Work Text:
New jobs were always stressful, you knew this much already. However, working in the robotics department of Cognito Inc. proved to be the most strenuous job you’d ever worked.
It wasn’t quite that you couldn’t meet deadlines, or you were unable to work under pressure— after all, studying robotics and engineering kind of forced you to be good at those things. It was usually the expectations of your superior, Dr. Reagan Ridley.
She was… interesting, to say the least. She hated physical contact, eye contact, and talking to anybody at all. Despite this all, your admiration for her hadn’t waned in the slightest— in fact, it seemed to push you harder to complete work before the deadline, and to leave no room for flaws in your work. Of course, she always found something to prod at and fix for you— observant woman, she was— whether it be as small as an equation or as big as a structural point of a mechanism. Her criticism only pushed you to be better, and everytime you could see her being more and more impressed with your work.
You blink twice, realize you had zoned out, and check the time— 9:23 p.m. You had a blueprint spread in front of you, and you added your final touches to it before holding it up to the light, double checking it thoroughly. Finally, you roll it up and stand with it under your arm. While most workers would already have left the building to go home, you were desperate to finish your work and completely wow your boss once and for all.
You leave your office, padding down the hall to the elevator that took you down to her laboratory. The echo that follows your steps makes you feel anxious; it reminds you of how so few personnel remained in the building. Just you and her.
Your cheeks warm at the thought of just you and her in that wide open lab. Of course, she would never see you in a romantic manner; she was your superior, after all, but it never hurt to think about it.
As the elevator reaches the lowest floor, you step out, reach her office and knock on the door once, twice, then three times. You don’t hear her for a moment, just rustling and curses, then she yells for you to come in.
You push the door open and, oh, the state she is in is such a sight for sore eyes. She greets you with exhaustion ever present in her voice. Her hair is messier than normal, her eyes are framed by dark circles, and her lab coat wasn’t even on, her dress shirt rumpled and unbuttoned by two buttons, sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her forearms looked so smooth; you wanted to drag a finger up it and—
“Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to show me what you’ve got there?” She gestures generally to your arm.
“Oh! Right! Right.” You search for a clear spot on her desk, then frantically spread it out, reaching for an empty coffee cup and stapler and rest them on the edges to keep it open. She sidesteps you to get a good look, and you step back, clasping your (now clammy) hands behind your back.
Her gaze is unwavering and locked onto your blueprint. You distantly wonder if there was any minuscule detail you’ve missed, but her expression doesn’t give it away. Her eyebrows jump slightly, and she looks at you.
“Your logic here is infallible. Can’t find anything to complain about. You’re getting real good at this stuff.” She nods approvingly— the surge of dopamine you get is unmatched by anything you’ve ever felt.
Careful to not expose the overexcitement running through your veins, you smile at her, clasping your hands together on your chest. “I’m glad you’re satisfied! I’ve, um, been working really hard on this one. No room for error and whatnot.”
“Well, it paid off,” She says, running her finger over your sketch absentmindedly. “And you’ve been working here for just a couple months?”
When you nod, she makes a noise of acknowledgement. “You’re good for somebody that just got hired fresh out of college. Consider me impressed.”
You bite your tongue to stop yourself from squealing and nod again. You were going to turn this conversation over in your head over and over again for the next week, you just knew it.
Reagan slinks back to her desk chair, dropping into it and leaning back, arms behind her head. You take care to not ogle her this time, much to your dissatisfaction, and turn for the door, when she pipes up again:
“Hey, newbie. How’d you improve so quickly, anyways?” Her tone seems nonchalant, but the knowing smile on her face gives away that ‘she knows something you don’t’ thing happening in her head. It makes you feel very small.
“…practiced a lot, I guess?” You shrug, voice shakier than you meant for it to be. You steady your voice, then speak again: “And worked on it a bit harder. Think I’ve been working on this blueprint for weeks now..” You bring your thumb up to your mouth, chewing your thumbnail in thought. “Why?”
“Nothing. Just noticed a pattern.” Reagan leans forward on her desk a bit, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “You know how I’m all, uh, socially unaware or whatever?”
Confused about where she’d be taking this, you nod slowly.
“And the things that I do notice must be very, you know.. present? For me to notice?” Your cheeks are starting to warm up quickly— you have a hunch about where this line of thought is headed.
“…yes, I’m aware.”
She gets up and starts a steady stride around to the front of her desk, leaning against it. “So if I were to make a particular assertion, it would be on the basis of various things combined. Not just a ‘gut feeling’ that a …less rational person might depend upon.”
You feel like you’ve had the air punched out of your lungs. She’s beating around the bush, but you can tell what she intends to say. You wring your hands, prepared to apologize profusely, but she raises a hand.
“What I mean to say, is.. you don’t hide it very well. With the looks and the way you blush when I’m near you— look, you’re even doing it now, and you are so red, wow— I don’t think it’s entirely outlandish.” She pauses for a beat to look you over. “Am I right or wrong?”
You nod slowly, grabbing at the collar of your shirt to try to alleviate the heat bubbling up in your chest.
“Right, so. You understand how that sort of thing between a boss and an employee is inappropriate and all?” She tilts her head, smirking at you. It confuses you to no end; her words are like that of a CEO reprimanding their subordinate, but her tone and body language taunt you. You barely know how to react, but nod anyways.
She hops off the desk and walks closer, resting a hand on your shoulder and leaning into your ear. “So this’d have to stay under wraps.”
You gasp and your eyes widen. You have to be imagining things, right? What sense would it make that your boss was propositioning you right in her laboratory? You freeze up, waiting for her to clarify. She pulls back, blinking at you as color starts to rise into her face.
“…did I get the wrong vibe here?” She mutters, pointing between you and her.
Truthfully, she did get the right idea— you were utterly enamored by her mental prowess, her stature, and her demeanor. But to be presented an opportunity just like that felt unreal.
Wordlessly, you reach forward to curl your fingers in the hem of her dress shirt, thumbing at it as though you were inspecting the material carefully. In all honesty, you were having a tough time mustering up the courage to do what you knew you both wanted. You can barely make eye contact with her; just being able to touch her in such an intimate context made you feel lightheaded. Nonetheless, you press on, raising your hands to her shoulders, and more hesitantly, her collar.
As you finally will yourself to look at her face, you realize she’s just as nervous as you are. Your hands hold fast to her collar, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you pull her in to crash your lips against hers.
The kiss is, quite honestly, completely uncoordinated. Your noses bump on the way, and she directs you to tilt your head with a gentle hand on the back of your neck. Your teeth nearly clank hers, and you’re worried about being too eager with your tongue. Either way, you find it in yourself to mash down your reservations, put your arms fully over her shoulders, and melt into the kiss. It’s a lot better once you really get into it; her tongue makes its way into your mouth, and you lightly brush hers with your own. The contact affects you more than you realize, and you groan into her mouth.
This action seems to be too much for her, as she pulls back, her pupils dilated and breath heavy. Your eyes open just as a bridge of spit breaks between you two, and you look up at her frantically, dropping your arms to your sides.
You don’t even consider for a second telling her to stop, but she stares at you like a deer in headlights, waiting for you to take the initiative and leave. After an agonizing few seconds, her resolves crumbles, and she flies in for a kiss with more fervor than was in the previous kiss. The force knocks you off balance, and you stumble backwards, but she catches you.
Both hands perched on the small of your back, she turns you, and moves with you until the backs of your thighs are pressed against her desk. It really
makes you feel the height difference between you two; sitting on the desk makes you have to tilt your head up to even be able to catch her mouth. She’s standing right in between your legs now, hands on either of your thighs. You can barely think now, you realize— she’s got you right where she wants you.
Abruptly, she pulls away, face flushed and forehead sweaty. She looks… conflicted. As she pulls away, her breath comes out in huffs as she furrows her brows.
“...we’re not supposed to be doing this. Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”
Your eyes widen as you come to your senses and shake your head, as if to clear the fog of desperation from your brain.
“Right— Right, of course!” You place your hands on her shoulders as if to push her away, and she steps back, dropping her hands to her sides.
You quickly push yourself up off her desk and smooth your clothes out, trying to not look like you were getting kissed within an inch of your life. Reagan hardly looks like she wants to stop, but lets you move away, arms crossed.
“I… um. I’m sorry!” You sputter, booking it out of her office before you could look at her face again. Your chest heaves as you stop in the elevator, mashing the button to go back upstairs and leaning back against the wall.
On the glass wall, you can see your lips tinted redder from the kiss. You drag your hand over your mouth and warm cheeks, then run it through your hair, chuckling humorlessly.
This was coming up in your bedroom fantasies for at least the next month, that’s for sure.