Dollhouse Fic: "It's a Strange Sort of Thing" (Ivy/Topher, PG-13)
Title: It's a Strange Sort of Thing
Characters/Pairings: Ivy, Topher, Dominic, Madeline, mention of various others; Ivy/Topher, mention of Madeline/Ballard and Dominic/DeWitt
Rating: PG-13 for innuendo and adult themes
Length: 6,115 words
Spoilers: first season (AU for 1x13, "Epitaph One")
Notes: part of Waking 'verse
Summary: Ivy ruminates on the strange little situation that is her love life, and what she's going to do now.
If there’s one thing Ivy really dislikes at the Dollhouse, it’s the way people there socialize.
The facility has plenty of on-site employees. But sometimes it feels as if they might as well not exist, for all the interaction she has with them.
People here divide themselves, whether unconsciously or otherwise, by duties and occupation. The handlers form their own group and rarely go outside of it. Same thing with the caretakers, and the extra security staff as well. Sometimes there’s overlap between the circles, but mostly it’s total stratification.
Ivy doesn’t think she’s ever exchanged words with any of them that weren’t in the context of her job. Outside of that, all she’s warranted is a polite nod of acknowledgement if they pass each other in the hall.
The people in charge form their own layer. Once that meant a group of two; Ms. DeWitt and her right hand grunt Mr. Dominic, with the occasional inclusion for Topher, who as head programmer could also be termed unique.
When Mr. Langton arrived, things got shaken up. He never really belonged with his handler peers but floated straight to the top, assigned as he was to the House’s special girl, and perceptive enough to know it.
Then Mr. Dominic got “fired”, Langton got promoted, Mr. Dominic came back and soon after came Mr. Ballard and Madeline. The top circle widened, while the handlers, caretakers and security still kept to themselves.
Ivy hasn’t been in a place that felt so cliquey since high school. Maybe she wouldn’t mind half as much, if not for how the way the social structure functions seems to mainly leave her isolated.
She doesn’t belong to an automatic “group”. Her department consists of two people, her and Topher, and he…outranks her. And has little time for her. Unless he needs her to make a potato chip run.
Well…not so much any more. But, more on that later.
For a long time, Ivy got her social needs fulfilled through vicarious observation. From her silent and mostly unnoticed corner, she watched the other players go through the game.
She could make a chart, if she wanted. Nikoden doesn’t like Ramirez who sort of like-likes Hutchins (except Hutchins would be more likely to go after Nikoden, frankly, only Nikoden doesn’t swing that way), Alvarez gets along fine with Ramirez, and nobody likes Bicks.
Alvarez still occasionally talks to Langton, who mostly divides his time between Claire and Ballard. Ballard is dating Madeline who is friends with, of all people, Topher and Mr. Dominic. Ms. DeWitt is screwing Mr. Dominic (they’re both incredibly subtle and not, if you know what to look for), who tolerates Langton but would clearly like nothing more than to punch Ballard right in the face. Langton and Topher were starting to look like they’d end up pretty close once, except then Ballard showed up and got along fine with Langton while Topher hated him, and at the same time Mr. Dominic came back and Langton didn’t really trust him while he and Topher ended up bonding, and…well, so much for that. Langton and Topher still speak civilly, but they’ve developed this habit of avoiding each other when their other best buddy guys are around, which is unfortunately often.
And Ivy herself? The cheese stands alone, mostly; except for how she got lucky enough to come out of her shell at the right time to start interacting with Claire, who she now has lunch with most days, and sees occasionally outside of work as well.
Oh, and then there’s also the fact that she’s now dating Topher.
Topher. She’s dating Topher. In spite of him being her boss…and also Topher.
It’s possibly the strangest thing that Ivy’s ever found herself doing, and she works at a hidden facility where they reprogram people’s brains.
It just sort of happened, really. Ivy always respected Topher for his genius, but at first she also found him to be downright insufferable in his self-awareness. Of course, time passed: his quirks grew at least tolerable through exposure, sometimes even mildly endearing. She could stand to talk to him about things other than “How do I avoid a stacking glitch when building this particular synapse?”, and “Do you want regular or double-stuffed Oreos?” But that was about it.
Until she found out that apparently Topher had been nursing a massive crush on her for ages, and was frenetically trying to get her to notice the entire time. To which all Ivy can really think to say is, “Whoops.”
But, anyway, he eventually came out with it, and Ivy figured between what odd charm Topher does have and the fact her current job makes it pretty unlikely she’s going to do much better, it was worth a shot.
Of course, since they see each other every day that makes the option of taking things slow kinda impossible. So they pretty much got thrown into it right away - while at the same time, she continues assisting him at work the same way she always has.
Ivy would describe their status as floating somewhere between “first base” and “going steady”.
Life can be so weird, sometimes.
“Are you sure you don’t want any help from me with this imprint?”
Topher doesn’t glance up from where he sits staring at his computer screen, eyes glassy as he attempts to figure it out, mind racing. “Nuh uh,” he tells her, shaking his head. “I got it.” Without looking he raises one of his hands. “Get me another juice box, will ya?”
Ivy sighs long-sufferingly, but goes over to the fridge. She gets out apple - apple is for thinking. Grape juice is the juice of triumph. And cherry juice is banned in the Dollhouse after the forbidden to be spoken of incident involving a squirt gun and Mr. Dominic’s palest suit.
“Get me another juice box, what?” she prompts, even as she walks over to him with the carton in her hand.
He glances up at her, grinning. “Get me another juice box, please, Ivy, oh most talented and semi-worthy goddess of my domain.”
She struggles to keep her face blank and unsmiling as she gives him the juice box, but she doesn’t quite succeed. “You could’ve stopped at ‘please’,” she lets him know.
He gives her another, broader grin as he sucks on his little bendy-straw.
“No I couldn’t have.”
As Topher returns to eyeing his imprint puzzle, Ivy stands behind his chair slightly to the left. She slips a hand over his shoulder, absently rubbing the material of his sweater-vest between her fingers, feeling how warm he is underneath. Then she moves her hand to the top of his head, tousling his hair.
She looks at the screen, tracing some of the unmatched areas in the personality coding. She thinks she might see the answer, but she’ll wait until Topher notices it first.
She leans forward, and presses a small peck of a kiss to his cheek.
_____
As thrilled as Ivy is to spend time outside of work with her- she guesses she could call him her boyfriend? -she really wishes he wasn’t so predictable, sometimes.
Ivy makes a face and digs in her heels. “No way, Topher,” she says. “No.”
“Aw, Ivy! Come on!” He tugs at her hand, squirming, with a desperate look on his face like a little boy. “Please? I swear we’ll only be in there for a couple of minutes.”
Ivy tilts her head back, looking up at the massive videogame emporium.
“We will not,” she accuses. “You’ll end up looking at everything you can think of for hours, as usual, while I get stuck following you around and carrying a pile of your stuff.”
“Well…” Topher manages to look slightly guilty. “You know, just because that’s what happened the last couple of times-”
Ivy lets go of him and takes a step back, folding her arms over her chest.
“Aww,” Topher whines. “Ivy, babes! Please? There’s a new expansion pack out this week I’m just dying to sink my teeth into.”
Ivy just gazes at him evenly for a few moments. Topher clasps his hands in front of him, looking at her entreatingly as he bounces up and down at the knees.
People passing by are staring.
Finally, Ivy pronounces, in a firm and commanding tone, “Fine. But after this, we’re going in no less than three clothes shops, and you’re going to wait patiently for me while I look at and try on whatever I like.”
Topher grimaces. “I’ll settle for two.”
“Three,” Ivy declares. “And after that, we’re going to the food court, and you’re gonna buy me a giant pretzel and a frozen yogurt, and not expect me to share.”
Topher eyes her for a moment, considering. But he concedes with a nod and a surrendering sigh.
“Mine is a harsh mistress,” he states to absolutely no one in a weary tone of voice. But he’s grinning again as he offers his hand.
Ivy takes it, spacing her fingers apart so she can allow him to twine their fingers. And then they go into the stupid videogame store.
_____
Topher is paranoid about letting people around his equipment.
That statement would’ve made a funny double-entendre once, if not for how since the day she was hired here the truth of it has been the bane of Ivy’s existence.
It took her months of gofer-ing to even be allowed to practice making imprints. And that’s not even getting started on how long it took for her to be permitted to handle all the shiny buttons of the hardware. A mixture of proving herself and a desire to impress her got Topher to slowly but surely let her have more of a hand in the process, but there are limits to his so-called generosity.
Ivy was sort of hoping becoming his - fine, say it - girlfriend would have meant a bump in privileges, cheap though that would’ve been. She’s not completely sure how she feels that it didn’t.
As it is, now she makes specific deals with him for everything. If she takes care of this errand, then what does she get in return?
Hence her leaving in the middle of the afternoon on yet another snack run, because in exchange Topher’s going to let her prep today’s imprints for the infamous “twins”.
In and out, it takes Ivy less than an hour, but by the time she gets back Topher’s already found another source of entertainment.
“-and so then I told him, ‘If that’s the best you can do, you might as well be running it on last year’s processor!’ Oh man, you should’ve seen his face.”
“Topher,” Ivy hears Madeline’s patient voice as she’s coming up the stairs, “it’s kind of rude to ignore us by talking on the phone when we’re here.”
“Oh, just let him go.” Ivy freezes as she hears another voice - Mr. Dominic. “Otherwise, he’d be trying to tell those horrible jokes to us instead. Really, we’re all better off.”
“I’m sorry Darren; I couldn’t hear that - there was a strangely gruff and humor-intolerant buzzing in my ear just now.”
“Ha ha. Yeah, that’s real witty.”
Madeline, however, gives an actual giggle.
Ivy debates waiting until after they’re gone, but figures, hey, it’s her workspace too, right? Why should she be the one to get scared off?
She climbs the steps again as Mr. Dominic continues, “No wonder you have to call all the way over to India just to find someone willing to laugh at your jokes. Maybe they get better once they pass through a couple time zones.”
“What time is it in India right now, anyway?” asks Madeline, curious. “I was never very good at those.”
“Judging from the way Topher’s carrying on? Dork-thirty.”
“…Now that was a corny joke. And you know it.”
“Yeah,” Mr. Dominic drops to a begrudging mutter: “Guess it must be contagious.”
Balancing the paper sack in one arm, Ivy stands just outside the door at an angle where she can see inside but, as long as nobody looks the right way, they can’t see her. Topher is having an animated conversation with somebody on his Bluetooth (a lot of people he went to grad school with wound up in tech positions overseas, she knows). Mr. Dominic is slouching in that annoying cocky way of his in one of the chairs, fiddling with Topher’s Rubik’s cube. Madeline stands in the space between them, drifting back and forth with hands tucked behind her back.
“-oh, hey, hang on a second, that reminds me.” Topher puts a finger over the rim of his Bluetooth, glancing up at the others. “We still up for movie night this weekend?”
“What day?” Mr. Dominic says. “I’m busy Saturday with Adelle.”
“Me too,” Madeline adds. “Paul and I are going to that showing at the art museum.”
“…Wait, really? Because that’s where we’re going too.”
“Oh,” Madeline says, excitedly, “we should all go together then!”
Mr. Dominic just stares at her. Topher seems to be picturing the outcome of a Madeline-Ballard-DeWitt-Dominic double date, and from his expression can’t decide whether it’d be horrible or hilarious.
Madeline shrugs, frowning in what looks like disappointment. “Or not.”
Topher rolls his eyes heavily. “Well, how about Sunday?” He feigns remembrance: “Oh no, wait, that’s right - I have plans! With my very own sexy significant other. Aha.”
Out in the hallway, Ivy feels a vague surge from the indirect flattery.
“Yes, we get it Topher, you are no longer single,” Mr. Dominic drones, smirking. “Lucifer says ‘thank you’ for all the free snow cones.”
The entire time they’ve been talking, he’s continued twisting the Rubik’s cube in his hands. It doesn’t look like he’s actually trying to solve it, though: in fact, it looks like he’s purposely trying to mix it more up.
“Okay, so Friday night it is?” Topher offers. When the others nod, he returns to his phone conversation. “Sorry about that, just wanted to figure something out. So, anyway-”
“What time are you and Ballard going to that art show?” Mr. Dominic asks Madeline, who has come to stand beside him. “You know, so we can be sure not to run into each other.”
“I think you and Paul would like each other,” Madeline states calmly, “if you just gave him the chance.”
Mr. Dominic makes a face. “Yeah, but - why?”
Topher finishes his phone call, breathlessly clicking it off. “Okay!” he says, eager, turning back towards them with his hands raised. “I’m ready. Give it to me.”
Mr. Dominic gives the cube one last twist, then hands it to Madeline who stretches an arm out and passes it over to Topher. “That ought to do it.”
“Excellent.” Topher eyes the cube with anticipation where he holds it by his fingertips. With his free hand he points upright with one finger. “Now, just give me a moment to study it in preparation. I’ll let you know when I’m ready. Got the stopwatch, Madeline?”
“I’m ready when you are.” She nods, holding up the device hanging around her neck.
“Are you still trying to beat my record?” Ivy comes in finally, understanding what’s going on.
“Ivy, there you are.” Topher looks up at her. “You’re just in time to witness-” he waves at the Rubik’s cube “-my ultimate triumph.”
“Should we clap?” Mr. Dominic asks Madeline, sardonically. “That kind of sounded like we were supposed to clap.” Madeline smirks, and Topher shoots them both a glower.
“I got your snacks,” Ivy tells him, rolling her eyes with a good-natured smile. She holds out the bag.
“Oh, most excellent.” He takes it from her and tosses it in the others’ direction. “Here, guys - mortal sustenance has arrived.” It lands on the floor about halfway between their feet.
“Ooh, Twizzlers!” Madeline reaches eagerly.
“You know, I didn’t even like sugar until I started hanging around you,” Mr. Dominic grouses, helping himself to a packet of chocolate-coated wafers all the same. Madeline dives over his leg to get at the bag again, and he gives her a funny look.
“Everybody likes sugar, Dom,” Topher disagrees. He chews a bite of the fruit roll-up he took before he continues to speak. “I think you were just living in Sugar Denial - the saddest part of all Egypt.”
“How could Egypt be sad?” Madeline remarks. “They’ve got the pyramids.”
“And terrorists,” Mr. Dominic intones.
“Let me explain to you all how Dominic’s thought process works,” Topher exposits, smiling crookedly: “Oh look, there’s a silver lining! Better go put a cloud in it!”
“You know what I do when I’m feeling sad?” Madeline offers, as Mr. Dominic just gives Topher a dirty look.
“Uh…curl up on the couch with a big tub of ice cream and a girly good-times romantic comedy?” Topher guesses. Mr. Dominic shrugs and gives sort of a grimace, meaning that would be his guess as well.
“Close,” Madeline says. “Except for the movie. I watch Alien.”
As they all stare at her, she shrugs and goes, matter-of-fact: “Watching Sigourney Weaver defeat evil otherworldly space scum makes me feel better.”
Ivy has to nod. “I can get behind that.”
“Okay, okay, enough of this.” Topher waves a hand impatiently, returning to the Rubik’s cube. “It is time,” he announces dramatically.
Mr. Dominic is teasing Madeline by holding a packet out of her reach, but looks like he regrets it when she shows no qualms whatsoever about climbing over his lap to go after it. She snatches her prize in triumph then half-slides, half-tumbles to the floor.
“I’m telling you, you are not gonna beat my record,” Ivy says, shaking her head.
“Ivy, shush!” He quiets her with a finger, then points: “Madeline?”
She sits back up, her knees folded under her, and holds the stopwatch again. “Ready!”
“And…go!”
Madeline clicks the button. She stands, and Mr. Dominic cranes his head as they both stare back and forth between it and Topher. Topher’s fingers fly over the cube like lightning, turning and twisting colored panels into place. Ivy can’t help feeling a little bit nervous as he works to an end.
“Done!” he proclaims, and Madeline swiftly gives the stopwatch another click. Topher is already beaming in triumph. “Time?”
“One minute, twenty-seven seconds,” Madeline reads off.
“Ha!” Ivy rounds on him, smug. “My record is a minute nineteen!”
Topher groans; Madeline and Mr. Dominic both wince audibly, the latter giving an amused chuckle.
“Whatever.” Topher chucks the cube backward onto the sofa. “It’s a stupid puzzle, anyway.”
“You are such a sore loser,” Ivy responds, laughing.
“Oh…” With an expression reminiscent of a child having a temper tantrum Topher snatches his bag of snacks off the floor, clutching it to his chest. “Go on, get out of here,” he barks grumpily, and then he turns on Ivy. “And you, go work on your twin-prints.”
“You’re letting her do the twins?” Mr. Dominic looks surprised. “It must be love.”
“Well, she earned it,” Topher says, distracted. And then, “Not like that,” he goes, when Madeline stifles a giggle.
“Yeah,” Ivy can’t resist saying, flatly, before she turns and heads toward the imprint lab, “Topher’s very sensitive about letting me near his equipment.”
She allows herself a small smile of satisfaction as, behind her back, she can hear Topher’s friends laughing at him.
_____
“I really don’t want to do this,” Topher complains.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Fun? Fun? No, no, no…fun would be you, me, and a weekend at Bill Gates’ house in Monaco. Possibly with a guest appearance by Gina Torres. This…this is just awkward. And an excellent way to wind up with a concussion.”
“That’s what the helmet is for. Now come on, stop being a baby and step into the cage.”
“I’m really not sure about the resistant strength of this helmet.” He fiddles with it awkwardly, moving it around atop his head. “I mean, has it been fully factory-tested? How long have they been using it here? How many other bean-balls have been lobbed at it?”
“Topher-”
“And what about the manufacturers? Are they considered reliable in their field; have there been any product recalls lately? What are their statistics?” He starts to step back. “Tell you what - I’ll go look it up online, and once I’m satisfactorily informed, we can come back here some other time-”
“No,” Ivy says firmly. She grabs him by the wrist with both hands. “You are going in there, and you’re going in there today. Now, march.”
She gets behind her boyfriend (still feels a little weird, saying that) and pushes him forward toward the batting cage.
Topher actually whimpers. “I didn’t know you wanted to hurt me so much, Ivy. Couldn’t we have worked out something a little more fun, if that’s your kink? You know, where we actually pick a safety word? And a little more private, perhaps?”
“‘Loves trying new things’,” Ivy reminds him, pointed. “Remember that? What happened to ‘loves trying new things’?”
“Ivy…” His voice is strained. “Let’s be honest here. I’m kinda a computer geek. Good with software, good with technology, good with my hands?” He gives a quick, salacious grin as he waves all ten fingers. “And this is something that seems suspiciously like, well, a sport. Not exactly my forte.”
“Just give it a chance,” Ivy encourages him. “One bucket. I promise if you hate it so much, I’ll let you stop.”
Topher takes a deep, deep breath. He looks like he’s being marched off to face certain death in combat, not entering a bucket-o-balls batting cage at Marty’s Funland.
He draws himself up, straightens his helmet one last time, and nods grimly. “Okay.”
Ivy is trying to be a supportive girlfriend (there it is again) so she fights down the urge to laugh at him. She nods, leads Topher to the batter’s spot, hands him the bat, wraps his trembling fingers tightly around it, and then goes over and feeds money into the pitching machine.
As it starts up with a hum getting ready to fire, Topher squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them again.
And then opens them wider, as he feels Ivy slide into position behind him.
“Put your legs a little closer together,” she instructs. She matches her hips up with his, the lines of their bodies connecting, as she slides her arms under his and puts her hands over his on the bat.
“Ivy?” he questions, voice quiet with surprise.
“What,” she asks, mildly, “you didn’t think I was going to leave you hanging all alone out here by yourself, did you?”
She squeezes her fingers on top of his, both of them holding the metal bat steady together.
“Now, get ready,” she tells him. “Here it comes.”
_____
Ivy walks into the main receiving lobby of the Dollhouse from the underground parking garage. She has on her headphones, singing along in bits and pieces as her music plays.
Bobbing her head faintly, she swipes her employee badge into the reader, presses her thumb in for the fingerprint scan and leans forward so the retinal camera can get a shot of her eye.
The elevator doors open, like any elevator doors would.
As Ivy steps inside, she pulls her headphones off and rests them on her shoulders. Still humming a little she looks idly up toward the roof of the car, waiting. Finally the doors start to close.
At the last possible second, a hand from the other side reaches in and stops them.
Automatically, Ivy starts to move over to make room for whichever employee is about to join her - then the doors slide back open enough that she can see who it is.
Mr. Dominic stands there, his arm still held out awkwardly from where he stuck it in the doors’ path, staring at her with a startled frozen expression.
Ivy’s certain a similar one must be plastered across her face.
“Oh,” says Mr. Dominic. And then: “Um.”
She supposes the look on his face could be best described as “conflicted”. For a decent moment, there seems a chance he won’t join her in the elevator at all. It doesn’t look like he really wants to.
She doesn’t really want him to, either.
But then he seems to settle himself; he shifts into something closer to the stoic, impassive figure she sees striding the halls every day at work, and steps in beside her.
Ivy makes a point to move aside as much as she possibly can without letting him box her in.
The doors close on them with a cheerful little ding.
She and Mr. Dominic stand there facing forward as the elevator goes down. Almost simultaneously, they try to steal a sideways glance at each other.
Ivy fixes her face into a dark glower. She can just barely see his throat work as he swallows.
The awkward tension is positively claustrophobic.
“Good morning, Ivy,” he offers stiffly.
“Good morning,” she returns, cold.
Mr. Dominic glances forward for a moment, then back again.
“How are you today?”
“Fine,” she grinds out, terse. He nods a little too heavily.
“Glad to hear it.”
He looks away again, evidently searching for what to say next. Then he turns back, mouth opening, but stops as he sees she’s put on her headphones.
“…Yeah,” he mutters, probably not realizing she can still hear him. “Nice talking to you, too.”
The elevator finally opens on the main level of the House. Ivy’s relief as she steps out is short-lived, as soon as she recognizes the heavy even footfalls close behind her.
She turns her head back, looking over her shoulder with a snap. “Are you following me?” she asks.
Mr. Dominic frowns. “I have something to talk about with Topher. But thanks for just assuming I…oh, never mind.”
His steps are much longer than hers, so it’s not at all hard for him to catch up with her.
“Tell me something,” he demands, sharp. “Are you at all familiar with the meaning of ‘nothing personal’?”
Ivy has no trouble meeting his eyes with her anger. She retorts, “Do you not realize that for some people that’s exactly the problem?”
He appears to have nothing to say to that.
They reach the programming lab in silence. Mr. Dominic gets there slightly first and holds the door open for her, though there’s a hint of a scowl in his expression to indicate it’s not so much that he wants to as it is an automatic. She steps past him without saying thank you, without even looking at him.
When they reach sight of the imprint room, however, both stop dead.
“…Gyaaah.” Mr. Dominic makes a strangled sound of shock, eyes widening.
“Oh my god,” Ivy chimes in, horrified.
The chair, and all its associated hard-drive components, has been completely dissembled. The room looks like an IT disaster area - wires, wedges, microchips and motherboards laying every which haphazard way, stacked on top of each other or assembled in disorganized piles.
Topher’s legs are just visible where he crouches on hands and knees behind what’s left of the frame. At the sound of their voices, he glances up, frazzled blond hair poking out through the mess of pieces.
“Oh. Hey, guys. You’re both here early.” He scrambles to his feet, wiping hands off on his jeans. “Wasn’t expecting that; good thing though, since I could probably use a hand.”
Fiddling with a tangled web on what’s probably the chair’s back, he distractedly puts a hand with a thick silver wire out to Mr. Dominic. “Here, hold this.”
Mr. Dominic eyes it. “Uh…no.”
As Topher glances up at him, befuddled, he continues with sharply rising incredulity, “You can’t just hand me an exposed wire and expect me to take it not knowing what it’s for.” He waves toward the area where the imprint chair belongs. “Especially when it comes from…that!”
Topher gives a sigh, and a slightly impatient roll of his eyes. “Okay. Relax, Dom, it’s perfectly fine. It’s safe, see: I’ve unplugged everything.” He makes an inclusive gesture with both hands. “All of it. It’s offline.”
Ivy takes a step forward, eyes bugging. “You…you dismantled it. You completely dismantled the chair.”
“See, you know how next month there’s that mandatory overhaul we have to do anyway, to make sure we’re all compatible with the system upgrades? Well.” Topher’s hands dart and dash as he goes back to what he was doing, now attempting to pry loose a motherboard. “I was thinking about it last night, starting to work out what has to do be done, plus some additional changes I’d like to make, and I figured, why not go ahead and do it now!”
Ivy’s voice comes out breaking, with the effort of trying to not start screaming. “We have nineteen imprints on the docket for today. Echo alone needs to be imprinted and wiped three times. Do you realize how much work we’ll have to do, to get this back up and running in…” she glances at her watch “…less than five hours?”
Topher gives her a distracted, dismissive wave. “No, see, I already went ahead and got most of the imprints programmed last night. There’s barely anything left to do, just some minor…tweaking, here and there. I figure, we focus mostly on this, we’ll get it all done in no time, no sweat.”
He stops as he finally notices her shell-shocked expression. “What?” He gives a skeptical grin. “You don’t think we can do it?”
“No,” Ivy says, at length, frowning at Topher with a sigh of something like resignation: “It just would’ve been nice if you at least ran it by me first.”
“Why?” Topher shrugs, poking at his motherboard. “You’re my assistant.”
He freezes with instant regret not ten seconds after the words are out of his mouth. Mr. Dominic shoots him a horrified look, and they slowly both turn to Ivy, already bracing for it.
Ivy draws a breath, her eyes staying wide as she gazes at Topher with livid fury. She can feel all the anger going to her face - it’s making her skin warm.
From the corner of her vision, Mr. Dominic adopts something of a deer-in-the-headlights expression.
“Oh,” he states, very quickly, “would you look at the time? I have to…something.” He clears his throat. “…Bye.”
Exit Mr. Dominic.
Ivy pays no attention to him. She only continues to stare at Topher.
Topher gulps, audibly.
“There’s…gotta be something I can say to get myself out of this, right?” He gives a strained chuckle. “Hmm?”
Ivy says nothing. She breathes very steadily through her nose.
Topher swallows again.
_____
Ivy sits in front of the computer monitor, not looking up as she separates out the components of a recorded memory.
“Ivy, come on, now! You can’t give me the silent treatment all day! Ivy, I said I was sorry…Ivy? Ivy?”
She takes a calm sip of her soda. Her eyes never leave the screen.
_____
Long story short, Topher eventually found a way to make it up to her.
She had little doubt that he would. She has a feeling this is going to be one of those weird relationships that’s hard to shake.
Really; she sees him every day. They have to work together, her following his orders and him giving them. As long as he doesn’t make a total jackass of himself, she figures whatever it is he winds up doing she’ll probably always eventually wind up forgiving him.
It’s a little dysfunctional - and maybe not all that healthy, for her sanity or her self-esteem.
But in a way, it’s kind of nice, knowing there’s something she can depend on. That no matter what else happens in her life this will always be waiting for her.
So what if she’s settling for reliability. Ivy knew what sort of a choice she was making, when she got into this field. When she signed her employment contract with Rossum. There are some things that really don’t gel with her current occupation and dating is one of them, so she’ll take what she can get and be damn happy for it. She’s lucky to get “reliable” at all.
Her and Topher have been kissing for almost five minutes when one of them finally decides to say something.
“So, I take it this means you found it in your heart to forgive me?” he offers, with an out-of-breath and half-formed grin.
“Yeah,” Ivy tells him, smiling, “sure.”
She moves in, starting to close her eyes as she goes for his lips again, but to her surprise he gently pushes her off.
“You know,” he starts. “Um. I really am sorry, about what I said, earlier.”
“It’s okay, Topher. Really.”
“No it’s not. I mean…” He paces back from her a little bit, drawing a breath. Then he turns to face her again, raising both his hands in a shrug. “Okay, I can be a little self-centered, we all know that. For the most part, I like to think of it as one of my charms, you know?”
She can’t help smirking a little as she looks at him patiently, waiting for him to go on.
“But - but you and I, this is different.” He breaks eye contact, looking sideways as he tries to articulate it. “I mean, I care about you, and I’m hoping you care about me, so…”
Topher closes his eyes, breathing in again. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…I don’t want to treat you like a doormat. I really don’t. So don’t assume that’s how I’m going to be. Sometimes I just get caught up in the moment, and I don’t really stop to think. But I really want to treat you better than…well, than I treat most everybody else.” He gives a little laugh.
The he looks at her again, gazing into her eyes. “I mean, yeah, you’re still my assistant, but you’re also my girlfriend.”
Ivy draws a breath of her own, feeling something strange, kind of warm and fluttery, banging around inside of her chest.
“So, what? You’re asking me to keep calling you on it?”
“Yeah. Exactly. I mean, that’s pretty much it.” Topher nods quickly, head bobbing. “That’s really all I ask for. Just a…a gentle nudge from time to time, the occasional whack on the nose with a figurative rolled-up newspaper.”
He turns his back to her again, starting to babble. With a sly grin, Ivy makes up her mind and ducks around the corner into her bedroom.
“I mean, sometimes, it’s not as if I even get that I’m doing something wrong! It’s only later, after you’ve gotten all mad at me, that I really stop to think about it and, and go back and analyze…it’s sort of like a puzzle, you know? Human behavior. What it is that makes us do…the things we do. It’s psychology, and sociology, and a little bit of biology, and neurology, and all these other ‘ologies - and you’d think that, me being the…mind-manipulatey persona-building guru that I am, I’d have a better handle on it. But, that’s looking at the big picture. The whole canvas, all at once. It’s easy to construct the perfect lover, or the perfect relationship, when you’re stepping back and looking at it from beyond the veil of the fourth wall. But relationships, real life, they’re all about taking it moment by moment. You can’t look ahead and actually see the big picture when you’re in it, you can only look at what’s in front of you, little bits and pieces at a time.”
Topher pauses, sighing. His voice softens as his momentum trails off.
“In the end, all you can do is look for those special moments…wherever they come,” he concludes. “You get what I’m saying, Ivy?” When she doesn’t answer at first he starts to turn around. “Ivy-”
He stops, going completely still, the only part of him moving his eyes widening as he stares at her.
Ivy stands with her hands on her hips, hair still in a ponytail, in her favorite blue and black set of La Perla underwear.
Topher’s jaw drops. “…O-oh,” he says, looking up and down at her. “Oh!”
“This the kind of special moment you were talking about?” Ivy offers. Eyelashes lowered, she beams at him meaningfully.
“Maybe…not exactly what I was thinking when I said it,” he manages, voice cracking in a few places, “but, uh, yeah. Sure.”
Ivy chuckles. She stretches out her hands towards Topher, who numbly puts out his palm and grasps onto her, still staring at her groggily all the while.
Happily, Ivy leads her dazed boyfriend into her bedroom.
A little weird, this, yes - but it totally works.
Characters/Pairings: Ivy, Topher, Dominic, Madeline, mention of various others; Ivy/Topher, mention of Madeline/Ballard and Dominic/DeWitt
Rating: PG-13 for innuendo and adult themes
Length: 6,115 words
Spoilers: first season (AU for 1x13, "Epitaph One")
Notes: part of Waking 'verse
Summary: Ivy ruminates on the strange little situation that is her love life, and what she's going to do now.
If there’s one thing Ivy really dislikes at the Dollhouse, it’s the way people there socialize.
The facility has plenty of on-site employees. But sometimes it feels as if they might as well not exist, for all the interaction she has with them.
People here divide themselves, whether unconsciously or otherwise, by duties and occupation. The handlers form their own group and rarely go outside of it. Same thing with the caretakers, and the extra security staff as well. Sometimes there’s overlap between the circles, but mostly it’s total stratification.
Ivy doesn’t think she’s ever exchanged words with any of them that weren’t in the context of her job. Outside of that, all she’s warranted is a polite nod of acknowledgement if they pass each other in the hall.
The people in charge form their own layer. Once that meant a group of two; Ms. DeWitt and her right hand grunt Mr. Dominic, with the occasional inclusion for Topher, who as head programmer could also be termed unique.
When Mr. Langton arrived, things got shaken up. He never really belonged with his handler peers but floated straight to the top, assigned as he was to the House’s special girl, and perceptive enough to know it.
Then Mr. Dominic got “fired”, Langton got promoted, Mr. Dominic came back and soon after came Mr. Ballard and Madeline. The top circle widened, while the handlers, caretakers and security still kept to themselves.
Ivy hasn’t been in a place that felt so cliquey since high school. Maybe she wouldn’t mind half as much, if not for how the way the social structure functions seems to mainly leave her isolated.
She doesn’t belong to an automatic “group”. Her department consists of two people, her and Topher, and he…outranks her. And has little time for her. Unless he needs her to make a potato chip run.
Well…not so much any more. But, more on that later.
For a long time, Ivy got her social needs fulfilled through vicarious observation. From her silent and mostly unnoticed corner, she watched the other players go through the game.
She could make a chart, if she wanted. Nikoden doesn’t like Ramirez who sort of like-likes Hutchins (except Hutchins would be more likely to go after Nikoden, frankly, only Nikoden doesn’t swing that way), Alvarez gets along fine with Ramirez, and nobody likes Bicks.
Alvarez still occasionally talks to Langton, who mostly divides his time between Claire and Ballard. Ballard is dating Madeline who is friends with, of all people, Topher and Mr. Dominic. Ms. DeWitt is screwing Mr. Dominic (they’re both incredibly subtle and not, if you know what to look for), who tolerates Langton but would clearly like nothing more than to punch Ballard right in the face. Langton and Topher were starting to look like they’d end up pretty close once, except then Ballard showed up and got along fine with Langton while Topher hated him, and at the same time Mr. Dominic came back and Langton didn’t really trust him while he and Topher ended up bonding, and…well, so much for that. Langton and Topher still speak civilly, but they’ve developed this habit of avoiding each other when their other best buddy guys are around, which is unfortunately often.
And Ivy herself? The cheese stands alone, mostly; except for how she got lucky enough to come out of her shell at the right time to start interacting with Claire, who she now has lunch with most days, and sees occasionally outside of work as well.
Oh, and then there’s also the fact that she’s now dating Topher.
Topher. She’s dating Topher. In spite of him being her boss…and also Topher.
It’s possibly the strangest thing that Ivy’s ever found herself doing, and she works at a hidden facility where they reprogram people’s brains.
It just sort of happened, really. Ivy always respected Topher for his genius, but at first she also found him to be downright insufferable in his self-awareness. Of course, time passed: his quirks grew at least tolerable through exposure, sometimes even mildly endearing. She could stand to talk to him about things other than “How do I avoid a stacking glitch when building this particular synapse?”, and “Do you want regular or double-stuffed Oreos?” But that was about it.
Until she found out that apparently Topher had been nursing a massive crush on her for ages, and was frenetically trying to get her to notice the entire time. To which all Ivy can really think to say is, “Whoops.”
But, anyway, he eventually came out with it, and Ivy figured between what odd charm Topher does have and the fact her current job makes it pretty unlikely she’s going to do much better, it was worth a shot.
Of course, since they see each other every day that makes the option of taking things slow kinda impossible. So they pretty much got thrown into it right away - while at the same time, she continues assisting him at work the same way she always has.
Ivy would describe their status as floating somewhere between “first base” and “going steady”.
Life can be so weird, sometimes.
“Are you sure you don’t want any help from me with this imprint?”
Topher doesn’t glance up from where he sits staring at his computer screen, eyes glassy as he attempts to figure it out, mind racing. “Nuh uh,” he tells her, shaking his head. “I got it.” Without looking he raises one of his hands. “Get me another juice box, will ya?”
Ivy sighs long-sufferingly, but goes over to the fridge. She gets out apple - apple is for thinking. Grape juice is the juice of triumph. And cherry juice is banned in the Dollhouse after the forbidden to be spoken of incident involving a squirt gun and Mr. Dominic’s palest suit.
“Get me another juice box, what?” she prompts, even as she walks over to him with the carton in her hand.
He glances up at her, grinning. “Get me another juice box, please, Ivy, oh most talented and semi-worthy goddess of my domain.”
She struggles to keep her face blank and unsmiling as she gives him the juice box, but she doesn’t quite succeed. “You could’ve stopped at ‘please’,” she lets him know.
He gives her another, broader grin as he sucks on his little bendy-straw.
“No I couldn’t have.”
As Topher returns to eyeing his imprint puzzle, Ivy stands behind his chair slightly to the left. She slips a hand over his shoulder, absently rubbing the material of his sweater-vest between her fingers, feeling how warm he is underneath. Then she moves her hand to the top of his head, tousling his hair.
She looks at the screen, tracing some of the unmatched areas in the personality coding. She thinks she might see the answer, but she’ll wait until Topher notices it first.
She leans forward, and presses a small peck of a kiss to his cheek.
_____
As thrilled as Ivy is to spend time outside of work with her- she guesses she could call him her boyfriend? -she really wishes he wasn’t so predictable, sometimes.
Ivy makes a face and digs in her heels. “No way, Topher,” she says. “No.”
“Aw, Ivy! Come on!” He tugs at her hand, squirming, with a desperate look on his face like a little boy. “Please? I swear we’ll only be in there for a couple of minutes.”
Ivy tilts her head back, looking up at the massive videogame emporium.
“We will not,” she accuses. “You’ll end up looking at everything you can think of for hours, as usual, while I get stuck following you around and carrying a pile of your stuff.”
“Well…” Topher manages to look slightly guilty. “You know, just because that’s what happened the last couple of times-”
Ivy lets go of him and takes a step back, folding her arms over her chest.
“Aww,” Topher whines. “Ivy, babes! Please? There’s a new expansion pack out this week I’m just dying to sink my teeth into.”
Ivy just gazes at him evenly for a few moments. Topher clasps his hands in front of him, looking at her entreatingly as he bounces up and down at the knees.
People passing by are staring.
Finally, Ivy pronounces, in a firm and commanding tone, “Fine. But after this, we’re going in no less than three clothes shops, and you’re going to wait patiently for me while I look at and try on whatever I like.”
Topher grimaces. “I’ll settle for two.”
“Three,” Ivy declares. “And after that, we’re going to the food court, and you’re gonna buy me a giant pretzel and a frozen yogurt, and not expect me to share.”
Topher eyes her for a moment, considering. But he concedes with a nod and a surrendering sigh.
“Mine is a harsh mistress,” he states to absolutely no one in a weary tone of voice. But he’s grinning again as he offers his hand.
Ivy takes it, spacing her fingers apart so she can allow him to twine their fingers. And then they go into the stupid videogame store.
_____
Topher is paranoid about letting people around his equipment.
That statement would’ve made a funny double-entendre once, if not for how since the day she was hired here the truth of it has been the bane of Ivy’s existence.
It took her months of gofer-ing to even be allowed to practice making imprints. And that’s not even getting started on how long it took for her to be permitted to handle all the shiny buttons of the hardware. A mixture of proving herself and a desire to impress her got Topher to slowly but surely let her have more of a hand in the process, but there are limits to his so-called generosity.
Ivy was sort of hoping becoming his - fine, say it - girlfriend would have meant a bump in privileges, cheap though that would’ve been. She’s not completely sure how she feels that it didn’t.
As it is, now she makes specific deals with him for everything. If she takes care of this errand, then what does she get in return?
Hence her leaving in the middle of the afternoon on yet another snack run, because in exchange Topher’s going to let her prep today’s imprints for the infamous “twins”.
In and out, it takes Ivy less than an hour, but by the time she gets back Topher’s already found another source of entertainment.
“-and so then I told him, ‘If that’s the best you can do, you might as well be running it on last year’s processor!’ Oh man, you should’ve seen his face.”
“Topher,” Ivy hears Madeline’s patient voice as she’s coming up the stairs, “it’s kind of rude to ignore us by talking on the phone when we’re here.”
“Oh, just let him go.” Ivy freezes as she hears another voice - Mr. Dominic. “Otherwise, he’d be trying to tell those horrible jokes to us instead. Really, we’re all better off.”
“I’m sorry Darren; I couldn’t hear that - there was a strangely gruff and humor-intolerant buzzing in my ear just now.”
“Ha ha. Yeah, that’s real witty.”
Madeline, however, gives an actual giggle.
Ivy debates waiting until after they’re gone, but figures, hey, it’s her workspace too, right? Why should she be the one to get scared off?
She climbs the steps again as Mr. Dominic continues, “No wonder you have to call all the way over to India just to find someone willing to laugh at your jokes. Maybe they get better once they pass through a couple time zones.”
“What time is it in India right now, anyway?” asks Madeline, curious. “I was never very good at those.”
“Judging from the way Topher’s carrying on? Dork-thirty.”
“…Now that was a corny joke. And you know it.”
“Yeah,” Mr. Dominic drops to a begrudging mutter: “Guess it must be contagious.”
Balancing the paper sack in one arm, Ivy stands just outside the door at an angle where she can see inside but, as long as nobody looks the right way, they can’t see her. Topher is having an animated conversation with somebody on his Bluetooth (a lot of people he went to grad school with wound up in tech positions overseas, she knows). Mr. Dominic is slouching in that annoying cocky way of his in one of the chairs, fiddling with Topher’s Rubik’s cube. Madeline stands in the space between them, drifting back and forth with hands tucked behind her back.
“-oh, hey, hang on a second, that reminds me.” Topher puts a finger over the rim of his Bluetooth, glancing up at the others. “We still up for movie night this weekend?”
“What day?” Mr. Dominic says. “I’m busy Saturday with Adelle.”
“Me too,” Madeline adds. “Paul and I are going to that showing at the art museum.”
“…Wait, really? Because that’s where we’re going too.”
“Oh,” Madeline says, excitedly, “we should all go together then!”
Mr. Dominic just stares at her. Topher seems to be picturing the outcome of a Madeline-Ballard-DeWitt-Dominic double date, and from his expression can’t decide whether it’d be horrible or hilarious.
Madeline shrugs, frowning in what looks like disappointment. “Or not.”
Topher rolls his eyes heavily. “Well, how about Sunday?” He feigns remembrance: “Oh no, wait, that’s right - I have plans! With my very own sexy significant other. Aha.”
Out in the hallway, Ivy feels a vague surge from the indirect flattery.
“Yes, we get it Topher, you are no longer single,” Mr. Dominic drones, smirking. “Lucifer says ‘thank you’ for all the free snow cones.”
The entire time they’ve been talking, he’s continued twisting the Rubik’s cube in his hands. It doesn’t look like he’s actually trying to solve it, though: in fact, it looks like he’s purposely trying to mix it more up.
“Okay, so Friday night it is?” Topher offers. When the others nod, he returns to his phone conversation. “Sorry about that, just wanted to figure something out. So, anyway-”
“What time are you and Ballard going to that art show?” Mr. Dominic asks Madeline, who has come to stand beside him. “You know, so we can be sure not to run into each other.”
“I think you and Paul would like each other,” Madeline states calmly, “if you just gave him the chance.”
Mr. Dominic makes a face. “Yeah, but - why?”
Topher finishes his phone call, breathlessly clicking it off. “Okay!” he says, eager, turning back towards them with his hands raised. “I’m ready. Give it to me.”
Mr. Dominic gives the cube one last twist, then hands it to Madeline who stretches an arm out and passes it over to Topher. “That ought to do it.”
“Excellent.” Topher eyes the cube with anticipation where he holds it by his fingertips. With his free hand he points upright with one finger. “Now, just give me a moment to study it in preparation. I’ll let you know when I’m ready. Got the stopwatch, Madeline?”
“I’m ready when you are.” She nods, holding up the device hanging around her neck.
“Are you still trying to beat my record?” Ivy comes in finally, understanding what’s going on.
“Ivy, there you are.” Topher looks up at her. “You’re just in time to witness-” he waves at the Rubik’s cube “-my ultimate triumph.”
“Should we clap?” Mr. Dominic asks Madeline, sardonically. “That kind of sounded like we were supposed to clap.” Madeline smirks, and Topher shoots them both a glower.
“I got your snacks,” Ivy tells him, rolling her eyes with a good-natured smile. She holds out the bag.
“Oh, most excellent.” He takes it from her and tosses it in the others’ direction. “Here, guys - mortal sustenance has arrived.” It lands on the floor about halfway between their feet.
“Ooh, Twizzlers!” Madeline reaches eagerly.
“You know, I didn’t even like sugar until I started hanging around you,” Mr. Dominic grouses, helping himself to a packet of chocolate-coated wafers all the same. Madeline dives over his leg to get at the bag again, and he gives her a funny look.
“Everybody likes sugar, Dom,” Topher disagrees. He chews a bite of the fruit roll-up he took before he continues to speak. “I think you were just living in Sugar Denial - the saddest part of all Egypt.”
“How could Egypt be sad?” Madeline remarks. “They’ve got the pyramids.”
“And terrorists,” Mr. Dominic intones.
“Let me explain to you all how Dominic’s thought process works,” Topher exposits, smiling crookedly: “Oh look, there’s a silver lining! Better go put a cloud in it!”
“You know what I do when I’m feeling sad?” Madeline offers, as Mr. Dominic just gives Topher a dirty look.
“Uh…curl up on the couch with a big tub of ice cream and a girly good-times romantic comedy?” Topher guesses. Mr. Dominic shrugs and gives sort of a grimace, meaning that would be his guess as well.
“Close,” Madeline says. “Except for the movie. I watch Alien.”
As they all stare at her, she shrugs and goes, matter-of-fact: “Watching Sigourney Weaver defeat evil otherworldly space scum makes me feel better.”
Ivy has to nod. “I can get behind that.”
“Okay, okay, enough of this.” Topher waves a hand impatiently, returning to the Rubik’s cube. “It is time,” he announces dramatically.
Mr. Dominic is teasing Madeline by holding a packet out of her reach, but looks like he regrets it when she shows no qualms whatsoever about climbing over his lap to go after it. She snatches her prize in triumph then half-slides, half-tumbles to the floor.
“I’m telling you, you are not gonna beat my record,” Ivy says, shaking her head.
“Ivy, shush!” He quiets her with a finger, then points: “Madeline?”
She sits back up, her knees folded under her, and holds the stopwatch again. “Ready!”
“And…go!”
Madeline clicks the button. She stands, and Mr. Dominic cranes his head as they both stare back and forth between it and Topher. Topher’s fingers fly over the cube like lightning, turning and twisting colored panels into place. Ivy can’t help feeling a little bit nervous as he works to an end.
“Done!” he proclaims, and Madeline swiftly gives the stopwatch another click. Topher is already beaming in triumph. “Time?”
“One minute, twenty-seven seconds,” Madeline reads off.
“Ha!” Ivy rounds on him, smug. “My record is a minute nineteen!”
Topher groans; Madeline and Mr. Dominic both wince audibly, the latter giving an amused chuckle.
“Whatever.” Topher chucks the cube backward onto the sofa. “It’s a stupid puzzle, anyway.”
“You are such a sore loser,” Ivy responds, laughing.
“Oh…” With an expression reminiscent of a child having a temper tantrum Topher snatches his bag of snacks off the floor, clutching it to his chest. “Go on, get out of here,” he barks grumpily, and then he turns on Ivy. “And you, go work on your twin-prints.”
“You’re letting her do the twins?” Mr. Dominic looks surprised. “It must be love.”
“Well, she earned it,” Topher says, distracted. And then, “Not like that,” he goes, when Madeline stifles a giggle.
“Yeah,” Ivy can’t resist saying, flatly, before she turns and heads toward the imprint lab, “Topher’s very sensitive about letting me near his equipment.”
She allows herself a small smile of satisfaction as, behind her back, she can hear Topher’s friends laughing at him.
_____
“I really don’t want to do this,” Topher complains.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Fun? Fun? No, no, no…fun would be you, me, and a weekend at Bill Gates’ house in Monaco. Possibly with a guest appearance by Gina Torres. This…this is just awkward. And an excellent way to wind up with a concussion.”
“That’s what the helmet is for. Now come on, stop being a baby and step into the cage.”
“I’m really not sure about the resistant strength of this helmet.” He fiddles with it awkwardly, moving it around atop his head. “I mean, has it been fully factory-tested? How long have they been using it here? How many other bean-balls have been lobbed at it?”
“Topher-”
“And what about the manufacturers? Are they considered reliable in their field; have there been any product recalls lately? What are their statistics?” He starts to step back. “Tell you what - I’ll go look it up online, and once I’m satisfactorily informed, we can come back here some other time-”
“No,” Ivy says firmly. She grabs him by the wrist with both hands. “You are going in there, and you’re going in there today. Now, march.”
She gets behind her boyfriend (still feels a little weird, saying that) and pushes him forward toward the batting cage.
Topher actually whimpers. “I didn’t know you wanted to hurt me so much, Ivy. Couldn’t we have worked out something a little more fun, if that’s your kink? You know, where we actually pick a safety word? And a little more private, perhaps?”
“‘Loves trying new things’,” Ivy reminds him, pointed. “Remember that? What happened to ‘loves trying new things’?”
“Ivy…” His voice is strained. “Let’s be honest here. I’m kinda a computer geek. Good with software, good with technology, good with my hands?” He gives a quick, salacious grin as he waves all ten fingers. “And this is something that seems suspiciously like, well, a sport. Not exactly my forte.”
“Just give it a chance,” Ivy encourages him. “One bucket. I promise if you hate it so much, I’ll let you stop.”
Topher takes a deep, deep breath. He looks like he’s being marched off to face certain death in combat, not entering a bucket-o-balls batting cage at Marty’s Funland.
He draws himself up, straightens his helmet one last time, and nods grimly. “Okay.”
Ivy is trying to be a supportive girlfriend (there it is again) so she fights down the urge to laugh at him. She nods, leads Topher to the batter’s spot, hands him the bat, wraps his trembling fingers tightly around it, and then goes over and feeds money into the pitching machine.
As it starts up with a hum getting ready to fire, Topher squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them again.
And then opens them wider, as he feels Ivy slide into position behind him.
“Put your legs a little closer together,” she instructs. She matches her hips up with his, the lines of their bodies connecting, as she slides her arms under his and puts her hands over his on the bat.
“Ivy?” he questions, voice quiet with surprise.
“What,” she asks, mildly, “you didn’t think I was going to leave you hanging all alone out here by yourself, did you?”
She squeezes her fingers on top of his, both of them holding the metal bat steady together.
“Now, get ready,” she tells him. “Here it comes.”
_____
Ivy walks into the main receiving lobby of the Dollhouse from the underground parking garage. She has on her headphones, singing along in bits and pieces as her music plays.
Bobbing her head faintly, she swipes her employee badge into the reader, presses her thumb in for the fingerprint scan and leans forward so the retinal camera can get a shot of her eye.
The elevator doors open, like any elevator doors would.
As Ivy steps inside, she pulls her headphones off and rests them on her shoulders. Still humming a little she looks idly up toward the roof of the car, waiting. Finally the doors start to close.
At the last possible second, a hand from the other side reaches in and stops them.
Automatically, Ivy starts to move over to make room for whichever employee is about to join her - then the doors slide back open enough that she can see who it is.
Mr. Dominic stands there, his arm still held out awkwardly from where he stuck it in the doors’ path, staring at her with a startled frozen expression.
Ivy’s certain a similar one must be plastered across her face.
“Oh,” says Mr. Dominic. And then: “Um.”
She supposes the look on his face could be best described as “conflicted”. For a decent moment, there seems a chance he won’t join her in the elevator at all. It doesn’t look like he really wants to.
She doesn’t really want him to, either.
But then he seems to settle himself; he shifts into something closer to the stoic, impassive figure she sees striding the halls every day at work, and steps in beside her.
Ivy makes a point to move aside as much as she possibly can without letting him box her in.
The doors close on them with a cheerful little ding.
She and Mr. Dominic stand there facing forward as the elevator goes down. Almost simultaneously, they try to steal a sideways glance at each other.
Ivy fixes her face into a dark glower. She can just barely see his throat work as he swallows.
The awkward tension is positively claustrophobic.
“Good morning, Ivy,” he offers stiffly.
“Good morning,” she returns, cold.
Mr. Dominic glances forward for a moment, then back again.
“How are you today?”
“Fine,” she grinds out, terse. He nods a little too heavily.
“Glad to hear it.”
He looks away again, evidently searching for what to say next. Then he turns back, mouth opening, but stops as he sees she’s put on her headphones.
“…Yeah,” he mutters, probably not realizing she can still hear him. “Nice talking to you, too.”
The elevator finally opens on the main level of the House. Ivy’s relief as she steps out is short-lived, as soon as she recognizes the heavy even footfalls close behind her.
She turns her head back, looking over her shoulder with a snap. “Are you following me?” she asks.
Mr. Dominic frowns. “I have something to talk about with Topher. But thanks for just assuming I…oh, never mind.”
His steps are much longer than hers, so it’s not at all hard for him to catch up with her.
“Tell me something,” he demands, sharp. “Are you at all familiar with the meaning of ‘nothing personal’?”
Ivy has no trouble meeting his eyes with her anger. She retorts, “Do you not realize that for some people that’s exactly the problem?”
He appears to have nothing to say to that.
They reach the programming lab in silence. Mr. Dominic gets there slightly first and holds the door open for her, though there’s a hint of a scowl in his expression to indicate it’s not so much that he wants to as it is an automatic. She steps past him without saying thank you, without even looking at him.
When they reach sight of the imprint room, however, both stop dead.
“…Gyaaah.” Mr. Dominic makes a strangled sound of shock, eyes widening.
“Oh my god,” Ivy chimes in, horrified.
The chair, and all its associated hard-drive components, has been completely dissembled. The room looks like an IT disaster area - wires, wedges, microchips and motherboards laying every which haphazard way, stacked on top of each other or assembled in disorganized piles.
Topher’s legs are just visible where he crouches on hands and knees behind what’s left of the frame. At the sound of their voices, he glances up, frazzled blond hair poking out through the mess of pieces.
“Oh. Hey, guys. You’re both here early.” He scrambles to his feet, wiping hands off on his jeans. “Wasn’t expecting that; good thing though, since I could probably use a hand.”
Fiddling with a tangled web on what’s probably the chair’s back, he distractedly puts a hand with a thick silver wire out to Mr. Dominic. “Here, hold this.”
Mr. Dominic eyes it. “Uh…no.”
As Topher glances up at him, befuddled, he continues with sharply rising incredulity, “You can’t just hand me an exposed wire and expect me to take it not knowing what it’s for.” He waves toward the area where the imprint chair belongs. “Especially when it comes from…that!”
Topher gives a sigh, and a slightly impatient roll of his eyes. “Okay. Relax, Dom, it’s perfectly fine. It’s safe, see: I’ve unplugged everything.” He makes an inclusive gesture with both hands. “All of it. It’s offline.”
Ivy takes a step forward, eyes bugging. “You…you dismantled it. You completely dismantled the chair.”
“See, you know how next month there’s that mandatory overhaul we have to do anyway, to make sure we’re all compatible with the system upgrades? Well.” Topher’s hands dart and dash as he goes back to what he was doing, now attempting to pry loose a motherboard. “I was thinking about it last night, starting to work out what has to do be done, plus some additional changes I’d like to make, and I figured, why not go ahead and do it now!”
Ivy’s voice comes out breaking, with the effort of trying to not start screaming. “We have nineteen imprints on the docket for today. Echo alone needs to be imprinted and wiped three times. Do you realize how much work we’ll have to do, to get this back up and running in…” she glances at her watch “…less than five hours?”
Topher gives her a distracted, dismissive wave. “No, see, I already went ahead and got most of the imprints programmed last night. There’s barely anything left to do, just some minor…tweaking, here and there. I figure, we focus mostly on this, we’ll get it all done in no time, no sweat.”
He stops as he finally notices her shell-shocked expression. “What?” He gives a skeptical grin. “You don’t think we can do it?”
“No,” Ivy says, at length, frowning at Topher with a sigh of something like resignation: “It just would’ve been nice if you at least ran it by me first.”
“Why?” Topher shrugs, poking at his motherboard. “You’re my assistant.”
He freezes with instant regret not ten seconds after the words are out of his mouth. Mr. Dominic shoots him a horrified look, and they slowly both turn to Ivy, already bracing for it.
Ivy draws a breath, her eyes staying wide as she gazes at Topher with livid fury. She can feel all the anger going to her face - it’s making her skin warm.
From the corner of her vision, Mr. Dominic adopts something of a deer-in-the-headlights expression.
“Oh,” he states, very quickly, “would you look at the time? I have to…something.” He clears his throat. “…Bye.”
Exit Mr. Dominic.
Ivy pays no attention to him. She only continues to stare at Topher.
Topher gulps, audibly.
“There’s…gotta be something I can say to get myself out of this, right?” He gives a strained chuckle. “Hmm?”
Ivy says nothing. She breathes very steadily through her nose.
Topher swallows again.
_____
Ivy sits in front of the computer monitor, not looking up as she separates out the components of a recorded memory.
“Ivy, come on, now! You can’t give me the silent treatment all day! Ivy, I said I was sorry…Ivy? Ivy?”
She takes a calm sip of her soda. Her eyes never leave the screen.
_____
Long story short, Topher eventually found a way to make it up to her.
She had little doubt that he would. She has a feeling this is going to be one of those weird relationships that’s hard to shake.
Really; she sees him every day. They have to work together, her following his orders and him giving them. As long as he doesn’t make a total jackass of himself, she figures whatever it is he winds up doing she’ll probably always eventually wind up forgiving him.
It’s a little dysfunctional - and maybe not all that healthy, for her sanity or her self-esteem.
But in a way, it’s kind of nice, knowing there’s something she can depend on. That no matter what else happens in her life this will always be waiting for her.
So what if she’s settling for reliability. Ivy knew what sort of a choice she was making, when she got into this field. When she signed her employment contract with Rossum. There are some things that really don’t gel with her current occupation and dating is one of them, so she’ll take what she can get and be damn happy for it. She’s lucky to get “reliable” at all.
Her and Topher have been kissing for almost five minutes when one of them finally decides to say something.
“So, I take it this means you found it in your heart to forgive me?” he offers, with an out-of-breath and half-formed grin.
“Yeah,” Ivy tells him, smiling, “sure.”
She moves in, starting to close her eyes as she goes for his lips again, but to her surprise he gently pushes her off.
“You know,” he starts. “Um. I really am sorry, about what I said, earlier.”
“It’s okay, Topher. Really.”
“No it’s not. I mean…” He paces back from her a little bit, drawing a breath. Then he turns to face her again, raising both his hands in a shrug. “Okay, I can be a little self-centered, we all know that. For the most part, I like to think of it as one of my charms, you know?”
She can’t help smirking a little as she looks at him patiently, waiting for him to go on.
“But - but you and I, this is different.” He breaks eye contact, looking sideways as he tries to articulate it. “I mean, I care about you, and I’m hoping you care about me, so…”
Topher closes his eyes, breathing in again. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…I don’t want to treat you like a doormat. I really don’t. So don’t assume that’s how I’m going to be. Sometimes I just get caught up in the moment, and I don’t really stop to think. But I really want to treat you better than…well, than I treat most everybody else.” He gives a little laugh.
The he looks at her again, gazing into her eyes. “I mean, yeah, you’re still my assistant, but you’re also my girlfriend.”
Ivy draws a breath of her own, feeling something strange, kind of warm and fluttery, banging around inside of her chest.
“So, what? You’re asking me to keep calling you on it?”
“Yeah. Exactly. I mean, that’s pretty much it.” Topher nods quickly, head bobbing. “That’s really all I ask for. Just a…a gentle nudge from time to time, the occasional whack on the nose with a figurative rolled-up newspaper.”
He turns his back to her again, starting to babble. With a sly grin, Ivy makes up her mind and ducks around the corner into her bedroom.
“I mean, sometimes, it’s not as if I even get that I’m doing something wrong! It’s only later, after you’ve gotten all mad at me, that I really stop to think about it and, and go back and analyze…it’s sort of like a puzzle, you know? Human behavior. What it is that makes us do…the things we do. It’s psychology, and sociology, and a little bit of biology, and neurology, and all these other ‘ologies - and you’d think that, me being the…mind-manipulatey persona-building guru that I am, I’d have a better handle on it. But, that’s looking at the big picture. The whole canvas, all at once. It’s easy to construct the perfect lover, or the perfect relationship, when you’re stepping back and looking at it from beyond the veil of the fourth wall. But relationships, real life, they’re all about taking it moment by moment. You can’t look ahead and actually see the big picture when you’re in it, you can only look at what’s in front of you, little bits and pieces at a time.”
Topher pauses, sighing. His voice softens as his momentum trails off.
“In the end, all you can do is look for those special moments…wherever they come,” he concludes. “You get what I’m saying, Ivy?” When she doesn’t answer at first he starts to turn around. “Ivy-”
He stops, going completely still, the only part of him moving his eyes widening as he stares at her.
Ivy stands with her hands on her hips, hair still in a ponytail, in her favorite blue and black set of La Perla underwear.
Topher’s jaw drops. “…O-oh,” he says, looking up and down at her. “Oh!”
“This the kind of special moment you were talking about?” Ivy offers. Eyelashes lowered, she beams at him meaningfully.
“Maybe…not exactly what I was thinking when I said it,” he manages, voice cracking in a few places, “but, uh, yeah. Sure.”
Ivy chuckles. She stretches out her hands towards Topher, who numbly puts out his palm and grasps onto her, still staring at her groggily all the while.
Happily, Ivy leads her dazed boyfriend into her bedroom.
A little weird, this, yes - but it totally works.