Work Text:
Olive is exhausted. She thought she was done trying to impress people with her work. She had accomplished all of that already, or so she had thought. The Harvard Asshole - as she will now forever call him - ruined her plans! Now she has to complete a newly updated report to send to Dr. WIley, from Berkeley, and Dr. Gordon, from Minnesota University.
She's been in contact with both of them since she first got their emails, and both doctors had labs and funds that could help Olive do everything Olive had ever hoped! In between all the stress of re-editing the report she originally made for The Harvard Asshole, Olive has a class to teach in an hour, a piece of lab equipment that is acting like it has a hangover and can't function properly, and she hasn't seen Adam since their Wednesday-not fake anymore-coffee date.
It's Friday now, and she has the weekend to finish her report, but she needs to be productive with all of her time if she's going to impress Dr. WIley. Berkeley, It's her top choice of where she's going to work for the next year. It has a great lab, Dr. Wiley is a trusted, passionate, woman in STEM, and Berkely is approximately forty-six-point-four miles away and a forty-seven-minute drive from Stanford and Adam. If Dr. Wiley thinks Olive's work on pancreatic cancer and blood markers is a bust after looking at her new work, she might just die.
She has nothing against Minnesota, it would probably be a bit like Canada so she's sure she'd fit right in, but it's over two thousand miles away and at least a five-hour plane flight, away from Stanford. She would be saying goodbye to Adam, Anh, Malcolm, and Holden for a year. Maybe she'd get a holiday, but what kind of Graduate ever has time for a holiday? She and Dr. Gordon get along swimmingly, but it doesn't seem worth the distance.
Olive slumps into the nearest seat when she sees her Western blot test. The result comes back inconclusive, which is another way for the machine to say it's broken. Great.
Olive snatches the Western blot out of the machine and tosses it uncaringly onto the table. By the time the machine starts working again, the gel will be dry, and she'll need to redo her work.
Olive lets her head fall onto the counter and groans when her head meets the strength of the countertop. Great, now there's a headache to deal with along with everything else!
The door into the lab opens, and Olive surpasses a groan. She really does not want to deal with any of her classmates. She barely restrains herself from bashing her head into the countertop a dozen times and is grateful for her decision when her head throbs from its last encounter with the counter.
"Are you Olive Smith?" An unfamiliar voice asks from behind her. Olive lifts her head and turns so she can get a look at whoever knows her name.
"That would be me," Olive says, surveying the bag the new guy put on a counter, near the lab entrance.
"Oh! I'm so glad I got it right! Whenever I deliver to Stanford, I always get lost, but hey! There's a first time for everything am I right?" The guy says enthusiastically. The guy's enthusiasm is contagious, and Olive finds herself smiling at him.
"I hope it's only the first of many times to come," Olive says encouragingly. She knows what it's like to get lost at Stanford. It's a large campus, and it doesn't help that Olive can get lost anywhere. So, she honestly does hope that he'll find his bearings soon. It took her a whole week to get it down, and she only visits three buildings on campus! The biology building, the Starbucks, and the Library!
"Now, what can I do for you?" Olive asks politely. While a bright smile was exactly what Olive needed, she also needed to either get back to work or somehow find a way to magically take the stress off her shoulders. Because lately it's just been stressful situation after stressful situation.
"A one, Dr. Adam Carlson ordered a three-piece chicken strip meal and asked for it to be delivered to Olive Smith in lab two-eleven at Stanford's Biology building," the guy lifts his head from the paper he was reading, and smiles, offering the plastic bag to Olive. Olive had smiled as soon as she'd heard Adam's name, because of course he would find a way to feed her when they were apart.
She laughs softly, and thanks him as she takes the bag. He nods to her and leaves her lab just as quickly as he had come. Her face feels like it's going to split with the wide grin she's sporting. Adam Carlson, her real boyfriend, the love of her life, is too good to be true. He's probably busy out of his mind, and yet he'd thought of her enough to worry about whether she had eaten or not.
He knew her well enough to know she'd starve herself until her eyes couldn't stay open, and she gave up to get a coffee. He knew her well enough to not get her a burger, he knew her well enough to know where she'd be at this exact time. Her chest vibrates with feelings of love and gratitude.
Adam had been nothing short of perfect since she'd confessed her love. He'd waved off her apologies about breaking up with him, he told her he was proud of her for filing a complaint against The Harvard Asshole, he loved her in a way her friends couldn't love her, and it made Olive melt. Melt like the witch in The Wizard of Oz, melt like ice cream on a hot summer's day!
Olive checks the time on her phone, 1:42. Adam is either in his office grading papers and reports or he's in the lab with his grad students. It's a fifty-fifty chance, but Olive can't not see him right now. It had been long enough, and if there's a kind of magic that erases her stress, it's Dr. Adam Carlson, the MacArthur Fellow, her boyfriend.
Olive throws away her now useless Western blot and throws the rest of her things into the bag on her desk. She'll come back for it before she leaves to teach her class. She grabs her lunch and heads over to Adam's office.
Adam Carlson is known by many. He's a scientific genius with more grants than a hopeful graduate student could ever dream of. He's a tall, muscular, imposing man with RBF and a penchant to make his graduate students cry. He is a caring and rigorous professor and an even more caring and rigorous boyfriend. He makes Olive want to skip out on long nights at the lab so she can spend time with him.
Since the night they got back from Boston, they'd slept together twice. The first time being, the night they got back and the second being a week and a half ago when Adam had taken her out to dinner and then back to his place. Both times were spectacular, and Olive has been craving sex with him ever since. The problem is that their schedules are so full, and they hardly have time to see each other, much less have sex.
This is not to say that they've been prudes. When they do catch a minute together, if Olive is being honest with herself, they've both been acting like horny teenagers, and she loves it. She can't get enough of him, and she can't wait for her report to be finished so she can open up some space in her schedule to be with him more. She thinks they've earned it after everything they've been through! Especially, Adam, he's had to deal with so much, he deserves a break, or at least a girlfriend who isn't stuck in the lab just as much as he is.
Olive glances into his lab room and takes notice of the busy lab. The seven students all look dead on their feet. She'd even bet that they look worse than her, and that's saying something.
One of them takes notice of her and stops to stare at her, causing an uncomfortable feeling to settle in her stomach. The boy looks even more dead than the rest of his classmates, and he has what looks like nail marks on his forearms. Lots and lots of nail marks. Holy shit is this kid okay?
He scowls at her and rolls his eyes when she raises an eyebrow at him.
"Your boyfriend got frustrated and went to his office," the guy says, rolling his eyes. I nod at him and ignore the rest of the students who look up at his words. What did Adam do to make these kids look so dead? Wait, no, what did these kids do wrong to end up receiving Adam's harsh criticism?
Olive doesn't stick around to ask. She hurries down the hallway until she reaches the end, where Adam's office is. She listens at the door and smiles when the only noise is the squeaking of Adam's chair. She knocks on the door before pushing it open.
"I think I've earned at least five minutes to myself before I need to answer another one of your,-" he finally looks up from the paper he's grading, and his frown turns into a smile. The one with the dimple that Olive loves.
"Just me," she says with a grin. Olivw walks up to his desk and sets the bag of food on it. Adam blushes a light pink color when he takes notice of the bag.
"I just wanted to make sure you ate something. You've been working so hard lately," he says, his eyes drifting to his lap. The gesture makes Olive's grin grow wider. He's embarrassed!
"A good break comes from food and company, and I was left with just one, so I took matters into my own hands and came to find you."
"Smart Ass."
She sits in a chair and starts taking the food out of its packaging. He got her Raising Cane's. She takes a bite out of the toast and moans as soon as it enters her mouth. She hadn't eaten anything except a pop tart that morning. This tastes divine.
"If you keep groaning like that, my students are going to think we're having sex in my office." He's staring at her in a way that makes Olive wish they weren't in his office so they could have sex.
"I wish we were having sex," Olive grumbles, taking another bite of toast. It's Adam's turn to groan, and she laughs. She hopes his grad students can hear his groan. It will truamatize them, and after the way they all glared at her, they deserve it. Maybe. Sort of. Not really.
"I'm going to steal your other piece of toast if you don't stop putting ideas in my head."
"And what ideas might those be?" Olive teases. Adam rubs a hand over his face and leans back in his chair.
"I'm ready to bend you over my desk right now. If we had time, I'd take you back to my place for an hour or two just to have my way with you."
A pool of heat rests in Olive's belly, and she crosses a leg over the other to try and provide some relief to the new ache in her vagina.
Olive finishes her toast and moves on to the chicken in hopes of distracting herself.
"And I'm here, suffering, sufficiently turned on, and my girlfriend is snacking on chicken tenders," Adam says with another groan. Olive smirks at him. She's so turned on, and he doesn't seem to have a clue. He's not the only one suffering.
She sets her chicken down and stands up, wiping the crumbs off her t-shirt. She slowly rounds his desk and stops right next to him. His eyes are dark, and his muscles are taut. She aches to feel him inside her, and he doesn't have a clue just how much.
She pushes his shoulder until his chair rolls back far enough for Olive to see his legs. She takes her hand and places it on his left thigh, pulling so his legs spread apart. She swiftly straddles his thigh and rolls her hips so he can feel how wet she is. Adam sucks in a deep breath, and Olive groans lowly in the back of her throat.
"You have no idea how much I want this right now," Olive says. Her voice comes out husky, and she's really tempting fate right now. She's wet, and Adam is sporting an impressive erection and they're in his office. Why can't they be anywhere but his office?
"Are you quoting me?" Adam asks, his voice low and desirable. Olive wants to kiss him so badly, but not yet. She has a few things she wants to do first.
"Not quite," Olive places her hand on top of his erection and strokes it once.
"We were in a position like this, and you said, 'you have no fucking idea what I want.'"
Adam's breathing speeds up, and Olive can't even take her own teasing anymore. She closes the distance between them and kisses him.
Hard.
He pulls her towards him until her knee is pressing into his groin, and he can change the angle of their kiss. She opens her mouth to his tongue and lets her own tongue follow his example, and starts exploring his mouth. She briefly worries about how her breath smells, but her mind blanks when his hands drift up, to her rib cage, right underneath her breasts.
They make out for a long time. And when Olive says a long time, she means she has eight minutes until the class she's supposed to be teaching, starts.
"What time are you finished today?" Adam asks her when she pulls away from his lips. They're puffy and bruised and kissed. She wants to kiss him again.
"Not until late," Olive says, resting her forehead on his, trying to catch her breath while simultaneously ignoring the temptation of kissing him again.
"Perfect. I'll finish my grading tonight, and we can both leave around eleven to get some food and go back to my place." He pulls away, and Olive can see the want in his eyes. The need to be with her. She wants to stay with him, but one look at the clock tells her she's already going to be late.
"Sounds perfect. Do you need to come into the lab tomorrow?" She asks. She stands up and smooths her clothes with her hands. She probably looks like a mess. Her students have an eighty-five percent chance of knowing exactly why she was late to their class. She's going to have to endure a few sex jokes, she's sure.
"If you're going to be in your lab, I'll probably just come in with you and do some work," he says with a shrug. Olive nods and packs up her half-eaten lunch. She'll save the rest of it for later. She kisses his lips one last time before turning away and walking out of his office.
"Love you," he says as she turns to close his office door. Her heart soars in her chest. How does Stanford expect her to leave Adam, with messy hair, rumpled clothing, sexy as Captain America straight out of the super-soldier treatment Adam, behind?
"I love you too," Olive says. It takes the rest of her control and a reminder that she's supposed to be at her classroom in two minutes to close his door. As soon as it's shut, she races to her lab and grabs her bag full of stuff. She then runs to the classroom she's teaching.
She can't wait for tonight.