Dollhouse Fic: "Blame It On The Jujubes" (Topher, Dominic/DeWitt, PG-13)
Ah heh. So, clearly, I'm eating my words a little. In my defense, this isn't so much a sequel as it is a lighter look in on the aftermath. From Topher's POV.
Poor, poor Topher.
Title: Blame It On The Jujubes
Characters/Pairings: Dominic/DeWitt, Topher POV, guest appearances by Ivy and Echo
Rating: PG-13 for implied sex and Topher's dirty mind
Spoilers: 1x09, "Spy In The House of Love"
Length: 1,690 words
Notes: Same storyline as Waking Up One Moment at a Time and Walking the Haze That Is Between Dreams; much, much lighter follow-through
Summary: Topher sees something he shouldn't have, and really wishes he hadn't.
If Topher had to think about it, he would really blame Ivy.
It’s just; it’s a very important and stressful job, what he does. One that requires a constant peak performance out of him - not too great a demand, considering the level of his genius, but still. He needs to be focused. Unruffled. Relaxed.
The fulfillment of whatever need he might have, therefore, is clearly a matter of highest priority. And as his assistant, it’s Ivy’s job to make sure all his needs are met, isn’t it?
So if he, say, asked her to pick up just a few little things for him that morning (some chips, some crackers, a special kind of soda water you can only get in Chinatown), and she not only made a really unnecessary fuss, but forgot to get the Sour Patches he specifically requested, well, that would constitute a failure on her part, wouldn’t it? A kind of corporate dereliction of duty?
Of course it would.
So, clearly, this is Ivy’s fault. Because if she had gotten the Sour Patches like she was supposed to, then he wouldn’t have had to fall back on his stash of Jujubes. Which so happened to still be in his office, so he had to go back there, at which point he saw-
And things had been going so well lately, too. Nice and normal.
Well, okay, so “normal” isn’t really what they do around here. But: normal for them. Things had gotten really shaken up beforehand.
First it turned out their head of security was a spy and got sent to the Attic. Then, DeWitt apparently figured as long as they had a security expert on file they might as well use him. Then they basically played a variation on Quantum Leap for awhile. And then, finally, DeWitt called in some kind of favor with the figurative people upstairs and got her order to put Dominic on ice revoked.
To some extent. From an official perspective, Dominic was on the books as an “outside consultant” called in when extra help was needed, and only supposed to be imprinted into his body if it was necessary to the mission.
That was the “in theory” part. In practice, Dominic showed up at least three times a month, always stayed one day extra for every day they actually needed him, and got imprinted into an Active only one time out of three.
But hey, Topher was just following DeWitt’s orders: if that was how she wanted to prioritize it, whatever. Never mind the fact that it was a waste of resources. Never mind that he resented, somewhat, the denied opportunities to utilize his skills: he could whip up a great spy, or intelligence officer, or whatever they needed, on his system in no time!
But no, all he got was the same boring old order to pull boring old Dominic out of storage, again.
That’s all he’d ever thought Dominic was: boring. Boring, and incredibly uptight, and more than vaguely scary.
Same for DeWitt, actually - with a little more emphasis on the scary. No wonder they made such a great matched set.
After a certain point, Topher believes, you have to stop thinking about your superiors as human beings. It's a survival mechanism, really - because if you allow yourself to notice the fact that your boss lady has great legs, or wonder about when last the guy with the gun got laid, you’re just going to get distracted.
So, no thinking about sex at the workplace, and especially not involving people who outrank you. It’s job security. No weirdness, no awkward thoughts, no embarrassing situations.
Not that it was hard to do with Dominic or DeWitt, anyway. Both so incredibly stiff and professional: it took no time at all to condition himself so that the words “DeWitt” or “Dominic” and “sex” didn’t even belong in the same conversation, let alone the same sentence.
Definitely never would have even occurred to him to cross all three.
Unfortunately, that was where the Jujubes came in. Because DeWitt just had him bring Dominic back again, and of course Topher was ordered out of his own office so they could discuss thrilling security matters without him, and he remembered a moment later that Ivy had forgotten the Sour Patches but he did have Jujubes, and they were in his desk, so he went back to get them and-
It was sort of like watching a silent movie, because he was far away enough not to hear the sound, but he could see just fine.
DeWitt tugged at the hem of her skirt, pulling it up just enough so she could climb on top of Dominic where he was still in the chair, sitting on him at the waist.
She put wrinkles in his tie where she clutched it in her fist, pulling his face closer to hers. He rumpled her silk blouse where he tugged on it in the back, both his hands caressing her sides.
And really, with both being known for their incredible attention to detail, Topher was surprised neither of them heard the sound of his jaw as it hit the floor.
Somehow, he had the presence of mind to get out of there. Somehow, he managed to hurry down to the atrium floor, where he proceeded to sit at one of the tables and quietly have a meltdown.
So much for job security.
So much for no awkward thoughts.
It’s like walking in on your parents having sex, really - your incredibly uptight, well-dressed, respectively British and stoic parents, who make far more money that you do and could easily arrange to have you killed in your sleep.
The thought of either Dominic or DeWitt having sex was…befuddling: the thought of them having it together, with each other, was traumatizing.
And even if, even if, it’d ever occurred to him in a million years that maybe, just maybe, his boss and her security man were twisting the sheets, he would’ve, at best, assumed the sex was pretty vanilla. As in, like, involving a bed.
It never would’ve occurred to them they could be kinky - really, in the chair? In his office? Talk about your lack of personal boundaries: he has to work there, for heaven's sake!
But, if they were feeling bold enough to do that (they hadn’t even closed the door; it was the middle of the day; there were windows!), it brought up the question of where else they might’ve been knocking loafers.
Come to think of it, they do spend an awful lot of time alone together. Up in her office. Far away from everyone else. Where the door’s kept locked and no one would think of barging in for anything short of a nuclear strike, and even then, they would knock first.
Oh boy.
These are the sort of things, really, which even the most dedicated genius can’t afford to know. Because it could make work around here very, very distracting.
Right now, he’s just trying not to get too many…pictures. Or, scenarios. Because his brain feels like it might break as it is.
The weird thing is it’s not even like the two of them have been acting any different around each other. All business as usual, which he supposes is noteworthy enough, what with the betraying and Attic-sending and all; with the very professional exchanges, all “Mr. Dominic” this and “ma’am” that, and the occasional wordless glance at each other of perfect understanding and subtle, silent communication.
Which, until now, it never would’ve occurred to Topher to consider might have less to do with running the Dollhouse, and more to do with which piece of office furniture they’re planning on throwing each other over later.
Ack. He presses his hands to his temples. Can’t…know…that!
He just has to not think about this anymore. And not wonder about it. Because what’s there to wonder about? Why would he even want to know?
Although. What about the times when Dominic’s not in his body? What about when he’s been imprinted in an Active? Do they still-
Oh, god.
But; half the time those Actives are female. Surely then, they wouldn’t be-
Oh god.
Okay, this…this is going nowhere. Clearly, he needs to put some space between himself and the problem.
He just has to stop thinking about it, no matter what, because not only is he going to give himself an aneurism, if he doesn’t block it out of his brain he might just end up saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.
And amusing as the looks might be on DeWitt and Dominic’s faces if they got called out on their office-sexy-fun-times, he can’t really picture that going very well for himself.
After all, DeWitt could have him fired. And Dominic - for reasons Topher is admittedly not very clear on - is still allowed to carry a gun.
So…yes. Maybe he’ll get out of the Dollhouse for awhile. Get some air. Go for a walk in the park.
Take in the sight of relaxing nature. It’s springtime: there’ll be all the birds, and the flowers, and the cute little baby squirrels-
Only, baby squirrels make him think of baby rabbits, which makes him think of “shagging like rabbits”, “shagging” being the British word for having sex, and British people having sex-
Topher begins slamming his forehead on the table in front of him.
“Are you okay?”
He looks up to see Echo standing a short distance away, eyeing him curiously with a tilt to her head.
“Who, me?” he practically yelps. “Yeah, yep, I’m fine. Perfectly fine. No, nothing going on with me at all.”
“You’re not in your usual place,” Echo states, implying her confusion.
“Oh, well, right now, my office is a little…occupied.” He clears his throat. “Ms. DeWitt and Dom are…having a meeting.”
Stupid, stupid Jujubes.
“Oh,” Echo says.
She glances up in the direction of the office, and then meets Topher’s eyes with a smile.
“They like each other,” she observes brightly.
Topher stares at her for one beat.
And then buries his head in his hands.
“Yes, Echo…they most certainly do.”
Poor, poor Topher.
Title: Blame It On The Jujubes
Characters/Pairings: Dominic/DeWitt, Topher POV, guest appearances by Ivy and Echo
Rating: PG-13 for implied sex and Topher's dirty mind
Spoilers: 1x09, "Spy In The House of Love"
Length: 1,690 words
Notes: Same storyline as Waking Up One Moment at a Time and Walking the Haze That Is Between Dreams; much, much lighter follow-through
Summary: Topher sees something he shouldn't have, and really wishes he hadn't.
If Topher had to think about it, he would really blame Ivy.
It’s just; it’s a very important and stressful job, what he does. One that requires a constant peak performance out of him - not too great a demand, considering the level of his genius, but still. He needs to be focused. Unruffled. Relaxed.
The fulfillment of whatever need he might have, therefore, is clearly a matter of highest priority. And as his assistant, it’s Ivy’s job to make sure all his needs are met, isn’t it?
So if he, say, asked her to pick up just a few little things for him that morning (some chips, some crackers, a special kind of soda water you can only get in Chinatown), and she not only made a really unnecessary fuss, but forgot to get the Sour Patches he specifically requested, well, that would constitute a failure on her part, wouldn’t it? A kind of corporate dereliction of duty?
Of course it would.
So, clearly, this is Ivy’s fault. Because if she had gotten the Sour Patches like she was supposed to, then he wouldn’t have had to fall back on his stash of Jujubes. Which so happened to still be in his office, so he had to go back there, at which point he saw-
And things had been going so well lately, too. Nice and normal.
Well, okay, so “normal” isn’t really what they do around here. But: normal for them. Things had gotten really shaken up beforehand.
First it turned out their head of security was a spy and got sent to the Attic. Then, DeWitt apparently figured as long as they had a security expert on file they might as well use him. Then they basically played a variation on Quantum Leap for awhile. And then, finally, DeWitt called in some kind of favor with the figurative people upstairs and got her order to put Dominic on ice revoked.
To some extent. From an official perspective, Dominic was on the books as an “outside consultant” called in when extra help was needed, and only supposed to be imprinted into his body if it was necessary to the mission.
That was the “in theory” part. In practice, Dominic showed up at least three times a month, always stayed one day extra for every day they actually needed him, and got imprinted into an Active only one time out of three.
But hey, Topher was just following DeWitt’s orders: if that was how she wanted to prioritize it, whatever. Never mind the fact that it was a waste of resources. Never mind that he resented, somewhat, the denied opportunities to utilize his skills: he could whip up a great spy, or intelligence officer, or whatever they needed, on his system in no time!
But no, all he got was the same boring old order to pull boring old Dominic out of storage, again.
That’s all he’d ever thought Dominic was: boring. Boring, and incredibly uptight, and more than vaguely scary.
Same for DeWitt, actually - with a little more emphasis on the scary. No wonder they made such a great matched set.
After a certain point, Topher believes, you have to stop thinking about your superiors as human beings. It's a survival mechanism, really - because if you allow yourself to notice the fact that your boss lady has great legs, or wonder about when last the guy with the gun got laid, you’re just going to get distracted.
So, no thinking about sex at the workplace, and especially not involving people who outrank you. It’s job security. No weirdness, no awkward thoughts, no embarrassing situations.
Not that it was hard to do with Dominic or DeWitt, anyway. Both so incredibly stiff and professional: it took no time at all to condition himself so that the words “DeWitt” or “Dominic” and “sex” didn’t even belong in the same conversation, let alone the same sentence.
Definitely never would have even occurred to him to cross all three.
Unfortunately, that was where the Jujubes came in. Because DeWitt just had him bring Dominic back again, and of course Topher was ordered out of his own office so they could discuss thrilling security matters without him, and he remembered a moment later that Ivy had forgotten the Sour Patches but he did have Jujubes, and they were in his desk, so he went back to get them and-
It was sort of like watching a silent movie, because he was far away enough not to hear the sound, but he could see just fine.
DeWitt tugged at the hem of her skirt, pulling it up just enough so she could climb on top of Dominic where he was still in the chair, sitting on him at the waist.
She put wrinkles in his tie where she clutched it in her fist, pulling his face closer to hers. He rumpled her silk blouse where he tugged on it in the back, both his hands caressing her sides.
And really, with both being known for their incredible attention to detail, Topher was surprised neither of them heard the sound of his jaw as it hit the floor.
Somehow, he had the presence of mind to get out of there. Somehow, he managed to hurry down to the atrium floor, where he proceeded to sit at one of the tables and quietly have a meltdown.
So much for job security.
So much for no awkward thoughts.
It’s like walking in on your parents having sex, really - your incredibly uptight, well-dressed, respectively British and stoic parents, who make far more money that you do and could easily arrange to have you killed in your sleep.
The thought of either Dominic or DeWitt having sex was…befuddling: the thought of them having it together, with each other, was traumatizing.
And even if, even if, it’d ever occurred to him in a million years that maybe, just maybe, his boss and her security man were twisting the sheets, he would’ve, at best, assumed the sex was pretty vanilla. As in, like, involving a bed.
It never would’ve occurred to them they could be kinky - really, in the chair? In his office? Talk about your lack of personal boundaries: he has to work there, for heaven's sake!
But, if they were feeling bold enough to do that (they hadn’t even closed the door; it was the middle of the day; there were windows!), it brought up the question of where else they might’ve been knocking loafers.
Come to think of it, they do spend an awful lot of time alone together. Up in her office. Far away from everyone else. Where the door’s kept locked and no one would think of barging in for anything short of a nuclear strike, and even then, they would knock first.
Oh boy.
These are the sort of things, really, which even the most dedicated genius can’t afford to know. Because it could make work around here very, very distracting.
Right now, he’s just trying not to get too many…pictures. Or, scenarios. Because his brain feels like it might break as it is.
The weird thing is it’s not even like the two of them have been acting any different around each other. All business as usual, which he supposes is noteworthy enough, what with the betraying and Attic-sending and all; with the very professional exchanges, all “Mr. Dominic” this and “ma’am” that, and the occasional wordless glance at each other of perfect understanding and subtle, silent communication.
Which, until now, it never would’ve occurred to Topher to consider might have less to do with running the Dollhouse, and more to do with which piece of office furniture they’re planning on throwing each other over later.
Ack. He presses his hands to his temples. Can’t…know…that!
He just has to not think about this anymore. And not wonder about it. Because what’s there to wonder about? Why would he even want to know?
Although. What about the times when Dominic’s not in his body? What about when he’s been imprinted in an Active? Do they still-
Oh, god.
But; half the time those Actives are female. Surely then, they wouldn’t be-
Oh god.
Okay, this…this is going nowhere. Clearly, he needs to put some space between himself and the problem.
He just has to stop thinking about it, no matter what, because not only is he going to give himself an aneurism, if he doesn’t block it out of his brain he might just end up saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.
And amusing as the looks might be on DeWitt and Dominic’s faces if they got called out on their office-sexy-fun-times, he can’t really picture that going very well for himself.
After all, DeWitt could have him fired. And Dominic - for reasons Topher is admittedly not very clear on - is still allowed to carry a gun.
So…yes. Maybe he’ll get out of the Dollhouse for awhile. Get some air. Go for a walk in the park.
Take in the sight of relaxing nature. It’s springtime: there’ll be all the birds, and the flowers, and the cute little baby squirrels-
Only, baby squirrels make him think of baby rabbits, which makes him think of “shagging like rabbits”, “shagging” being the British word for having sex, and British people having sex-
Topher begins slamming his forehead on the table in front of him.
“Are you okay?”
He looks up to see Echo standing a short distance away, eyeing him curiously with a tilt to her head.
“Who, me?” he practically yelps. “Yeah, yep, I’m fine. Perfectly fine. No, nothing going on with me at all.”
“You’re not in your usual place,” Echo states, implying her confusion.
“Oh, well, right now, my office is a little…occupied.” He clears his throat. “Ms. DeWitt and Dom are…having a meeting.”
Stupid, stupid Jujubes.
“Oh,” Echo says.
She glances up in the direction of the office, and then meets Topher’s eyes with a smile.
“They like each other,” she observes brightly.
Topher stares at her for one beat.
And then buries his head in his hands.
“Yes, Echo…they most certainly do.”