Did you see that post floating around about the couple who were dating before they started at an office but didn't tell anyone and everyone kept calling them Jim and Pam and trying to convince them they should date bc they were friendly with each other??? Yeah, you should write that for CS
Nonnie, I did not see it floating around because I, well, don’t really check my feed, but @shireness-says did send it to me to write last night. Then you did too, and it seemed like I had to write a little something!
original post | here |
on ao3 | here |
-/-
This is a bullshit job.
Okay, it’s not, and Emma knows it. It’s a job that’s getting her insurance and enabling her to pay her bills after she lost her last job due to her asshole boss’s gambling problems that burned Queen’s Bail Bonds to the ground. Figuratively, not literally, but Emma really wanted to literally burn it down when it meant she was out of a job. And none of the other bail bonds places in town would hire her because Regina burned a bridge with anyone and everyone she could since she is the actual worst and made enemies with anyone who challenged her. Emma doesn’t exactly have much of an education and has a history that’s a little less than pretty, so after eating three saltine crackers for dinner and considering selling her car for grocery money, she bit the bullet and started applying for office jobs that have always seemed like her worst nightmare.
So, that’s how she got here, sitting in a closed off part of Mass General with no windows and possible mold with a stack of files bigger than her that she’s having to put in the computer because they’re going digital. She’s never thought about medical files before and has assumed they’ve always been digital, but the entire department full of filing cabinets says otherwise.
She’s probably going to be vitamin D deficient by the time she finds another job.
Really, it’s fine. It’s not all that bad. She likes her coworkers, and most days she can listen to music all day and get lost in the repetitiveness of her job. Today Emma’s a little cranky because her car wouldn’t crank this morning, and she should have sold that piece of junk when she had the chance last month.
Spinning in her chair, Emma pops an earphone out and looks across her desk where Mary Margaret and Ruby are talking. They both work in Community Outreach, which is an entirely different department up in the land of people and windows, but their boss sent them to help with the digitization because the hospital realized the temps they hired would take at least six months to do all the work if left to their own devices. Emma wouldn’t mind that, no matter how much she sometimes hates it, because it would mean she has a few more months to figure her shit out.
“Morning, Swan.” Emma groans and leans back in her chair, the wheels squeaking underneath her. Killian stops by her desk, taking a peppermint out of the bowl in the corner, and pops it in his mouth. He’s far too peppy this morning, and she just knows he went for a run this morning and then spent an unnecessary amount of time fixing his hair to give it that disheveled look. She doesn’t understand morning exercise people. They may not be people at all. “How are you today?”
“Exhausted.”
“What? No sleep last night?”
“Only a little.” She shrugs and holds her hand out. He tosses her a new peppermint, and she quickly unwraps it, the mint soothing her throat. The cold weather outside always dries out her throat, and having to walk to work this morning did not help. “My car wouldn’t start this morning, so I think I’m exhausted from walking here and knowing I’m probably going to be out of a car.”
His eyes glance up and down her, lips pressed into a firm line, and she expects him to make a joke that will have her rolling her eyes. Instead, he leans over her desk and presses his cheek to his palm, blinking slowly. “Do you need a ride home? I can give you one after work.”
“I can walk.”
“Swan. It’s no problem.”
Emma sighs and leans back, running her tongue against the peppermint. “You sure?”
“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t. Pick you up at five thirty?”
“See you then.”
Killian knocks his knuckles against the wood and flashes her a smile, walking away from her desk and down the hallway to the IT department, where he’ll spend the rest of the day answering calls from elderly doctors who don’t know how to log into their patient portal. Emma watches him walk away, knowing he won’t notice. Winter in Boston may be hell, but it does have benefits, such as the way Killian owns several fitted sweaters that hug his biceps. There are few perks to this job, and even though there are no windows, there are sometimes views.
When he disappears around the corner, Emma goes back to her files, typing in more patient information, when she hears Mary Margaret and Ruby rise from their chairs, heels clicking against the tile. They’ve got Cheshire Cat grins on their faces, every tooth showing, and if Emma ignores them, maybe they’ll go away.
She knows better than to hope for impossible things.
“So,” Ruby starts, incessantly tapping a pen against the desk to make Emma look up. Her desk has one of those tall, barrier-type things around the top because it’s an old secretary’s desk, which is great for hiding out. The problem is that people know to look for her now, and when they do, there’s no way for her to escape unless she wants to roll right out of the room. “He’s taking you home, offering you a ride.”
“Ruby,” Mary Margaret hisses, “don’t say it like that!”
“Why not? That’s what could happen! He takes her home, she invites him inside for some coffee to thank him, and then one thing leads to another…bam! They’re going at it on her couch!”
“Emma is going to file a complaint with HR about you.”
“If it gets she and Jones together, it’ll be worth it. I mean, come on. They’re adorable, and my God, the sexual tension makes me need some water to cool down.”
“Do you guys have anything new to say or is it going to be more trying to convince me to date the IT guy who walks in here to steal our peppermints and fix our computers when they break down three times a day?” Emma asks, half pretending to still be working.
Ruby and Mary Margaret stop looking at each other and look at her, brows to their foreheads and smiles slipping away more and more each second. “He comes in here to flirt, and you know it.”
Emma shrugs and grabs another peppermint. “He’s a friendly guy, easy to talk to, likes peppermints. I have peppermints.”
“Oh my God,” Ruby groans, dropping her head to the desk. “You’re killing me. Absolutely killing me.”
“You know, Emma, there’s no rule against office romances,” Mary Margaret suggests. “I think you should give it a shot.”
Emma rolls her eyes and keeps typing in patient information. “Maybe I will, but maybe I’m not going to ask him out until my time here is up just to torture the both of you.”
She has no intention of asking him out, but they don’t have to know that.
They gasp, and Emma knows she’s won this round. It doesn’t matter, though, because they’ll be back at her desk to have this conversation again after the next few times Killian walks through the office. And he does walk through the office at least seven more times that day. He has to fix her computer, then Ruby’s, and then there’s a near catastrophe where the digital filing system shuts down. Another time he comes in before lunch, asking everyone in the office if they’d like anything from the hospital deli, and then he comes back with salads for everyone, eating with the three of them and Jeff from IT. Once more he comes in for a peppermint, saying he just couldn’t have his breath smell any longer, but he stays and chats for fifteen minutes about a new ice skating rink he’s thinking of taking his friend Rob’s kid to. He suggests Emma should check it out, and then Ruby makes a sexual joke about ice skating, which is something Emma didn’t even know could be sexual if you weren’t a professional who could do all those lifts and dances or whatever. Emma is fit, but she couldn’t do that.
Finally, he comes into the office a little before five thirty, his car keys in hand, and Emma grabs her things and walks with him out of the office and back up into sunlight, which she forgot existed. She’ll barely get to see any of it, however, because it’s December and the sun basically sets at noon.
She is definitely going to have a vitamin D deficiency soon. Maybe she should start taking vitamins.
She and Killian talk about their days during the ride to her apartment, but mostly Emma sits in silence and listens to the radio, letting her eyes rest from staring at small print and a computer screen all day. It’s an adjustment for her to work regular hours, and all she wants now is to consume an entire pizza and have a large glass of wine.
Or two. Two large glasses of wine sound good.
When Emma opens her eyes, Killian is parked outside her building, his car idling, and she blinks herself away, undoing her seatbelt and sitting up. “Thank you for the ride, Jones.”
“Not a problem, love.”
She twists to the side, looking at him, and thinks of what Ruby and Mary Margaret said earlier.. “You want to come in for some coffee?”
“You know I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I have caffeine this late.”
Emma shrugs and leans over the console to press her lips to his, lingering as Killian’s hand comes to cup her cheek, his fingers threading through her ponytail as he tugs her closer. He tastes like peppermint, and it makes Emma smile.
“I know,” Emma sighs, pressing her forehead to his. “But I need coffee if I’m going to stay up until a normal hour, and I need to deal with my car tonight. Do you think it’s a goner?”
Killian pinches his brows and kisses her again, his tongue teasing her bottom lip, but he pulls back and crosses her arms over her chest, waiting for his real answer, even if she already knows. “I think we can look at it, have a mechanic look at it, and then look at it again when you disagree with the mechanic, but I think it may be time to lay the bug to rest. It had a good run, and I will always hold dear the memory of you nearly hitting me with it.”
“You can’t say I don’t make a great first impression.” She laughs at the memory and the way Killian had told her to go fuck herself, but quickly her heart drops and she groans, wondering how many curses she can mutter in a thirty-second time frame. Probably not as many as Killian did that day. The British know how to curse. “I don’t have the money for a new car. What am I going to do?”
“I can take you to work. We’re going to be at the same place for at least another month or so. And who knows? Maybe you’ll get another job at the hospital. And if not, I can still take you to work and pick you up. We’ve been sleeping at each other’s places most nights anyway. If you don’t want that, there are several different public transportation options. But I think Mary Margaret and Ruby would die if I took you to work in the morning.”
He waggles his brows and smirks, leaning into her, and Emma can’t help the smile that creeps up on her. They didn't want it to be a thing that they were dating because Emma wanted to get the job on her own, so they never told anyone. “They would actually die. I mean, seriously. They told me I should invite you up for coffee and then ride you on my couch, and you know, that doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea.”
“Well, I would have been up for that even without the coffee invitation, love.”
“That a double entendre?”
“Of course.” He reaches over and grabs her hand, threading their fingers together. “When do you think you’re going to tell them we started dating months before you started at the hospital?”
Emma shrugs and leans back, smiling. “Eh, I think one day we should walk in holding hands and let them think it’s new.”
“Tomorrow? I could give you a mark on your collarbone to really drive them crazy.”
“Absolutely not, but nice try buddy.” She nods her head toward the building. “Come inside with me and let’s get dinner. Pizza sound good?”
“Pizza sounds fantastic, love.”
-/-
They walk inside holding hands a month later, and Mary Margaret stumbles while Ruby drops her coffee over her computer’s keyboard. Killian is the one who fixes it, and Ruby is still so shocked she can’t interrogate him while he works.
Emma has a feeling Ruby Lucas has never been shocked silent, and Emma can barely hold in her laughter.
She never does tell them how long she and Killian were dating. She doesn’t think their computers could take it.
-/-
She does find them in their office a year later, though, when they’re back in Community Outreach and she’s working in the conference center – which has windows! – and shows them the ring on her finger.
Ruby, thankfully, didn’t have any coffee in her hands.
yall i keep trying to tell you that i literally work in an alternate universe of the office as evidenced once again by my boss this morning ending our company meeting by playing here comes the sun while he danced awkwardly and we all stared at each other’s faces on zoom i mean
so as many SkyDoesMinecraft fans know, Adam quit his channel, which is fine. he has personal stuff going on and i understand. But he can't just shut down SkyMedia like that. so many people relied on him to make money doing what they love- Youtubing. He could have just handed the ownership to a couple people and gone on his merry way, but instead stopped not only his channel, but so many others who now don't have the means to upload anymore. Selfish move, Adam. I'm very disappointed.
I used to be on here all the time. Now it feels like I only log on once a month. I’m sorry Tumblr. 😫
Since Sky Media has closed, MonicaOfTheLion and I have begun working on a little Youtube project of our own. With my depression starting to get worse again, I really need something like this to get me back in the swing of things. We both do.
So, we’ll see how things go.
I also wanted to thank you for being your amazing self and always supporting Sky Media and Office Antics. ❤️ I’m already missing being in the office, but hopefully this is a new start for some of us.
Title: Reckless Idiocy
Pairing: USUK
AU: Office
Rating: T
Words: 2,423
Summary: After Alfred gets drunk, his boss comes to retrieve him.
Previous Part
"Fuck yeah, bitches! Shots!" Cried Alfred as he snatched a small glass off the counter, downing it to the hoots and hollers of his coworkers who soon followed in suit.
Francis, from a few seats away, glanced over at the man beside him. "Alfred is certainly enthusiastic in everything he does," he mused to Kiku, who offered a small, reserved smile in return.
"He has always been that way." Said the man as he swiped a bit of his sleek hair away from his forehead and took a sip of the water in front of him. "He takes pride in being happy, and in displaying it for everyone to see. He sees positivity as being heroic."
Francis laughed. "Heroic, hm? That would explain the disgraceful superhero-printed socks he insists on wearing to work every day... In any case, he may be a bit too enthusiastic about this. He will be drunk soon." Francis said, laughing as he glanced in the direction of the American.
Now Alfred was standing in the middle of a group of their coworkers along with Gilbert Beilshmidt, an office advertisement rep, and Elizaveta, one of the editors. The trio each had a mug of beer in hand and were currently drinking it as fast as they could whilst their coworkers chanted "chug, chug, chug!" Francis rolled his eyes and turned back to Kiku once more, knowing very well that any attempt to drink a beer faster than Gilbert was futile from the start.
Kiku nodded sagely as he eyed his friend. "He does not drink often, but when he does he drinks a lot. I will most likely be taking him home tonight," he said, gesturing to the water in front of him.
Francis offered a sympathetic smile and took another sip of his bourbon, disappointed. He'd been a bit excited to see what Kiku was like drunk—after all, he was sure that underneath all of that shy, modest reserve, there was a wild animal simply waiting to be awakened. Not to mention that he'd wanted to get drunk, too, and felt a bit guilty about it knowing that it would mean his friend would be left at the bar without anyone to keep him company.
Then, an idea sprung into his head. Seeing Alfred being lead to the dancefloor by Gilbert Beilshmidt, he grinned and extracted his phone from his pocket. "Perhaps our dear boss would be willing to take Alfred home, no?" He questioned, leering at his friend.
Kiku's lips curved into a small smirk and he nodded, watching the man type. Your American dream is drunk, Francis said in order to catch the Brit's attention. After obtaining Kiku's nod of approval, the text was sent. Much to their satisfaction, they had a response within ten seconds.
And? Came the simple reply from their boss.
Francis glanced to Kiku, who looked once more to the dancefloor. Gilbert had his hands on Alfred's hips and Alfred's arms were wrapped around his shoulders, his head tilted backward and a wide smile on his face as he laughed at something the man had said.
"Tell him that Gilbert told you he wants to take him home." Kiku said.
Francis grinned at him. "Mon ami, I am more and more surprised by you every day. May I say that you are very talented in the art of matchmaking?" He chuckled.
"Arthur's buttons are not hard to push." Kiku replied with a knowing smirk.
Gilbert has made some very lewd comments about him. He has hopes of taking him tonight. ;)
The reply that came back took a bit more time. Francis could imagine Arthur staring down at his phone, his fingers hovering over the keys as he contemplated what to say. After all, he knew the man well, and knew that one so prideful as Arthur Kirkland would never make himself look like a fool if he could help it by appearing as violently jealous as Francis was sure he was.
I should hope he doesn't follow through on that, if Alfred is as drunk as you say, read the text.
Francis rolled his eyes and set his phone down, allowing Arthur to steam for a moment in order to add to his suspense and aggravate him a bit. Kiku, who has been reading over his shoulder, understood Francis' purpose and the pair began to talk more, sharing details of their personal and work lives.
"Fuck, I love this song!" Shouted Alfred's incredibly loud voice as the man appeared behind Francis and Kiku.
After grabbing Kiku's face and enthusiastically insisting that the elder was his 'bestest, best friend everrrrr in the whole world', Alfred clambered his way onto the bar. Gilbert Beilshmidt let out a loud wolf whistle when the American began to sway his hips to the beat, and Francis grinned. Stepping off his stool, the Frenchman readied his camera and snapped a photo, which immediately went to Arthur.
What the hell is he doing?! Came the immediate response.
Francis decided to ignore Arthur, setting his phone on the bartop where both he and Kiku could see it. After two songs, Alfred had leapt off the bar top and was back on the dancefloor, now with a stranger. Meanwhile, a string of texts from an increasingly worried Arthur came through.
Don't let him go home with someone. It could be dangerous.
What's he doing now?
Francis? Are you alright?
God damn it.
I'm coming.
Francis cheered happily at the last text, quick to order more drinks. With his goal for the evening accomplished, he was free to get absolutely trashed, and did so immediately. With the assurance that Arthur would make sure Alfred got home safely, and that Francis had a way home as well, Kiku left, citing his indifference to large gatherings as an excuse for his departure.
Arthur huffed as he entered the crowded club, shoving himself through a small crowd in order to see the entirety of the building. Immediately, his eyes went to the bar, hoping Alfred might still be atop of it. Of course, life was never that easy for him, and the rowdy American was nowhere to be seen.
Francis, however, was, and Arthur stormed straight through the dancefloor in order to get to him.
"Where's Alfred?" He demanded of the Frenchman immediately.
Francis turned his head to the side, blinking at him with hazy eyes. He beamed, slinging an arm around the Brit's shoulder and dragging the man forward. "I knew you couldn't resist it!" He laughed. "I am not sure where Alfred is, but he will be glad to see you!"
Frustrated, Arthur shoved Francis away. "Goddamned frog," he muttered, scanning the crowd.
Barely a moment later, his eyes caught on a lovely bob of golden blond hair moving through the crowd, and Arthur's jaw dropped when he comprehended the whole of the situation. Alfred was hovering two inches off the ground, a pair of strong hands hooked under his arms as they easily carted the American through the crowd. Alfred was kicking his feet out and shoving at the hands on him, but he was sloppy in his drunken state and the man holding him didn't seem at all bothered by the American's struggles.
Absolutely enraged by the sight, Arthur immediately stormed in the direction of his darling employee, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up as he did so. By the time he reached them, Alfred had been pinned between a wall and the taller man in the back of the club, his slurred protests muffled by the insistent, bruising kisses the man placed upon his lips. Arthur wasted no time in storming forward and slamming his fist into the man's jaw with all the might he had in his body. Although he might have been considered a bit small compared to some, he was in no way weak, and the punch was enough to get his point across. The man stumbled backward in surprise, tripping over someone's foot and toppling into a table before crashing to the floor.
"Artie!" Alfred cried jovially, immediately draping himself over the Englishman. "Wow, that was so sick! How did y'know I needed ya?" He questioned, a goofy smile on his face.
Arthur was thankful that Alfred was too drunk to notice the blush on his cheeks and patted the man's shoulders. "I'll always be there when you need me, love." He told the man. "But I'd prefer it if you could need me elsewhere. You should get home."
Alfred pouted and prepared to protest the suggestion, but at Arthur's stern look the inebriated man allowed himself to be pulled back toward where Francis was.
"Where's Kiku?" Arthur demanded of the Frenchman.
The man shrugged and took another shot. "He left."
"Left? But Alfred's still here!" Cried the Brit in surprise, thick brows raised in the air.
"I suppose you will just have to take him home if you wish for him to get there so badly, then." Suggested Francis with a giggle.
Arthur felt Alfred's arms slipping away from his shoulders and glanced behind himself to find the American leaning over the bar and calling for another beer.
Arthur rolled his eyes, taking Alfred by the arm. "You've had more than enough, you dolt." He scolded. "Let's get you home."
Alfred merely nodded and dropped forward, flopping lazily into Arthur's arms. The Brit let out a cry of surprise and then a groan, rolling his eyes as he leaned down and hoisted the American off the ground and over his shoulder. Alfred let out a jovial laugh and hollered a slurred goodbye to Francis as he was carted out of the bar.
"What's your address?" Arthur asked the American as he set him down on the sidewalk and opened the passenger door.
Alfred grinned cheekily. "I'm not tellin' ya," he teased as he ducked into the car and sat down.
Arthur shut the door gently and walked around to the other side of the car, getting into the driver's seat. "Buckle your seatbelt and tell me your address." He commanded.
"Okaaaaaaay," Alfred snorted, his hands fumbling for the seatbelt. His clumsy hands made the process agonizingly slow, and after a moment Arthur rolled his eyes and reached out, leaning over the American to do it for him.
"There. Now, your address?" The Brit questioned.
"Yer accent is sexy," Alfred purred, leaning a bit closer.
Arthur's cheeks bloomed red. "Sh-Shut it. Tell me where you live."
"Nooooope, I wanna go back to your place," Alfred replied, reaching forward. He pushed his calloused fingers through the Brit's silky hair and smiled. "I always wondered what it felt like."
Arthur reached out, very gently pulling the American's hand out of his hair. "God, I didn't think it was even possible for you to be any more of an idiot than you already are," he joked in order to distract himself from how incredibly flustered he was.
"'M only an idiot 'cause of you. Can barely think straight when I see those pretty green eyes," Alfred said shamelessly.
"Alright, alright, don't distract the driver," said Arthur as he started his car and pulled out onto the street.
Alfred laughed again. "I'm distracting you, huh?" He teased in that flirty, slurred tone. Arthur glanced over and saw Alfred grinning rakishly at him.
"Reckless idiocy often distracts people. Now tell me where you live."
Alfred pouted. "Nope."
The Brit let out a heavy sigh and began driving toward his building, giving in. The longer he spent in such close quarters with the American, the more in danger he was of becoming too flustered to properly drive. He knew it was ridiculous for the American to have such an effect on him, and yet he couldn't seem to help it. The mere sight of those gorgeous eyes, the sound of that lovely voice, the touch of his hands—how was it that he was able to so thoroughly incapacitate Arthur?
Of all the people the Brit could have fallen in love with, it just had to be the obnoxious, ever-friendly, ridiculously oblivious American who brought the office their mail, didn't it? That was just his luck, to fall for easily the least attainable person in the office. Aside from the fact that the American clearly found their age gap too large to ever be seriously interested in Arthur (if the constant teasing about Arthur being an 'old man' was any indication), he was also much too handsome to ever be interested in Arthur. After all, there was certainly many more attractive people that the American could easily attain; of all the people Alfred knew, why would he ever pick the perpetually grumpy CEO of a tea company. Hell, the man didn't even like tea!
Arthur pulled into the car garage beside his large building and parked, lost in his thoughts until the American spoke dazedly of needing help getting out of his seatbelt.
After assisting the American in said endeavor, Arthur helped him get out of the car and began to walk Alfred to his building. They'd barely made it inside before Arthur had decided that it would be much easier to carry Alfred again, and hoisted the blond over his shoulder once more. After all, the American seemed hellbent on wandering off every chance he got, and the Brit felt a terrible pang in his heart at the thought of accidentally loosing track of the American.
"Artie, you have a really nice ass," Alfred said from over the man's shoulder as they ascended to the Brit's floor in the elevator.
The Brit refrained from speaking, predicting the embarrassed stutter that would become his voice if he chose to respond to that comment. He exited the elevator and got to his floor, managing after a moment of fumbling to open the door to his penthouse while still holding onto Alfred's legs. Once inside, he bent over and eased the American onto the couch in his living room, laying him on his side.
"Go to sleep, dolt." Arthur commanded.
Alfred smiled softly and nodded, curling into one of the throw pillows on Arthur's couch.
Arthur sighed heavily. "God, I love you," he mumbled, watching Alfred's eyes flutter and close.
