Work Text:
(ca. 1805-1810)
Will's first office is small and shared with another reaper who he doesn't particularly like. His coworker tends to chew smelly tobacco and has a bronze container he spits into.
Will's impeccable sense of professionalism and decorum keeps him quiet about the repulsive habit. However, he's finding out very quickly that if there's one thing that truly riles him, it's people in his position that have absolutely no sense of responsibility, integrity, or the sacred nature of the job.
Will hadn't exactly excelled while working in Collections. Of course, he'd proven acceptably efficient, but the upper management had thought he'd be far more useful in an office setting.
They had been right, and Will was privately relieved by the decision to move him. This is partially due to a fact that Will won't admit unless upon pain of being reaped, and that is that he doesn't like sending human souls to Hell.
Sentencing is a predetermined fate; a reaper's only job is to monitor whether there's an exception to the rule, and there are very rarely exceptions.
The memory of being entrenched in the very human consciousness of Thomas Wallis, however, left him with unwelcome emotions every time he reaped a soul with his own hands.
Will doesn't let his mind dwell on that too much, though, since it only acts as a distraction and makes his life unenjoyable. ("Enjoyment" for Will is an office without a spittoon... preferably that he doesn't share with someone else.)
On the other hand, this is why Grell Sutcliff has been placed in Collections, even though he's always on thin ice, and has been the day he underwent exams. However, his ability to reap more souls during a shift than half the Collections department combined, when he actually puts in the effort, is what keeps his status quo. That trump card will only last so long, of course.
However, Will finds that one thing he does enjoy is finalizing Grell's demotions and disciplinary action paperwork when he acts improperly.
Will has the same stamp that all other Administrative personnel do: a circle with the word "COMPLETE" spelled out in large, bold uppercase letters. Whenever an assignment or open case is closed, the stamp is thudded down on the paper in bright red ink.
"Grell Sutcliff: Accused of being late to an assigned reap and causing cinematic record to remain spinning in postmortem body. Trauma mitigated soul's intended placement in purgatory to immediate ascension into heaven. Conclusion: Suspended with pay to desk work for one week."
Thud.
"COMPLETE."
Will's pleasure in stamping the disciplinary action paperwork may also have something to do with the fact that Grell has made a sport out of trying to capture Will's attention, mainly because he knows he won't get it. Every dinner hour without fail, he shows up at Will's (side of) the new office for his daily jollies.
This particular day is no different, much to Will's chagrin.
"Oh, William," he croons as he enters the office with a flourish, "what a dreary decorating job. Would you like to borrow a woman with a keen eye for décor?"
"No thank you, Sutcliff," Will responds, not looking up and adjusting his drawer so that all of the pencils are in a row and perfectly sharpened. "Please do me the courtesy of leaving my office if you find it so dreary."
"Oh, but you're here, my lovely," Grell replies, and then much to Will's utter dismay, has the gall to perch - perch - on his desk.
"Sutcliff, remove your person from my desk immediately," he says, sitting up straight in his chair and frowning, "that is highly inappropriate."
Grell does the opposite, and instead, tilts his hips suggestively and turns toward Will.
"Who is that, Spears? Your girlfriend?" comes a positively salty voice from the other side of the divider.
"Why, yes, darling," Grell trills in response. "Who are you?"
A slightly grizzled looking man walks around the corner from behind the divider, stopping to spit into his the bronze container Will so strongly despises.
The expression on Grell's face is worthy of a laugh.
"You are not my... girlfriend," Will interrupts awkwardly. "This is Grell Sutcliff," he says, nodding his head in Grell's direction with a look of distaste. "He's an employee in Collections."
"Oh, so you're the Sutcliff everyone is always talking about," his office mate says, eyes widening. "I went through an entire red ink pad in one month because of you."
"Well, darling," Grell says, bending his leg up and planting a high heeled, very red shoe (Will stifles the urge to sigh) on the surface of Will's desk, "red is my favorite color, after all."
To Will's surprise, his office mate actually stops for a moment and lets his eyes run over Grell's body swiftly, then looks away. Grell gives him a cheeky smile and tosses his hair slightly.
"Get off my desk, Sutcliff," Will finally says, breaking the moment. He nudges Grell's side firmly enough to warn that he will push him off the edge and onto the floor.
"William! It's highly inappropriate to touch a coworker in such a manner!" Grell shrieks breathlessly, righting himself with a scandalized expression as he gets to his feet.
He gives Will's now enraptured coworker a wink and turns toward Will again before walking out the door. "Really, William," he says, "I know we deal in death, but this moratory color scheme has just got to go."
Grell swishes away, leaving the distinct scent of... roses, is it? ... in the office. Will picks up a piece of paper and waves it around to clear the air.
"How do you know Grell Sutcliff?" his stunned office mate asks.
Grell has become something of a local legend around Administration, mostly due to the fact that a reaper hasn't come along in quite a long time that possess his combination of flawless practical skills and borderline sociopathic ethics.
"He was my exam partner," Will replies simply.
"Really? Did the poor human even stand a chance?"
"It was I that made the decision," Will says, adjusting his glasses, "and I that reaped the subject of our exam."
At that moment, Will realizes for the first time that a few words sprinkled in a conversation, but of a particularly potent strength, are like drops of iodine that sterilize murky, diseased water.
The spittoon is gone the next day, and soon, Will finds he has the office to himself.