#Im a grown ass adult writing fanfiction like a twelve year old

[notspazztrapavacado]

'Poor Touch-Starved Bastards'

Dr. Kondraki x Reader fluff

(Y/n)'s eyes scanned over the paperwork one more time. (He/She) was finally done with them, and could afford to file tomorrow. It was already two hours past their time to leave anyway.

The late night silence was welcoming, where the rowdier workers had gone home or finally got tired, where the hush that enveloped the facility was only broken by the sound of rhythmic, tapping keys or shoefall on the outdated, smudged tiles.

Finally standing up, (Y/n) stretched, the soreness in (his/her) stiff muscles leaving just as quickly as (he/her) had noticed the ache had been there at all. (He/She) really hadn't moved around in a few hours, and was obviously out of tune with the demands of (his/her) mortal prison. Striding across the room in purposely long strides to stretch just a bit more, (he/she) flopped over on the loveseat that was put in this office when it belonged to (his/her) predecessor, who apparently slept in here.

(He/She) chuckled into the quietness about how (he/she) once thought it was absolutely absurd to sleep in one's office when (he/she) got here, not even naps were acceptable. That mentality lasted just short of a month, before (he/she) realized that this place really couldn't afford to fire anyone and had more important things on their hands than who was sleeping in their off time. It's not like this place ever closes.

The door opened with a small creak, but (Y/n) paid it no mind. If they need (him/her), they'll get (his/her) attention. 

"Going to bed?" The stifled laugh from (his/her) crush of the last 10 months had (him/her) shooting up to greet him in a matter of seconds, wide awake.

"Ben!" (he/she) greeted eagerly, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" (he/she) noted that, as he walked past the desk, he was not here for work. He looked kind of . . . upset? Was (he/she) in trouble?

"Need your table." He sat down on the edge of the coffee table and turned, laying over it and groaning loudly. He draped his arm over his face dramatically, though it was really just to block the light.

"Someone's missing a stray princess." (He/She) had caught a glimpse of the individual instance of SCP 408 he had with him today perched on the side of (his/her) coffee creamer, probably smelling the sugar and getting some that had dribbled down the side without (his/her) noticing.

"I'm a king, not a princess." He moved his arm enough to peek at (him/her) under it.

"Kings don't talk to butterflies and stare at the stars for hours on end. Plus, you're single, can't be a king without a queen." (He/She) partly said it to remind (himself/herself) of that. He wasn't taken and that meant the crush was totally valid, not at all morally corrupt… Maybe hopeless, but not particularly wrong.

"You flirting?" He managed a lopsided grin, left eyebrow raising at his question as he finally moved his arm fully.

"You want me to be?" (He/She) retorted.

"I want you to lay on me." He mumbled it, but, upon realizing just what he had said, his face turned cherry red instantly.

"I meant f-for the weight! My back hurts. That's why I'm here." He corrected his statement and his blush faded to a pink.

"If that's what you want." (Y/n) could feel (his/her) heart trying to break (his/her) goddamn ribs as (he/she) tried to play this cool. It's for his back. It's for his back. Because you're his friend. Single or married or whatever, doesn't matter, he sees you as a friend, be a good one.

Fighting (his/her) own blush, (he/she) set a knee on the table on one side of him, and swung the other over him, effectively giving a position to lay (his/her) torso over the pained doctor's own. 

Kondraki was absolutely thankful, just downright believing in god right now, that he hadn't popped a boner on the spot from the excess of skin contact that he was in no way used to. Also counting his luck at the fact (he/she) was now unable to see his face turn red once more. He practically felt his pupils morph into tiny hearts.

"Been quiet awhile… You okay? Was that a joke?" (Y/n) went to move, but he pulled his arms up around (him/her) to keep (him/her) right where they were.

"You're helping greatly, don't move." His voice broke, betraying him. 

He could feel (his/her) heartbeat quicken as (he/she) drew a sharp breath, surprised. He followed their gaze to the source of the surprise, to find 408 now sitting on his mess of dark brown hair…

And much to his horror, the SCP was trying to play matchmaker, fluttering and putting simple little heart patterns over its wings, ones he'd recognized as his doodles on the backs of outdated documents he tended to draw on before shredding so no one found out he could. Last thing he wanted was Clef, Rights, or Bright demanding he draw them…

"408's just glad you're here, they do that." He tried to validate the behavior as normal of the SCP, and had (him/her) nearly fooled as the insect stopped…

Before an old sketch of (him/her) appeared on the surface of their wings, fanning out to get the whole thing.

"Who drew this?? It's beautiful." (He/She) marveled at it, lifting a finger to let the butterfly step on so (he/she) could move it to see the intricate details better.

"I don't remember posing for a picture?" (Y/n) was not tolerating his silence now.

"You didn't. I… I used one of the ones I'd taken of you as a reference…" He guiltily admitted to the picture. "It was the reference I had on hand, okay?" He defended it, trying not to sound creepy and really hoping (he/she) didn't ask again.

"Oh? What's this? more?" (Y/n) was now more than smug as their free hand went to the table, propping (him/her) up so they could both easily see the dozens of art pieces across the surface of the insect.

"I swear, I'll put you back right now!" He threatened it, face practically on fire at this point, as it just continued to do it's thing.

"You got a crush, Benny?" (he/she) purred close to his ear. He tensed up. 

(Y/n) could hardly believe it, eyes widening. That was a joke, but he'd obviously taken it seriously. Was it true?

408 fluttered back off to the coffee creamer, letting (Y/n) move (his/her) hand to his chest.

'Well. We broke poor Konny. But I'm not one to pass up opportunity.' (He/She) gathered some courage, eyes closing so (he/she) couldn't see the horrible mistake (he/she) was making, grabbing a fistful of the front of his shirt to steady (himself/herself) further and went for it. Lips pressing to his carefully, sealing a kiss that was every bit as sweet and passionate as (he/she) wanted it to be. His eyes, upon realizing what was happening, closed fast as he reached up with his left hand to tangle it in (his/her), (h/c) locks of hair, deepening the kiss.

They pulled away with hesitance, and (Y/n) laid back down on him.

"Alright… 408 can stay out more…" Ben chuckled, a smile as he was just happy with whatever that was. He was in desperate need of affection.

"My back really didn't hurt all that bad, I just want to keep you here." He admitted.

"Thanks for clarifying." (he/she) breathlessly muttered, embarrassed.

"You do know you're stuck with me now, right?" he held (him/her) a little tighter.

"I'd hoped." (he/she) broke into a smile of (his/her) own, relieved that the answer was clear and verbal now to the burning insecurity that had plagued (him/her).

"Let's move this to the cot in my office before I actually do have worsening back problems." They both laughed lightheartedly at the statement before getting up. They'd be sleeping very well tonight, poor, touch starved, bastards.