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the-masterless-press · 1 year ago

Text

I ARRIVED AS SOON AS I SAW THE MENTION AND UM.

Excuse me while I scream

I LOVED IT!!! I LOVE HOW THE QUESTION OF ENTRANCE WAS "Did you go through the window" AND BETTY WOULD DEFINETLY GO THROUGH THE WINDOW WITH HER NEW MONSTER ABILITIES

YOUR WRITING'S INCREDIBLE

Much Nicer than Paperwork

There is a corridor toward the back of the Bazaar where the Tragedy Commission keeps its offices. You would not know it. This hallway is poorly signposted, dimly lit and often mistaken for a broom closet by the more junior staff. This is because the Commission does not get visitors. Except today.

Aka Betty pesters Griz at work.

Rated: Teen || Words: 2,536 || [AO3]

My fic for @the-masterless-press as part of the secret swap portion of @fallenlondonficswap.

When Grizelda Smith entered her office at the Tragedy Commission, her arms loaded down with a stack of paperwork she could only just see over the top of, she had expected it to be empty. A woman of reason, her grounds for this belief were twofold:

One: The only people who would have a reason to visit her office (or indeed knowledge of its location) were her colleagues in the Commission or perhaps one of the Masters. Both categories were comprised only of exceptionally busy people who would have made sure to schedule an appointment to avoid missing her, or in the event of an emergency requiring her attention they would not have waited around for her but instead have left a note, of which there was none. And,

Two: Her office had been (until she had opened it) very, very thoroughly locked.

Which was why the appearance of Betty Horvat sprawled across the arms of a Gainsborough chair that should have been unoccupied, eating biscuits from a plate that should have been tidied away came as something of a shock to Griz.

“Please tell me you did not walk in through the front door,” Griz said.

“‘Course not,” Betty replied with a grin, “I scaled the building instead, slipped in through the window.”

They were on the eighth floor and the window in question had been locked and barred. There was a pause as Griz’s brain attempted to take in that knowledge and produce an intelligent response. It failed.

"That’s not funny.”

“That was not a joke,” Betty replied, although the mirth in her voice suggested that she was finding this quite amusing.

Choosing not to respond to that beyond a resigned shaking of her head Griz instead walked over to her desk and deposited the paperwork she was still carrying onto it. Ignoring the loud, contented chewing noises coming from the chair opposite she gave an idle flip through some of the documents, dipped her pen into the nearby inkwell and made one brief amendment before giving up and turning to face Betty.

“I’m sorry but you’ll need to leave,” she said in a voice sterner than her face appeared.

“You don’t want to see me?" Betty asked with mock hurt, "And after I came all this way?”

“I don’t mean it like that, but you know you cannot be found here. You’ll have to leave.”

Betty hoisted herself from the chair and began to move across the room in the opposite direction from the door.

”Not out the window!” cried Griz as she realised Betty's intended destination.

“But you said I wasn’t to go through the front door?”

Griz sighed, “No, you’re right.” Betty might be being facetious, but she had touched on a genuine issue. “Damn it, you’ll just have to wait here until the coast is clear. Which I hope you realise may be some time.”

“Brilliant!” Betty replied as she returned to her seat and Griz’s attention drifted back to the documents in front of her, now satisfied her partner was not about to take a running leap out of the building. “So, what do you want to do?”

“I want to finish this paperwork, which will take me most of the evening, while you sit quietly in the corner.”

“Well that’s boring.”

“Perhaps you should have considered that before you broke in here to bother me at work.”

“Oh, it’s not all bad. The view’s quite nice.”

Griz glanced back up to find, perhaps unsurprisingly, that Betty was not looking at the view of the city skyline but staring directly at her, waggling her eyebrows in a manner that should have been ridiculous but instead left Griz’s cheeks flushed pink.

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem sitting there quietly while I work,” Griz said, fighting to keep her blush under control as she picked up her pen again.

“For a bit, perhaps. I’ll just try my hardest not to distract you with my beguiling gaze.”

To her credit Betty stayed true to her word, remaining quiet and, for her at least, still while Griz made progress through the overly loquacious text on the forms in front of her. Even so, Griz found her presence distracting. Normally it was easy for Griz to compartmentalise, to leave the parts of herself that would get in the way of her job at the doors of the Bazaar when she strode through them each morning and focus on the task in hand, whatever it may be. It was something she prided herself on. Now her eyes kept drifting up to Betty as the other woman fidgeted just on the edge of her vision and Griz found her mind continually wandering to more interesting things than paperwork.

The peace couldn’t last however and by the time Griz had worked her way through the first few documents Betty, having clearly become bored with what little entertainment Griz provided as she worked, got up out of the chair and strode across the room. Griz braced herself for whatever mischief she was about to be subjected to but to her surprise and slight disappointment Betty only stopped by her to open the top drawer of her desk. The disappointment quickly gave way to annoyance once Griz realised exactly what Betty was rooting around for.

Putting her pen down Griz moved to intercept. “Leave those biscuits alone, they are for guests.”

“I’m a guest,” Betty replied, not pausing her search for even a second.

“No, you are an intruder. Intruders do not get biscuits.”

“This one does,” Betty replied with a wolfish grin as she found her quarry and swiped another biscuit, one of the fancy pink ones, before Griz could remove the packet from her reach. Her fingers had only just cleared the edge of the drawer when Griz it slammed shut.

Betty wasted no time in tucking into her prize before speaking, “You nearly finished?”

“No,” Griz answered with a sigh.

“What’s it all about?” Betty asked, gesturing at the form Griz had been working on with her biscuit bearing hand and scattering crumbs across the paper.

“Something private and extremely boring.”

“Try me.”

“Alright then. If you must know, it’s a document detailing the recommended response procedures should London find itself attacked by a swarm of Burrowing Vesperwasps.”

Betty leaned forward over the desk to peer at the writing. “That’s not boring! That’s positively interesting. Do you think I could take a Burrowing Vesperwasp in a fight?”

“One, certainly. A dozen, perhaps. An entire swarm? No.”

“Ye of little faith. But seriously, if this is the sort of stuff you’re looking at perhaps I could help. I do know a bit about fighting monsters.”

“Oh, by all means.” Griz picked up the top file and began reading from it, “In the eventuality of an oversteppening of the covey of Vespula vesperinfodio most recentally beholden in the vicinihood of Bullbone Isle it is our advisement that the aegisening of London must take a tridential approach—“

“Woah, woah, woah, woah. What in the hells is that?”

“Ah, you’ve noticed the issue. This was drafted by a colleague who until recently worked under Pages, apparently it has rubbed off on the poor man.”

“Poor man? Poor you having to read through that tripe. Couldn’t you just… trip and lose the papers into the fire?”

“Obviously not.”

“I could toss it in the fire for you?”

“No.”

“Could—”

“The document is not going in the fire. The information contained in it will play a vital role in the defence of London one day. Or at least it might once I’ve translated it into English.”

“Are they all like that?” Betty reached out to leaf through the stack of documents before Griz slapped her hand away.

“Not at all. Some are an illegible combination of euphemisms, acronyms and shorthand, some take several thousand words to say nothing at all and the few that are written in clear, concise English will inevitably be completely and utterly wrong.”

“I’m beginning to see why you can be so sour when you leave work.”

“I am never sour!” Griz sputtered, “I’ll concede I might be a little tired sometimes after a long day but I do a very good job of leaving my work, and any mood it may have put me in, at work!”

“If you say so love” — Griz shot Betty a glare that suggested she very much did say so — “but you might want to take a break, you’re doing that furrowed brow thing you do when you’re feeling sou— er, a little tired.”

Griz’s initial instinct was to strenuously deny the accusation and attempt to relax whatever her forehead was apparently doing but on further consideration a break didn’t sound wholly unreasonable; she wasn’t making much progress between Betty’s presence and the headache she could feel forming at the base of her skull. She could shoo Betty away, pick up her pen and attempt once more to extract some form of meaning from the text in front of her. The progress would be slow and painful though, and the task wasn’t really urgent. It could wait until the morning when she was well rested.

Perhaps it should.

If there was anything this job had taught her, it was that sometimes the wisest course of action was to recognise when one had been beaten and capitulate without kicking up a fuss.

With a little nod of her head Griz acquiesced, “Let me get these next few documents in order. Then, perhaps, I could be convinced to take a… comfort break.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Betty interjected, a sly grin on her face.

“No! Absolutely not, not in my office! Anyone could walk in.”

“You know for some people that adds to the experience. But fine. Cuddling’s still an option though? Perhaps kissing? Somewhere over by the fire, under all those books and papers there appears to be a rather sweet little loveseat which would be excellent for cuddling. Or is that off limits too?”

Griz looked equal parts tempted and exasperated and wholly adorable. “I�� Fine. Let me lock the door. I really should have done that earlier.”

“Aw, did I distract you?”

“No,” Griz lied.

Griz made her way quickly across the room and locked the door. Then she joined Betty by the fire where the other woman was hastily transferring the mess of books and random parchment from the top of the settee into an even more haphazard pile on the floor. Once the seat was clear (bar a few loose pages stuck between the cushions) Betty spun on a heel and threw herself dramatically backwards onto it, one hand reaching out as she did so to grasp Griz’s wrist and pull her unsuspecting partner down with her. Griz let out a little squeak as she fell. One arm still in Betty’s grip Griz just about managed to catch herself with the other before she fully collapsed onto the chest beneath her.

There wasn’t much distance between the two women but even so Betty seemed dissatisfied by the gap. Her arm slipped around Griz’s back and with a firm tug pulled the other woman flush to her chest as she shuffled backwards, getting herself comfortable on the bare cushions and Griz comfortable on her. Satisfied with the new position her head dipped down to press a kiss just below Griz’s ear, followed by another and another and then a quick nip at the sensitive skin.

Lips still flush against Griz’s neck she mumbled, “There, isn’t this much nicer than paperwork.”

“Hush,” Griz replied in a slightly breathy voice.

Betty hummed as she continued her ministrations, quite happy to comply with Griz’s demand; after all there were much better uses for both of their lips than talking. Had she been feeling more patient she might have considered teasing Griz, she might have trailed her kisses up along Griz’s jaw, might have drawn out the moment. Instead she moved to capture Griz’s lips with the speed and precision of a hunter going in for the kill.

It was a searing kiss and one that was responded to immediately and enthusiastically. With one hand remaining against Griz’s back, pressing the other woman somehow even tighter to her, Betty brought the other up to meet her partner’s neck. There she traced across the pulse point with her thumb before continuing down to release the top two button of Griz’s tightly starched shirt collar. Relief paired with the soft touch of a nail that was closer to a claw trailing down the centre of her throat left Griz gasping for air around the kiss.

Griz reached up to cover Betty’s hand with her own and locked their fingers together as their lips continued to dance. Then she dragged Betty’s hand lower, between her breasts and across her stomach where only the thin material of her shirt separated soft flesh from Betty’s touch. She had almost managed to move it to her waistband when a sudden knock at the door echoed through the small room.

Startled Griz threw herself backwards off Betty and landed sprawled across the carpet with a thud.

“Commissioner? Can you spare a minute?” A voice called out from behind the door.

“Hide!” Griz hissed at Betty, her voice torn between staying quiet enough she couldn’t be heard by the intruder and loud enough to express her displeasure at almost being caught fooling around like a naughty schoolgirl.

“Where?!” Betty replied in her own exaggerated whisper.

“I don’t know! Look, just duck behind the settee and stay still while I get them to leave.”

“Better idea, I’ll answer the door and kill whoever it is for interrupting us.”

“Absolutely not!” Griz struggled to keep her voice low.

Betty, on the other hand, barely seemed to be trying to keep quiet. “It’s not like it would be permanent!”

“Still no!”

“Griz there is nowhere for me to hide in here where I wouldn’t be instantly spotted. Either you let me handle this or…”

“Or?” Griz asked, knowing she would not like the answer.

“Or I leave the way I came in?”

The knocking on the door intensified, followed by the muffled voice from the other side speaking out, “Commissioner? Is there someone in there with you? Please let open the door, this is very urgent.”

Griz swore under her breath as she resigned herself to Betty’s solution out of necessity and nothing else. “Fine. Just don’t hurt yourself. Or let anyone spot you.”

Moving without any particular sense of urgency Betty crossed the room then removed the bars from the window with ease and bypassed the lock. All the while the knocking at the door continued. Hopping up onto the windowsill she paused for a moment, holding herself half in the room, half in the cold night’s air as she spoke, “You know, this was fun, we should do it again sometime. Oh, and you might want to tidy yourself up a bit before answering the door. You’re looking a little… dishevelled.”

Then, before Griz could respond with what was sure to be a particularly outraged curse, Betty allowed herself to slip backwards, disappearing into the dark London streets below.

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