(no subject)
Bribe #4 oh so late. So so late.
Officeverse
Title: The Setup
Wordcount: Wee But full of love! ♥
Work was slow today, slow the way onions in the fridge were slow, and Pete sprawled in the spinny-chair behind the counter with his head flopped back so he could stare at the roof. It had the little texturizations like frosting. He wondered why he didn't have freckles, and if maybe his chronic singleness was somehow related to that lack. Maybe there was some sort of face-dye, like streaks for hair except to give you freckles. Michael had called him last night all pleased about the new job, at least, he'd been getting that tired sad-dog look over the last few weeks, the bar really didn't suit him.
The spinny-chair creaked faintly every time Pete flexed his knees, rocking a quarter-turn each way in time to the slow ticking of the ceiling fan. If work got any slower sheep would wander in to eat the flowers.
"Pete! Pete, I need a favour." Michael butted the door open with his shoulder and trotted over to lean on the countertop. 5:30 on a Thursday afternoon and it was still every bit as windy as it had been that morning when Pete got to work. Michael's hair was an elaborate puff. Michael continued, "Are you busy tomorrow? When do you get off? Can you make a delivery for me?"
Pete pivoted the chair and scratched his scalp. His neck hurt. "Sure. Who to?"
"Um." A fierce blush washed up Michael's throat and merged with his hairline. "Paul Fleming. At Fleming and Flagg Cosmetics?"
Pete's spine straightened without asking him, making his neck twinge. He tried to raise one eyebrow independently but didn't quite manage. "Paul, huh? Is it his birthday?"
"No. Uh. Actually, I don't know. But I want to send him flowers."
Pete squinted. "Wait, isn't he your boss now?"
Michael shuffled his feet, noticed what he was doing, and stopped. "Uh. Maybe?"
Pete squinted at Michael with the other eye. "Your first day of work and you're already eating bootpolish? Michael."
Michael waved his hands at the over-the-top disapproving tone. "Whaaaat? No. Nono. Um."
"So what, are you in hot water already? You've only been there a day! Did something happen?"
"No!" Michael plucked at his sleeve. "Yes. Um. He's pretty. And he stood up for me to the other guy."
Pete sighed. That was that, then; if this Fleming dude had somehow managed to get under Michael's wariness and shyness and had stood up for him so soon after meeting him..."Right, I'll take care of it. On the house."
"Great! Pete, thanks, pizza's on me next time."
"I'll hold you to that," Pete said, with a just-kidding wink. Hell, if Michael kept being this jazzed about the whole thing, if he had somehow, for once, managed to get to like somebody who liked him back and maybe wasn't a total douche and maybe would treat him properly...well, Pete could get to like the guy, that was all. Who knew? Making a delivery to a cosmetics company, had to be lots of pretty girls, right? Pete's loveboat had to come to town sometime.
Officeverse
Title: The Setup
Wordcount: Wee But full of love! ♥
Work was slow today, slow the way onions in the fridge were slow, and Pete sprawled in the spinny-chair behind the counter with his head flopped back so he could stare at the roof. It had the little texturizations like frosting. He wondered why he didn't have freckles, and if maybe his chronic singleness was somehow related to that lack. Maybe there was some sort of face-dye, like streaks for hair except to give you freckles. Michael had called him last night all pleased about the new job, at least, he'd been getting that tired sad-dog look over the last few weeks, the bar really didn't suit him.
The spinny-chair creaked faintly every time Pete flexed his knees, rocking a quarter-turn each way in time to the slow ticking of the ceiling fan. If work got any slower sheep would wander in to eat the flowers.
"Pete! Pete, I need a favour." Michael butted the door open with his shoulder and trotted over to lean on the countertop. 5:30 on a Thursday afternoon and it was still every bit as windy as it had been that morning when Pete got to work. Michael's hair was an elaborate puff. Michael continued, "Are you busy tomorrow? When do you get off? Can you make a delivery for me?"
Pete pivoted the chair and scratched his scalp. His neck hurt. "Sure. Who to?"
"Um." A fierce blush washed up Michael's throat and merged with his hairline. "Paul Fleming. At Fleming and Flagg Cosmetics?"
Pete's spine straightened without asking him, making his neck twinge. He tried to raise one eyebrow independently but didn't quite manage. "Paul, huh? Is it his birthday?"
"No. Uh. Actually, I don't know. But I want to send him flowers."
Pete squinted. "Wait, isn't he your boss now?"
Michael shuffled his feet, noticed what he was doing, and stopped. "Uh. Maybe?"
Pete squinted at Michael with the other eye. "Your first day of work and you're already eating bootpolish? Michael."
Michael waved his hands at the over-the-top disapproving tone. "Whaaaat? No. Nono. Um."
"So what, are you in hot water already? You've only been there a day! Did something happen?"
"No!" Michael plucked at his sleeve. "Yes. Um. He's pretty. And he stood up for me to the other guy."
Pete sighed. That was that, then; if this Fleming dude had somehow managed to get under Michael's wariness and shyness and had stood up for him so soon after meeting him..."Right, I'll take care of it. On the house."
"Great! Pete, thanks, pizza's on me next time."
"I'll hold you to that," Pete said, with a just-kidding wink. Hell, if Michael kept being this jazzed about the whole thing, if he had somehow, for once, managed to get to like somebody who liked him back and maybe wasn't a total douche and maybe would treat him properly...well, Pete could get to like the guy, that was all. Who knew? Making a delivery to a cosmetics company, had to be lots of pretty girls, right? Pete's loveboat had to come to town sometime.