#i started reading a fic last night and was like wow this is self-indulgent /pos

[sycopomp]

ooie? ooie.

y'all have been nice and patient so i'ma give you a li'l sneekie peekie at ooie ch2

Perking up, you said to Sun, “I’ll be right back!” and turned to make your way to the storage–

Your key!!

“Oh!” Stopping abruptly, shoe scuffing on the play mats, you spun around– and found Sun staring at you. He looked just as surprised at your sudden turn, going strangely still. “Sorry! Ben e-mailed me this morning and said that you… would have my key?” You had almost said you were supposed to supply my key, but you didn’t want to sound accusatory. 

Sun blinked slowly, still watching you. It took until that moment for you to realize that he had been watching you when he thought you weren’t looking, and you blinked in return. You definitely shouldn’t say anything about that, right?

… Probably.

… 

You were right on the verge of not taking your own advice when Sun blessedly saved you from yourself. “Indeed!” Raising a finger, he tapped it to his cheek. “It’s been sooo long since anyone needed that spare old thing. I’m sure it was left in one of the desk drawers.” He beamed down at you, eyes crinkling up sharply. “I’m fully confident in your ability to find it!” Twiddling his fingers in farewell, he spun and crouched next to the ball pit, turning his attention to a child calling his name. 

“Sounds good! Thank you!” You gave a little wave in return, then smiled at the child, before heading over to the desk. 

This time, you didn’t catch the look Sun sent your way. 

Finding the key amidst the lawless disarray of the daycare’s security desk was going to prove a greater hurdle than anticipated. Part of you considered simply asking Sun to open the storage shed. 

Then, deciding that you were going to need to tidy this desk up for yourself at some point anyway, you rolled up your sleeves and got to work. Each drawer came out of the desk, up-ended, and set aside for a later wipe-down (once you could fetch the disinfectant wipes from the storage). The overall clutter that ended up strewn across the desk was sorted in an order that was ingrained in your subconscious; trash in trash, like with like, and significant stuff separated. … You liked alliteration. 

More of the mess was actually garbage than you really wanted to think about sitting in the drawers for who-knows-how-long. Within just ten minutes you were left with a much more manageable menagerie (okay stop that) of knickknacks, office supplies, lost and found-bound toys, and… a little pile of things you could not quite identify. One looked like a remote for a fan or something, another resembled your employee card (maybe the last assistant forgot theirs), and–

Wait was that the key? You picked it up, turning it over in surprise. It looked more like a snub-nosed little trinket, but now that you thought about it, the shed hadn’t worn a padlock, so maybe this was right. 

Pushing away from the desk and giving a little stretch, you headed over to the shed. The little lock resembled the power symbol on computers, and the key slotted in perfectly. “Score,” you whispered to yourself, feeling a surge of triumph. You did something all on your own! It was a comfort, reminding you that you would find your footing here with time.