Faust being pestered by a clingy reader while she's busy doing research or whatever nerd stuff she does until she eventually folds perhaps
what if we kissed in the engine room of mephistopheles 😳 anyways i wrote this as "pre-relationship but there is definitely a mutual crush there" because i thought it would be cute
pestering her ~ faust
The engine room of Mephistopheles was far from your usual haunts, and yet you found yourself pathing there before your room at the end of most work days. And most of your off days. Really, any chance you could get. And whenever any of the other sinners asked where you ran off to, you would always insist that you were just in your room, or that you'd snuck off of the bus for a walk. Most would roll their eyes or scoff, some even implied you were a liar, and once or twice Sinclair had asked you to “stop using him as an alibi, seriously, it's not that big of a deal that you two are hanging out,” whatever that meant.
“What are you working on?” You always asked her when you came in, knowing fully well that whatever explanation she gave was going to fly right over your head. Usually, as you waltzed over to sit right on the edge of the little work table that's crammed into the furthest corner of the room, she graced you with an attempt.
Not this time, though. This time, she continued tinkering away with something. That wasn't unusual; she tended to get so caught up in her work that she'd process whatever you said to her a few minutes later, proceeding with conversation like you'd only just spoken. But the minutes ticked by, and that icy blue gaze never broke away from the contraption in her hands.
“Hey, Faust?”
A few blinks. She rarely looked at you when she spoke, at least about her projects anyway, but she usually at least acknowledged you with a soft hum that harmonized with the whirring of the machinery around you. It seemed like whatever she was toying with, it was important.
“Fa-ust?” You drew her name out.
“Yes?” She muttered, the first word you'd heard from her. By some miracle, she didn't sound annoyed.
You sighed, watching as a bolt began to roll ever so slowly towards the edge of the table. “Just making sure you're in there.”
“Faust has not gone anywhere.” She said. Some hair fell into her face, and though you noticed right away, she didn’t seem to. She was too enraptured in her current task.
“I can see that.” You grabbed the bolt right before it could fall off the ledge, keeping it safe in your palm, rolling the sharp edges between your fingers.
“What are you working on?”
Faust inspected what she was working on for only a moment, something that looked more like a mass of wires than a real project to you. She placed some sort of cover over it, and picked up a wrench. “What we discussed last time.”
“Oh, for the high beams?” You cocked your head.
She didn’t look up. Only held her hand out, so soft and smooth with her nails carefully manicured, something you wouldn't have expected from someone who worked on machines or wielded a sword like Walpurgisnacht.
All you could focus on was that one errant lock of hair, an uncommon occurrence with her typically very intentional look. Obscuring her pale face, lit by the harsh light of the work lamp. Each stray strand suddenly exposed, glinting.
With the hand not holding the screw, you reached out. Her hair was as soft as you expected, not silky but definitely smooth, and you at the very least had the sense to not dally when you tucked it behind her ear.
Faust's eyes snapped up to yours, that expectant hand faltering. All the two of you could do was stare at each other. You, mouth agape, cheeks burning, and stunned by your own actions. Faust, clearly trying to figure out whatever the hell you had just done. Cheeks ablaze in the lamplight.
Lately, and only in private, Faust had been an odd combination of softer and yet more distant. Like she crawled out of her shell, only to back away to protect the softest parts of herself when you got too close. You expected it to be like one of those, when she would shy away or stiffen up. When your shoulders would nudge or you'd back into each other, and she would look at you like you'd just stepped on her left foot every time. Just about the only thing that told you she had any fondness for your company was that she allowed you to be in the same room as her when you weren't working. When she was occupied, but let you hang around and talk to her.
You had to wonder; did she enjoy your company as you did hers? Were your distractions welcome? Did she look forward to these moments together the same as you?
“Yes.”
“Huh?” You replied, intelligently.
There was no change, save for her eyes averting again. You found that you missed them on you the moment she looked away. “This is for the high beams.”
“Oh! Um. Cool.” What a scholar you were. A true wordsmith. As your hand fell to rest on your knee, you could still feel her hair slipping through your fingers. You couldn't tell if she had forgotten about that bolt she'd been needing or if she maybe, just maybe, had other priorities at the moment.
When she reached out expectantly again, you handed her the bolt she had reached for initially. A shiver ran up your spine at the brief brush of her skin on yours, and that was enough to keep you quiet. For a minute, at least. You couldn't help yourself.
“Hey, F–”
She sighed. Actually sighed. Faust had gotten fed up with the other sinners before, but she had never actually sighed at you before. Maybe you really had crossed a line earlier.
You hung your head. “...sorry.”
Faust set her wrench back down, addressing you properly. Or as close to it as she tended to get. Instead of asking you to pipe down, she surprised you. “You haven't eaten dinner.”
“I'm… sorry?” You apologized again, like you'd done something wrong. Did that offend her in some way? The rations were portioned very carefully, but nutrition related calculations certainly couldn't be the hardest thing Faust had to figure.
“You came straight here after leisure time was announced. It would be optimal for you to eat now, before it gets too late.”
It wasn’t like her to try to be polite like this. Usually, she was much more to the point. You assumed, with a churning feeling of regret in your gut, that she was just trying to get rid of you. It was hard to blame her, after you'd gone and done… that.
“Oh. Maybe.” You said solemnly. Later, once you were done wallowing in embarrassment and licking your wounds, you could give her a proper apology. For now, distance was probably the best.
Faust rose from her chair at the same moment you got down from the sturdy old table, and that made you freeze mid motion.
She draped her coat over her shoulders, making her way towards the exit. Only sparing you a brief glance over her shoulder, she asked, “Are you coming?”
She… wanted you to come with her? She wasn't mad?
You nearly tripped over your own feet following behind her, emerging into the warmly lit hallway together. It wasn't often that the two of you left together, since you typically tapped out to go to bed long before Faust even considered the idea. Always saying something about how she didn’t need as much rest as you did, that she would just eat later, the like. It felt odd to be headed to the kitchen with her, especially this late in the evening when all of the other sinners had run off to do their own thing.
“...you…”
Her voice, so unusually uncertain, nearly made you jump despite its softness. It was so quiet that you almost wondered if you'd just been hearing things. But then you remembered who you were with right now, how easily she saw through you, and she made doubly certain to remind you of as much just in case.
“You do not ‘pester’ me.”
She couldn't look at you even as she read your mind aloud, and that much was nothing new. But her eyes flitted around more, and her cheeks were dusted a soft pink. She almost looked like she was trying to duck into the neck of her sweater, like that confession was worth hiding from. It wasn't, but it was worth a great deal to you even still.
Forcing your heart out of your throat, you nodded your head.
“...good to know.”
You'd have to “not pester” her more often, if that was the case.
(“Does that mean I can help when I visit you from now on?”
“Absolutely not.”)
word count 1,465
i was working on this fic on the clock but it was super busy today so as i was furiously writing the rough draft between tasks all i could envision was this
