⋆★⋆ late nights in the laboratory. ⋆★⋆ Part 2 & Part 3.
♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: pushing it down and praying by lizzie mcalpine (3:54)
✰ pairing: calvin evans x fem!lab tech!reader
✰ cw: arguing + swearing + calvin is a bit of an uptight dick
✰ word count: 1.3k+
✰ summary: you are new to hastings laboratory, being placed on a search for different materials around the lab. you entered calvin's laboratory without knocking, and arguments ensue.
(IMPORTANT: collaborated with @sammygidd with writing process + planning)
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༺colour chart༻
reader ❀
calvin ⚛︎
It was your first day at the Hastings Laboratory, working as a lab tech. You woke up early, ensuring that everything was perfect - that you wouldn’t be late in the slightest and that you had everything that you needed. Deciding that morning, after packing your bag for the day, that you would curl your hair shortly after eating breakfast, given that there was enough time to do so. You brushed out the smooth curls, pinning them back in place as you grabbed your things, taking a last once-over in the mirror, then heading downstairs. Making sure your cat had food and saying goodbye before walking to the door and leaving shortly afterwards.
You made your way into the parking lot, finding an open parking spot. Taking note of the scientists and secretaries scattered across the way, some making their path into the laboratory building, promptly making your way inside along with them, hearing the lively chatter around you. A taller, leaner man brushing past you, not exactly seeing who it was at first, but you could already tell by the way he pushed past the people on the stairwell, not even muttering an ‘excuse me,’ or a basic apology. It was Calvin Evans - the man that you saw on the front cover of the Scientific American, the proposed chemistry prodigy.
You've read about him, nothing really remarkable about the Dr. Evans besides the fact that he could draw up chemical reactions in a comprehensible way, but couldn’t even muster an apology - the article did say that he was a reserved person after all. And the chemistry prodigy was wearing pajamas to work? You were confused, only for a moment, before brushing it off and heading to the lab that you were supposed to be in… on time.
Arriving in the smaller, well-lit room filled with older and some younger male scientists, looking at you standing in the doorway. An older man pipes up,
“You’re late, sweetheart. You were supposed to be here at seven, on the dot.” Eyes flickering over to the clock that was higher up on the wall, and it read 7:01 - nodding your head, deciding not to retaliate since it was your first day.
“Apologies,” you murmured as you walked into the room, setting your notebook on the table, a small distance away from the group of men and their prying eyes.
Before you could even get started on your work, the older guy who ridiculed you said that he had chores for you to do, and when you were done with those, he wanted a cup of coffee. You didn’t even get to mutter a word out, to say you were a lab tech, not a secretary. He didn’t care in the slightest and ushered you away, forcing a clipboard into your hands. Grumbling softly but reluctantly, you moved back out the door and into the hallways of the building, looking at the list that was now in your hands, reading off the items that were needed:
Sulphuric Acid
Methanol
Bunsen Burners
Ribose
Beakers
Coffee
Each item was in a different part of the building, of course it was. You didn’t expect anything less. You made haste, practically running around the building collecting the apparatus needed, checking it off the list as you went. You finally came to the final thing on your list, beakers, which was written to be upstairs. Walking into the first room you could find, your eyes are planted on the clipboard in front of you. Not even bothering to knock, which was your first mistake.
“Did you not see the sign?” The voice went unheard as you looked up from your clipboard, more focused on the task at hand than whoever was talking to you. Your gaze landed on the counter of the lab, finally finding the beakers that you needed. You grabbed the tray, then noticed a man across the room.
“Oh– shit..” You nearly dropped the beakers, “You– shit, sorry.. You scared the hell out of me…” Then a look of recognition, “Oh–.! Oh shit- I mean- sorry, oh your.. Dr. Evans… – pardon me for my language…”
“No, no.” Waving you off, his eyes now boring into you, “First off, tell me why you are in here, stealing my beakers and not even knocking when I have a sign that says.. do not disturb?”
“Sorry, I must’ve not seen it.”
A small smirk flashed across his face, finding the entire ordeal entertaining, before he cleared his throat. “Well, you're one for apologies, but sorry doesn’t cut it. Why is a secretary stealing my beakers? When I’m not to be disturbed.”
“I’m not stealing, I’m simply borrowing for the time being, and I’m not a secretary, Dr. Evans.”
His eyebrows knitted together, his arms crossing over his chest, “You’re not a secretary? Then what are you?”
“I’m a Lab Tech.”
Calvin stifled out a laugh. “I highly doubt that. You look like a secretary with that hair.” He moved closer, noticing your name tag. “You’re the new girl, aren’t you? Stealing on your first day… I’m disappointed, expecting you’d know better as a proposed Lab Tech.”
“Well, I’m not stealing, like I said before. I’ll get these back to you by the end of the day.”
“I’ll hold you to that, secretary.”
You had to refrain from talking back to him, he’s Calvin Evans for christ sake, but god, he found a way to just get under your skin from a singular conversation. You looked down at the tray of beakers as you headed out of his laboratory, noticing that he wrote his initials “C.E” on every single one, charming.
Later that night, you were packing up in your laboratory, ready to head home for the evening, suspecting that every other scientist and secretary already left the building. When you hear a sudden voice come from behind you.
“Beakers.”
You jumped, turning around. Noticing Calvin.
“What?” You regained your composure.
“My beakers. Where are they? You told me you’d have them back at the end of the day.” He leaned against the counter, noticing that Calvin was wearing the same clothes he had come into work in that morning, the sleeves rolled up, showing his forearms. A small thought swirling around your head, before realising you were staring dead at his arms, your gaze shifting away.
“Beakers?-- right, right. They’re…” You looked around the laboratory, expecting them to be on one of the many counters in the room.
“They’re where?” He looked unimpressed.
“They’re in a different lab, one of the locked ones.”
“Of course they are.” He sighed, pushing himself off the counter - back turned to you.
“I’m sorry– I’ll give them to you tomorrow, they’ll be hard to miss with your initials written onto them.” You joked, he turned around.
“This is funny to you?”
“You’re getting mad over beakers.”
“I trusted you with my beakers, and you have proven yourself not to be worthy once more. That's not surprising.” He let out a breath.
“What’s more surprising is that you’re wearing pajamas to work, Calvin.” His name slipped out of your mouth before you even recognised you did.
His eyes shifted a bit, like he was mulling things over. Letting out a hum before speaking again. “These are my running clothes.”
“Of course you run.” You mumbled under your breath, eyes diverting away - looking out the window as a crutch.
“What was that?--” You cut him off,
“Let’s just go home, Dr. Evans. I’ll have your beakers tomorrow.” Grabbing the rest of your things, heading to the door. Calvin followed close behind, basically towering over you as you walked out into the cold air.
“Let’s hope your second day is better than your first.” Calvin walked to the sidewalk, beside you.
As you walked to your car, you muttered under your breath, “Dick.”
“What?”
“Nothing! Night, Dr. Evans... Get home safe.” You plastered a fake smile on your face. He turned away muttering a "Night" in response - your smile immediately dropping as he did.
As you got into your car, you knew that you would never get along with Calvin, if it was the last thing you’d do.
⋆★⋆ i'll pretend, just for one night. ⋆★⋆ Part 1 & Part 3.
♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: pushing it down and praying by lizzie mcalpine (3:54) // ༉‧₊˚ " he gives what he can, but now i don't know what he's giving for. " ᝰ.ᐟ
✰ pairing: calvin evans x fem!lab tech!reader
✰ cw: hurt/comfort, swearing, they're still not together guys sorry, vomitting, crying, calvin isnt as much of a dick anymore, angst, back talking, realising feelings, calvin refers to reader as secretary, not beta read, no use of y/n.
✰ word count: 1.5k+
✰ summary: you enter the little ms hastings pageant, but on the night you here the other contestants talking bad about you. leading you to leave the bar and find calvin throwing up outside from his allergies, you decide to take him home.
(IMPORTANT: collaborated with @sammygidd with writing process + planning)
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༺colour chart༻
reader ❀
calvin ⚛︎
fran ✿
The Little Miss Hastings Pageant is upcoming, Fran and the men in your lab managed to convince you to sign up, much to your hesitancy. Going into this pageant meant buying a dress that objectified you more than you already have been in this lab, and dolling yourself up for the sake of $25 and bragging rights. You didn’t see the point in all of this, but you’d be an outcast if you didn’t at least try - but you heard the way people giggled when you told Fran to take your picture.
A few hours before the pageant, you caught wind of the girls planning on asking Calvin to vote for them, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You found it nauseating that they wanted to try so hard for a vote from a man who probably didn’t even acknowledge their existence, or care at all to try. Let alone care about some stupid pageant hosted annually that he’s probably grown tired of. Funny enough – he attended anyway, every time it was hosted, and yet no one knew who he voted for, not a single time. Or if he even cared enough to do so. As the hours ticked by, leaving for work to get ready for this stupid thing. The realisation that you were actually contributing to this bullshit willingly, settled in your chest.
As you arrived at the bar it was being held at, you sat in your car, mulling everything over. Knowing that it wasn't too late to just start your car back up and drive off, pretending like you never signed up. But no, you had to bite the bullet that you shot.
Walking into the bar, a familiar face walked up to you, Fran.
“Hey, you actually came and pulled yourself together..! Wow, you look..” She looked you up and down. “...Half decent, thank you for doing your makeup. Much appreciated, get yourself a drink from a bar to loosen up and then get backstage.”
A drink from the bar would’ve been appreciated, but you went against it - for your judgement to be clearer and for no men to take you home. You moved backstage, pausing as you heard the other pageant girls backstage in hushed whispers.
“Did you see her talking to Dr. Evans?”
“I know, she’s trying to sleep with him.”
“I’ve never seen a female lab tech before.”
“She’s an uptight prude is what she is, thinking she’s better than all of us.”
“She was being all cute for Dr. Donatti.”
Your name was called from the stage, indicating for you to walk up there and act like some typical housewife. But your eyes stung, hearing those words said about you - the way they talked about their disdain towards you so freely. You didn’t walk up onto the stage, no you wouldn’t dare give them the satisfaction. You wouldn’t dare place on a hoax of a smile and pretend that all is well, because you were tired of living like that.
You cleared your throat, the girls looking over to you - their hushed whispers soon disappearing.
“You’re supposed to go up now, sweetie.” Fran gestured to the steps that lead to the stage, but you didn’t even mutter a word. Simply turning away, and walking out of the bar.
You struggled to search for your keys as you stood by your car, checking every pocket, every crevice of your purse. The tears in your eyes, blinding your vision partially, didn’t help. Then you heard the sound of retching and gagging behind you, you ignored it. Assuming it to be a scientist who was a little too trigger-happy when it came to liquor.
“Secretary?” You perked up, looking over your shoulder to find Calvin doubled over on the edge of the pavement.
“Had a bit too much to drink, Dr. Evans?”
“No– no, it’s my allergies. They’re-” He then threw up into the bushes.
“Oh Jesus.” You looked around for a moment, “Okay, I’ll take you home. But, please for the love of god, don’t throw up in my car.”
The drive to Calvin’s house was quiet for the most part, the occasional gag from Calvin - his head sticking out of the window, but the fresh air combated against his allergies, soon becoming better, still a bit sick. You occasionally looked in the rear-view mirror, noticing the mascara that had run down your face from your crying a few minutes before. You quickly wiped it with your fingers, hoping that Calvin didn’t notice.
Calvin noticed your movement. After a while, he spoke up.
“Why were you crying before?”
“Hm?”
“You were crying, outside.”
“No I wasn’t.”
“You were, I heard you."
Your gaze shifted back to the road.
“It’s fine. It’s nothing.”
“It’s clearly not nothing if you were crying over it.”
“It was just Fran and her friends.”
“Did they make fun of your dress or something?” He chuckled to himself.
“They called me an uptight prude who was trying to sleep with you.”
That made Calvin falter a bit, “Oh– I’m..” He paused for a moment, sitting up a bit. "Sorry.”
The car fell silent for a moment before Calvin chimed up again,
“That’s– kinda contradicting, y'know? You can’t call someone a prude and then say they’re trying to..” His words drifted off as he saw the unamused look on your face, he cleared his throat - looking out of the window.
Your car eventually pulled up outside Calvin’s house. You helped him out of the car seat, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he stumbled a bit. The two of you made it to the front door.
“This is where I leave you, Dr. Evans.”
“Please, just call me Calvin.”
“Right, well.. Goodnight Calvin.” You turned on your heels.
“Wait– just.. Come inside. I owe it to you.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
He looked at you for a moment, thinking of the correct words to say, letting out a soft breath before finally speaking again,
“Just come inside, I promise it won't hurt y–” before hunching over and clutching his stomach, letting out a groan.
“Okay, okay– fine.” Opening his door and heading inside with him.
You look around the house as you walk in alongside Calvin. The house was big, empty. The place lacked decoration and furniture, the only place that was somewhat homely was the living room. It was quiet, You expected Calvin to have a girlfriend, a wife, maybe. He was famous and successful, so it made sense.
“Is your wife out of the house?”
“Oh, I’m not married.” Calvin settled onto the couch, leaning back - taking a breath, still feeling queasy.
“Really?” You placed down your bag on the coffee table, walking into the kitchen to grab him a glass of water.
“Mhm.” He watched you closely as you returned, passing him the full glass.
“No girlfriend either then?” Looking almost skeptical, you would think he would have… someone. Right? Before you could ask why, he was already speaking.
“I tend to focus on my work, adding in another unknown variable like that can change – everything, I can’t get distracted.” The words coming out of his mouth made sense, a lot of sense. You just weren’t used to someone who had the same mindset as you did, especially a man.
You watched as he sipped his water, soon grabbing your bag back.
“I’ve overstayed my welcome, you seem better and.. It’s getting late.” You immediately started to head towards his front door,
“Goodnight, Dr. Evans.. Calvin.” Starting to twist the door knob, hearing a small mumble behind you before you could officially leave, turning your head over your shoulder – a small “hm?” leaving your lips as your eyes scanned over Calvin.
“I said– I said that I would’ve voted for you.” Clearing his throat with a small cough, you searched his eyes for any dishonesty, but you found none.
He was telling the truth. The corners of your mouth formed into a small smile, it happened before you even noticed the now grin on your face. “Thank you – goodnight.” You give a quick nod, heading outside and softly closing the door behind you, walking to your car, and driving home for the night.
Meanwhile, Calvin sat on his couch in silence, the feeling of you still in his home. He looked around the now empty room, unfamiliar thoughts started to seep into his head – ones he had never had before, he liked having you in his space – you were intelligent, that’s for sure, and you weren’t trying to actively sleep with him… So it made him almost curious, he wanted to know more about you, your hobbies, what you like, dislike– his thoughts came to a pause, why was he thinking like this? A soft sigh now left his lips as he finished his glass of water, gently setting the cup on his coffee table.
“She is very...” he took a brief moment to pause, “Stubborn.” Despite the words that left his lips, he couldn’t help but smile at the corners of his mouth, betraying him as he spoke. Shaking his head, he headed upstairs for the night – and headed to bed.
me and @sammygidd are co-writing a calvin evans fic that we spent like an hour yapping about on call about!! will update when we actually start writing it LOL
