"Who did Dr. Grace claim to be having sex with?" Stratt's tone was measured.
"He did not say," Ilyukhina said. "That is why we were teasing him."
"Then why, pray tell, are you under the assumption that it's me?"
Or: Stratt and Ilyukhina discover they have a lot in common.
Project Hail Mary || Eva Stratt x Olesya Ilyukhina || 2.7k || rated T || coworkers to lovers || first kiss || assuming makes an ass of u and ming || jealousy if you squint at the petrovascope
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Chapter 1
“Will Ms. Stratt not be joining us?” Dubois asked from his seat on the smallest couch in the world, where the crew had convened to watch the launch of the Hail Mary’s main compartments.
“I don’t think so,” said Dr. Grace. “She doesn’t care about fun stuff like launches. She’s probably going over spreadsheets in her office or something.”
“Then it’s fortunate that we have you here. To represent her, in a way.”
“Me? Represent her? How did you get that idea?”
Ilyukhina, hearing mention of Stratt, spun her head to face Dr. Grace. “You are number two, no? You are first officer of Project Hail Mary?”
“What? No! I’m just one of the scientists. Like all these guys.”
Ilyukhina and DuBois looked at each other. “You honestly think this?” she asked.
Bob Redell spoke up behind them. “You’re not like the rest of us, Grace.”
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“The point is,” DuBois interjected, “you are, somehow, special to Ms. Stratt. I had assumed you two were engaged in sexual congress.” Dr. Grace looked like he might vomit, or maybe faint. It was highly entertaining.
“Wha—what?! Are you out of your mind?! No! No way!”
“Huh,” said Ilyukhina. “Perhaps you should be? She is uptight. She could use good roll in hay.”
“Oh my God. Is that what people think?” Dr. Grace turned to face the scientists, most of whom averted their eyes. “Nothing like that is going on! And I’m not her number two! I’m just a scientist— drafted into this project like the rest of you!”
The crew continued on with their speculations, but Ilyukhina turned her attention back to the launch. There was still another three minutes until lift off but her mind was racing with unsolicited images of Dr. Grace and Stratt. She'd heard all she needed to. And she thought that the microbiologist doth protest too much.
___
Later that night, Ilyukhina was exactly where a day like today would take her: the breakroom. It was, at one point, a larger-than-average storage closet—big enough for a table and chairs and not much else. But it got the job done. Ilyukhina had started a small stash of alcohol in a cabinet behind some leftover storage bins. A little something for the particularly long days, but a couple bottles of vodka did not a cocktail party make.
Nevertheless, it was better than nothing. What started off as a drink every once in a while turned into a daily ritual. Finish for the day, change clothes, decompress in the break room. Even when she didn't really want anything to drink, she'd still flop into a chair and pour herself water from a repurposed vodka bottle also kept in the cabinet. She did have a reputation to uphold, after all.
But tonight she needed a drink. Badly.
It wasn't like her to linger on a conversation, but she didn't understand the vehemence with which Dr. Grace had denied Dubois's assertion earlier. He knew the intimate details of Dubois and Shapiro's entanglement but couldn't admit that he was hooking up with Stratt? Did he actually think he was convincing anyone that they weren't hooking up?
They were always together. Ilyukhina tried to recall the last time she'd seen them apart. Dr. Grace had waved at her from the lab a few days ago. They'd shared friendly greetings in the hall this morning, but that didn't really count since he'd knocked on Stratt's door moments later.
There was the time a couple weeks ago, however, that she had spotted Stratt alone. It was late (as most nights were) and the day had taken its toll on the crew, so Ilyukhina had wandered up to the deck for some fresh air. The chill had barely brushed her cheeks when her eyes landed on Stratt on the other side of the deck, elbows leaned against the rails, looking out into the infinite nothingness. The ocean breeze twirled a lock of strawberry blonde hair around her shoulder and the moonlight accentuated her jawline. Ilyukhina had turned tail and gone back to her room, despite craving the brisk air more than ever.
Ilyukhina's cheeks warmed at the memory. Why would Dr. Grace lie about sleeping with Stratt? She poured herself a drink and took a hearty swig. Why would he be ashamed to have such a beautiful woman in his bed? Because she's his boss? Grow up.
Ilyukhina's ponderance was interrupted when none other than Eva Stratt entered the break room. They were both momentarily caught off guard; neither one expecting to encounter company.
"Hello, Stratt," Ilyukhina said before she polished off her drink.
