Chapter Text
It was a damn nice office. The CEO did, in fact, get the best one. Two, actually. Though the glass walled one on the executive floor was his favorite one. It was next to Greg’s office and just adjacent to one of the executive meeting rooms. The other office was on a top floor and secluded from practically everything else, which had its benefits. It felt more like a mini-condo to get rest away from people than an actual working space.
But he liked being closer to the action. Closer to Greg.
He was scheduled to have a meeting with the new president of Waystar Studios and his own gaggle of greglets (assistants, he supposed, was the proper term) in about an hour. It was the one major facet of the company he hadn’t actually worked in (the local newspapers was also something he hadn’t done, but he found they largely functioned autonomously). He was curious to learn more about how it functioned.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the studio was completely kissing his ass. It was a different dynamic than he was used to, that was for sure. He supposed he did have a reputation for brutal efficiency. He’d completely turned ATN around, but fucked over a lot of people to achieve it. And the studio had been… underperforming.
But still, the President was new - newer than Tom, even - so he had no intention of coming down too hard on him. If anything, he hoped to collaborate. The new President was from outside the company, bringing in a pair of fresh eyes to liven it up over there a bit.
“Tom?” Greg knocked gently as he greeted him and opened the door wide enough to step through.
“Gregory,” he said, nodding in acknowledgement before noting that he was carrying a cup of coffee. “Did you demote yourself back down to Greg?”
“What? Oh,” he said, following his eyes to the cup, which he then set on his desk. “Oh, no. The red head got it. What’s her name?”
“Sandra.”
“Right. Sandra. Though I guess I could have claimed credit.”
“To what end, though, Greg? I’m already marrying you. Can’t butter me up more than that.”
Greg smiled, then briefly rounded the desk to greet him with a brief kiss. The blinds to the office were open and there were assistants - Sandra included - in the line of cubicles just outside. But they weren’t hiding anymore. The world knew. Still, they kept things to a minimum in the workplace - the odd peck here and there at most - out of a sense of propriety.
Tom took a sip of the latte and then snapped his fingers at Greg, who was diligently on the ball.
“Give me a run down of the week.”
Tom liked to hear Greg go over his schedule. It was rare that anything surprised him, but it was oddly calming. And he just liked to hear Greg talk. Even when he bumbled. It was endearing, even. And Greg was always ready to give such a small pleasure so easily.
“Okay,” Greg replied, plopping down on the couch on the other side of the room and opening up an iPad to the calendar app. “Today, 3:00pm Waystar Studio President and team.”
“Mhmm.”
“Tomorrow 10:00am, Finance briefing. 2:00pm, meeting with Gerri about parks liability insurance updates.”
“Mhmm, to make sure we’re covered in case a stoner vomits out a characters eyeholes?”
“Right,” Greg said, cringing at the memory. “Cover the, uh, trauma such an incident would cause of course.”
“Of course.”
“Then after work we’ve got, like, the wedding planners at 6.”
“You’ll be there as my assistant, I presume? Haha!”
“Of course,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “What else would I be? The husband-to-be?”
“No no. Wouldn’t dream of it. What’d you call me? Groomzilla? Groomzilla needs an assistant, not a second groom.”
“Of course,” Greg said with a smile. “Uh, so like I did have an idea actually.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Like. I want it to be completely different than, you know, your first one.”
Tom sat back in his chair, raising his eyebrows, curious where this was going.
“So you got married in a castle and had, like, a big fantasy fairytale wedding. So I want to go in the opposite direction and do maybe something tropical?”
“Tropical, Greg?” He tried to keep the judgement out of his voice but it seeped through anyway. “A bit kitche, no?”
“Maybe. But we can, like, class it up a bit.”
“Hmm. We could-“ Just then Tom’s phone started to ring. Shiv. “One sec.”
“Sure.”
“Hello, Shiv,” he greeted cheerily. Things weren’t perfect between them, but they’d reached a sort of equilibrium. Enough that it wasn’t unusual to have a short and pleasant conversation about the pregnancy without any snark.
They were trying, at least.
“It’s baby time.”
“What? You still have three weeks?” He turned around to look at Greg, who raised his eyebrow at him.
“Baby says ‘fuck the calendar, I’m coming now,’” Shiv replied.
“Fuck. Is the midwife there?”
“Yep. I called her and she came over as soon as the water broke.
“How long ago was that?”
“About an hour and a half ago?”
Greg had already stood up and grabbed Tom’s pre-packed hospital bag. They’d planned a cesarian closer to the due date, but had hospital bags packed just in case something like this were to happen. It had a change of clothes, some toiletries, and other miscellaneous things he might need. Shiv had her own at home and her office.
They’d all expected a possible early arrival to happen a lot closer to the due date, though, so Tom was in a bit thrown by it. Three weeks? Was that… was that okay? Was something wrong? He tried to recall the information from his books. He was pretty sure this was an okay window? Practically full term. As early as it can be an be considered that, he was pretty sure.
“I’ll handle the rescheduling. Go meet your daughter - hey, hi,” Greg said the last bit into the phone as the driving service picked up. “We need a pick up from HQ to the hospital. Yeah, it’s baby time.”
Tom just stood there for a moment, but then Greg was taking him by the elbow and guiding him out of the office. A few greglets watched the commotion but didn’t say anything or otherwise interfere. Perhaps they’d caught enough snippets to know what was going on, too. It wasn’t hard to deduce.
“Tom?” Shiv asked on the phone. It was only then he realized he’d left her mid conversation as Greg ushered him towards the elevator.
“Uh, yeah, I’m on the way. How dilated are you?”
“Like, two centimeters. I’m fine. You could probably attend the meeting, Tom. I know it’s important.”
“Uh-“
“Thanks,” Greg said, hanging up his phone and pressing the elevator button. He turned to Tom then. “Okay, so like I’m gonna meet with the studio people and record it? So you can watch later, yeah? It’s just a presentation. You can exchange ideas later, okay?”
“Yeah, I can… I can do that.” Tom switched back to talking to Shiv. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah. I mean, I guess that’s a novel way to approach the birth of a Roy. The father actually being present and such.”
“A Wambsgans-Roy.”
“Right, of course. A whole new beast!”
“You feeling alright?”
Just then the elevator opened and Greg ushered him into it.
“A ton of liquid just gushed out of me and I’m having some cramping, but yeah I’m otherwise fine.”
“Good. I’ll see you soon.”
“Alright. Bye.”
“Bye.”
He hung up and looked over at Greg, who was standing there patiently.
“You good, Tom?”
“Yeah… yeah, I just… I hope this isn’t a portent of things to come. Being excessively early is almost as stressful as being excessively late. Our schedules are too tight for this, haha.”
“Right,” Greg said with a laugh.
When the elevator door opened on the ground floor there was already an escort waiting for them to get into the waiting car. She was a random assistant from the pen that could Greg in Greg’s absence. Since Greg would be managing the missed meetings, Tom needed someone on hand. Nevertheless, the Real Greg followed them to the car, then gave Tom a parting kiss to the cheek before they separated.