Work Text:
Shirley let out a defeated huff when she finally entered her office. It was already a bad day, and she just arrived. Late. She slept through her alarm, her hair wasn’t cooperating, her suit jacket was stained from the coffee run thanks to the insufficient flimsy lid and spilling some of it on herself in the process, and to top off her coffee run fiasco, her order was wrong. And that was just the beginning. It was pouring down, and everyone in Boston seemed to have forgotten how to drive. She almost ended up in two wrecks!
Luckily, she arrived unharmed. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she noticed she was wearing two different earrings. She rolled her eyes.
“Of course.” She grimaced, pulling out the mismatched pair and placing them in her pocket. She closed her eyes, gathering herself together. She leaned forward a little, bowing her head against the steering wheel and taking a couple of deep breaths to keep her emotions down. She was already late. What would a couple more minutes do? Her cell phone rang. She didn’t even bother lifting her head to check the caller ID.
“Yes, Paul.” She droned. She wasn’t really listening to what he was saying, and he was clearly worried about her absence.
“I’m here, Paul. Don’t ask. I’ll be right up.” She hung up. “Come on, Shirley. You’ve had worse days than this. It will be ok.” She murmured. “It could be worse.” She forced a smirk, hearing her father’s voice. She finally exited the car. Then it got worse.
The strap on her briefcase bag tore when she caught it in the car door. She was ready to throw it across the parking garage. Miraculously, she held her tongue and swallowed her emotions with just enough willpower to trudge to the elevators with her broken bag. Shirley rested her head against the elevator wall, silently praying it would get stuck. She didn’t want to face her employees or clients in her current state or worse – Alan Shore. Much to her disappointment, the elevator opened up onto her floor. And, of course, the first to see her was Alan. Thankfully, he kept his mouth shut for once when he saw her. She brushed past him with a rushed “good morning” and finally arrived at her office.
She threw her beaten-up bag onto her couch and slumped in her office chair. She must have been a sight. Late for work, rushed hair job and smudged makeup, a broken briefcase bag, mismatched jewelry, stained clothes, and she just discovered her coat was missing a button. She tried brushing her hair again to tame the wild hairs and gave up. She was ready to go home, curl up in her favorite pajamas, and pretend the day never happened with a large glass of wine. She accepted her fate when she saw Paul walking towards her office.
The rest of her day was just as dismal. Her shoes were killing her by the time the day was over. Blisters were forming on her feet when her two-hour meeting with Paul and the other partners finally ended. She was ready to have Denny committed and Alan shot when she was informed of their latest stunts. She was exhausted and beaten down. Her poor feet were bleeding as she limped towards her office and turned the corner to see a rather large bouquet sitting on her desk in a beautiful crystal vase. She raised an eyebrow, looking around, hoping to spot the sender, but no one showed.
She cautiously approached the gift as if it were a bomb. The bouquet certainly was beautiful. She smelled the various flowers before plucking the little white envelope from the center of the bunch. She was pretty surprised by the extremely flattering note and who sent it. No signature was found. But she recognized the handwriting immediately.
Heat rose in her chest. She knew she shouldn’t. She bit down on the edge of the delicate cardstock, desperately fighting every urge she had. Her mind screamed not to act so irrationally. She groaned. She reread the card.
“Screw it.” Her day was Hell, and she didn’t care anymore. She threw the card onto her desk and marched out of her office.
Alan was just about to step into the elevator when Shirley walked up.
“Alan.”
“Shirley. What have I done now?” He smirked at her determined demeanor. His smirk vanished when she shoved him into the elevator. His briefcase flew out of his hands, and he almost hit his head against the wall when she slammed him up against the far corner.
“Ow! What the –”
Shirley swiftly pulled the emergency lever, halting the cabin, and roughly kissed him. Alan’s abandoned briefcase was instantly forgotten. Along with his ability to function. When his brain finally kicked in again, his newly occupied hands weaved into her soft blonde hair, pressing her closer to him. A few pleasant moments later, she broke the kiss. Alan slumped against the wall, still dazed. He cleared his throat.
“I should have bought you flowers a long time ago.” He breathlessly purred.
“Don’t tell Denny.” She purred back. Her perfect sloped nose brushed his. His arms were still locked around her.
“Don’t tell Denny what?” He murmured, pressing butterfly kisses along her temple and jawline before leaning in for another kiss. She pressed the pads of her fingers against his mouth.
“Next time?” He whispered. She concentrated on his tempting lips, still barred behind her weak defense. He pursed them slightly, forming a ghost kiss against her fingertips, weakening her defense.
She inhaled a deep breath and raised her sharp eyes. She promised nothing. She said nothing. But her wicked smirk said it all when she walked away, feeling Alan’s eyes following her and his Cheshire cat grin growing wider as she confidently strutted back to her office, forgetting the blisters and without a second glance.