This one is for all of y’all who write fanfiction. Fanfiction for the fanfiction-ers.
Chris from IT was not supposed to be hot. In fact, when you froze your computer writing rated-R fanfiction starring MystiquexWolverine, you were planning on taking the computer to Denise from IT, who understood these things. But apparently, Denise was not in today, and Chris was filling in for her.
But here’s the thing. You had dropped off your computer that morning with the EXPLICIT UNDERSTANDING that Denise would be in. Not some stranger. And certainly not unexplainably-hot-especially-with-tortoise-shell-glasses Chris. So when you walk into the computer lab to see Chris flicking through your sticker-ridden laptop, apparently transfixed, you hit the PANIC button faster than Mystique can morph into Jennifer Lawrence.
Then he looks up at you.
You have two options here.
Option one: you can Totally Own It, and become That Girl who just happens to write smutty fanfiction as a hobby. Maybe he’ll think it’s cool. (He definitely won’t think it’s cool, if it weren’t for the hoodie you’d have thought he was a supermodel).
Option two: you can blurt explanations for what you’ve done. Say it was for a friend. Say it was a wild computer virus. Do a U-Turn and get outta there speedy quick. Do SOMETHING.
“Um” is your smart answer. Then a fountain of word vomit cascades out of your mouth: “I hope you don’t think - I mean, you can think whatever you want. But I’m in no position to judge and neither are you. Is it - is it fixed?”
“Oh... this is your computer?”
DAMMIT. It never even occurred to you that he wouldn’t know. You could have pretended, but now it’s too late and you’re ready to crawl under the charging station and die there. You open and shut your mouth wordlessly. He sighs, turns back to the computer, clicks a few things and then closes the lid.
“Personally, I only liked it up until Chapter Thirteen. The romance kind of fizzles after they escape from the snowed-in cabin. Disappointing, really.”
You continue to gape at him. He smirks at you and then ruthlessly continues, “And your username is xoshadowgirlxo? What, is that from your Quizzilla account, circa 2009?”
“Oh, my God,” you say softly. He laughs out loud.
“It is, isn’t it,” he says. Then he shrugs. “That’s okay. I mean, I’m kind of a MystiquexMagneto guy myself, but to each their own. At least you didn’t make a shitty OC. Nothing worse than a shitty OC.”
He’s being serious. You realize this with a jolt of electricity that is confirmed when he glances at your bright-red face, looking for confirmation. One nerd to another. He wants you to know your secret is safe. You somehow manage to swallow the lump in your throat.
“Thank... you...” you choke out, cradling your laptop in your arms as if it is a life raft in a sea of impossibility.
“If you really want to thank me, you can let me take you out to dinner,” he says, tilting his head and crossing his arms. “Do you like Thai food?” Ok, that’s it. You don’t know if you’re about to burst into tears or spontaneously combust.
But instead, you do neither of those things. You simply say,
“Yeah, Thai food sounds good.” and then the corner of his mouth crooks up into a sweet smile and you know, you’re a goner.
