Office Space
Swords
He receives a text from her the next day.
hi
He’s not good at texting, missed it by more than a few years. Her generation is the tech one.
Hello.
i’m kinda surprised. i didn’t expect you to be into the texting thing
I am not.
It’s radio silence for the rest of the day, until evening. He’s sitting on a bench in a dog park. He’s always liked dogs. Loyal. Easy. His phone rings, some loud clicking noise he chose off a list. It’s her, of course.
“Hey there.”
“Where are you?” she asks hurriedly. He immediately tenses.
“Park bench at Henley. Why?”
Her sigh is long and heartfelt. “Look, I know I’ve only really known you for a few days-”
“You’re my soulmate, Felicity. You can have anything.”
There’s a long pause where he fears he’s said too much, exposed how much this means to him. “Oh my God, you are the best,” she blurts out finally, a smile in her voice.
He can’t help but grin in return, and he feels like he’s seventeen again. “What do you need?”
“My car broke down a few miles outside the city, and well, no one else can pick me up and pollen does not do wonders for my health and also it’s gonna be dark soon, and…”
“Felicity. I’ll be there. Twenty minutes.”
She takes a deep breath. “Thanks. Thank you.”
“I’ll be right there.”
She’s sitting on a small hill by the side of the road, hugging her knees. She sits up straight when he pulls up, loosens when she sees his face. She motions for him to sit, and they’re along a quiet road, so he does.
“Hello.”
“Hey. Thanks for coming to get me.”
“I always will.”
She glances up, then smiles, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear. “I…Thank you.”
He sees the string of letter along her finger, takes her hand. “Your words. May I see?”
“Yeah, of course.” Her fingernails are painted red and black today. He hopes they’re for him. He traces a finger along her words and she shivers. He wants to kiss her, badly, so he does. Cups her jaw with one hand and turns her face to his.
She opens for him, wraps a hand around the back of his neck. He bites down on her bottom lip and she makes a needy noise, throwing a leg over his hips. He puts his hands on her waist, slips his thumbs under her skin to stroke the skin there.
She sucks on his tongue before pulling back with a hand on his chest. Her mouth is already swollen and he tightens his fingers without thinking. She rolls her hips into his and he grits his teeth.
“Jesus.” She leans forward so he gets a faceful of strawberry scented hair that he tugs aside to bite at her neck. He leaves marks on things that belong to him, he’s not ashamed of it. “Felicity, sweetheart, we’re on the side of a public road,” he says finally, when she’s making tiny pleased noises and grinding against his hip.
“No,” she sighs, long and drawn out. He grins to himself. He’s still got it.
“Honey, come on.” He twists so he’s sitting up with her on his lap. All these pet names, he’s never been soft like this, but they just roll off his fucking tongue and she responds beautifully. She pulls back and runs a hand through his hair, scratching at the nape of his neck.
“Yeah. I don’t want anyone coming.”
She flushes. “I mean, a car, not…you and I, I...that could happen later, um.” He laughs and kisses her hard, wrapping a hand in the hair at the base of her neck.
“We’ll go home in a little bit,” he murmurs, running his hands up her thighs.
They neck like teenagers for an hour, until he tickles her and she laughs delightedly into his mouth. He grins in return and taps the end of her nose. “I didn’t expect this,” she says, sitting up to brush grass off her knees.
“Expect what?”
“For you to be fun. I kinda thought you’d be…really intense and extreme man pain all the time, like Oliver. I mean, I love the guy, but he broods so much.”
He doesn’t tell her about the fights he starts when everything gets to be too much, about the tattered picture of his son that he keeps in his wallet, and the nights he drinks himself to sleep. They can be serious later.
“Yeah, I can be fun.”
It’s dark out now, the stars almost visible this far from the light pollution of the city. The only good thing about the Island were the stars. She leans into him and he tells her about them, and if his voice cracks, she doesn’t say anything.
On the way home she falls asleep, curls into herself like she’s used to sleeping in small places. He wonders how often she falls asleep in Arrow Cave. It can’t be comfortable down there. She’s a light weight in his hands as he carries her upstairs, picks the lock to her apartment.
She wakes up enough to blearily change into pajamas and kiss his cheek, saying, “Thanks,” as he pulls a blanket over her shoulders. He kisses her forehead and leaves.
hi
He’s not good at texting, missed it by more than a few years. Her generation is the tech one.
Hello.
i’m kinda surprised. i didn’t expect you to be into the texting thing
I am not.
It’s radio silence for the rest of the day, until evening. He’s sitting on a bench in a dog park. He’s always liked dogs. Loyal. Easy. His phone rings, some loud clicking noise he chose off a list. It’s her, of course.
“Hey there.”
“Where are you?” she asks hurriedly. He immediately tenses.
“Park bench at Henley. Why?”
Her sigh is long and heartfelt. “Look, I know I’ve only really known you for a few days-”
“You’re my soulmate, Felicity. You can have anything.”
There’s a long pause where he fears he’s said too much, exposed how much this means to him. “Oh my God, you are the best,” she blurts out finally, a smile in her voice.
He can’t help but grin in return, and he feels like he’s seventeen again. “What do you need?”
“My car broke down a few miles outside the city, and well, no one else can pick me up and pollen does not do wonders for my health and also it’s gonna be dark soon, and…”
“Felicity. I’ll be there. Twenty minutes.”
She takes a deep breath. “Thanks. Thank you.”
“I’ll be right there.”
She’s sitting on a small hill by the side of the road, hugging her knees. She sits up straight when he pulls up, loosens when she sees his face. She motions for him to sit, and they’re along a quiet road, so he does.
“Hello.”
“Hey. Thanks for coming to get me.”
“I always will.”
She glances up, then smiles, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear. “I…Thank you.”
He sees the string of letter along her finger, takes her hand. “Your words. May I see?”
“Yeah, of course.” Her fingernails are painted red and black today. He hopes they’re for him. He traces a finger along her words and she shivers. He wants to kiss her, badly, so he does. Cups her jaw with one hand and turns her face to his.
She opens for him, wraps a hand around the back of his neck. He bites down on her bottom lip and she makes a needy noise, throwing a leg over his hips. He puts his hands on her waist, slips his thumbs under her skin to stroke the skin there.
She sucks on his tongue before pulling back with a hand on his chest. Her mouth is already swollen and he tightens his fingers without thinking. She rolls her hips into his and he grits his teeth.
“Jesus.” She leans forward so he gets a faceful of strawberry scented hair that he tugs aside to bite at her neck. He leaves marks on things that belong to him, he’s not ashamed of it. “Felicity, sweetheart, we’re on the side of a public road,” he says finally, when she’s making tiny pleased noises and grinding against his hip.
“No,” she sighs, long and drawn out. He grins to himself. He’s still got it.
“Honey, come on.” He twists so he’s sitting up with her on his lap. All these pet names, he’s never been soft like this, but they just roll off his fucking tongue and she responds beautifully. She pulls back and runs a hand through his hair, scratching at the nape of his neck.
“Yeah. I don’t want anyone coming.”
She flushes. “I mean, a car, not…you and I, I...that could happen later, um.” He laughs and kisses her hard, wrapping a hand in the hair at the base of her neck.
“We’ll go home in a little bit,” he murmurs, running his hands up her thighs.
They neck like teenagers for an hour, until he tickles her and she laughs delightedly into his mouth. He grins in return and taps the end of her nose. “I didn’t expect this,” she says, sitting up to brush grass off her knees.
“Expect what?”
“For you to be fun. I kinda thought you’d be…really intense and extreme man pain all the time, like Oliver. I mean, I love the guy, but he broods so much.”
He doesn’t tell her about the fights he starts when everything gets to be too much, about the tattered picture of his son that he keeps in his wallet, and the nights he drinks himself to sleep. They can be serious later.
“Yeah, I can be fun.”
It’s dark out now, the stars almost visible this far from the light pollution of the city. The only good thing about the Island were the stars. She leans into him and he tells her about them, and if his voice cracks, she doesn’t say anything.
On the way home she falls asleep, curls into herself like she’s used to sleeping in small places. He wonders how often she falls asleep in Arrow Cave. It can’t be comfortable down there. She’s a light weight in his hands as he carries her upstairs, picks the lock to her apartment.
She wakes up enough to blearily change into pajamas and kiss his cheek, saying, “Thanks,” as he pulls a blanket over her shoulders. He kisses her forehead and leaves.