#also my composer is fine as hell and he sends me voice memos and you can hear his young son babbling in the background and it’s so cute

[haruchiyos]

In other news, I’m 3 weeks away from my first public screening as a filmmaker

[mwolf0epsilon]

Sammy’s and Normans first kiss?

I don't usually poke at these sorts of themes, but fair warning: This is slightly NSFW due to a few "wandering hands" on Sammy's part.

Summary: If there's anything that Norman regrets, it's his and Sammy's disaster of a first kiss...

---

     Susie's and Sammy's messy breakup over the replacement of Alice Angel's voice actress role had taken an even bigger toll on the studio than anyone could have ever imagined. Morale had already been low with the steady increase of workload, and the stress of overclocking to chug through the narrowing time frames between deadlines. So having both Sammy Lawrence and Susie Campbell, two of the most outspoken and loud folk in the studio, in such low spirits really had an impact on the other employees.

Sammy took it out on people, his fragility making his temperament unstable to the point lashing out felt like an easier way to cope than to deal with his emotional turmoils head on.

Susie resorted to pettier methods. Decreasing morale with rumors and cruel gossip, and overall making any voice over roles she got (the very same low grade background characters she'd begun with) a nuisance to get done if just to make Sammy's life more difficult. This in turn, fed the perpetual cycle of anger and frustration that permeated the recording booth.

Susie was gaslighting Sammy, and Sammy was verbally assaulting people in retaliation. All of this generated by Joey Drew "accidentally" sending everyone but the intended employee a memo detailing sensitive information regarding their work.

Truly, Norman was at his wits end from pure exasperation over Drew's tactics to keep the studio under his iron grasp. He knew the sort of dangerous game that devil of a man was playing, and he hated how easily everyone fell into place.

Above all, he hated what Joey was slowly shaping both Sammy and Susie into.

     Back in Louisiana Norman had a particular childhood bully who was the ringleader of the bigger meaner kids in town. He was a scrawny meek looking boy with a devious spark in his eye. A thinker instead of a go-getter.

That boy had made Norman's life a living hell, up until his growth spurt came in (he'd been a late bloomer so that had been a good 15 years under that little hellion's tyrannical grasp). Once Norman became bigger than his bullies, that clever bastard had tried buttering up to him. Get him nice and friendly so he'd fall in line with the rest of the thugs.

Once Norman 'kindly refused', he'd instead tried to make him look bad to the rest of the neighborhood. Not too hard, considering he'd always been a bit of a sneak, but honestly he'd never much minded what others thought.

Norman was the weird kid with the crazy eye, and the lightest feet in town. He could sneak up on the feral cats that lived in the overgrown playground without getting heard, and he was the kid that knew sign language because one day his hearing was going to go because he was born with something inherently wrong with his ears. He was also the kid that woke up at 5AM sharp to run training drills with his old man and his siblings.

Nothing the little jerk could do or say had ever made much of an impact on his reputation. Then one day of course his little sister came in missing a braid and his little brother had a split lip. That day Norman beat the shit out of that hellspawn and got in trouble for standing up to his bully.

That's what Drew was doing. Pulling all sorts of cheap manipulative tactics that were slowly shaping the people he employed into being predisposed to doing whatever he felt like.

Be it light threats hidden in passive aggressive comments, invitations to lunches or dinners where he'd test his boundaries of control over certain situations like who paid the bill or what sort of seed of doubt he could implant in someone's brain, or even feed the fires of someone's ire by meddling with their relationships.

By doing this to Sammy, especially, Joey was destroying his reputation as a respectable musician. The blond music director may be unreasonably unsociable, but that did not affect the quality of his work in the least. If anything Sammy seemed to work better under a more private setting.

Now that he was the focus of scrutiny and that people were constantly intruding upon his given workspace however, things were blurring. Professional and personal life had mixed and Joey was purposefully poking a sleeping bear to maintain control over the only composer he knew he could effortlessly keep under his control.

If Sammy so much as tried to quit, the damage of his current behaviors would ensure he'd never be employed ever again, and then where would he go from there when he had bills and rent to pay, and another mouth to feed?

Susie too was at risk.

She'd taken the hit so badly that she was actively fighting her employer and superior by behaving in an almost childish way in protest over being personally wronged. By demeaning her own work she was risking one of Joey's infamous blacklistings from the working industry. Who'd hire a difficult broad that thought she ran the show?

No one, that's who. Not in this overly masculine society.

     20 years ahead of both in experience, Norman was well and truly concerned. Both of them weren't bad people. They were fine adults with their whole life ahead of them if they played their cards right and sorted their emotional bullshit before snakes like that devil Drew got them cornered like mice in a maze. They were also both very competent and passionate about their work (which honestly was very attractive to him).

Obviously they weren't getting it on their own, so he had to stir them towards the right path somehow. A little nudge.

If only things weren't so hard in this damn studio… Getting to Susie was complicated considering she was avoiding people. And Sammy? Well, Sammy had some concerning vices.

  "He's been drinking." Jack had taken Sammy under his wing a while back. Norman knew how much the lyricist cared for his coworker and friend, so the pain in his voice was palpable. "He's hardly himself anymore. He's resorting to racist comments and shouting matches because he can't come up with any real reason to put people down, and I caught Wally straight up crying in the bathroom the other day because Sammy made fun of his spots to the point he couldn't take it anymore."

  "Miss Campbell ain't doin' no better. Word is she pitched a mighty tantrum ta other day in ta booth." At least that's what he'd witnessed while doing his usual rounds. "Sammy threatened ta write her up so Joey would fire her."

  "Don't remind me… I was conducting the band while Sammy helped Miss Pendle, and then Susie just barged in!" Jack ran a hand over his tired face, looking a decade older than he actually was. Just from how frustrated the situation left him. "I'm losing my best friend Norman… If this keeps up I won't be able to stand Sammy. Wally feels just about the same with Susie. They're hurting everyone around them and they don't care because they're so caught up on attacking each another…"

  "They is more stubborn than a mule in ta field. Ain't nothin' I could say that could fix what Drew's meddlin' has done, but I could sure try ta call them ta reason." He muses. "I've had ta knock some sense into Sammy before. Could use the reminder..."

  "You're not gonna hit him are you? Norman you could get fired…" Jack looked concerned at this.

  "N'aw. Drew don't care, I roughed him up before and our 'kindly boss' didn't give a rat's ass 'bout his wellbeing." Norman stated. "Henry sure did give me an earful tho…"

  "Who…?"

  "An old friend… Anyhow, can't hurt ta go see Sammy 'bout his deplorable behavior. You know where he gone off to?" Norman dismissed the question with a smile.

Jack shrugged at him in reply.

  "You could try his office. Unless you know where he holes himself up, then he's probably there." The shorter of the two men fixed his bowtie and grabbed his hat from the hanger at the door. "Please go easy on him… It's not his fault."

  "Don't excuse him being a right pain to everyone else."

  "No, but you wouldn't blame a wounded dog to bite when cornered would you?"

  "That's what a muzzle is for."

Not that a muzzle would work on Sammy's sort of breed. He was not one to be silenced so easily in his pain.

Subdued… Maybe, if he had a couple of glasses of that yummy bravery juice and an ear to badger. He wasn't a wordsy man in the sense that he could elaborate what he felt. He was more the word vomit type that said what he felt in bursts. Not very articulate but definitely trying to show what was going on in that confused head of his.

Silencing Sammy was not worth the effort. It'd only make the situation worse. At best, Norman hoped to get him talking after knocking him about just a little.

It never occurred to him that he'd end up doing something else entirely.

     Jack hadn't been kidding. The kid had indeed been drinking, and god the smell of whiskey in his office was overpowering. It came off thicker than Sammy's cheap cologne, and it definitely reminded him of his Pepaw's bootlegging days. The sharp smell of alcohol and a man's bitter tears beneath the dense musk of despair.

Norman crinkled his nose in displeasure as he watched the wiry frame of the blond music director draped over his desk like some twisted puppet that had its strings cut off abruptly. A soft noise made him roll his good eye, wondering when Sammy had fallen so far from grace to the point he was openly snoring in his office like he didn't care about his reputation.

He walked closer, half ready to slap him awake when he realized the noises weren't snores. More like keening whimpers. Soft and throaty, just barely contained.

Then he really scrutinized what the kid was doing. Left arm cushioning his head, while the other was… Oh.

  "Fuckin' Christ Sammy…"

The other's flushed face turned to look at him with a jump, his hand still stuck in his pants, and his eyes just barely focusing.

The wretched smell of alcohol and sweat were already an indicative of his state of inebriation. The lack of shame in his actions, another indication.

But then it was the way he was staring up at him that really gave Norman a scope of just how shitfaced Sammy was.

  ".........S'dat you Norms…?" Speech slurred and bleary eyed. Drunk as an Irishman on Saint Patty's, or a German man on Oktoberfest. This was not a dignified way to find the ornery composer. If anything Norman felt wrong intruding on… Whatever this was. A pity wank?

  "I… should come back later." He was not dealing with this.

  "No!" Sammy reached out for him. "S'day. S'ged'ing lon'ly…"

The taller of the two froze and bit his lip in discomfort. He was not staying to watch Sammy jack off, there was no way in hell. He'd seen Piedmont enough times to warrant a restraining order if the man ever found out what he'd been up to while hiding in the walls. He wasn't going to perv on someone 20 years younger than himself. That was just wrong... As hypocritical as that may sound.

  "I really should let yous finish that…" he tried to back off, but the other clearly wasn't getting it. Counting bottles, Norman could guess why exactly that was. Just how much had Sammy drank?

  "Pl'ase. S'day… D'n't wonna… D'n't feel good all al'ne…" Sammy sniffled loudly. Still reaching out for him with his unoccupied hand. The other was still very much preoccupied down south, from what he could tell in the dark.

  "Sammy Lawrence I am not watchin' you pleasurin' yourself like some deviant! That ain't right!" Hypocrite, the little voice in the back of his mind hissed. You would.

  "Why no'd…? You cute…" Had he… had Sammy just called him cute? A man twice his age and well outside the whole petit brunettes sort he liked? "Big an' han'some… You cou'd brea' me… I'd let's you…"

This was… this was not what he imagined when he'd come to confront Sammy. That hungry, lustful look under the drunken stupor. The way he wasn't even trying to hide his pleasure as he unapologetically stroked himself while speaking to Norman.

An open invitation. It evoked something the older of the two men had been trying to bury for a while now. Desire. A desire that was certainly making his own trousers feel a tad constrictive.

But he couldn't. Not like this. Sammy wasn't in the right state of mind for this.

As if reading his mind, the blond stumbled forward. The projectionist backed up once more to avoid his grasp, but found his back colliding with the office door. Closing it and cornering himself in the process.

Sammy breached his personal space and put a hand to his chest. Norman tensed under his touch, watching transfixed as the composer felt up his pecks in clear adoration. Adoration. Sammy Lawrence was showing something other than annoyance towards him and it felt like he was watching the man being enlightened in some way.

  "So strong…" He felt himself swallowing around a thick lump in his throat as Sammy's purrs got to his groin rather quickly. "So han'some…"

Norman's good eye went back to the fiddling hand, just barely able to see what was happening beneath fabric. Then he felt Sammy's exploring touch lower until it rest between his legs.

  "So big…" The blond whispered seductively before he pressed their lips together in a bid to get what he wanted. Get what both wanted. The taste was both vile and tempting. So hard to push away... But Norman knew it was inherently wrong to exploit.

  "Ok that's enough a' this charade!" He grabbed hold of Sammy's shoulders and pushed him off, ignoring the painful ache between his legs that begged for the music director's hand to return. "Yous don't just go feelin' up a fella's package you damn twit! If I was one o' them homophobes I woulda beat yous black an' blue for this! Ya gotta be smart Sammy, or yous is gonna end up dead one o' these days!"

The blond stared up at him in confusion and mild shock, clearly unhappy about the rejection. He pulled his hand out of his trousers and just stared at him with that semi unfocused gaze that was slowly gaining a bit of clarity as time progressed.

  "... Did… I do bad…?" His confusion soon turned into frustrated anger "Why m'I never good 'nough?!"

  "Sammy what are ya hollerin' 'bout?"

  "M'I ugly? W'y s'everyone got'a leave?!" Sammy stalked back over and pushed Norman against the door, clearly ready to blow up out of anger. "M'I not good 'nough for you?!"

  "Sammy…"

  "J'ust wonna feel! Feel good!" The music director looked him in the eye, practically begging. "Wonna feel good! Pl'ease! Ju'sh wonna feel loved!"

  "Wouldn't be right… you're drunker than a skunk… ain't right kid. Please see reason…" He pleaded, honestly pleaded with the distraught man. 

To his credit, it sort of worked. Sammy cried out in anger and shoved him a few more times against the door for good measure, before collapsing into a crying heap. All Norman could really do was kneel down and try to comfort him.

  "J'us wonna m-matter…"

  "Damn it Sammy… You do matter." He held him closely, feeling bitter about the circumstances behind the gesture. "Yous don't gotta offer yourself up like this ta feel like you do…"

Rather than reply, Sammy sobbed and clung to him for dear life. Letting all the pent-up heartbreak out.

The games Drew played… they had an impact that Norman truly despised. Ones that lead people into the brink of desperation. Sammy was already a casualty of it, Susie not far behind.

That night Norman took it upon himself to take Sammy home, not trusting the kid to be able to go on his own. He practically carried him all the way, making sure to go through less frequented streets to conserve some of the dignity the music director had left.

Knocking on the door and having to explain to Sammy's sister that he was out of it was... Distressing. That girl may be a ray of sunshine, but the obvious disapproval behind Abigail's eyes was colder than ice.

They'd been at odds recently, the two siblings, because of just how badly things were spiraling.

Abigail wanted Sammy to leave the studio, find something else to do that didn't take such a toll on his mental health. Sammy refused, out of pride and fear for what Drew might do to sabotage him.

Norman found that this was another thing he couldn't exactly fix. Wherever that devil of a man looked, a strange taint followed. Even something as pure as a sibling bond, or a kiss.

And god, did Norman regret that damn kiss.

What a fucking mess.

[dust2dust34]

A quick flashfic in the Forever Is Composed of Nows ‘verse, specifically for Nate/Penny (aka BookQueen). This is the one sequel that both @so-caffeinated and I will be writing together like we did with FICoN and early parts of POA. It’s still a ways off, but along with the rest of the FICoN ‘verse, these two are never far from our thoughts...

*This is unbetaed and will likely get edits for the final story.*

(You can read a peek at what their [smutty] future is like here.)

This is how they meet... 

June 2051 

There is very little that Nate Queen dislikes more than inefficiency.

Chit-chat around water coolers and meandering lunch breaks spent talking about weekend plans is a waste of company time that’s not a whole lot better than stealing, in Nate’s opinion. At work, you have a job to do. You have a purpose and that purpose is not to gush over the newest reboot to hit theaters or talk about the exploits of some celebrity billionaire that got splashed across the gossip blogs.

Okay, that last one might be taking things a bit personally, but his point stands.

The fact that so few people seem to share Nate’s devotion and work ethic is both frustrating and a problem. For the life of him, he cannot seem to find an assistant who can live up to his standards. The job is not, in spite of assumptions, one that runs nine-to-five. The work day ends when the work is completed and not a moment before. Nate holds himself to that standard and he surely holds his assistants to it.

Which is why he’s burned through three of them so far this year and is currently relying on a temp agency while he searches for someone who actually wants to be a professional instead of goofing off half of the time.

His last assistant had been on Twitter while she was working. Ignoring the fact that no one even uses Twitter these days, what could be the possible justification for that?

No one in Human Resources had been surprised in the least when he’d informed them that he was going to need them to vet some new candidates for him, but they’d definitely been annoyed. This time, he tells himself, this time he’ll make sure he gets someone right for the job. This time, he’s going to find a good, dedicated, long-term assistant that doesn’t leave him back in the H.R. department before the end of summer. For one thing, having to spend time interviewing someone so routinely is terribly inefficient. And, honestly, counterproductive.

Knowing him as they do, H.R. has had trouble getting anyone past the first round of interviews. Nate has become somewhat notorious for his exacting standards and he suspects the hiring manager is pulling no punches in describing exactly what working for him is like. He’s not an easy boss, but he demands no more of others than he’s willing to give himself. While he might not be easy to work for, he is fair.

But, there’s something of a deviation from normal procedure today. That alone would be enough to make Nate a little unsettled - he likes routine; procedures are there for a reason - but the reason for it also just rubs him the wrong way.

It had started, of all things, with a call from his brother.

“Hey, so… no pressure here, but I need to ask you for a favor.”

The statement alone had been a surprise, but Nate had assumed he needed a babysitter for some reason and had been ready to agree until Will continued.

“Actually it’s Beth’s friend who needs… No, Micah, don’t you dare put peas up your brother’s nose!... Who needs a favor.”

It hadn’t been the deviation in the middle that had thrown Nate.

“I’m not asking you to hire her,” Will had continued, “but Beth’s got this friend, a girl a few years older than her who tutored her in her business class. And she’s looking for a job. And Beth might’ve promised she could get her an interview at Q.I.”

Nate had barely bitten back a curse. Of course she had. Beth’s absolutely the type to promise something then bat her eyes until other people make it happen.

It’d taken Will a while to talk him into it and Nate had really only been convinced because his youngest nephew had started wailing. Apparently he’d really wanted peas up his nose and it quickly became clear that Will was doing his best to comfort the toddler while simultaneously continuing to attempt to persuade him. And, okay, Nate might be a hard-ass of a boss, but he’s a pushover when it comes to his siblings. So he’d finally sighed and agreed before taking down Beth’s friend’s information and forwarding it over to Human Resources.

Penny Bookwalter.

She was one year out of college with a bachelor’s degree in business administration and an associate’s in administrative assistant studies. She might’ve been a strong candidate for a lower level manager, either as an assistant or working in accounts herself. The education is surely there, but the experience is not. Aside from an internship at a company that went belly-up last winter and a few temp jobs, the only thing to recommend her is a handful of glowing letters of recommendation that Will sends on her behalf.

Except Bethany, of course.

Nate isn’t especially close with his half-brother’s baby sister. He likes her well-enough, he guesses, went to her wedding and wrote a really hefty check as a gift. But they could not be two more different people if they tried and they rarely spend time together or even chat outside of extended family gatherings. So, he’d been more than a little surprised to see her when she’d turned up at his office with a bag of donuts and a toothy smile that meant she had an agenda.

Like Bethany Samayamantula has ever done anything without an agenda?

She’d dropped a bag of bear claws on his desk, perched herself next to it and said, “Hello, my almost-brother. Let me tell you about my amazing friend and why you need to hire her.”

Frankly, she’s going to be terrifying when she’s done getting her real estate license. He’s glad he never has to negotiate with her. Well… for anything other than this, anyhow. Still, he respects her for going to extra mile for her friend and the simple fact that she does builds his interest in the would-be assistant.

She still should’ve gone through the proper channels rather than vaulting straight past the screener appointment to have a sit-down with him, which will be starting in - Nate checks his watch - fourteen minutes. Presuming she’s on time. If she’s not it won’t be starting at all.

His favors only extend so far.

Nate collates the papers for Edgarton into a neat pile before slipping them into a folder. He ignores the twinge of annoyance at having to hope the temp currently working for him doesn’t misfile these, or worse, file them in the wrong place completely like she did with the Applied Sciences project that’d gotten fast-tracked last week.

Collecting the folder and a memo with his notes, he heads out of his office. She’d misspelled words he didn’t even know people could misspell, which simply only telegraphed her laziness not only with his files but his dictations as well. It’s simply a reminder that he absolutely will not hire someone just so that he’s done with hit-and-miss temps. This one is surely a miss.

It might help if she’d actually stay at her desk.

Nate stops dead in his tracks and clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring. Only the fact that he hears her heels on the marble floor in his outer office saves her, followed by her saying, “Sorry your coffee’s in a plastic cup, I couldn’t find the real ones.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” someone replies. The answering voice is soft, reserved, and a little nervous, judging by the way the words end in a lilt. She’s being nice, that much is obvious, especially because it’s not fine, not in Nate’s estimation. The coffee mugs are kept on a rack that sits right next to the espresso and coffee machines and he has to wonder where in hell Miss Dunsworth went to get that cup of coffee. The voice continues with an equally soft, “Thank you.”

“Sure thing,” Miss Dunsworth says. The casual nature makes Nate’s eye twitch. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Nate raises an eyebrow. Is this his interview? He glances at his watch again, but it’s exactly as he thought, except now he has thirteen minutes before the scheduled appointment. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t just a little bit impressed. It’s almost enough to assuage the fact that he’s having to do this at all.

“Oh no,” the soft-spoken woman says, “please don’t interrupt him if he’s busy. I’m early.”

“Alright. That’s probably a good idea, he can be kind of a d-i-c-k sometimes.”

Nate isn’t sure which emotion hits him first - aggravation, anger, or amazement that she can spell the word dick just fine, but she thinks the word agreement actually has four e’s. He doesn’t get the chance to react, though, because the person he assumes to be Miss Bookwalter replies.

“Excuse me?”

“Mr. Queen,” Miss Dunsworth supplies.

Nate moves to catch a glimpse of his temp leaning against one of the couches in his waiting room as if she’s at home and not in a professional work environment.

His temp isn’t finished.

“The only reason I’ve stuck around so long is because the stick that lives up his ass doesn’t take away from how insanely hot said ass is.”

Oh, is that all? Nate thinks dryly.

Miss Bookwalter doesn’t skip a beat and Nate almost does a double take at the change in her voice as she says, “It sounds like he knows what he wants.”

“Yeah,” Miss Dunsworth says. “To be a dick. Just a little warning, he’s not easy to work for. In fact he’s hard as hell to work for. He made me stay until seven last night to finish some paperwork when it could have easily been done this morning. Hi, people have lives.”

“If the work needs to be finished,” Miss Bookwalter replies, “you should stay until it’s finished. If that’s what your boss needs.”

Yes.

Exactly.

There’s not an ounce of bite to her words, but the point is there, and it’s direct. Nate’s aggravation with his temporary assistant shifts to intrigue as he glances at where Miss Bookwalter sits. All he sees are a pair of simple black heels and bare calves.

“You are way more patient than me, girl,” Miss Dunsworth replies. “I’m just saying, I’ve been temping for a few years now and this guy is by far the worst I’ve ever experienced.”

The silence that follows is almost tangible, and Nate is too transfixed to do anything but watch. He can see with each second that passes that it wears on Miss Dunsworth. She starts to wilt, clearly not finding the camaraderie that she’d been expecting.

“Thank you,” Miss Bookwalter finally replies and Nate’s eyes switch back to where the woman sits up taller. “I’ve been doing temp work, too, and I can speak from experience that not every work environment is right for everyone. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong, either. You just have to find the right place for you.”

Miss Bookwalter is cordial and even-tempered and, once again, so damn direct in her own way that Nate almost smiles.

Miss Dunsworth finally picks up on it. “True.” She’s much more muted now and if Nate was a betting man - he isn’t - he’d say she was flush with her own brand of agitation. The silence this time is heavier as she steps back. “I’ll let him know you’re here when it’s time.”

“Tha-”

Nate’s moving before he can stop himself.

The proper thing would be to go back into his office and deal with Miss Dunsworth later, and then take the interview with Miss Bookwalter as scheduled, but he doesn’t do that.

Instead he steps out from his inner offices with a sharp, “That won’t be necessary,” which makes his temp jump.

It’s painfully obvious he’d been listening in, judging by the look on her face as much as by the way he catches the other woman’s shoulders dropping in his peripheral.

“Oh, Mr. Queen,” Miss Dunsworth starts, but Nate waves her off.

“These are for you,” he says, handing her the file. She is flushing, making her skin splotchy all across her chest.

“You’re done with the Everton thing?”

Nate damn near grinds his molars into dust. “Yes,” he replies. “The thing for Edgarton is done.” He forces himself to take a deep breath and says a soft, “Thank you,” before turning to Miss Bookwalter. “You must be…”

For those four minutes he’d been listening in he honestly thought he knew what he’d be expecting when he finally turns to this friend of Bethany’s who had already impressed him with just a few words.

He could not possibly be more wrong.

Penny Bookwalter is absolutely nothing like he might have imagined, as a friend of Bethany’s or as someone who doesn’t back down in the face of unprofessionalism.

The petite redhead immediately stands in response, holding her hand out. The reserved nature he’d heard in her voice earlier is readily apparent in the air around her once more, and the nervousness is back, he notes, as she closes the distance between them. But there’s something else underneath it, an excitement he’s never seen in another person, a vitality that makes him blink twice.

And she’s absolutely beautiful. Shockingly stunning, even.

He’s struck dumb in a way he hasn’t felt in years and it leaves him floundering slightly.

“Penny Bookwalter,” she fills in, offering her hand to him.

He mutely takes it, unable to take his eyes off her. A remnant blush is evident on her cheeks and up over her temples, mixing in the with the vibrant color of her hair. Her eyes are alert, but there’s more than nervousness there. She’s worried, about what he overheard. He immediately wants to tell her that the interview hasn’t even started and he’s already taken with her.

Taken with her?

No, she’s here for the interview, to be his assistant. Not to date him. Date? Nate does another double take, this time at himself, because where exactly were these thoughts coming from? He was at work, meeting with a potential employee, not looking for someone to sweep off their feet.

“Nate Queen,” he replies, his voice low, lower than he intends. Her eyes widen minutely before she catches herself, but she can’t quite control the way her hand tightens in his. He grasps hers a little closer - it’s small and it fits beautifully against his fingers - and is about to add more, but she’s already talking.

“I know who you are, Mr. Queen,” Penny says, giving him a good, solid handshake. If someone would’ve judged her handshake based on the soft way she spoke, this isn’t what they’d get. No, this handshake more matched the woman who’d inadvertently stepped up to bat to defend a job she didn’t even have yet. “It’s so good to meet you. Thank you for taking the time to interview me, sir.”

Something deep inside him tugs, the combination of her voice, so soft and excited and nervous all at once, along with the strength in her personal presentation to him pulls him in even more than he already was. There’s a solid foot of height difference between them and he knows the instant she feels it when he just stares at her for a beat, trying to suss out what it is exactly that’s capturing him so much about her. It’s only when her cheeks flush as red as her hair that he realizes what he’s doing.

“I’m glad to have the opportunity, Miss Bookwalter,” Nate says. When she doesn’t immediately correct him to use her first name, he smiles. Genuinely. He likes that. “Please come inside so we can get started.” 

*

Thank you for reading, we hope you enjoyed it! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse!

@so-caffeinated has started drafting the first sequel, so the FICoN wheels are in motion!