Price groans internally when he sees you stepping out of the elevator at the end of the hall, dragging that damn phone stand behind you. The legs are still sticking straight out at odd angles rather than folded up nice and proper like they should be. It's a hazard, really, the way you haul that thing around.
The scene that ensues is almost comical; his employees having to dodge the rubber feet while you march past the cubicals towards his office, completely oblivious. He'd figuired you were only here to milk him of content.
With a shake of his head, he wipes the smirk from his face and greets you in his doorway. His arms are crossed and his expression is unreadable when he peers down at you, watching you set that dreaded tripod down.
"What is it?" His voice is gruff, but not unkind. "What d'you want?"
"Hi, Mr. Price. Do you have a minute?" You ask, tucking a peice of hair behind your ear. His eyes narrow at your not-so-innocent smile.
"I might." He grunts, still not letting you by. "What for? Another one of your little videos?"
The way he says it makes it seem like you're merely indulging in some guileless hobby rather than, you know, doing your job? The very thing he hired you to do?
"Yes." You say slowly. "But I won't make you learn another dance again, I promise. All you have to do is read a list of words and that’s it!"
The only reason Price had agreed to learn that stupid fucking dance in the first place was to see you smile. He wasn't very good at it, even though you had tried to convince him that he "left no crumbs". Whatever that meant.
"That's all?" He raises an eyebrow. He'd heard that one before.
"That's all." You chirp, swaying with your hands behind your back.
"Alright then." He inclines his head. "You want to use my office again?"
"If you don't mind."
You've perched yourself on the edge of Price's desk, crowding him just a little to fit into the camera's frame. Next to your hip, he has one hand propped against the flat surface, and the other clutches the list you wrote for him. An impish grin splits your face watching your boss glance over the curly gel penned letters.
"Just start from the top." You encourage.
"Right, thank you." He shoots you a withering look of mock displeasure before reading off the first bullet point.
"Skibidi rizz." He pauses, a crease between confused brows forming. "Moonbeam icecream. Put the fries in the bag. Mustard."
With a sigh, he lowers the page, sounding more and more vexed with each line.
"I think you've given me your shopping list."
"No I haven't." You giggle behind your hand. "Just keep going."
Price shakes his head in exasperation when he reads what's next.
"Dwerk off? Don't even want to know what that means." He mutters beneath his breath. "Sounds like it would probably get HR onto us in an instant."
It probably would, you tilt your head in assent. That's exactly why you'd left some of the more suggestive brainrot on the drawing board. Because you weren't trying to get your boss to say 'start digging in yo butt twin' or worse, 'show me your willy.' Melissa from human resources would most likely have an aneurism if she heard about that.
"Uh..." Your eyes flick to the recording phone like you're letting the viewers in on the joke. "Let's just say, I won't be explaining it to you."
"Hm." He hums, looking very much like he's got half a mind to demand you tell him anyway, just for the sake of it. "Shall I continue?"
You nod. "Yeah."
His ring finger taps his desk in a gesture of near imperceptible approval.
"Aura Farming." Price resumes blankly. "Ballerina Cappuccina and Tung Tung Tung... Sahur. This makes absolutely no sense to me, you know that, right? Is this even English?"
"Tung Tung Tung Sahur? Well, no, I think he's Indonesian or Italian or something." Shrugging lightly, you lean in to read what's next, pressing your shoulder to his. He can't help but to let his hand slip a controlled inch, allowing his pinky to put a subtle pressure against the denim on your hip.
"Oh, keep reading, you'll love the next one." He watches you speak again, eyes soft too soft for his stoic face.
"Labubu. Oh, fucks sake-" He frowns, close to throwing up his hands in defeat. "Labubu matcha Dubai chocolate."
He turns to you, utterly baffled. It's helplessly endearing. "What on earth does Labubu mean?"
"It's sort of like a keychain thing." You try to explain, gesturing with your hands. "They're kind of fuzzy little creatures and have evil teeth. But cute! They're super popular, I've got one on my bag. I'll show you it later, if you'd like."
"I'm really not sure I would." He snorts, "But if it makes you happy..."
A genuine smile curves your lips. He's the nicest employer you've ever had- your favourite by far.
"Right. Last one, thank god." He grumbles, but you know by now he's not truly bothered. "Nothing beats a Jet2Holiday. Is this your way of asking for a vacation, love? Christ, I could certainly use one after this."
"No." You laugh, taking back the paper that he hands you. "It's a meme right now. Doesn't really make any sense at all now that I think of it." You tilt your head. "But it is funny."
"I'll take your word for it." He crosses his arms and makes room for you when you slide off the edge of his desk. "Though I'll tell you what- never make me read one of these bloody lists again, and I'll bring you along on my next buisness trip."
"Wait, actually?" You freeze, folding the list between stunned fingers.
"Sure. You can make some travel videos, eh? I'll take you to Italy in honour of your beloved Cappuccina Ballerina."
Idk if i like this or not 💀. Listen guys, I am not up on brainrot lingo exactly bc I am not really on tiktok or instagram SO if I used old brainrot IM SORRY (skibidi will always be relevant to me, idc). Also please tell me someone got the reference to the 2nd coconut water video 🙏
I know I know- this is not After Midnight Part 3. That will come out, I promise I haven't abandoned it. My health went down a bit recently. It's easier (ha) for me to write silly little things like this right now that aren't very plot heavy, or that I don't have to worry about it being up to my personal, unrealistic standards. Like girl its literally x reader cod fanfic, its not that deep. it doesn't need to be Shakespeare 😭 yes it does
