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wicca-wicca-whack · 1 year ago

Text

Care

Gordon Malloy x Reader

Word Count: 3059

Now Featuring PT 2!

“You two haven't even talked since your first month here!”

This was an argument you and Talla have had nearly daily for the past month.

“We've messaged,” you remind her. “We're both Union members on fleet ships, we don't have time to call.”

“When's the last time he sent you something first?”

“Not this again, come on.” You sigh, looking away from your science console. “I don't keep track of who messages who first.”

“Well, you showed me last time we were all over at yours drinking wine,” she informs, looking a little smug. “He hasn't even initiated a conversation with you for nearly a year!”

You consider, briefly, smacking your head against the nearest wall. Of course wine-drunk you had shown her, probably wanting to prove a point you'd completely failed to prove.

“Relationships aren't about who sends who a message first.”

“But they are about communication and showing you care for each other.”

“We communicate.”

“No, you communicate. He can't even bother to ask you about your day.”

You sigh, returning your gaze to your console. “Shouldn't you be on the bridge right now?”

No sooner than you say that does Captain Mercer call her over the comms, and she gives you her version of a pout as she assures him she's on her way, moving quickly from the science lab.

The issue is that she isn't technically wrong- you and your boyfriend had been drifting significantly since you moved postings from the small science vessel to the Orville. When he found out you took the posting, he'd gone so far as to accuse you of acting like you were too good for the ship you'd met on. That wasn't it at all. The Achilles had been a great ship- great crew, interesting missions… but you wanted adventure as well, and the Achilles was only equipped for short expeditions. When you'd heard the Orville was working on putting its own anthropology team together, you'd put in an application immediately. You were a small team, and, to your shock, they'd placed you at its head. According to Commander Grayson, not many Union anthropologists with more than a couple of years of experience were willing to transfer to a new team. It ended up being not only good for you, but a good career opportunity, a chance to prove you could lead. Kevin didn't see it that way. Kevin acted like you were some sort of traitor, or like you were only thinking of yourself. Even just thinking about it really downed your mood, so you didn't, returning your attention to your work.

It's a few hours later, in the mess, that Talla and Commander Grayson sit down with you, and the Commander gives you a kind of amused look.

“Talla was just telling me your boyfriend sucks.”

You can't help the exasperated sigh that escapes you. “Commander-”

“Please, we're not working, and we're gossiping? Kelly is fine.” She waves a hand at you, sipping on her drink.

You hesitate, but nod. “Okay, Kelly. Talla is totally blowing things out of proportion.”

“I mean, does he text you first? Like ever?” She leans back in her chair.

“He doesn’t have to, I’m more than willing to-”

“You guys talking about the shitty boyfriend?” Lieutenant Malloy takes a seat beside you, and you could scream. Absolutely the worst person who could decide to plop down into this conversation.

“You know about the boyfriend?” Kelly looks shocked, and you stab at your food.

“Know about him? Dude, we’ve met. The guy is a piece of work.”

“Guy is still my boyfriend, dickwad.”

He snorts, loud, unbothered by your barb, which irritates you more as the Captain and Chief LaMarr take a seat at your table. “Kevin D’Acunto is a major asshole. He’s known for being a piece of work and a total chick-hater.”

“He’s not a chick-hater, he’s-”

“Your boyfriend, yeah, I know.” He rolls his eyes, hard, and you scoff as Kelly looks between the two of you.

“Point of contention?”

“If you’re asking me if Malloy consistently badmouths my boyfriend, then yes.” Your fork goes down, no longer very hungry. “Excuse me.”

You take your food to the synthesizer to recycle it, moving from the mess as quickly as you can. You figure, screw it, fine. You’ll prove them wrong. Kev cares, and you’ll prove it, stop messaging him first, let him prove that he’s just as crazy about you as you are about him.

You wait patiently, making yourself a snack at home, watching vintage movies on your viewscreen… getting ready for bed. You can’t help but feel like, well, obviously he must just be busy. The Achilles was a busy ship. Things happen, you can’t count all the late nights you’d spent at the lab. You give him a pass, expecting to wake up to a message in the morning.

Except there is no message in the morning. Your mood is soured from the jump, tugging on your uniform, grabbing a to-go coffee, and making your way to the lab as fast as you can.

There’s no message when you get home that night either, or by the time you go to bed.

The cycle continues for a month before Gordon confronts you.

“You’ve been such a bitch lately, what’s going on?”

You can't help the scoff that comes from you. “Fuck off, Malloy.”

Talla takes up on your left side, pulling you from Malloy and down another hall. “You are kind of… irritated lately,” she tries to be more polite about it.

You sigh, loud, running your hand through your hair. “I haven’t heard from Kev in, like, a month.”

Her steps falter. “What?”

“I stopped messaging him first, to… prove a point to you guys, saying he’s a dick and doesn’t care about me.” You pause in front of your quarters. “Apparently he is a dick who doesn’t care about me.”

She scoffs, punching in a code to open your door and pushing you inside, moving for your synthesizer. “Lieutenant Keyali to Commander Grayson.”

Your protests go unheard. “Grayson. What’s up?”

“We’re having a pity party with our favorite female science officer. You coming?”

“On my way as we speak. Grayson out.”

“It’s not a pity party,” you try, watching the Xelayan woman synthesize what must be a gallon of red wine.

“Okay, a breakup party.”

“We didn’t break up.”

“Oh, please. You don't speak even a little in like a month, you’re broken up. Either way, it’s a reason to drink!” She holds up three wine glasses as your door dings, and she lets in the Commander.

“What’s the reason for the pity party?”

“Well, the Lieutenant wanted to prove us wrong, that her boyfriend is super caring and great,” she sees your frown, “which is totally valid! But she hasn’t heard from the little scumbag in a whole month.”

She gives you a shocked look, and you shrink as she moves to join you on the couch, pouring big glasses of wine for the three of you. “He’s not worth a pity party, you should celebrate. Sounds like a total jackass.”

You sigh, taking a long sip. “He didn’t even want me to take this posting. He’s probably trying to give me the silent treatment.”

“For a month? Come on, if he cared he’d miss you too much to let it go on for so long.”

You sigh, watching Talla get music on that she likes, something slower, like old R&B, and you roll your eyes. “You guys are so annoying.”

“We’re your friends right now, excuse you.” She points a finger at you, settling into your chair. “And it’s only half for your ridiculously plush furniture.”

“Yeah, seriously, what is going on with this?” Kelly pats the arm of your couch. “Soft as hell.”

“I like nice things,” you defend, waving them off. “I like soft furniture.”

Talla takes a long drink before she speaks, grinning at you. “What about soft guys?”

“What are you getting at?”

“I’m just saying… you’re single now. Maybe time to start looking.”

“I think Malloy’s got a thing for you,” Kelly offers, giggling a little.

“A thing for pushing my buttons, maybe.” You swear your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Maybe that’s his turn-on,” she teases, and you scoff, loud.

“Well it's not mine, so he’s going about it all wrong.”

She cackles, loudly, and you relax a little more. “Well, Gordon really isn’t the go-to guy on how to get women to like you, you know?”

Talla smothers her own laugh. “No, he so is not.”

“We don’t talk like that, so I wouldn’t have any idea about any of that.”

“He’s sweet!”

“To who? Not me!”

“You know, he hasn’t had a girlfriend in a long time, he’s re-learning how to talk to women.”

The night continues on, more or less like this. You, rebuffing every attempt at they toss to shine some kind of positive, sweet light on Gordon.

But in the morning, you can’t help thinking about him like some kind of cute, ginger puppy dog, and you curse everything around you that two women could change your opinion so fast.

Things kind of… shift from there. You don't mean for them to. But when Gordon makes little barbs- at least the ones not about Kevin- you're not as rude. You find yourself dressing a little more… revealing when you know he's going to be somewhere you're going to be after work. But you didn't go out of your way to be somewhere just because he would be.

Sure, Gordon was attractive. That was never something you doubted. From the moment you got on board, you found him cute. But he was a dick, and you were in a relationship. But now it's been four months since you last heard from Kev, and looking back, you can't believe you dragged the relationship out for so long. It was kind of ridiculous, really. The news broke out last month about your lack of contact, and Gordon had been significantly sweeter since- probably trying not to rub salt in the wound, Kelly had told you. Which was shockingly polite, given that you'd expected him to pester you with ‘I told you so's. Another reason to tally onto your count of reasons Gordon may not be terrible.

You peek around the simulator, sipping on your drink. LaMarr’s birthday party. You, for one, were shocked to get an invite, but it looks like he invited just about anyone he shared more than one positive conversation with, including a Lieutenant you'd often seen both in engineering and subbing for navigation on the bridge, engaging in what could easily be a flirty conversation with the Captain.

“He's, like, totally into her, it's insane.” You almost jump at Gordon's voice at your side, blinking at him.

“You scared me.”

“Dunno how. I didn't walk over here all quiet.” He gestures to his friend and the woman down the way. “Good for him, they're actually talking.”

You snort, peering at his drink when he gets it. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What, no plans to flirt with one of the… 20 women LaMarr invited?”

“I don't really flirt,” he tells you, sounding a little bummed. “I'm cool, thanks.” You can see his eyes dart to your chest, but you save him the embarrassment of pointing it out. “Hey, I heard you totally laid a guy out because he grabbed your ass at your last posting, that true?”

You snort, an ugly sound, but Gordon's face lights up. “Ensign Barcus. Yeah, I did. Total prick, did it to women all over the ship.” You look into your empty glass. “I just about broke his nose.”

He chuckles, glancing at you for a moment. “Probably deserved it.”

“Definitely, yeah. I mean, come on, most of the scummy guys I'd met would never even try that outside of a bar.”

He hesitates, and you can see He wants to ask something, so you wait. Patiently. He fiddles with his glass, his hands, the zippers on his jacket, his hair.

“What's up?”

“Huh?”

“You look like you wanna ask me something. Spit it out, dude.”

“...I also heard you used to, uh… dance while you were at Point. For fun. Is that true?”

You flush, embarrassed. “Where'd you hear that from?”

He shrugs, obviously not wanting to give up his source.

“I… did some dancing at a nearby… gentleman's club,” you shrug.

“Is that what we're calling them? Gentleman's clubs?”

You reach to whack his arm, and he laughs, holding his hands up defensively. “Okay, okay!”

He orders you another drink- you think he must have been watching you before, since he doesn't ask what you were drinking, but manages to get you the same thing. You think it's kind of sweet, if not just a little weird. Gordon rides that line between the two a lot, you hear.

You thank him softly, and he smiles, waving it off. “You talk to the birthday boy yet?”

You snort. “Just when I came in. He's a little busy with… every available woman who's interested, I think.”

He snorts. “John is pretty good with women like that, I guess.”

“You guess? Aren't you friends, wouldn't you know?”

“I really try not to hear about it.” He scrunches his face up, and you giggle. “Sometimes he just says too much.”

“Oversharer?”

“Big time, yeah.” He takes a long drink, rolling his eyes.

“I thought all guys like to overshare.”

He just gives you a look. “I thought that was a chick thing, you know, chatting with friends about your boyfriend.”

“Maybe it's a human thing,” you shrug, playing with your hair.

Before he can say much more, Talla is on your side, grabbing another drink and pushing you against Gordon's side, making you squeak as your drink splashes your top. “Talla!”

“What?” Her eyes drop to your wet top. “Oh, shit, I'm sorry.”

You sigh, drinking what's left of your drink. “It's fine. I should probably head out anyway, it's late.” You smell like alcohol, and God knows you're not gonna leave, change, and come back.

“I can walk you,” Gordon offers, knocking his drink back like a true alcoholic.

“You don't have to do that, it's your friends' party.”

“He won't miss me.” He gestures to LaMarr, saddled up on a couch chatting with a couple of women. “Come on.” He nods you towards the door, and you catch a glance of Talla's shit-eating grin, and you know damn well she did it on purpose, so you shoot her a glare as you walk out with the ginger man.

The walk is shockingly quiet. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Gordon was nervous. You keep yourself busy, pulling the neck of your top away from you, annoyed by the sticky, drying alcohol. You can see him looking, more than once, for more than just a couple of seconds, but you don't comment, stopping at your door and raising a brow at him.

“Well I guess I'll see-”

“Why don't you come inside?” You blame the alcohol, or maybe Talla's constant goading ever since she realized you were warming up to the man, for the question, and he looks appropriately shocked.

“Me?”

“I don't see anyone else in this hall,” you offer, exaggeratedly looking left to right.

“Right… uh… yeah,” he shrugs a little, and you reach to snag him by the jacket sleeve and tug him in with you.

He's anxious- of course he is, given he's never been inside your quarters, but you wave him towards your couch before heading into your quarters to wipe down and change, coming back out in something comfy and maybe a little cute.

“That jacket can't be comfortable. It's got, like, eight zippers.”

“...Twelve. Not including the,” he gestures to the actual, functional zipper.

“...What? Twelve?”

“It's got twelve zippers, yeah.” He unzips it, carefully shrugging it off.

“That's a ridiculous amount of zippers.”

“Looks cool though.”

“You look like a final fantasy character or something.”

He snorts, and you move to get yourself and drink and him a beer before plopping beside him, handing it over.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, picking at his jeans as you move to put something on the viewscreen.

“It's no problem.” You shrug, watching him hesitantly drape his arm over the back of the couch behind you.

You hesitate for a few beats before leaning into his side a little more, feeling him tense.

The two of you sit like that for a while- you can barely pay attention to the show you put on, brain focused on the warm body beside you, practically radiating off him. You can see him looking at you repeatedly, eyes coasting over your face and your body. The tension is thick, you feel like you could touch it. You're two attractive people, apparently attracted to each other, alone, sitting close on your couch.

You decide to bulldoze through the tension, pulling up and grabbing his shirt to pull him into you, kissing him a little rougher than you mean to. He stalls, and then one of his hands is on the small of your back as he groans. You tug him closer, nipping at his lip, and he sighs against you, nails digging into your top as he flounders to put his beer down so he can tangle his hand into your hair, your own arms wrapping around his neck as you fall back against the arm of the couch, tugging him with.

He pulls back as your viewscreen begins pinging with a call, and you both start at the name plastered over it.

Kevin D’Acunto.

You have a short internal debate as Gordon slowly parts from you, and you can't quite see his face, but from what Kelly has told you, you can guess that he thinks you’re gonna shoo him away.

You hold him close to you as you answer, unphased by Kev’s shocked face. You can hear Gordon say your name, a little panicked, but you ignore him, just hanging up the call and pulling the ginger man into another kiss, which he returns immediately.

You’ll deal with the backlash in the morning, but right now, you’d rather start a new relationship with someone who gives a damn.

#gordon x reader #gordon malloy x reader #the orville #wiccawrites #kelly grayson #talla keyali

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