✿ //You told me to do it. -Slinks back into the darkness-
send me a ✿ and i’ll generate a number.. 42. Forceful Kiss
It was late – if the hour itself didn’t prove that, the darkened sky outside and dim windows of most of the building did more than enough to emphasize that fact. They were, perhaps, the only two left within it’s walls, aside from security and maybe a custodian. Which… wasn’t unusual, all things considered. Kaiba often worked late, and although it wasn’t her duty to do so (not as far as her contract was concerned, anyways) Natalie didn’t often leave until he did.
There as always something that could be done, from fetching office supplies or files to assisting with research or sifting through the paper folders that existed in the storage rooms in the legal department. She couldn’t help with the technical aspect of things, no; but she could ease the rest of the workload, leaving Seto with more chance to focus on his programming.
She stayed out of his way as much as she could, drifting in and out of his office only when she needed to bring him something he’d requested or to take something he wanted faxed or scanned. She didn’t want to be told to leave, after all – doing so would only mean going home, where awaited only nightmares borne of stress and memories she would, honestly, have rather forgotten. There was a point, though, at which he had glanced up from his screen, fingers halting on the keyboard and sharp blue eyes fixed on her as she passed by his open office door. She noticed, and paused, turning to meet his gaze and shifting the heavy box that she held in her arms.
“Quit walking past my door.” He said, curtly, his shoulders stiff and squared off – like a wall, she thought, blocking off any insight into his thoughts that could be gleaned from his posture. “It’s distracting.”
“My office is over here.” She said with a small, wry smile. “It can’t really be helped. ”
In response, he waved one hand toward the chair that sat nearby, more often the perch of his brother than used by actual guests. No order or command accompanied the gesture, nor did any sort of smile or kind action. It was as much an invitation to join him as anyone was ever to get, though. She stepped across the threshold of his office, and his eyes quickly darted back to his work, seeming almost as if he were avoiding the sight of her. Avoiding, he thought, the requirement to acknowledge the humanity in his own actions.
She didn’t comment on it, long since used to the quirks of his behaviour. Instead, she set the box down on the floor next to the chair, easing it quietly closer to his desk so she could reach it from where she sat.
For a time, it was in this silence that they worked; the scratch of her pen against a page and the clack of his keys was the only sound beyond the hum of computers and the quiet, occasional gurgle of the office water cooler in the halls. It was… comfortable, though neither spoke a word, and the longer the silence stretched, the less stiff his shoulders became. His focus faded from guarding himself, shifting back to the work he did, and his posture changed. He was leaning forward, now, eyes intent upon the computer screen and fingers flying over the keys. His shoulders were relaxed, and every now and then his furrowed eyebrows and the corners of his frown would twitch upward in satisfaction. She could only imagine that it was thanks to a success in his coding, a victory for his intellect.
He didn’t notice as she shifted imperceptibly in her seat, lifting her arm up, until it was too late. The quiet CLICK of her camera cut through the silence, and his head snapped upward to spot the violet-cased device as it lowered into her lap once more.
“Really?” He almost sounded like he was groaning, voice touched with both exasperation and annoyance. She chuckled, and nodded, saving the picture to her cloud and ignoring the noise of displeasure that followed his words. His hands lifted and touched at his cheek, and she glanced toward him, amused to see what could have been a flush hidden in the pallor of his cheeks. ( Was he checking for something on his face..? ) “Why this time? I’m certainly not making a fool of myself – That photo won’t do you much good to blackmail me.”
“Don’t you think that if it was to blackmail you, I would have done it already?” She was surprised, at him. With such a massive intellect, she had assumed he would have figured that out, by now – now that she considered it, though… he did seem a little lost, where ‘normal people’ were concerned. Business was easy for him, that much was clear, but personal connections…
“I don’t take pictures to blackmail you. You aren’t even the only one I take them of. I mean… recently, I suppose it’s a lot of you, but that’s because I’m always here.”
There was a pause, and his frown deepened, though this time it seemed less formed of annoyance and more… curiosity. “Then – why? Not that I care –”
She saved him the hassle of having to defend himself from the possibility that she would assume he did care, noisily shifting the box at her feet to cut him off. It turned his frown back to one of annoyance, as she had expected.
“That’s personal. I told you before – you’ll have to share your drink if you want to swap stories.”
Her head tucked down, rifling through the folders in the box, she neither saw nor expected his movement away from his desk. She didn’t see him busying himself at a cabinet across the room, though she did hear the sound of him rummaging for… something. One brow raised, she lifted her head, and was startled to see a bottle being placed firmly on the desk in front of her. A small glass followed, which made some sort of sense. It wasn’t like Seto Kaiba was the type to begin his evening by swigging out of a bottle – of course he had glasses lying around.
“If that’s what it takes.” Was his gruff explanation for his actions, his fingers lacing together as he leaned back in his leather seat, the cushion creaking beneath him as it reclined – a position it, clearly, was not often in. For a moment, she just… stared at him, wondering if he was serious. His brows twitched downward as she did, and his lips tightened – a sure fire sign that he was about to demand something –
“You can either drink, and explain, or I’ll confiscate your device and wipe it of it’s contents.”
They both knew he wouldn’t do that. For a moment, she thought of challenging him on it, and calling his bluff. Instead, she let out a light laugh, and wrapped her slender fingers around the neck of the bottle. The amber liquid sloshed against the sides as she filled the glass, and the chair skidded across the floor behind her as she stood. A few short steps brought her around the desk, and she offered the glass out to him, leaning against the other side as she let it sway back and forth by her fingertips.
“It’s not sharing unless you’re drinking too.”
His expression spoke volumes of what he was likely thinking – flat out refusal, born of disgust, and perhaps some mild shame at the memory of the last time he ingested alcohol in this room. Still, she let it hang from her fingers before him, lifting the bottle toward her lips.
“Don’t make me drink alone, Sir. It’s poor etiquette.”
She felt him take it from her as the liquid hit her tongue, surprisingly smooth as it went down. Whether or not he actually drank from it, she didn’t care – but being the only person in a room getting drunk felt too much like being her father, for her tastes.
She swallowed a few more mouthfuls before an explanation finally came, easing her ample rear onto the surface of his desk as she began to speak. If he took offence to her repurposing his desk as a seat, he didn’t say so; at least, not before she spoke.
“I… left home, when I was younger, in… well. Let’s say it was in a hurry.” It was hard to linger, after all, when you were being thrown bodily from the door. “When I did, I didn’t have a chance to pack much… and after I was gone, I wasn’t exactly allowed back inside. I… lost a lot of things. Pictures, and keepsakes… and my phone at the time, too. It wasn’t really… easy…”
Her fingertips ran along the smooth curves of the bottle, her feet swinging as they dangled above the floor. She shrugged, then, lifting the bottle once more to her mouth before she continued.
“I left a lot of memories behind. I know it probably sounds stupid to say that, since memories are in your mind, but… I didn’t have anything tangible, for a while. I guess I take pictures now so that I don’t have to risk that happening again. If they’re all on the cloud, nobody… they won’t get lost, again, and I’ll be able to go through them and see all of the moments that lead me to where I am. I guess they’re just things I want to remember – and don’t you dare call it stupid, for being sentimental.“
She snapped that last part, and he snapped his mouth shut. Whether or not that was what he was about to say, she didn’t know – but she wasn’t giving him the chance.
“You should be honoured.” She continued, gesturing toward him with the bottle. “For being in so many of them, lately.”
“I’ll try to remember that I should be honoured the next time you send me one to mock me.” He huffed, setting his glass down on the desk and turning his chair away from her. Frowning herself, now, she lifted one still-heeled foot ( an oddity for her, as most times her stilettos were the first thing to go when she was staying late in the office ) and pressed it against the arm of his chair, pushing him back to face her.
“Don’t be miserable about it. I’m not mocking you – “ He met her gaze, and she grinned. “ – Okay. A little, but it’s all in good fun. I know you didn’t have much of a childhood, but you do have a brother – you two have to rib on each other once in a while… no?” “We… WHAT each other?” “My god.” She leaned back, giving the arm of his chair a light push. It began to spin, but he halted it with one firm foot on the floor, shooting her an annoyed look. “You didn’t bother to open that slang memo at all, did you?”
“Don’t push my chair,” He said, peevishly, righting it’s direction and placing his hands back upon the keys. “I have to finish this.”
“You’re the one who pulled out the rum.” She countered, mocking his cranky tone. He couldn’t argue that, and so didn’t bother, tapping away at his console. She didn’t, she found, much enjoy being ignored – and so, like the B R A T she truly was, she lifted her foot once more. She knew she was testing the upper limits of his patience as she pushed her toes against the arm of his chair, and was rewarded for her pursuits by a surprisingly strong grip circling her ankle. Spidery digits seemed made of steel as they locked around her leg, ELECTRIC in a way she hadn’t expected.
“If you’re going to be distracting, you can go.”
“You’ll have to let go of me, first.” His palm was still there, WARM against her skin, as she quietly spoke. LINGERING, as their gaze locked, and breath quickened in her chest -- or was that his breath, coming faster in a fight for control.. ?
“ -- If I let go, you’re just going to do it again.” His words were just as quiet as her own, spoken low, and hesitantly ;; an excuse, she thought, directed as much toward HIMSELF as her. She wasn’t sure which one of them bought it less, though.
Which one of them had shifted closer? Had it been her, leaning slowly forward... or was it him, using firm legs to roll his chair nearer the desk? She hadn’t noticed, but now... he was...
“Don’t...” Was he still talking about the chair? Or was he speaking now of how she reached for him, her fingers a hair’s breadth from the sharp lines of his jaw? Perhaps, even, of the lean of her body, angling to meet him where he sat..?
His nose bumped hers, and it was there that she stopped, the point of her own brushing against his cheek. What had before been steel now turned to solid stone, his whole body halted beneath her searching fingers. He was back to being marble, to being ice -- as frozen as the moment that stretched between them.
She shouldn’t, she thought -- she knew that. She wasn’t so drunk as to not realize it, not even close. Hell -- she was hardly drunk at all. He was her boss. It was against at least three company rules. She was...
Kissing him. Softly, at first, a stark contrast to the hard lines of his own lips -- then harder, FIRMER, as if demanding a response. There was a man somewhere beneath the stony walls that he threw up and by her goddess, or his god cards, she would draw him out.
