can ask if he's okay, Nathan grasps his shoulder. "I'm sorry, buddy. I'll fix it."
✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧
Nate offers to clean up a bit, despite the staff that will take care of it in the morning.
Nathan guides you out on the balcony with a magnificent view of the city. At this height, the wind chills you, despite the warm spring weather. Nathan quickly delivers to you Nate's wool cardigan.
"Holy shit, this is the softest sweater I've ever felt in my life," you gush wrapping it around you. "It's like wearing a cloud."
"Keep it," Nathan says, grasping the balcony railing and staring out into the night.
"Isn't it Nate's?"
"No, he borrowed it out of my closet. And yes, he has his own closet. I don't wear his shit."
"Of course not," you tease, stepping beside him and nudging his arm. "You only wear gym clothes. Or hiking clothes. Or nothing."
He glances over at you, wiggling his eyebrows in an atypically cheesy fashion. "I prefer nothing."
"Don't I know it?" Countless hours of your "job" with Nathan included sleeping naked in his bed, fucking in one of his many pools, or on his couch, or the table, or his desk, or in the middle of the hallway. Now that you thought about it, you were probably naked at least half the time.
He's staring at you, relieved that you're joking with him, smiling at him. His eyes flicker down to your wool-covered wrist and he gently grasps it. "How are you doing? Really?"
You try not to lose your nerve from a simple grasped arm, but unfortunately, the heart wants what the heart wants and you want to be touched by him. You want his attention.
"I'm doing really well," you tell him confidently, placing your hand over his.
His lip trembles as he sucks in a breath. Your touch seems to surprise him. He takes your hand and leads you to sit on a comfortable outdoor sofa. "Will you tell me?"
So you do. You tell him how you moved back in with your mom for several weeks to get your bearings. You returned to therapy to untangle your thoughts and feelings. You quickly and easily got a new job.
"Guess I have you to thank for that. Everyone wants to hire you after you work closely with Nathan Bateman."
"You're welcome," he sincerely replies. "It's the least I can do."
You eye him curiously, your head tilted in wonder and slight confusion.
"You're wondering if I'm Nate or something, right? I'm being too nice?"
"I don't think you're Nate," you tell him. "I can actually tell you apart pretty easily by now. At least most of the time. But you are being sweeter than usual. I guess a year away from my annoying questions softened you up. You're almost as sweet as Nate."
You meant to broach the softness with which he regarded you with a little defensive humor, but he grasped your hands in his own, dragging in a slow breath and nodding quickly. "You love him, don't you?"
His question confuses and disarms you and you melt into him, your fingers lacing together. But you take an extra moment or two, to center yourself and think objectively. "This is a research question?" You glance around you. "That's what tonight is - more research into him giving a speech - pretending to be you in public, his digestive system and whether or not I have feelings-"
"Whoa, sweetheart, fuck, slow down," he stops you. Instead of barreling on with explanation or interrogation, he watches you. "You don't work for me anymore. And you don't work with me. Which is my loss on both counts, and my fault. I do miss you."
You can't. Whatever has cracked open in him is spilling out and surrounding you - you could happily drown in it. You would more than willingly go to bed with him and if you aren't careful, you could love him so easily.
You just don't trust yourself enough. "Nate is wonderful," you finally reply, standing up and removing the cardigan. "And he came from a brilliant, beautiful mind. You should be proud."
Nathan peers up at you, the moon's glow highlighting the angles of his handsome face. "Keep it." He nods to the sweater. "It's vicuña wool. Expensive. You'll like it. Keep it."
"I can't," you tell him decisively. "I can't owe you anything."
"I owe you." He rises to his feet, ignoring your outstretched hand. "A fucking sweater is the least I could do after I..." His eyes travel down your bare arm to the prominent scar running between your wrist and elbow. He cradles your forearm and lifts it gently, tenderly stroking his thumb up and down the length of your scar.
"I really wasn't trying to kill myself," you whisper. "I've never not wanted to live. It wasn't that at all. I was confused."
"I'm sorry," he chokes out. Lifting you hand to his mouth, he gazes into your eyes and kisses your palm, lingering indulgently before his eyes drift closed and he places two more kisses along your scar. "So sorry."
He releases you and takes a full step back, turning sideways as his hands land on his hips. "I should let you get going. I don't mean to keep you."
Every instinct tells you to leave but your thundering heart propels you forward. You wrap your arms around his neck, grateful when he folds you close. "Goodbye, Nathan."
"Bye, babydoll."
✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧
Nathan allows you to leave without fanfare. You go back inside to say goodbye to Nate, who is waiting for you near the door.
"Are we sure he's the real Nathan?" You half-seriously question, hitching your thumb back toward where he remains, gripping the balcony rail and starting out over the city. "How many of you are there?"
"Just us," Nate smiles at you warmly. "It's him. He just misses you."
"Yeah, I doubt that," you chuckle.
"Why do you doubt him?" Nate challenges, inching toward you. His gaze falters as he shifts in what appears to be nervousness. His emotions really have gotten finely tuned and complex. "I know you can't have feelings for me because I'm not real to you. But Nathan is."
Your heart swells with pity for him. It's not that you find him pathetic. You do care about him, immensely. But what kind of life could you have made for yourself if you let yourself love an android? Especially with the way you felt about Nathan?
"I did love him," you decide to admit, side-stepping the feelings-for-an-android thing. "But it doesn't matter now."
"Why doesn't it?" Nate insists, grasping your hand. He waits for you to look at him. "Two people who love each other shouldn't have to be apart."
"Love?" You scoff. "No. He doesn't."
"Keep telling yourself that. Let yourself off the hook."
You narrow your eyes at Nate. "Fuck you, actually. You're guilt-tripping me? After what happened? And you're defending him? Why don't you two run off together?"
"Hilarious," Nate deadpans, folding his arms over his chest. "He didn't mean for you to get hurt. He never meant to confuse you about yourself - only about which one of us was the real Nathan. He's been punishing himself for it ever since. I had to beg him to come to this thing with me. He wanted me to make the speech, but he wanted to watch from home."
You can't believe the emotional complexity he's displaying, the concern for another human. It's a scientific miracle, really.
"You're amazing," you tell him. "You've grown so much."
"Thank you," he sweetly responds. "Nice deflection."
Nathan chooses that moment to reappear, pausing to watch the two of you smiling and talking. He opens his mouth, probably ready to say something sarcastic, but closes it. With a slow nod, he trudges to the bedroom.
Nate waits until the bedroom door shuts before continuing. "He thinks you like me more than him."
"What if I do?" You fire back.
Nate's mouth curls as he confidently eases back into your personal space. "Then I would be the luckiest artificially created man in the world." He shrugs one shoulder. "But since I'm the only one, I guess I'm just lucky to be here."
You give Nate a hug, tell him how good it was to see him and then you make yourself leave. These two are confusing as hell. You wonder if your heart can take it.
✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧
You pace around your hotel room in soft, loose cotton pajamas. Feeling a chill, you wish you had held onto Nate's cardigan. Not only was it expensively soft, it smelled good. Like him. Like them.
With a sigh, you yank a hoodie over your head.
The thought of both Nate and Nathan upstairs in the penthouse while you willingly pried yourself away from them makes you question your sanity. But the safer, saner thing seems to be to stay away from them.
So why aren't you peacefully sleeping, content with your "safe" choice?
With a huff, you plop down on the end of your bed. After another moment, you fall back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling, as if it will provide answers. Finally, you roll over and groan dramatically into your pillow.
"Fuck it," you finally utter, grabbing your phone and your key card for your door.
A few minutes later, you knock on the penthouse door.
✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧
Nathan Bateman masterlist | Main Masterlist | Join my tag list
This is an awesome use of what is probably a master's degree if not a doctorate and I am 100% thrilled that she shared it even though it was embarrassing and she squeaked.
If so, can I have a fic of schlatt taking reader on a date and spoiling them? Takes them home and spoils them even more? :>
Thank you!
pairing > jschlatt x male!reader
side note > I have never gotten an ask specifically for a male reader before so I've decided to go heavy in that direction to try and challenge myself! On this blog, I strive to write all of my stuff to be friendly for my trans followers reading, and so this can also be read from a trans!masc perspective. If anything needs to be rewritten for better accuracy, please let me know. I'd also like to note that for my personal sexuality reasons, I tend not to write smut simply because I don't find it to be particularly inspiring, so if that was what 'takes them home and spoils them even more' meant then I both A. completely didn't realise, and B. opted to go the fluffy way anyway! I recommend listening to Those Years Are Over by The Sha La Das for full immersion.
content > male!reader, reader works at an office, reader wears a suit and tie to work, kinda a nothing burger but it has helped me back into writing
summary > schlatt takes you, his boyfriend, on a date!
A Way Overpriced Date With Destiny
It was late.
You were just getting ready to leave work when you heard a familiar engine revv outside. Your feet began travelling before you could think to stop them, trailing over to a window.
Your hand reached up, cupping the window's handle before pushing the mechanism down, the lock clicking open as you pushed the window open to see Schlatt lounging against the bonnet of his car, looking up at you. Freshly washed, you noted. Probably by him.
Probably to impress you.
"Hey, handsome."
He crossed his arms, almost to flaunt the added muscle he'd been developing there recently. He was wearing a regular pair of blue washed jorts and a crew neck. It was warm out, despite the sun having dipped below the skyline.
"What're you doing here?"
You called out to your Romeo below, particularly puzzled by the fact he'd told you he would be streaming around this time. A check of your watch confirmed this.
"We're goin' out!"
Bold.
Very bold.
But that's how he is, you conceded. It's one of the reasons you started dating him. That and, well, have you seen the guy?
"Oh, we are, are we? Where?"
An equally confident counter as you braced yourself on your forearms against the window sill.
"Boa, of course, the fuck do you think I am?"
"Oh, of course, how could I forget?"
"Uh huh... now, are ya comin' down or am I takin' me, myself, and I all by my lonesome?"
That's how you found yourself now. Tie loosened, sat opposite your happy man in the infamous steakhouse dear to Schlatt's heart for their wagyu. He mainly prized it because it was your first ever date location, but he'd never tell you that. The place where he'd first fallen in love with you, and the place he wanted to cater your wedding someday because, man, did they do a banging fucking wagyu.
"How was work? You get all your work done like a good little capitalist drone?"
"Fuck you, I'd like to see you even try and work a real job!"
"Hey, fuck you, I do work a real job!"
You both chuckled, and argued some more, but eventually settled into the warm night air and the jazz band playing outside. He did his usually flaunting, ordering way too many things to the table for you to try, bragging about the waiters remembering your regular orders, but eventually tipping very handsomely (per your training earlier on in your relationship) as you left with boxed up leftovers and dessert.
On the drive home, Schlatt took the scenic route, anything to talk with you about everything and nothing for longer. It's the main reason why he started working out to begin with, more time with you.
Once through the door, you shucked your shoes and jacket off before face planting into the couch with an exhausted groan.
"I'm beat! That steak finished me off..."
"You want me to run you a bath?"
A beat went by before you answered.
"You know how to run a bath?"
"The fuck does that mean?!"
His loud, faux offended chuckling rang through the house as you turned over to see him smiling at you with an incredulous sparkle in his deep brown eyes. A laugh of your own escaped you before you chose your next words.
"I dunno, just didn't know neanderthals knew how to draw a bath."
"Oh, fuck you, forget it, asshole..."
"No, c'mooon! Hey! Hey! I'm joking! No, come back here! Please? Please? Please? Please? Please? Schlatt, look at me! Please? Please? Please? Plea-"
"Fine! Fine! I'll get you a fuckin' bath! God, it's like livin' with a toddler."
"I love you!"
...
"Schlatt, say it back or I'm eatin' your leftover steak."
Checked my inbox for the first time in a while and it comes up with 11 ghost notifications that I have had to delete, if anyone sent in an ask, try sending it again so I can see it this time!
Yet another new study debunked the basis for the anti-trans sports bans. It was never about sports but for creating legal avenues for exclusion and abjection. This is one of the largest analyses ever conducted, involving 52 studies and 6,485 trans people. Read the study here.
