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Deadlines (Stefan Butler x reader)

slow burn, yearning, coworkers to lovers, fluff, angst/comfort

Summary: Assigned to your first big project at Tuckersoft you find yourself having trouble working with the only other person on your team, Stefan. When Mr. Thakur sends you to his office to discuss firm deadlines, you try to navigate your awkward connection with him.

Word Count: 4304

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It’s October again. Everyone seems to take on lighter moods even though it’s starting to get nippy. You feel kind of sick. You can’t stop thinking about the deadline. It’s always been deadlines at Tuckersoft you suppose, the Birth of Christ demands video games be out just before the 25th. You've had 4 hours of sleep, at best. It's hard not to think about work. Normally, Mr. Thakur would’ve already initialed a gift package, with a prewritten thank you note from Tuckersoft Corp. That’s how it had been these past years. Roll out games in time for the Christmas season like it nothing in exchange for two and a half weeks, sweets, and dental insurance. This job was a dream job, somebody's dream job you were sure of it. But you weren't sure if it was yours. Deadlines kept you antsy, on edge. This year's in particular was going to be the death of you. Luckily, you'd had Colin on every major game since your arrival. When you first met, he seemed to be someone who thought he was the smartest person in every room, you wouldn't be surprised if he still did, but despite initial clashes, you'd found that actually, you worked quite efficiently, even inventively together. Office whispers informed of his strange habits and tastes, but no one denied the creative goldmine he provided for Thuckersoft's game developments. If it counted, now that you were friends, you found him quite agreeable and funny in the office.

Your new project, was a risk. Calculated! Mr. Thakur had said. Splitting up his best game-makers to maximize profit seemed to be the idea. Colin had suggested him, an intriguing new face to gaming, but Colin's focus on Nosedhyve and history of poor collaboration, was not ideal for a project.

"I can't think of a better job for you!" Colin said snorting when he heard the news. He tapped his cigarette, watching tiny snowflakes of ash fall to the cement. "All sarcasm from a person who's fault it is I have to work now." You said rolling your eyes in exasperation. You stuck your hand out for the cigarette. "I mean, this is a real godamn responsibility!" You huffed. "I chose him with absolute faith." Colin calmly spoke. You sucked the cigarette heavily, narrowing your eyes at Colin. "You're religious now?" "No." He said, unbothered, knowing you knew he considered himself a multidimensionalist. Almost bitterly you spoke, "I don't need a hand-me-down job." The cigarette was burning into it's filter, the warmth nipping your fingers. "It's not." A moment of silence enveloped the cold morning air before you threw the cigarette butt to the ground. "I am much more suited for the project than you." You nudge his shoulder smiling, getting up to head back into work. "His pitch was fucking mad." You add, thinking out loud. The kid who pitched had appeared quiet and mannerly when he walked in, but transformed all together during the meeting. He passionately described the possibilities of a futuristic multiple choice game, looking wide-eyed and manic. It was cute, but the code sounded impossible. Colin looked up at you and grinned. "Exactly."

Stefan, as you'd found out, was a true enigma. He avoided all interaction unless absolutely necessary. Only recently did he start showing up to the office in a non-obligatory show of face, when Mr. Thakur decided a more regular presence would help speed up development and collaboration. Your producer role was admittedly the biggest position you'd ever held at Thuckersoft, but with a team of two, including yourself, it only seemed comical. Stefan's indifference at times, and complete aversion at others towards communicating his vision was an attitude that did not make for quick work. For someone so timid, he was also the most steadfast person when it came to Bandersnatch. It was reaching approximately 8 months working together, with the original plan projecting a finished game at 5.

Mr. Thakur, unabashed as always, hadn't shyed away from pointing out the massive risk giving Stefan the project opportunity during a morning chat. "The kid's never made a game in his life! For all I know he's making a college passion project in there!" Mr. Thakur dramatically made a show of hands to Stefan's hardly inhabited office. You shook your head, leaning on to a side wall. "I've got it under control." You casually embellish. "I'm joking only, love." Mr. Thakur laughs. You can't tell if he's really joking or not. "Can't have passion at Tuckersoft, can we?" Colin's cool voice juts in.

It wasn't his first time hiring a nobody.

The game needs at least two month's work. At least.

Your brows knit together.

The elevator dings.

"Speak of the devil!" Mr. Thakhur reached his arms out to pat Stefan, who's hurdling trajectory clearly hadn't accounted for any obstructions. He stumbled almost landing in the boss's arms.

"Woah, kid!"

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Stefan shot to his office, quickly closing the door and barely looking behind him to issue his apologies. You would've laughed had you forgotten you were the one who had to figure this out.

You looked at Colin who shrugged. Mr. Thakur threw his arms up in the most dramatic fashion he could then exasperatedly turned to you, "Please for the love of god, make him aware of the importance of his adherence to the deadlines."

Deadlines.

You wanted to laugh, but you felt your gut twist. No sleep tonight.

"Sure. Of course."

"Thank you." Mr. Thakur pivoted and marched to his office to conduct his afternoon yelling matches with whatever provider had made a mistake the day before.

It had been months, a full eight months of working on the project, but you knew nearly nothing about Stefan. Not nothing nothing; you saw him reading issues of Melody Maker you'd left next to the coffee machine. You knew he made coffee in the morning but never drank it; you were glad he didn't. Any more anxiety and he'd melt. You recalled meeting his Dad once, who had come in looking for Stefan. He said it was good Stefan was out of the house, but there was an appointment he couldn't miss, nothing crazy.

"You know,"

You blinked back to reality.

Colin is looking over your shoulder, quite thoughtfully at the cityscape through the window.

"This doesn't have to be your lead project."

"No, no." You pause. "I'm really grateful you're giving me this chance."

He snorts. "You can thank Mohan."

You smile, remembering how hard Colin pushed to get you into this job when you first started working.

"Yeah, yeah." You pause again.

"I trust him. I do." You turn to look at Stefan's office. You can see the light buzz from his computer.

"But what the hell do I do if we can't complete the deadline?"

"You start again. Thronglets is already set for next year and you know Mohan would put you as head producer."

You wince. You can't do this again.

"Yeah, I could, but-"

"It would be a waste of your creative talent."

You roll your eyes, but it's a nice compliment sarcastic or not.

"Exactly."

Colin looks at you, focusing in heavily. "It's gonna be a waste of both your talents if this game doesn't make it."

"Yep. Yeah, I know." You sigh, brushing an anxious hand through your hair.

"Then get to it."

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Knock, knock, knock!

"Stefan?" You cautiously ask.

He doesn't answer.

Deadlines, deadlines deadlines! The thought banged in your brain like a broken mixer. Must..convince..Stefan..to..work..together... You repeated the mantra, trying to push out all other neurotic thoughts.

He opens the door. It looks as though he's clinging on to the handle to stay upward, his eyes unreadable, his eye bags very present. So many times you'd seen him, eyes glazed, only able to focus on presumably, Bandersnatch. You used to occasionally feel like you were in a psychosis due to the first and last time you'd taken LSD with Colin, and you were hoping the same wasn't true for Stefan. It had been interesting, and very surprising to hear about their experimental hangout. "He laughed?!" You remember saying, interrogating Colin about the nights events. "He was enamored." Colin said with a tinge of satisfaction. "I've never seen him laugh. Ever!" You gaped. Colin shook his head. "He's not a mystery." You wanted to say he wasn't but you highly doubted that.

Squinting at the sorry state standing in front of you, you were starting to wonder if Stefan was well at all.

"Are you sick?" You tilt your head, inspecting him closely. Maybe another angle can help deduce his illness.

"No, no." He looked to the floor, sweat sticking hairs to his forehead.

You hum to yourself.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, just um. Can I have a second?"

You nod and to be polite turn away to look at an ailing office plant on the opposite side of the room. You can the hear rustling of what seems like a thousand pages. Then nothing.

You turn back to enter. Whatever he must've done didn't make his office look any neater. His chair was turned to a smaller rolling chair smooshed in the corner. Scribbled flowsheets were strewn and pushed into piles on the sides of his desk, threatening to fall to the floor. His computer stood in the center, like a glowing portal, awaiting the next line of code. You stepped through the room shifting your weight, nearly missing a coffee mug on the floor. His office was clearly only made for one. Sitting back into the tiny addition of a chair, you feel your leg brush Stefan's. You can feel yourself stiffen, for only a moment. You were never really sure how to talk with him. He was actually pleasant in a nervously polite way. He had a certain level of animation you'd only noticed in his first pitch, and when he talked with Colin about the whacko who made Bandersnatch. Getting anything more out of him, trying for any collaboration was a rare feat. He answered everything as succinctly or as vaguely as possible, never allowing you in his process.

Stefan spoke first as you sat down into the cramped chair, his nervous voice penetrating the room.

"Is this about yesterday?"

You squinted, racking your brain. Yesterday, yesterday…

"No, I don't think so. What was yesterday?"

He bit his lip, not speaking. Stefan had many boyish tendencies like that. You were a year older than him, but the year's difference seemed miles between your status of producer and his mystical breakout genius. You weren't jealous, not that jealous. Though, it would've been nice if your pitch had been accepted last year. The sheer unorthodoxy of Stefan's work style wouldn't bother you so much if you weren't the one who had to keep him in check.

"Oh, um, nevermind."

You eye the built up graveyard of coffee cups near his keyboard.

"I didn't know you drank tea." You lied.

"It's coffee."

"Right."

Great start with the small talk, you internally condemn yourself. Despite knowing each other for almost a year, little to no social barrier had been broken. You take a deep breath. The tightness of the room made every tiny sound amplified. Your breath. The buzz of the computer. Stefan picking his nails. His light breathing.

"We're scary close to the deadline, Stefan. You're coming up with entirely new storylines that we don't have time to play test. We need as much time as we can get to be on the critics side, especially because you're a new developer."

"I'll play test it." He murmured, not looking directly towards you.

You could never wrap your head around the way he spoke so apprehensively when making such firm, gargantuan promises.

You ignore his words. "If the game does well you can add everything you want to Bandersnatch II, III, and IV." You laugh, but his face looked even more mournfully confused than before. The room felt a little smaller. You could feel warmth play across your face, only slightly.

"It'll go well, I mean. Of course, it will." You quickly correct, looking to his face for an indication of anything readable. Despite your tone, you really believe it, as long as he can meet the deadlines.

He's still biting at his lip. His teeth slightly peek from behind his nervous chew, the soft pink turning to white at the pressure.

You feel yourself warm. Has anyone ever told him to try gum? Would it kill him to respond? In the suffocation of the moment, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

"Jesus, Stefan say something!"

Fuck.

He looks up, right into your eyes, probably the most eye contact the two of you have had in months. His eye bags are deep, his face delicately laced with melancholic shock.

The freckles on his face look nice.

Your gut circles.

"Fuck. I didn't mean to say that."

It just slipped out. His mouth was slightly agape. He's not biting his lip any longer, you can't help but note. His eyes pierce yours, like he's forgotten about his love affair with the floor, forgotten that you're staring right back. You can feel the heat on your skin, beyond a point of light dusting, you must look choked right now.

Muttering flustered apologies, you get up quickly, brushing his knee again, feeling like a electric shock. You have to hurl yourself, practically fall over the chair to escape. If he's saying something you can't hear. Before you can realize, you're out the door. Out his door, out the sixth floor door, flying down the stairs and out the lobby hall.

Breathing hard, you stuff your hands in your pockets, thinking about the lecture you'll hear from Mr. Thakur tomorrow. If you even go back.

Fuck! It's not that bad.

Just. Really embarrassing. Your face flushed thinking about your outburst. The way he looked. The magnetic pull seeing his face up close elicited. Your face burned warmer. If that was even possible.

His eyes were hazel.

You shook your head trying to forget as you walked. No use going back to your apartment for another half hour, the plumber was still doing work from the weekend prior, when an LSD induced Colin mistook your toilet for a fuzz car and smashed it up good. It would've been funny had it not been your toilet. You kept walking trying to shake off your embarrassment and the strange feeling in your stomach with each brisk stride.

Then, there it was, appearing just when and where it was needed. Small, humble, and always updating their stock: Reckless Records, feeling all too on the nose from your disastrous meeting with Stefan. You let out a sigh. Sifting through records was preferable to the pit growing in your stomach.

Thumbing through half your wishlist feverishly, you made count of which ones to write down for Colin: Cocteau Twins, Talking Heads, Minor Threat. He'd never admit it, but Colin likes your music, though he never stops trying to make you listen to NON. Picking up the new Replacements record, you headed to the front to checkout. An issue of Melody Maker gleamed on a rack next to the cash register. You winced, making the connection to one of the only things you knew Stefan did and your embarrassment less than a half an hour ago.

"Can I also get the new print?" You motioned your hand to the magazine. As anxiety inducing the magazine was at the moment, you wanted to see how the reviews for the new R.E.M record were.

The cashier nodded, placing the magazine on the vinyl.

Ring!

The shop door gently opened, ringing the bell just as the cash register dinged.

"Your total is £9.41."

You handed a tenner over.

"Don't need the change. Thanks though." You turned quickly, holding your record and magazine tight as you stepped to the door.

Unfortunately, a barrier stood in front of you. Stefan. You jumped back, startled, nearly missing a collision. He looked sweaty, messenger bag folding his jacket collar in the wrong direction.

You swallowed dryly, averting your eyes. Only way out is through. You cleared your throat, but before you could say anything he spoke.

"First time?" He awkwardly choked, like someone was forcing him to say it. The joke freezes you in confusion.

"Here?"

"Oh, um," He uncomfortably gulps. "I was joking."

Oh. You flush. He was joking.

You don't speak, unable make a sound. Even if you could, your brain wouldn't be able to pick out something to say of the thousand thoughts you were overloading with. Why couldn't you think of something? Had he been running?

"I'm really sorry." He blurted out interrupting the storm of thoughts in your brain.

Stefan Butler. Sorry? This was all quite surprising. When was the last time you'd seen him outside work? When was the last time he'd joked? With you? Probably never.

"What?" There's no trying to hide your surprise now, stomach and brain flipping one hundred miles an hour. Forcing your face up, you catch his eyes. Hazel, green, you couldn't really tell now. They looked brilliant.

"I really am sorry." His echo broke your gaze. You were staring.

"I'm sorry I haven't gotten things done on time. And that we haven't worked together more. That I haven't let you work with me more."

The soft way he said you, tinged your brain. Previously, you'd have thought it impossible to see Stefan this expressive. It was unbelievable. It was alluring. His eyes watched your mouth nervously, looking for a sign, any little upturn. He hadn't realized how much he liked your smile. Or you. When you were smiling, he meant.

It was strange, you were still stunned, but you couldn't help your face. You were cheesing finally seeing emotion come out of Stefan.

"I-" Sputtering words try to come out, but an involuntary laugh came instead. Comedy was not beyond you. In fact, it was seemingly apparent that your mind wanted badly to cope with the physical symptoms of anxiety that way. Your laugh came as a surprise to both you and Stefan. His face switched in confusion. You'd never seen that one before.

"And here I thought it was that you hated me." It comes out. A quick joke. As if it might help the dizzying feeling you were going to pass out anytime now. You felt worse.

His face contorted and lightly flushed. By far the most animated you'd ever seen since he pitched Bandersnatch. If you had a camera, you thought to yourself, you'd photograph him right there.

"I like you!" He protested.

The wry smile you didn't realize you were wearing, drops immediately. If you threw up on him you'd have to leave your job, you think, as your heart beats through your throat. You noticed that now, you too, were beginning to get sweaty.

His face, a tad shade lighter than the beet red yours carried, had an unreadable look, not an expression you'd ever seen in the office before. He fiddles with his hands. It feels like a blindingly hot spotlight had positioned onto you.

There was a thick silence, but he continued.

"I just, I know I can do this the right way."

He breathed out, panting like he'd run a mile. Silence again. Did he think you couldn't do it your way? You stared through him, hoping to disappear, or turn invisible, erase this memory completely from your mind.

"Your turn." He said.

You cock your head involuntarily, making a face of confusion.

"To say something." He looks at you, expectantly.

If you had blinked you would've missed it. A minuet, almost imperceptible turn of the lips. Almost a smile. You wish you could've caught it on record. Brief and gorgeous.

Your mouth drops open.

"Stefan Butler being cheeky? Has the world gone mad?"

The slight curl of his lips floods over. He smiles, actually really smiles. A full, relieved smile.

You can't help but grin, such a momentous occasion would ask nothing less. You can breathe again, shallow and nervous.

"You're Colin Ritman's protege, soon to be famous game developer."

Stefan sheepishly smiles.

"I'm not worried about you. I mean maybe a little. Or a lot. I don't know."

You breathe in to the best of your ability, continuing your sentence before it sounds bad.

"I know you love Bandersnatch. This thing is like your fucking firstborn child." You laugh then pause.

"I love it too."

He looks at you, eyes flickering quietly. You think you see some semblance of appreciativeness.

"But it's fucking consuming. Doing things to perfection. The game."

He nods.

"I know you can do it." You affirm once more, but continue, "Given a longer timeline, I know you could. Exactly how you wanted." You let out a breathy smile.

He looks so attentive now. Staring straight at you like he's engrossed deeply into a story. He wonders how much longer he can focus on your face.

"But, you have to work with me if you want to get it done with the deadline we've been given."

You shake your head thinking about it. His face flashes a worrisome look again.

"I'm sorry-

You lightly shove him. The first playful touch you've initiated since the two of you met. Your fingers buzz from the contact, surprising you even after you put your hand down.

He looks flustered.

"It's not your fault Christmas demands yearly masterpiece games." You smirk. "We just have to work together."

He smiles and nods.

Masterpiece, he repeats in his head.

You speak again. "I'm sorry for what I said. I owe you a record and actually,"

You pull Melody Maker out of your arms. His face lights up with recognition.

"Got this for you." You wave it and gently hand it over to him, fingers touching briefly.

His eyes linger on your hands. Your face still feels hot.

"You're the one who puts them in the break room?"

You hum almost too excitedly. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't know you read them."

He shakes his head with a smile. "You should've told me." he says softly looking down.

Silence again. You realize you've been standing in the shop a bit too long with no intention to look any longer.

You point to the door. "Should we...?"

"Yes. Yeah." He nods, following you into the street. The wind nips at your legs, but your coat is enough to keep you warm.

Stefan's intent gaze makes you feel like you feel a little more hot.

"You live with your Dad right?" You ask.

He nods, embarrassed, putting an arm on his neck.

"No, that's totally cool!" You wave your arms in a flurry, trying to relieve his embarrassment. He watches yo, a smile returning to his face as he speaks.

"Yeah, I mean it's not my favourite thing in the world."

"Don't worry I lived with my mom till last year and I'm barely scraping by now. It's definitely a good choice."

He nods.

"Your office is kind of small, so maybe…" You pause trying the gain confidence to think of how you can best ask.

"Mmmaybe, we could go over the game at my place, house, I mean flat." You grimace at how bad it sounds coming out of your mouth. If Colin were here even he'd laugh, he'd tell you how awkwa-

"Yes. Actually, it might work if we could see more of each other."

Both your faces flush. Wait, is he blushing too?

"For the game!" he quickly clarifies, but you can't wipe off the smile digging into your face.

You can see him staring at your lips. Shit, don't be weird. You look away quickly, the only option because tearing the smile off your face would be painful. The smile wavers from Stefan's face. He doesn't know why, but he wishes you'd look towards him again.

You sway for a moment, then look back. The best bluff face you've got: a small smile in exchange for the grin you felt inside.

You looked at your watch causually.

"My place is ready in fifteen. The tube ride's practically that long."

Stefan's face flickers into surprise. "Now?" He blurts out, sounding concerned.

You feel your stomach drop.

"Oh no, we don't have to! We can do another time, of course. I mean the plumber might be longer anyway and-" You hurriedly try to clean up your obvious misstep.

"No, it works." He gently places his words over your worried blurb. He looks more softer, less worried.

Well, you'd gotten this far. You reach your arm out and nervously test contact. A collegial arm link. Walk together like good comrades.

You touch his arm like it would crumble if you pushed too hard. You softly pulled to indicate your inquiry. He shot a confused glance, jumping at the contact. You bring your arm back.

"Oh! Sorry. Um." You pause. Too far in. "We can walk together?" You bend your elbow to create a linked shaped like a court jester playing charades.

His face still confused, morphs into understanding. His cheeks tinge a light pink.

"Yeah. Okay."

He nods, offering his arm meekly. You take it feeling the warmth radiate from your arms together. You wonder if he can feel your sweat.

"Mohan's gonna complain we didn't do this sooner!" A joke to ease the nervousness.

Stefan shoots right back.

"He'll be fine once he sees Bandersnatch II."

You laugh, wondering what other surprising things Stefan would have to say today.

If you looked over you would've seen a sight to behold. Stefan was gazing at you, a true grin laid flatly on his face.

You hope to god your flat is clean.

#bandersnatch #stefan butler #stefan butler x reader #colin ritman #mohan thakur #tuckersoft #black mirror #black mirror bandersnatch

Deadlines (Stefan Butler x reader)

slow burn, yearning, coworkers to lovers, fluff, angst/comfort

Word Count: 4304

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It wasn't his first time hiring a nobody.

The game needs at least two month's work. At least.

Your brows knit together.

The elevator dings.

"Speak of the devil!" Mr. Thakhur reached his arms out to pat Stefan, who's hurdling trajectory clearly hadn't accounted for any obstructions. He stumbled almost landing in the boss's arms.

"Woah, kid!"

Deadlines.

You wanted to laugh, but you felt your gut twist. No sleep tonight.

"Sure. Of course."

"Thank you." Mr. Thakur pivoted and marched to his office to conduct his afternoon yelling matches with whatever provider had made a mistake the day before.

"You know,"

You blinked back to reality.

Colin is looking over your shoulder, quite thoughtfully at the cityscape through the window.

"This doesn't have to be your lead project."

"No, no." You pause. "I'm really grateful you're giving me this chance."

He snorts. "You can thank Mohan."

You smile, remembering how hard Colin pushed to get you into this job when you first started working.

"Yeah, yeah." You pause again.

"I trust him. I do." You turn to look at Stefan's office. You can see the light buzz from his computer.

"But what the hell do I do if we can't complete the deadline?"

"You start again. Thronglets is already set for next year and you know Mohan would put you as head producer."

You wince. You can't do this again.

"Yeah, I could, but-"

"It would be a waste of your creative talent."

You roll your eyes, but it's a nice compliment sarcastic or not.

"Exactly."

Colin looks at you, focusing in heavily. "It's gonna be a waste of both your talents if this game doesn't make it."

"Yep. Yeah, I know." You sigh, brushing an anxious hand through your hair.

"Then get to it."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Knock, knock, knock!

"Stefan?" You cautiously ask.

He doesn't answer.

Squinting at the sorry state standing in front of you, you were starting to wonder if Stefan was well at all.

"Are you sick?" You tilt your head, inspecting him closely. Maybe another angle can help deduce his illness.

"No, no." He looked to the floor, sweat sticking hairs to his forehead.

You hum to yourself.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, just um. Can I have a second?"

You nod and to be polite turn away to look at an ailing office plant on the opposite side of the room. You can the hear rustling of what seems like a thousand pages. Then nothing.

Stefan spoke first as you sat down into the cramped chair, his nervous voice penetrating the room.

"Is this about yesterday?"

You squinted, racking your brain. Yesterday, yesterday…

"No, I don't think so. What was yesterday?"

"Oh, um, nevermind."

You eye the built up graveyard of coffee cups near his keyboard.

"I didn't know you drank tea." You lied.

"It's coffee."

"Right."

"I'll play test it." He murmured, not looking directly towards you.

You could never wrap your head around the way he spoke so apprehensively when making such firm, gargantuan promises.

He's still biting at his lip. His teeth slightly peek from behind his nervous chew, the soft pink turning to white at the pressure.

You feel yourself warm. Has anyone ever told him to try gum? Would it kill him to respond? In the suffocation of the moment, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

"Jesus, Stefan say something!"

Fuck.

He looks up, right into your eyes, probably the most eye contact the two of you have had in months. His eye bags are deep, his face delicately laced with melancholic shock.

The freckles on his face look nice.

Your gut circles.

"Fuck. I didn't mean to say that."

Breathing hard, you stuff your hands in your pockets, thinking about the lecture you'll hear from Mr. Thakur tomorrow. If you even go back.

Fuck! It's not that bad.

Just. Really embarrassing. Your face flushed thinking about your outburst. The way he looked. The magnetic pull seeing his face up close elicited. Your face burned warmer. If that was even possible.

His eyes were hazel.

"Can I also get the new print?" You motioned your hand to the magazine. As anxiety inducing the magazine was at the moment, you wanted to see how the reviews for the new R.E.M record were.

The cashier nodded, placing the magazine on the vinyl.

Ring!

The shop door gently opened, ringing the bell just as the cash register dinged.

"Your total is £9.41."

You handed a tenner over.

"Don't need the change. Thanks though." You turned quickly, holding your record and magazine tight as you stepped to the door.

Unfortunately, a barrier stood in front of you. Stefan. You jumped back, startled, nearly missing a collision. He looked sweaty, messenger bag folding his jacket collar in the wrong direction.

You swallowed dryly, averting your eyes. Only way out is through. You cleared your throat, but before you could say anything he spoke.

"First time?" He awkwardly choked, like someone was forcing him to say it. The joke freezes you in confusion.

"Here?"

"Oh, um," He uncomfortably gulps. "I was joking."

Oh. You flush. He was joking.

"I'm really sorry." He blurted out interrupting the storm of thoughts in your brain.

Stefan Butler. Sorry? This was all quite surprising. When was the last time you'd seen him outside work? When was the last time he'd joked? With you? Probably never.

"I really am sorry." His echo broke your gaze. You were staring.

"I'm sorry I haven't gotten things done on time. And that we haven't worked together more. That I haven't let you work with me more."

It was strange, you were still stunned, but you couldn't help your face. You were cheesing finally seeing emotion come out of Stefan.

"And here I thought it was that you hated me." It comes out. A quick joke. As if it might help the dizzying feeling you were going to pass out anytime now. You felt worse.

His face contorted and lightly flushed. By far the most animated you'd ever seen since he pitched Bandersnatch. If you had a camera, you thought to yourself, you'd photograph him right there.

"I like you!" He protested.

There was a thick silence, but he continued.

"I just, I know I can do this the right way."

"Your turn." He said.

You cock your head involuntarily, making a face of confusion.

"To say something." He looks at you, expectantly.

If you had blinked you would've missed it. A minuet, almost imperceptible turn of the lips. Almost a smile. You wish you could've caught it on record. Brief and gorgeous.

Your mouth drops open.

"Stefan Butler being cheeky? Has the world gone mad?"

The slight curl of his lips floods over. He smiles, actually really smiles. A full, relieved smile.

You can't help but grin, such a momentous occasion would ask nothing less. You can breathe again, shallow and nervous.

"You're Colin Ritman's protege, soon to be famous game developer."

Stefan sheepishly smiles.

"I'm not worried about you. I mean maybe a little. Or a lot. I don't know."

You breathe in to the best of your ability, continuing your sentence before it sounds bad.

"I know you love Bandersnatch. This thing is like your fucking firstborn child." You laugh then pause.

"I love it too."

He looks at you, eyes flickering quietly. You think you see some semblance of appreciativeness.

"But it's fucking consuming. Doing things to perfection. The game."

He nods.

"I know you can do it." You affirm once more, but continue, "Given a longer timeline, I know you could. Exactly how you wanted." You let out a breathy smile.

He looks so attentive now. Staring straight at you like he's engrossed deeply into a story. He wonders how much longer he can focus on your face.

"But, you have to work with me if you want to get it done with the deadline we've been given."

You shake your head thinking about it. His face flashes a worrisome look again.

"I'm sorry-

You lightly shove him. The first playful touch you've initiated since the two of you met. Your fingers buzz from the contact, surprising you even after you put your hand down.

He looks flustered.

"It's not your fault Christmas demands yearly masterpiece games." You smirk. "We just have to work together."

He smiles and nods.

Masterpiece, he repeats in his head.

You speak again. "I'm sorry for what I said. I owe you a record and actually,"

You pull Melody Maker out of your arms. His face lights up with recognition.

"Got this for you." You wave it and gently hand it over to him, fingers touching briefly.

His eyes linger on your hands. Your face still feels hot.

"You're the one who puts them in the break room?"

You hum almost too excitedly. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't know you read them."

He shakes his head with a smile. "You should've told me." he says softly looking down.

Silence again. You realize you've been standing in the shop a bit too long with no intention to look any longer.

You point to the door. "Should we...?"

"Yes. Yeah." He nods, following you into the street. The wind nips at your legs, but your coat is enough to keep you warm.

Stefan's intent gaze makes you feel like you feel a little more hot.

"You live with your Dad right?" You ask.

He nods, embarrassed, putting an arm on his neck.

"No, that's totally cool!" You wave your arms in a flurry, trying to relieve his embarrassment. He watches yo, a smile returning to his face as he speaks.

"Yeah, I mean it's not my favourite thing in the world."

"Don't worry I lived with my mom till last year and I'm barely scraping by now. It's definitely a good choice."

He nods.

"Your office is kind of small, so maybe…" You pause trying the gain confidence to think of how you can best ask.

"Mmmaybe, we could go over the game at my place, house, I mean flat." You grimace at how bad it sounds coming out of your mouth. If Colin were here even he'd laugh, he'd tell you how awkwa-

"Yes. Actually, it might work if we could see more of each other."

Both your faces flush. Wait, is he blushing too?

"For the game!" he quickly clarifies, but you can't wipe off the smile digging into your face.

You sway for a moment, then look back. The best bluff face you've got: a small smile in exchange for the grin you felt inside.

You looked at your watch causually.

"My place is ready in fifteen. The tube ride's practically that long."

Stefan's face flickers into surprise. "Now?" He blurts out, sounding concerned.

You feel your stomach drop.

"Oh no, we don't have to! We can do another time, of course. I mean the plumber might be longer anyway and-" You hurriedly try to clean up your obvious misstep.

"No, it works." He gently places his words over your worried blurb. He looks more softer, less worried.

Well, you'd gotten this far. You reach your arm out and nervously test contact. A collegial arm link. Walk together like good comrades.

You touch his arm like it would crumble if you pushed too hard. You softly pulled to indicate your inquiry. He shot a confused glance, jumping at the contact. You bring your arm back.

"Oh! Sorry. Um." You pause. Too far in. "We can walk together?" You bend your elbow to create a linked shaped like a court jester playing charades.

His face still confused, morphs into understanding. His cheeks tinge a light pink.

"Yeah. Okay."

He nods, offering his arm meekly. You take it feeling the warmth radiate from your arms together. You wonder if he can feel your sweat.

"Mohan's gonna complain we didn't do this sooner!" A joke to ease the nervousness.

Stefan shoots right back.

"He'll be fine once he sees Bandersnatch II."

You laugh, wondering what other surprising things Stefan would have to say today.

If you looked over you would've seen a sight to behold. Stefan was gazing at you, a true grin laid flatly on his face.

You hope to god your flat is clean.

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