Welcome to my descent into Tegan Price/Michaela Pratt. No beta because I’m in the middle of Nanowrimo and feeling brave. Also on ao3.
Tegan Price did not sleep with interns. Maybe an assistant here and there over the years, usually transient women who were using the firm as a leg up for somewhere else and were not actually her own underlings. Never an intern though. They were too young, too eager and quite frankly, too messy.
It didn’t mean she didn’t think about it from time to time and since she spotted Michaela Pratt, she thought about it more than was a good idea. She had singled Michaela out for her brilliance, her potential and she did want to help shape her as a lawyer.
The only obstacle to maintaining her professional distance? That damn look in Michaela’s eyes every time Tegan praised her, like she ached for it. It sent Tegan’s mind reeling with scenarios involving her desk, her home, the private locked bathroom on the third floor and a different sort of skill set she could praise Michaela for.
She worked hard on enforcing professional boundaries. She purposefully demanded more than what was possible, remained cool and attempted to keep in mind that every task Michaela completed was just part of the job. That every time she brought Tegan lunch, coffee, her dry cleaning, it was because Tegan asked her to and if there was anything Michaela made evident in the small time Tegan got to know her, it was her strive for perfection.
But then there were the extra things, the ones that fueled this foolish notion that it could be more. The snacks Tegan didn’t ask for when she’d skipped lunch, the tea with honey when she hadn’t even mentioned she was fighting a cold and the glimpse she caught one night of Michaela making sure she’d gotten to her car all right.
People worked for her all the time, provided a service she gladly paid for but it had been years, too many years since Tegan was tended to and damn, if it didn’t throw her off just a little.
Michaela didn’t resemble Cora much. Cora had worn cardigans from bargain bins, her curls flying everywhere and glasses that perpetually slipped no matter how many times Tegan tried to get her ones that fit better. But Cora was always able to see when Tegan needed extra care, the kind she’d never figured out how to ask for and it seemed Michaela, for whatever reason, possessed that same ability. It wasn’t her fault that it made her feel something she thought she’d long since buried.
Like an idiot, she bought Michaela shoes and that look in her eyes when she stared at Tegan in disbelief was enough to make Tegan want to kiss her right then and there. She didn’t, thankfully, just reminded Michaela of her goals, made it clear that she’d only given her something else to strive for.
Then the boyfriend showed up because of course there was a boyfriend. He was nice and Tegan was glad Michaela had someone. She deserved it. Someone to go home to after these long nights. Someone who hopefully reminded her she was human as well as a lawyer. Someone who didn’t come with the baggage and complications that Tegan did.
She couldn’t hide her surprise when Michaela showed up with that bottle and an inviting glint in her eyes that made Tegan helpless to say no to a drink or two.
“I’d hire you.” If it weren’t for the buzz of the gin, she would have stopped it from slipping out at the end of her explanation. She had rules about this; no more praise than necessary, don’t let her think you need her.
“Really?” There was that damn light in Michaela’s eyes and the kind of smile that lit up a room.
Tegan nodded and hummed, too affected by that look to do more. Eventually Michaela dropped her gaze, allowing Tegan to find some semblance of sense.
Tegan eyed the clock on her back wall and shook her head. “You should get going.”
Michaela furrowed her brow for a moment before she smiled again, stood, and reached for Tegan’s glass.
Tegan raised an eyebrow. “I said you, not me.” She picked up the bottle. “It was a gift, was it not?”
Michaela chuckled softly and Tegan hated how much she adored the sound. She placed her cup on the coffee table and turned her gaze once again toward Tegan.
“You sure you don’t need anything?”
Oh she needed a great many things, none of which were something she should ask Michaela to provide.
Tegan shook her head. “I’m fine. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”
“It wouldn’t be a problem if you did,” said Michaela as she peered down at her.
There was something else tucked into that statement that Tegan knew wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Some sort of offering she would have asked about if Michaela’s phone hadn’t chosen that exact moment to ring. Michaela reached for it and mouthed a “sorry”
Tegan waved her off and walked over to her desk. The familiar feeling of her chair helped to remind her that sitting on a couch opposite Michaela Pratt was not something she needed to make a habit of. She hadn’t paid much attention to the content of Michaela’s call but she noticed the torn look on her face when she ended it.
“Go,” Tegan insisted, softer than she should. “I’ll be fine.”
Michaela nodded. “Thank you for,” her eyes searched Tegan’s and held them to her like an anchor, “for everything.”
Tegan turned away, the weight of Michaela’s stare too much to handle. “I expect the Michaelson brief by 7 tomorrow morning.”
Michaela lingered another moment before she gave a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.”
Tegan watched her as she walked out, the click of the heels she’d bought taunting her with the same reminder she’d been trying to internalize for weeks.
