Chapter Text
"The Marly project definitely won't be ready for testing in three weeks. Maybe four, though I'll have to check in with Jacob to see if he's ironed out the GUI well enough to even think about taking this software for a trial run."
Charles nodded, updating the calendar on his laptop to that effect as Samara dutifully relayed the team's predicted schedule for the month of December. He typed hastily, despite her patience. She had stayed a little later today than what was expected of her, insisting that she assist him in sorting the disheveled mess of details regarding a job that was newly underway. While her help was undoubtedly appreciated, he didn't wish to keep her. Well, okay, he didn't wish to keep her at work . For, it would be a gargantuan lie if Charles were to claim against there being a flock of butterflies fluttering restlessly within his abdomen.
Annoying shocks of nerves and giddiness, the blush upon his neck reflected a snuggly feeling she inspired throughout him. A sign which read that he was crushing on this particular woman over an elaborate, stupidly long list of qualities that she so unknowingly harbored. The one which currently plagued him, being her willingness to abandon a free afternoon in favor of his company, running across his tundra of a heart like the heat of a lover's caress.
For that, of course, he chastised himself. A bit of a frown overcoming his face as he observed the pen she was twirling between her fingers. Her own attention engrossed by the agenda sitting atop her lap. She isn't here for you .
"Is that all?" He asked, smirk intruding his tone a bit as he mused over the fact that she had distracted herself somehow. Again, feeling sad and all too mortified at how much he adored her idiosyncrasies. He didn't let it show, of course. Amusement stapled upon his expression, gaze softening when she finally looked up at him once more. Before he could mandate it's teasing glint. Oh, but her eyes…
"Oh, yeah. Sorry, I just spotted something I forgot about." She blushed, though smiled at herself, anyway. Taking her failure to maintain focus on the work schedule in good humor. His grin became genuine at that. She's getting better.
"No worries." He breathed, closing his Skylights computer before standing to gather his briefcase, satisfied with the hour's productivity. Moreso, ready to take Samara home following the inconvenience.
It was odd, Charles suspected as he donned his jacket once more. Refusing to look up and fall victim to the hypnotizing sight of Samara bent over a chair, retrieving the satchel from beneath it with a "hmph." He couldn't say that he's ever felt out of line for accepting extra help from an employee before, particularly not from an assistant. Of course she'd offer a hand. Beyond it being her source of income, she's exceedingly capable and driven with her tasks. Despite knowing that, however, Charles couldn't pretend away the feeling of dread that accompanied this idea that he'd inspired negativity into her day.
Which, again, was ridiculous. He straightened the cuff of his sleeve with a harsh tug at the thought. If anything, he should be relieved to consider the possibility of giving her a reason to push him away. It's as if you've learned nothing.
Sam waited before his desk, adjusting her glasses as she observed his movements. Graceful as ever, if not for a peculiar stiffness evident throughout his form. Making it seem as if he felt tense or unsure about something. It was a fact which morphed her ease into something more unsettled, though she didn't ask. Even if she were worried, Sam had taken note of how Charles was never really the type to talk about himself. It would be inconsiderate to push boundaries, understanding the fragile balance that existed between being friends and remaining professional. Though, she also figured that under said guidelines, they could only ever stay true to one or the other. Despite how she wished their relationship could be centered in an entirely different light. Ugh, enough!
"Do you have the time?" She asked, more concerned with tearing through the silence than actually knowing the hour, though she figured that couldn't hurt as she considered the pup at home who still needed walking.
She noticed him flinch, not entirely facing her before referencing his watch. It wasn't anything harsh or lasting, but it had appeared upon her query. She blinked, the infamous tent manifesting itself across her brow, spelling out her worried confusion. What the heck is going on with him?
"6:10" he answered, taking on an apologetic tone. She blinked once more, only to smile, touched upon realizing his guilt. Touched, and eager to rid him of it all the same.
"Woof. Good thing I stuck around. You would've been here overnight." She laughed, almost teasing to invite good nature inside their interaction. Reviving the typical spark of banter that accompanied them past business hours, as of late. Sam was downright jovial to see that it had worked, Charles offering a snort in response as he finally met her gaze, gesturing for her to walk to the door alongside him. She did, playing along with his gentleman's routine of opening his door for her to exit first, as always. She blushed a little, even so. The man could be predictable as rain, and it wouldn't matter. Sam would always fluster for him.
"It wouldn't be the first time." He sighed as she walked past, causing her to turn as he locked the door behind him.
"You're kidding." She spoke with dread, surprising him a bit with her concern when he locked eyes with her once more. Whoops.
"Charles, you've spent the night in this office?" She continued, refusing to drop it even as he kept walking towards the elevator. Attempting to play it off, despite Samara's insistence. You can't lie to her now.
"On a few occasions, yes. Though, I wouldn't worry yourself with it," he suggested, lifting a hand to press the down button upon their arrival. "... It's only done when necessary. Your father trusts me to dedicate myself to this position, Miss Young." The doors slid open, giving him a reason to look ahead once more. "I do what I can to uphold at least that much." He finished, grinning despite how depressing that sounded in her ears.
Sam stepped into the elevator to stand beside him, a tsunami of empathy washing over her as she watched him hit the button for their parking garage. She ignored his previous advice, for she found it impossible to just drop him doing something that seemed so unhealthy. So stressful. Just because all her dad saw in him was work ethic?
"You shouldn't expect that much from yourself." Her words were softened by the recollection of her own battle towards maintaining her father's trust, in spite of his dramatics and over-protective nature. "Especially not for my dad. I've always felt that he treats you unfairly." She finished, looking at Charles in their reflection. His smile never wavered, though he could hear the sympathy in her tone. Though said acknowledgement pained him with how it compelled a flutter to interrupt his heartbeat.
"Ah, but he is my boss. Besides, he's never asked that I stay late." He reassured with a glance, the elevator doors smoothing open once more at their stop. He nodded, encouraging her to walk ahead. Instead, she stilled him with her gaze, chocolate brown never parting with baby blue as her thin arm rose to press against the door's side.
"Then, I don't think you should even consider it until he does." She finished, maintaining her air of seriousness for seconds longer before dropping the aforementioned arm and abandoning the lift. Leaving Charles to bite the inside of his cheek as he felt heat spread across his face. He could get used to seeing his little lamb bunt those horns a bit more. Oh fy nuw.
He was quick to follow her, using the advantage in his longer stride to reach the car moments before she did. Opening the passenger side door with a smirk, he was determined to continue their interaction in a positive manner. Admittedly excited to see where it would go, in terms of conversation. He closed her door as she cozied herself in the seat, damn near jogging around to his own side with an energy that he couldn't explain. Even just talking to her, he thought, was something worth cherishing. She's just so consuming.
"May I ask what you'd forgotten about, earlier?" Charles queried upon starting the car, trying not to distract himself with the way her delicate fingers worked at massaging her neck while he turned to pull out of the parking space. She rolled her eyes at his question, gazing outside as she considered her answer.
"It's silly, but Thanksgiving is tomorrow. Dinner at my parents' place, you know?" She chuckled lightly, index finger tracing the side of her jaw as she went on. "Just seems like the kind of thing I'd remember." She shrugged, head rolling to stare at his profile while he exited the garage. He lifted an eyebrow, lips quirked upward in a curious grin.
"Is it really? Huh." He laughed while turning onto the road. "I thought that had already passed, to be honest."
She sighed, lips pursing as her own brows lifted a bit. "I'm afraid not."
Charles' expression grew even more speculative at that, amused though gentle as he carried their conversation further. "You seem terribly unenthusiastic about it." He drawled, actually sort of thankful for the traffic as it allotted him the opportunity to glance her way. Though, his humorous mood shriveled a bit with the sight of her exhausted expression.
"Do I?" She rested her chin upon her hand, reminiscing over the contrast between the Thanksgivings as adult Sam, versus the Thanksgivings of a decade ago. The difference between waiting for the coddling to stop and accepting that it never will. Loving her family, despite how she felt like an outlier in their presence. Afraid to speak of anything risky or exciting in her life at the possibility of being met with her father's worried disapproval. Or, hearing her brother's unwarranted reprimands regarding the maintenance of her health. At least mom and Ruth will keep me company .
"Parties aren't really my scene." She explained, knowing that it was the truth as much as it was unrelated to her dread. But, of course, even irrelevant honesty could never slip past her boss's radar.
"Somehow, I don't believe that to be the extent of your woes towards this dinner," he responded, eyes glued to the road before them. "...would you prefer I drop it?"
She shook her head, though he wasn't looking at her, and exhaled deeply. Honestly, feeling sort of light to have an outlet other than Bowser to express her discontentment with. Selfishly enough, Charles' own struggles with her father made the whole explanation seem justified on her tongue, despite the guilt that accompanied it.
"No, it's okay. And, you're right. I love my family, but getting together with them can be…pretty agonizing sometimes." He nodded, turning to her at a stop light and offering his attention. Imploring her to continue. She sighed again.
"Dad is dad, so that's one thing." She breathed a laugh, twiddling her thumbs in her lap. "And, Jay is Jay. So, there's another."
Charles let out a string of chuckles in response to that elaboration, the light turning green as his attentions were diverted towards driving once more. "And, somehow, it all makes sense." He managed through his giggles. She chortled a little herself, grateful for his ability to so simply lift her spirits. Just by lending an ear. Even his presence alone was enough to calm her nerves. Which would've sounded totally ridiculous to the Sam of six months ago. Funny, how he once made me so uncomfortable.
"What about you?" She asked, interrupting their laughter. He smirked.
"What about me?" Charles returned, amusement ridden throughout his voice. "Who are you eating with tomorrow?" She explained, smiling cluelessly in his direction. He glued the grin upon his face, though he knew she'd be discontent with his confession.
"Nobody. I've never celebrated with anyone in the U.S., and Thanksgiving isn't exactly a thing in Britain." Charles mandated that his tone remain light, desperate to keep the atmosphere happy in spite of his words. It's really not as bad as it sounds, Bunty.
"Really? Oh, well, why don't you join us this year?" She offered, making him blink with shock at how instantly that rolled off of her tongue. Not laced with pity or remorse of any kind. It took a minute for him to even consider a response, engrossed by the fire that erupted in his chest. He faked a tiny laugh, maintaining the grin across his face.
"I wouldn't want to impose, Samara. Adding an extra guest the day before might put a damper on your parents' efforts." Not to mention, their moods.
She tsked, waving a hand at Charles. As if she's completely forgotten about her father's potent dislike for him. "Oh, don't worry about that. We always make way too much food, anyway. Besides," she paused, weighing her next words before letting herself voice them aloud. "...I could really use a plus-one this year. Might, 'put a damper' on my parents' babying."
He laughed again, at that. Pulling into the parking lot of her apartment complex, he killed the engine and gave her his full attention, at last. Feeling his smile become real again upon meeting those doe-like irises. She blushed, peeking at him through her eyelashes before lifting her chin to meet him head on. "More than anything, I'd hate to think that I just let you spend tomorrow all alone." Sam admitted, positively scorching Charles' heart beneath his lapels. Moving him to go against all better judgement, before logic could catch up with him. His soul rang true.
"It's a date, then."