Work Text:
You listen to the little click of your heels ring through the hall of the research sector, following the group of new hires that were being given a tour of the sector we’d be working and operating in, this whole building- it was a maze of brutalist architecture.
You sigh, trying your best to intently listen to the tour guide, but the countless other new hires around you seemed to chatter, the fluorescent lights above seemed to shine too bright, and the pencil skirt you wore seemed to peeve you. You try to remind yourself how hard you fought for this opportunity… the hassle of the interviews, the NDA you had to sign… all of it, you felt ungrateful for feeling a bit overwhelmed and intimidated by the setting. Lord knows you needed the experience the job would provide, however small.
You push your doubts aside, following along, though you were in the tail of the group, making it harder to hear or know what was being said or shown.
By the time the tour is over, it was early evening, and though there weren’t many windows in the oldest house, you knew the sun would be setting around this time of day.
You were tired, all the walking and stairs, god the stairs.. and this building… it was a lot to get used to. You walk some more, walking over to one of the benches in the atrium of the research sector. This would be where you’d be working.
The breathe you didn’t know you were holding escapes your lungs as you take a seat, holding a folder full of material to go over before your next day here, along with some other things to sign and info to provide to HR. Today seemed like a lot, you didn’t want it to discourage you, but holy hell, it did.
You look through the folder, looking through the various papers in it. You slip off your heels, leaving them at the foot of the bench, curling your legs up beside you on the bench you sat - it was after hours, you might as well.
You must’ve been in your own little world, you didn’t realize someone had sat next to you, on the other edge of the same bench. You keep your eyes on the words on the paper, oblivious til you catch the sight of someone in your peripheral, to which you flicker your sight to. An older man in a lab coat, looking over to him completely, almost in surprise you hadn’t noticed him sit down.
He meets your gaze, looking up from the crossword he was doing with a gel pen, and he gives you a friendly smile.
“Rough day?” He asks politely, though for a stranger to ask you such it must’ve been so apparent in the way you looked.
“Is it that obvious?” You respond, giving him a smile.
He chuckles at that, smiling, returning his eyes back to the newspaper on his lap.
“Today just… felt discouraging. Just… a lot. That’s all.” You explain to the stranger in the lab coat.
“that’s…. how this job can be sometimes. It’s best you clear your head and attempt it again the next day.”
“And how exactly do I clear my head if I have too much in there?”
he chuckles at your wording.
“It’s in the little things, like er.. doing this crossword puzzle.” he taps the newspaper with the pen in his hand
you look over to him, getting a good look at him, grays in his hair and peppered in his mustache, round glasses adorning his face, crinkles appearing beside his eyes with a smile. handsome.
Before you can say anything, he places the crossword and pen in your hand, getting up and leaving to catch the elevator.
You look down at the piece of newspaper he placed in your hand, studying his handwriting, and how he had finished most of the diagonal answers of the crossword, his handwriting neat in the red inked gel pen.
~
The following months, you become used to the role of your job, as well as getting used to the work load, and the environment. The oldest house was an office and research building like no other.
You were running errands for a certain scientist of the Luck and Probability department. You run down to central research, determined to make copies of whatever the Luck and Probability department had requested. You stand at the copier, patiently waiting. You never minded doing these kinds of mindless errands, it meant you got to walk around a bit.
Once you run those back to the department that had asked for the copies, the lead researcher requests for you to deliver a copy of the report to the Head of Research.
“Where’s that?” You shamelessly ask, you were still getting used to the layout of the research sector.
The research assistant gives you a look, as if surprised by your lack of knowledge on where every office is - explaining the office was located at the very top of the stairs of central research.
You make haste and leave the department, quickly overthinking the interaction you had with that assistant, hoping you didn’t make too big a fool of yourself for asking for directions.
You sigh, climbing over the copious amount of stairs that made up central research, passing by other fellow employees and a few conference rooms.
Once you reach the Head of Research’s office, you knock, even though the door was open. From what you’ve heard from other interns and employees, this Head of Research was a big deal, always spoken highly of, and many of the researchers seemed to want to impress him- give a good impression. You poke your head into the room slightly.
“Come in.” You hear a voice invite you in.
You step in, the comforting sound of the click of your heels on the hard floor of the office, peering over to right side of the office to see the Head of Research.
You’re taken aback as you notice it was the man you had seen on your first day. The one who gave you the crossword. You silently curse yourself as you realize you had complained about your day to the busiest man in the research sector.
He’s wearing a mustard yellow sweater-vest and a deep brown tie, those same circular glasses, his hair neat. You wonder if he recognizes you at all.
“There was uh… this, this report? From Probability.” You explain yourself with a stutter, surprised to realize this was the Head of Research. You hand the report to him, taking it from you with a simple thank you, sharing eye contact for a second longer than you should’ve.
You awkwardly step out of his office, surprised that the Dr. Darling you had heard of was the one who spoke to you on your first day. You had never guessed for the Head of Research to be so…. So. You figured it must’ve been some kooky old guy, not someone so…. Good looking.
~
Dr. Darling seems to steal a glance of you once or twice when he sees you out and about in central research, running errands for just about everyone in Research. You were Research’s favorite errand girl.
He’d occasionally see you standing by the copier, he’d see you bringing mugs of coffee and documents to conference halls, or delivering reports to each department.
He couldn’t help but notice you in the sea that was the research sector, he couldn’t put his finger on why exactly that was. It was as if he was admiring you, noticing the array of pencil skirts and blouses you owned, how they clung to your body, or the way your hair fell down around your face. Or it must’ve been the rhythmic clicking of your heels and the slight sway of your hips that followed the melody of the clicking. What is it about you he found so captivating?
For a man who studied all things paranatural, he seemed to have a harder time figuring out the inner intricacies of his mind that made his eyes wander to a woman for the first time in what must’ve been decades.
He was married to his work, after all. He didn’t look at women.
He’d push his stolen glances aside, doing what he does best, and that was focusing on his work.
But then he’d catch you hand delivering a memo to Director Trench in a meeting, and he’d get a closer look at you, you seemed to be even prettier up close.
It was just a passing fancy - that’s what he would tell himself.
You were his subordinate on a technical level, the amount of glimpses he had stolen of you was enough for an HR violation.
Besides, he was far too old for dating, too old to have a passing fancy like this, too old for you.
His work was far more important anyway.
His critical scientific mind rationalizing it as infatuation at most, or merely slight attraction at minimum… from all the stress he faced.
Casper works quietly in his office, he had requested for an assistant to be sent to help with the paperwork that came from his research. He had his hands full, sitting at one of the tables of his office, trying to make sense of the notes and observations in his notepad.
His train of thought gets disrupted at the sound of heels clicking and one of his office doors being creaked open.
“Dr. Darling?” You call out politely, gingerly holding the door open; making sure he was indeed in his office, he was known to be just about anywhere in the oldest house.
“Come in.” He absentmindedly invites in, unaware of just who had just stepped into his office, he picks up his head to see just who and why.
“I was told you needed an assistant?” You try to explain, closing his office door, making sure it wouldn’t slam shut.
His eyes trail from the door to the hands of the woman closing it gently, then to the woman.. It was you. His heart nearly skips a bit, He’d only spoken to you twice, and he’d never caught your name.
He tells himself to act normal, like his usual self, but the mere presence of a pretty woman was enough to throw him off, he wasn’t usually like this.
He pushes up his circular frames with a finger,
“That’s correct.”
“Oh, what can I help you with Dr. Darling?” You say, standing in front of the table of which he sat in the middle of his office.
“I could use help with the filing of all these.” He explains, gesturing to the copious amounts of documents on the table, his mouth feeling dry with nervousness, trying to not make it so obvious that the sound of his name on your tongue had made his heart flutter.
You think nothing odd of his behavior, beginning to tidy the documents sprawled over the table top in front of him.
He tries to continue working, watching you from his peripheral, tidying up all the documents and notes on the table, occasionally filing away a document into the binders on his office shelf, getting on the ladder for the shelf that was too hard to reach.
“Sweetheart, can you retrieve that first binder up there?” He asks, pointing towards the top shelf, to which you immediately pull out of the shelf, handing the binder to him.
“Thank you.” He says, his eyes lingering on you.
You spend the entire day running errands for the Head of Research, filing away documents, and tidying his office, Casper was unsure if he’d ever seen his office this neat, and he was proud for how he was managing to not look at you at all.
As the end of the work day approached, you notice as most in the research sector leave the Oldest House and head home, but you continue to assist the doctor. You didn’t mind.
Ever since you had put a face to the name, you’ve had a small schoolgirl crush on him. He was just so… eccentric, and completely in his own world - offbeat; multiple PhD diplomas to his name, sort of quirky and awkward, nerdy.
“Ms…?” Casper tries calling you by name, but it occurs to him he never knew it to begin with, he intensely looks at the badge on your uniform,
“Ms. L/N?”
You look down at the badge his eyes were studying, realizing he was reading it.
“Yes, Dr. Darling?”
“You’re not going home? I didn’t intend to keep you so long.” He asks, reading the watch around his wrist for the time.
“It’s alright. I want to be of assistance. I don’t mind being here after hours.” You tell him with a light hearted tone, trying to make a good impression. He was the boss of your usual bosses after all… still your superior and boss.
“Are you positive Ms. L/N?” He asks once more, furrowing his eyebrows, his eyes behind his frames studying you.
“It’s really no trouble!” You try reasoning, and he sighs, begrudgingly allowing your help while you continue to file documents away in their respective places.
“Dr. Darling, do you usually stay after hours?” You ask him curiously.
He chuckles, finding your curiosity endearing.
“I tend to find myself in this position quite often, yes.”
“Can I maybe get you some coffee then, Dr. Darling?”
“Oh, ah.. some coffee would be great, thank you.”
“How do you take your coffee?”
“Black.”
You scurry out of his office, making your way to the cafeteria at the bottom of the research, getting him a cup of coffee before climbing up all the stairs of the research sector.
You place the hot mug down on the table in front of him, the steam visible.
You sit on one of the couches in his office, legs crossed, sure you didn’t have to be here, but part of you wanted to stay here. Perhaps it was curiosity, or maybe your childish urge telling you to stay longer so you can stare at the handsome Doctor.
“How long have you been working here, Ms. L/N?” He asks, sipping his cup of coffee.
“Umm… a couple of months, sir.” You answer awkwardly, your response delayed, almost as if you didn’t believe he would ask about you, beginning to file away some more of the documents on the table, having to get on your tip toes to reach one of the shelves.
All the while Casper can’t help but admire the way you look while doing something so simple, trying to keep his gaze respectful but failing and noticing how your skirt rides up slightly while you try to reach what you need.
Casper works for another hour, into the late night, and when he finally notices how quiet his office is, he looks around for you, just to find you sound asleep on the other side of his office on one of the couches.
It made sense, it was past one. He chuckles to himself, pushing up his glasses, noticing how peacefully you were asleep, still in your work clothes and lab coat, curled up on the black leather couch.
He stands up, trying to be quiet, walking over to you to drape his lab coat over your sleeping form. It wasn’t much, but he knew how chilly his office could be, surely anything would help keep you warm.
The feeling of fabric being placed over the skin of your bare arms wakes you up, slowly opening your eyes, doing a few blinks, realizing you had slept somewhere that isn’t your own bed, you must’ve fallen asleep by accident.
Your eyes flutter and focus on the man kneeling by the couch you had fallen asleep on.
Once the reality of your surroundings kicks in, you frantically sit up, the sleep being scared from your eyes when you realize you fell asleep in your boss’ office by accident.
“Goodness, Dr. Darling. I’m so sorry, sir.” You apologize in a panic, shifting to sit and fix your clothes, trying to rid of any evidence of your sleepiness.
“It’s alright, dear. It’s really late.”
The reassurance isn’t enough to convince you that the situation was okay. “I- I’m sorry. It was an accident.” You apologize profusely.
He pushes his glasses up, still kneeling down at the couch, looking up at you. “It’s alright, really, Ms. L/N.”
Something about his stare on you comforts you, the grays in his hair complimenting the brunette he had left, with such a kindness in his eyes.
You let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding, and he gives you a comforting smile.
“You should get home, Ms. L/N.”
“We still got work to do though, I still want to help.” You protest.
“I can take it from here.” He reassures.
“I want to stay, really.”
He stands up with a sigh, sitting down next to you on the leather couch with a scoff and chuckle, “you’re stubborn, Ms. L/N.” His gaze moving from the floor to you.
“I just really care about this job, that’s all.” You sheepishly explain yourself.
“I understand.” He plainly says, a bit quietly.
“Do you usually work this late, Dr Darling?” You ask once more.
He huffs at that. “Just nights I need to. Which seems like most days.” He speaks humorously.
You smile at that. “Do you ever get tired of it?” You ask, teetering on inappropriate questions to ask your boss.
He laughs, “not particularly. It’s… my life’s work. Although, some days it feels like it drags on.”
When some silence lingers in the air, he returns the question.
“Do you ever get tired of it, Ms. L/N?”
You mentally battle whether you should be honest, or say what you think your boss wants to hear.
“Well… no.”
He chuckles, pushing his glasses up once more. “not sure I’m so convinced.”
You slightly giggle at his response and how he could see right through it. You correct yourself, avoiding his gaze, “well, sometimes. It just gets discouraging, but I’m happy to assist however I can. I really don’t mind staying late.”
He smiles, recalling the first time he spoke to you, must’ve been ages ago- you used the same word to describe the job, ‘Discouraging’.
“You’ve been doing a wonderful job, sweetheart, don’t let the pressure and environment discourage you.” He says in such a matter of fact tone. To which you smile, feeling your face heat up slightly at the term of endearment, ‘sweetheart’ sounding so tender in his voice.
“I never gave you this back.” You say, reaching into your lab coat to retrieve the red gel pen from the pocket, handing it to him, to which he takes, examining the pen.
“I’m sure you don’t remember, but you gave it to me forever ago, when I started working here.” You tell him, certain he wouldn’t.
“I remember.”
You look at him, and he gives you a dorky lopsided smile.
He clears his throat, “thank you.” The air in the room a bit awkward, he shifts on the couch.
“I figured I’d meet you again… eventually.” You tell him.
With another awkward silence, you stand up, handing him his lab coat he had draped onto you while you were asleep.
“I should probably get home.”
He stands up after you, taking the lab coat from your extended hand, putting it back on. “That’s right.”
“I’ll finish up filing those last few reports you finished up, before I go.”
He nods; the air still thick and heavy, awkward and tense for no real reason, nothing particularly bad was said, it was polite talk. Maybe the awkwardness was in his head, created from the small crush he had on you, overthinking his every word.
He sits on the stool at the table in the center or his office, trying to make sense of the documents in front of him, but far more concentrated on making sense of the conversation he had just had with you. Why did the air feel so heavy in this office?
He glances over as you file away a few things, looking for the appropriate binder and folder the reports and documents were meant to go in.
He takes note of how cute you look even after you had accidentally slept, it was nearly 3 in the morning and you still looked as pretty as ever. Your badge neatly adorning your lab coat, with your full name in it, he makes sure to remember your first name too, for an innate reason he doesn’t understand.
He sighs a bit, looking at the red pen in his hand, a pen that belonged to him and his office, yet all he could think about was you. That you had kept it for months just to return it back to him.
He stands, walking back to his actual desk to place the red pen in the mug of pens he had on his desk, when he turns around, he finds you knelt down, reading over files in one of the binders, trying to find the right spot for the document in your hand.
He walks over to you, wanting to help you so you could go home quicker, he thought you deserved to rest.
You look up at him from where you were down on the floor in your knees, he gestures for you to give him the paper you were holding.
He scans the document, scrunching his mustache a bit subconsciously, before pointing to the binder next to the one you’re holding. “Goes in this one.” He quietly says, you look up at him as he hands you back the document, and you place it in its respective place, slotting the binder back to where it was meant to go.
He extends his hand out to you, wanting to help you up.
You take his hand, feeling that it’s large and warm, as he brings you back up to your feet.
“Thank you.” You quietly say, nearly under your breath, and you notice this must be the closest you’ve ever stood next to Dr. Darling, noticing the grays in his mustache and facial hair, his hair graying at the temples, the little freckle he had by his lip.
He gives you a small smile, and you smile back, the air thick.
You almost hadn’t realized he didn’t let go of your hand, his eyes seemingly full of affection, though you couldn’t tell if you were reading too much into it.
“I… should get home now.” You say, breaking the awkward silence.
“That’s right.” He says, loosening his grip on your hand, the both of you getting closer to each other, almost subconsciously.
You look up at him, your eyes loving, almost tempting.
You get on your tip toes a tiny bit, and he seems to lean down, just enough so you can catch each others lips.
His lips taste like coffee, you kiss him gently. The kiss chaste and quick, over before you could even realize it started, pulling apart to look at you.
Your eyes flutter open, looking to him, his eyes searching for a reaction in your own.
You give him a gentle smile, placing your hand on his chest, the fabric of the kitschy sweater vest he wore under your fingertips, before you kiss him again. You could feel how tense he was under your hand, but it all seems to melt away when you initiate that second kiss. It was mutual.
Dr. Darling gives you more of a proper kiss this time, lord knows he hadn’t kissed anyone in so long. He had almost forgotten how to.
You smile into the kiss, at how his nose and frames bump into your face, though Dr. Darling feels a bit self conscious about it the second he realizes it.
When you both pull away, he smiles to you sheepishly.
“Ahem.” He awkwardly clears his throat, pushing his glasses up.
“I apologize, Ms L/N. That was far from professional.”
“That’s… alright, Dr. Darling.” You try to reassure him, though the blush on your cheeks was betraying your professional tone, his own face having a pinkish hue.
“Let’s… forget this happened, Ms. L/N.” He blurts, trying to maintain his composure despite his mind in a panic, he couldn’t believe he had done that.
“Of course, Dr. Darling.” You reply absentmindedly, taking his lead on the matter- it felt bitter. You had a raging crush on him. To hear him want to forget it- it was probably for the better, for the sake of your job, but part of you hoped that wasn’t the end of it.
Your heart dropped as his words set in a bit more… it wouldn’t have worked anyway. The entire thing would’ve been a big fat HR violation, a write up for this encounter alone. You didn’t have that much of a crush on him anyway, he was much older than you, and your boss. A workplace entanglement was the last thing you wanted after scoring a job at the FBC.
You both sigh, the tense air replaced by a slight gloom.
“We should call it for the night. We’ve made good progress.” He speaks, stepping away from you, walking slowly to his desk, organizing a few documents into his satchel before closing it.
You watch, almost frozen from the entire interaction. Eventually moving your feet from what felt like cement to gather the few things you had, sighing.
In a matter of minutes, the both of you walk out of his office, the oldest house quiet at this time of night.
The both of you walk next to each other quietly, making way for the elevator, refusing to acknowledge what had happened 10 minutes ago.
He presses for the elevator door, immediately dinging and opening.
He steps into the elevator after you, pressing for the lobby button on the elevator panel, the elevator door closing.
He stands beside you, giving you a dorky smile, almost as if trying to tell you that everything is okay and normal.
You look to him, giving him a smile back, the quietness and claustrophobic nature of the elevator seem to be more apparent than it’s ever been, despite him taking this elevator a million times.
He takes your hand from your side, placing his hand on your jaw, giving you a needy kiss. The second you register it, you kiss him back, that familiar taste of coffee on his lips greeting you once more.
He figured, he might as well make that HR write up worth it.
You kiss into him, his body leaning into yours, his hands eagerly cupping your jaw to deepen the kiss, your back pressing into the wall of the elevator.
His lips part from yours for only a moment, before continuing to kiss you eagerly, your lips on his hungry.
Your hands trail to his chest, feeling at the fabric of his sweater vest. Breathlessly making out with him, a stark contrast from the gentle little kiss he had given you earlier in his office.
His hand falls to the small of your back, the other up to the back of your neck, leaning down to accommodate for the height he had on you. The both of you not stopping to even catch your breath.
The warmth of your body against his seems to warm his heart, not having felt anything like this in what must’ve been years, he was more touch-starved than he cared to admit. All the touch and kiss seemed to make him delirious, dizzying his mind which was normally so precise and critical.
With the ding of the elevator, Dr. Darling gives you a formal nod,
“Ms. L/N.” Polite and respectful.
“Dr. Darling.” You acknowledge.
Bidding each other farewell in a professional demeanor, before the both of you parted your separate ways from the lobby, as though what happened in the elevator didn’t happen at all.