Work Text:
“Welp, the scammers are getting extra elaborate with their schemes; this one is really at another level,” I declared from the comfort of the couch. “It has an impressive amount of detail. Google really is clearly listening to all our conversations. But the Prince, ha! That is one step too far.”
Oliver was busily dusting the bookcase, it being Sunday and therefore the day for me to shiftlessly lounge around in my pyjamas while he meticulously cleaned and decluttered. In my defence, I actually participate in half the household tasks now, though not on Sundays. I have my limits.
“Oh?” he inquired, quirking his brow.
“Yeah, as if I would ever receive a job offer from Prince Henry of all people. And by email?! Not bloody likely. Whatever happened to scam emails about Nigerian Princes?”
Oliver paused his work and turned to me carefully.
“What do you mean, a job offer?” he inquired
“Look for yourself!” I said. He sat down beside me on the couch and read over my shoulder.
-----------------------------
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: Inquiry regarding Fox Foundation
Sent: September 17th 2023, 4:28 PM
Dear Luc,
I was given your personal email address by my distant cousin, Judith Cholmondely-Pfaffle, and I hope you don’t mind that she shared this information with me. I am writing because the current Executive Director of the London LGBTQ+ Fox Foundation shelter just announced they are stepping down, and I thought you might be interested in applying for the position.
I’ve heard good things from several people about your work at your environmental charity. I’ve also seen the homophobic ways the press have gone after you in the past, which I related to on a few levels! I thought you might have an interest in supporting queer youth, and perhaps be ready for a new career challenge.
Please find attached some details about the organisation and the position. I would love to set up a meeting to see if this might be a good fit. Let me know!
Cheers
Henry
Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, he/him
Chair of the Board, Fox Foundation
www.foxfoundation.com
--------------------------------
Oliver furrowed his brows as he read, his eyes slowly widening.
“This is fantastic, Lucien!” he exclaimed.
“Right?! It sounds so convincing, they almost had me going there for a minute. I wonder if they’re using some kind of AI to generate this level of quality in the email. Nothing is misspelt or anything! I don’t know how they managed to insert Judy’s name in there. I have to say I’m impressed.”
“Lucien,” Oliver, said, turning to me with a dazed expression on his face. “I don’t think this is spam. I think this is real.”
“There is no way this is real. It’s clearly spam! I’m not even qualified for this type of job!” I replied, my voice cracking slightly.
“First of all, you are absolutely qualified for that job. You’ve been extraordinarily successful at raising money for dung beetles, of all things, and you’ve been at CRAPP for years now and have turned the place around completely. You are already the de facto Executive Director there.” He placed a reassuring hand on my knee while I squirmed.
“But -”
“I’m not done yet, Lucien,” he replied firmly but kindly. “You’ve worked hard for years; of course other people have noted your success!”
“But the actual Prince of England, Oliver? That makes zero sense. I still think this is spam.” My head was swimming. There’s no way that actual royalty would even know I exist, let alone think I’m somehow so competent at my job that they would want to hire me!
“Well there’s only one way to find out: write back. What’s the harm in poking around a bit to see if this is real? I think it looks like a legitimate email with an incredible opportunity, one that suits you perfectly. You would be phenomenal in that job. I know you would.”
I suddenly felt quite hot and dizzy. I placed the laptop aside, stood up, and started making my way upstairs.
“Where are you going?” Oliver asked gently. I paused halfway to the steps.
“Err — the bathroom?” I answered, my voice a bit shaky.
“Lucien. Is this…? Oh God, this is triggering your anxiety, isn’t it?”
“Maybe?” I replied, weakly.
Oliver got up from the couch and wrapped me in his arms. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, and did my best to focus on my senses. I could see some wisps of blond hair poking up behind his head, I could feel the warmth of his hand pressed firmly on the small of my back, I could hear his measured inhales and exhales, I could smell the crisp scent of his shampoo, and I could taste the remnants of the tea we had prepared together earlier.
Oliver knew me, knew the way my brain worked. The things that could trigger my anxiety, the things that could activate my sense of self-loathing. He knew that good things were sometimes the hardest for me to bear. Could I really have received a potential job offer from Prince Henry? The thought made my head spin and caused my brain to spiral in a million directions.
“Let’s go back to the couch, yeah? More comfortable than sitting on the floor separated by the bathroom door, right?” Oliver gently stroked my back and pulled away just far enough to look at me, his eyes full of understanding and compassion.
“Okay,” I replied, shuffling myself back to the couch.
“Right. What stories are you conjuring up in that head of yours?” Oliver asked, with a bit of mischief in his voice. Of course he would ask the question this way. His therapist had been foisting endless Brené Brown tools on him. I begrudgingly agreed that they could sometimes be helpful.
“Fine. Fine, okay. Here goes.” I took a deep breath. “The story I’m telling myself is that this is a disaster waiting to happen. There is no way I can run this type of organisation. I can barely keep CRAPP running with a pack of ding dongs as colleagues. This is way out of my league! And besides, the moment Henry meets me, he’ll see right through me. I can’t believe he would even offer this to me after seeing all those things in the press about me!” I hid my face in my hands.
Oliver took my hands in his and hiked one leg up on the couch to face me.
“Lucien, I understand all those feelings coming up. I often feel like I’m out of my depth with some of these new cases at work. I know what it is to feel unworthy, like an imposter.” I tried to interrupt him, but he quieted me with a look.
“You’ve managed to make CRAPP such a success the last few years, and though your colleagues do step up and contribute, there is no doubt that you basically run the place and that the bulk of its success is due to your efforts.” He paused, brushing his hand on my chin to lift up my face so I would look him in the eye.
“And as for the press, he says it right there in the email. He knows what it’s like to have lies spread about him by the media, to have things twisted beyond recognition. You two might have more things in common than you’d think!”
I turned my face back down to look at my hands, and thought for a moment. “Well, I guess we both have hot do-gooder barrister partners with strong ideals and a desire to smash the criminal justice system?” I replied wryly.
“So what you’re saying is that Alex Clairemont-Diaz is hot?” Oliver teased.
“Obviously!” I exclaimed, “But you’re hotter.”
“Am I?” He looked so smug.
“Yes!! Of course you are.” I leaned my head on his shoulder.
“So you’ll think about it then? The job?” he asked.
“Yeah. I will.”
**************************************
I will never be over the way Oliver looks in a tux. I drank in the sight of him. “You’re lucky I need to be here for work, or I would suggest we turn right back home so I can properly demonstrate how good I think you look”
Oliver fondly rolled his eyes at me, adjusted his cuffs, and clasped my hand as we made our way into the ballroom.
The band was already in full swing, hors d’oeuvres were being circulated, and the champagne was flowing. The ballroom was decorated in bright colours. I had even arranged to have a balloon arch — it was on brand for both me and for the organisation I now lead.
“Ah, there you both are!” Henry exclaimed as he approached me and Oliver. “Alex was looking for you, Oliver. He wanted to ask your opinion about his latest case challenging police checks in Texas. He’s over by the bar.”
Oliver promptly headed for the back of the room to join Alex in what was sure to be another one of their epic discussions comparing notes on tackling the American and British legal systems.
Henry turned to me. “I reviewed the outline of the proceedings for tonight, looks like everything is under control.”
“Yup,” I replied. It had taken some time to get used to my new role, but it turns out that running one charitable organisation on a bare-bones staff and budget was ample preparation for running another charitable organisation with actual resources. I could practically organise a fundraiser in my sleep at this point.
“Excellent! Let’s go grab some champagne and say hi to the guests” Henry said.
Later that evening, after I had schmoozed all the guests, given my speech, and reluctantly surrendered my vegan lemon posset to Oliver, I was finally able to breathe. I was sitting next to him at our table, surveying the room.
Most of the guests had left, but the band was still playing, and a few stragglers were on the dance floor. A slow song came on, and Henry and Alex were among the couples dancing, their eyes bright and happy. They had intimidated me when I had first met them, but they were totally disarming in person, and had become good friends. Turns out we had a lot in common.
Oliver stood up, and took his hand in mine. “How about a dance to cap off this fine evening?” he asked.
I accepted, and Oliver drew me into his arms. We swayed gently to the music, my body pressed against his. He kissed my temple and whispered in my ear, “I knew you could do it Lucien. I am so proud of you.”
I felt a warmth spreading across my chest as I hummed happily. With Oliver by my side, I could do anything.