Work Text:
There is a certain peace in the clicking of a keyboard, you think.
Or at least, that’s what you’re trying to tell yourself as your train of thought starts to derail into less understimulating things than the work in front of you. Sighing, you run your fingers through your hair and glance at the clock- 2:36p.m.
Seriously? Before you can start to wonder how time seems to be moving backwards, though, you receive a text. There’s not much to it, there usually isn’t with you two- minus some flirting and a few snarky remarks from yourself that, mind you, are hilarious . Snickering to yourself at the thought, you open the message fully.
‘Come by when you can.’
Strange, you think. Usually he’d add a playful indicator of what the two of you would be getting up to in his office, but there’s nothing. Were you in trouble? No, far too casual and you’d made sure all your due dates for the week were cleared. You brush aside the more worrying reasons and figure this is a good excuse to get your legs moving and see your favorite part of work; your unreasonably alluring boss.
You do your best to seem casual as you carry some nothing-papers on your way, even though your brain is telling you half the office knows the two of you are a ‘ thing. ’ You don’t know how else to describe it really, you can’t be public with it and thus never put a label on it- so who knows at this point. What you both know, or at least you hope, is that you both care. It’s not the cleanest arrangement, and you know he’s hiding things but fuck it- that’s for future you to worry about.
Trish nods at you as you pass her desk, giving you the go ahead to go into the foreboding office ahead of you. She’d found out about your little dealings with your boss after an unfortunate incident with her catching you with your pants down, literally. You’re being a little dramatic but it was still mortifying answering the door only to see your date’s secretary staring you down in nothing but his shirt. Definitely a situation you don’t want to repeat anytime soon, you still love her though. The sub tweet about the situation was less funny, however.
Opening the door slowly to the office, you notice two things; the lights are off and you can’t see him anywhere. You let out a noise of confusion, shutting the door softly behind you and setting the papers off to the side on some decorative table. Attempting to focus your eyes in the dark, you see a moving lump on the nearby loveseat. A soft call of his name gets him to crack open an eye at you, strained and looking almost pitiful.
Ah, now you understand. Migraines. An unfortunate ailment that plagues Auron at the worst of times. No wonder he was so vague, the light of the screen probably made his eyes want to melt. You frown softly at the state he’s in; hair mussed and glasses tossed to the side, brows somehow more furrowed than usual. It would almost be cute if he weren’t in so much pain. You hum to yourself, determined to help your lover with this and hopefully get him to take a well-deserved nap.
Setting off on your mission, the first stop is getting him medicated enough to actually consider sleep. You rummage through the middle drawer of his desk, letting out a quiet huff of victory once you feel the grooved cap of the Advil. You return to Auron, somehow he’s looking even sorrier than when you had walked away. If you felt mean, you’d compare it to an irritated cat- but hey, today is a nice day.
You smile as he leans into your touch when you run your fingers through his hair, a mumble of your name on his lips. Trying your best to quietly open the bottle, you gently slip a few pills from it into Auron’s hand. You have half a thought to feed them to him, but you figure he’d protest and find it patronizing. You watch him sit up slightly with a wince, enough to dry swallow the pills like a damn psycho- and lay down again with his head buried in the cushions.
Alright, part A of the plan successful; now it’s time for your specialty. Tucked away behind the loveseat was your cozy white and black blanket, which he has bought you on a not-date some nights ago. You slowly take it out, thumbing at the fuzz slightly before gently tucking it around Auron. He makes a sort of half hum-half grunt of approval, you think, before shifting to reach out to you.
Sighing fondly, you grab his hand and place a gentle kiss on the backs of his knuckles, before letting it rest back at his side. You move his glasses to the armrest of the loveseat, sitting down and placing his head softly in your lap. You muse to yourself about how soft his hair is as you run your fingers through it, wavy red strands painting your thighs.
Man, this is really nice. You don’t often get to sit together like this, so peaceful and so…soft. Auron isn’t a man of blatant affection, that much is true- and he is almost never one for you being so soft on him. But he’s letting you do this, letting you help him and letting himself be vulnerable. Then, as if in a twisted form of fate, your phone begins to buzz.
So much for peace you suppose.
But to your surprise, it’s Auron that turns over to mumble at you to turn it off. You stifle a chuckle, reaching into you pocket to see who is on your shitlist for interrupting your one-on-one time with the boss. And you can’t bring yourself to be mad, as it’s just Trish asking you how he’s doing. You shoot her a quick update, asking her to cover forr you if need be before silencing your phone and pocketing it away. You steel your gaze back to Auron, noting the slight softening in his furrowed brows as you begin to rub at his temples. Resisting the urge to coo at him, you lean down and place a gentle kiss on his forehead.
You swear you could see the slight smile on his lips.