Games in Keith's Office
Summary: What happens under the desk, stays under the desk. Kind of.
Rating: High T/low M
A/N: My second RPF. So going to hell. This one's for jesidres who, like me, thinks there needs to be more Keith/Rachel fic. And if no one else is going to write it, I guess I might as well.
Inspired by this.
ETA: As suggested by a friend, i just want to make it clear that this is not meant to suggest or intrude on any person's sexuality or gender preferences. Rachel is awesomesauce just the way she is, but there's something about pairing her with Keith that I can't get away from. I CAN'T QUIT YOU, PAIRING.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It starts out innocently enough.
Well, as innocent as these types of things can be.
(Has this type of thing ever really happened before?)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
So this is how it starts: he wanders over to Rachel’s studio one night after his own show is over. They’re chatting amiably during a commercial break until Rachel sees a camera rolling and then it’s all flapping hands and “Get down!” and before he knows it he’s crouched under her desk, looking up at her wide eyes and dropped jaw.
“I knew you wanted to get me on my knees,” he quips, and they both burst out laughing.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
This is how it continues: a few weeks later he’s talking with her again, a heated discussion about C Street and Iran and a dozen other things, ignoring everyone around them, until suddenly she’s swearing and it’s déjà vu, ending with him under the desk before he can even blink. And then he does blink because, oh shit, this isn’t a commercial bumper.
Rachel, ever the trooper, only freezes for a second before starting the segment.
And they go right back to their discussion at the next commercial break.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It’s really a perfect arrangement. The camera shoots high enough that he is out of sight under the desk, and he doesn’t have to wait until after her show is over to talk to her. A once off accident turns into a routine, until he’s stopping by two, three, or more nights a week. The producers and directors roll their eyes but don’t say anything. Kent was startled the first time he saw the large men’s shoes peeking out from under Rachel’s desk, but now he finds it absolutely hilarious, and just pretends Keith isn’t there.
He isn’t afraid of talking during a segment either. Rachel manages to get an interview with Michael Steele, and his whispered running commentary earns him a swift kick in the side. It’s the first of many jabs from a Rachel on the verge of hysterical mirth.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
One day he wanders in and starts to duck under the desk, only to stop and stare at the large, fluffy pillow that has materialized in his usual spot. He looks over at Rachel.
“Thought the cold, hard floor might be too hard on your old knees,” she quips, grin wide and toothy. Keith squints at her in a mock reproach, but the commercial’s about to end, no time to fire anything back.
The pillow’s actually pretty nice (the floor actually is hard and cold, not that he’d ever admit it). He squirms around, trying to situate himself, and in his restless fidgeting he manages to brush his arm against Rachel’s bare ankle.
She almost falls off her stool.
Oh, he thinks, realization dawning of how freaking awesome this has the potential to be as he watches Rachel pretend that nothing has happened. It’s not working-from this angle he can see the red of her blush under the studio makeup.
He drags his fingers across her ankle five more times before the segment ends, grinning as he is rewarded with various twitches and jerks from the woman above him. After the last instance she resorts back to kicking him sharply, which is totally going to leave a bruise but totally worth it.
Once the cameras are off, she pushes back from the desk and glares at him. He smiles back, the picture of innocence. Her eyes narrow even more.
Game on.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He starts in right away the next night, fingers skating across her ankle bone. But she’s prepared now, and doesn’t so much as flinch. Even from below he can see her triumphant smile. Keith frowns, disappointed that the game is over so soon, until his gaze slides down to her shoes-sneakers with loose laces, easy to slip off and on.
Time to up the ante.
He has her right shoe off in an instant and can feel her tense as it dawns on her what’s about to happen. It’s not enough time for her to prepare, though, and as he trails his fingertips over the sole of her foot she draws in a quick breath, trying to force down the laughter.
“Everything’s fine, Mr. Gibbs,” she says as he grins in victory. “Now, as you were saying about the health care bill…”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It turns out that Rachel is quite ticklish, so this vein of attack lasts for quite a while. She tries to counter by wearing different shoes, sneakers and boots with tight laces and zippers and clasps and buckles. It’s all in vain, though, as Keith is able to overcome every obstacle she puts in his way. But eventually Rachel overcomes even that, breathing deeply and evenly through the ticklish spasms, and he’s left looking for another line of attack.
The only way to go is up.
His hand travels up her calf to draw lazy circles around her knee through the fabric of her slacks.
And this is how it changes, because Rachel tenses, but it’s a different kind of tense, a tense that inexplicably makes his blood hum and rush and pound behind his ears. The space beneath the desk becomes hot, and cramped, and he’s way too close to going somewhere he shouldn’t, but his hands suddenly have a mind of their own as they inch up, and up, and…
Rachel lets out a breath that could almost be called a moan, and Keith snatches his hands away as if they’ve been burned.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He feels like he should apologize, should beg for forgiveness for his breach of their friendship, but Rachel doesn’t say anything and so he doesn’t either, because that would be admitting something happened. So the next night he quietly slips under the desk and shuffles as far away from her as he can, promising himself that there will be no more temptation. He’s going to be on his best behavior.
He’s never been good at keeping promises.
Just a brush against the ankle, he rationalizes, as his hand is drawn to her skin. Back to the game of trying to get Rachel to jump, or laugh, or kick him in the head. This is safe.
And it would be, except that Rachel pauses-hesitates. The moment seems to stretch out further and further until she finally moves, subtly but deliberately slouching down, letting her knees fall open.
An invitation.
His hands travel up her legs slowly, but there will be no backing away tonight, it’s not possible. The thought doesn’t even cross his mind as he runs his finger over the crease of her thigh. That’s all he does for several moments, hypnotized by the feel of it, until finally he drags his fingers a few inches to the right…
The fabric is warm and damp.
Nobody notices the husky undertone in Rachel’s voice.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Neither of them mention the new dimension to the game they’re playing. Outside of her studio, it’s as if nothing’s changed. But inside…
Inside, Keith’s busy discovering how far unzipping a zipper and a few subtle shifts can make Rachel’s pants fall down her hips. Not far, but enough. Enough for him to move aside simple white cotton and press one, then two fingers inside, palm rubbing against her as he moves.
Rachel’s trembling by the end of the show. The crew stays oblivious.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He walks in on the first of April to a strange atmosphere on the set. Everyone’s whispering to each other and looking as if black is white and up is down. He looks at them all strangely, then just shakes his head and continues on.
“Happy birthday, Rachel.”
“Why thank you, Mr. Olbermann,” she says, voice low, and it’s not until he’s crouched down that he can see what has the studio buzzing.
Rachel’s wearing a skirt.
It’s professional, knee length, and matches her jacket, but it’s still a skirt, and he looks back up at her, eyes wide and mouth open in shock.
Her gaze is intent and full of fake innocence. “I thought it would be a good April Fool’s joke, and it seems to be going better than I expected.”
“Yeah,” he says, as all his blood rushes south.
She’s not wearing any underwear either, and he thanks her by humming Happy Birthday into her skin.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next night finds him fidgeting at his desk, restless and ready for the show to be over before it’s even started. He’s so preoccupied, in fact, that he doesn’t notice he has company until said company announces herself.
“Rachel!” he yelps, and somehow manages not to fall off his chair.
“I enjoyed my birthday present so much,” she informs him, eyes glittering even in the shadows under his desk, hands smoothing up his legs, “that I felt I should repay you as soon as possible.”
“My birthday was in January,” he protests, voice shaky.
Her hands are already at his thighs. “Belated birthday present, then.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Keith has an amazing belated birthday.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Rating: High T/low M
A/N: My second RPF. So going to hell. This one's for jesidres who, like me, thinks there needs to be more Keith/Rachel fic. And if no one else is going to write it, I guess I might as well.
Inspired by this.
ETA: As suggested by a friend, i just want to make it clear that this is not meant to suggest or intrude on any person's sexuality or gender preferences. Rachel is awesomesauce just the way she is, but there's something about pairing her with Keith that I can't get away from. I CAN'T QUIT YOU, PAIRING.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It starts out innocently enough.
Well, as innocent as these types of things can be.
(Has this type of thing ever really happened before?)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
So this is how it starts: he wanders over to Rachel’s studio one night after his own show is over. They’re chatting amiably during a commercial break until Rachel sees a camera rolling and then it’s all flapping hands and “Get down!” and before he knows it he’s crouched under her desk, looking up at her wide eyes and dropped jaw.
“I knew you wanted to get me on my knees,” he quips, and they both burst out laughing.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
This is how it continues: a few weeks later he’s talking with her again, a heated discussion about C Street and Iran and a dozen other things, ignoring everyone around them, until suddenly she’s swearing and it’s déjà vu, ending with him under the desk before he can even blink. And then he does blink because, oh shit, this isn’t a commercial bumper.
Rachel, ever the trooper, only freezes for a second before starting the segment.
And they go right back to their discussion at the next commercial break.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It’s really a perfect arrangement. The camera shoots high enough that he is out of sight under the desk, and he doesn’t have to wait until after her show is over to talk to her. A once off accident turns into a routine, until he’s stopping by two, three, or more nights a week. The producers and directors roll their eyes but don’t say anything. Kent was startled the first time he saw the large men’s shoes peeking out from under Rachel’s desk, but now he finds it absolutely hilarious, and just pretends Keith isn’t there.
He isn’t afraid of talking during a segment either. Rachel manages to get an interview with Michael Steele, and his whispered running commentary earns him a swift kick in the side. It’s the first of many jabs from a Rachel on the verge of hysterical mirth.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
One day he wanders in and starts to duck under the desk, only to stop and stare at the large, fluffy pillow that has materialized in his usual spot. He looks over at Rachel.
“Thought the cold, hard floor might be too hard on your old knees,” she quips, grin wide and toothy. Keith squints at her in a mock reproach, but the commercial’s about to end, no time to fire anything back.
The pillow’s actually pretty nice (the floor actually is hard and cold, not that he’d ever admit it). He squirms around, trying to situate himself, and in his restless fidgeting he manages to brush his arm against Rachel’s bare ankle.
She almost falls off her stool.
Oh, he thinks, realization dawning of how freaking awesome this has the potential to be as he watches Rachel pretend that nothing has happened. It’s not working-from this angle he can see the red of her blush under the studio makeup.
He drags his fingers across her ankle five more times before the segment ends, grinning as he is rewarded with various twitches and jerks from the woman above him. After the last instance she resorts back to kicking him sharply, which is totally going to leave a bruise but totally worth it.
Once the cameras are off, she pushes back from the desk and glares at him. He smiles back, the picture of innocence. Her eyes narrow even more.
Game on.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He starts in right away the next night, fingers skating across her ankle bone. But she’s prepared now, and doesn’t so much as flinch. Even from below he can see her triumphant smile. Keith frowns, disappointed that the game is over so soon, until his gaze slides down to her shoes-sneakers with loose laces, easy to slip off and on.
Time to up the ante.
He has her right shoe off in an instant and can feel her tense as it dawns on her what’s about to happen. It’s not enough time for her to prepare, though, and as he trails his fingertips over the sole of her foot she draws in a quick breath, trying to force down the laughter.
“Everything’s fine, Mr. Gibbs,” she says as he grins in victory. “Now, as you were saying about the health care bill…”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It turns out that Rachel is quite ticklish, so this vein of attack lasts for quite a while. She tries to counter by wearing different shoes, sneakers and boots with tight laces and zippers and clasps and buckles. It’s all in vain, though, as Keith is able to overcome every obstacle she puts in his way. But eventually Rachel overcomes even that, breathing deeply and evenly through the ticklish spasms, and he’s left looking for another line of attack.
The only way to go is up.
His hand travels up her calf to draw lazy circles around her knee through the fabric of her slacks.
And this is how it changes, because Rachel tenses, but it’s a different kind of tense, a tense that inexplicably makes his blood hum and rush and pound behind his ears. The space beneath the desk becomes hot, and cramped, and he’s way too close to going somewhere he shouldn’t, but his hands suddenly have a mind of their own as they inch up, and up, and…
Rachel lets out a breath that could almost be called a moan, and Keith snatches his hands away as if they’ve been burned.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He feels like he should apologize, should beg for forgiveness for his breach of their friendship, but Rachel doesn’t say anything and so he doesn’t either, because that would be admitting something happened. So the next night he quietly slips under the desk and shuffles as far away from her as he can, promising himself that there will be no more temptation. He’s going to be on his best behavior.
He’s never been good at keeping promises.
Just a brush against the ankle, he rationalizes, as his hand is drawn to her skin. Back to the game of trying to get Rachel to jump, or laugh, or kick him in the head. This is safe.
And it would be, except that Rachel pauses-hesitates. The moment seems to stretch out further and further until she finally moves, subtly but deliberately slouching down, letting her knees fall open.
An invitation.
His hands travel up her legs slowly, but there will be no backing away tonight, it’s not possible. The thought doesn’t even cross his mind as he runs his finger over the crease of her thigh. That’s all he does for several moments, hypnotized by the feel of it, until finally he drags his fingers a few inches to the right…
The fabric is warm and damp.
Nobody notices the husky undertone in Rachel’s voice.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Neither of them mention the new dimension to the game they’re playing. Outside of her studio, it’s as if nothing’s changed. But inside…
Inside, Keith’s busy discovering how far unzipping a zipper and a few subtle shifts can make Rachel’s pants fall down her hips. Not far, but enough. Enough for him to move aside simple white cotton and press one, then two fingers inside, palm rubbing against her as he moves.
Rachel’s trembling by the end of the show. The crew stays oblivious.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He walks in on the first of April to a strange atmosphere on the set. Everyone’s whispering to each other and looking as if black is white and up is down. He looks at them all strangely, then just shakes his head and continues on.
“Happy birthday, Rachel.”
“Why thank you, Mr. Olbermann,” she says, voice low, and it’s not until he’s crouched down that he can see what has the studio buzzing.
Rachel’s wearing a skirt.
It’s professional, knee length, and matches her jacket, but it’s still a skirt, and he looks back up at her, eyes wide and mouth open in shock.
Her gaze is intent and full of fake innocence. “I thought it would be a good April Fool’s joke, and it seems to be going better than I expected.”
“Yeah,” he says, as all his blood rushes south.
She’s not wearing any underwear either, and he thanks her by humming Happy Birthday into her skin.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next night finds him fidgeting at his desk, restless and ready for the show to be over before it’s even started. He’s so preoccupied, in fact, that he doesn’t notice he has company until said company announces herself.
“Rachel!” he yelps, and somehow manages not to fall off his chair.
“I enjoyed my birthday present so much,” she informs him, eyes glittering even in the shadows under his desk, hands smoothing up his legs, “that I felt I should repay you as soon as possible.”
“My birthday was in January,” he protests, voice shaky.
Her hands are already at his thighs. “Belated birthday present, then.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Keith has an amazing belated birthday.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~