Work Text:
Isabelle likes their new press officer, Jay Nakamura, but he’s got an interesting past, to say the least. She knows he’s not the most well-liked person in the Steelworks media office, but he is constantly in and out having discussions with Mr. Irons anyway, and he reminds Isabelle a bit of her younger brother.
If only her brother could put in the work hours Jay does, then maybe he wouldn’t be couch surfing in her living room for five straight years—
“I’m, uh, taking my lunch break early,” Jay says, knocking politely on her cubicle wall. He makes sure not to disturb the several pinned photos of her and her dogs, nor the smaller photo of her and her boyfriend hung slightly lower on said wall. Jay is thoughtful like that. “Just wanted to let you know where I’ll be if you need me.”
He glances multiple times at the wall of windows that overlook Metropolis. Isabelle wonders if the city account tweeted about another alien invasion and she missed the notification.
But Jay doesn't look afraid, just jittery. Maybe he’s had one too many cups of coffee for the day, and Isabelle wouldn’t blame him. Managing the public reputation of the controversial weapons factory in the middle of the city is rough on all of them; Isabelle couldn’t imagine working this job as a teenager in their first year of college.
“Of course,” she says. She’s not technically his boss — nearly everyone on the media floor answers to Debbie (if not the Mr. Irons, Steel, himself), but who wants to bother the old hag with permission for an early lunch? Especially when she’d say no. Just out of curiosity, Isabelle adds, “Got somewhere important to be?”
“No,” he answers quickly. His eyes dart to the large windows, once more. More slyly, he adds, “Just ordered delivery and the ETA is earlier than expected.”
She furrows her brows at that, but ends up shaking her head with a small smile. “Whatever, kid. Enjoy your break. Make sure you’re still back on time, though, or Debbie’ll make it my problem.”
“I know, I know,” he says, and gives an over-dramatic shudder in sympathy.
They’ve all been on the bad side of Debbie’s lectures. Sure, it takes time out of a long workday, but no one wants to sit at their own desk and endure thirty-minute-long nagging about how a mundane mistake is costing the Steelworks millions. Isabelle doesn’t understand why she cares so much, she’s been working for Steelworks since before it was even named Steelworks. No one cares about a lower managerial position that much.
Honestly, Isabelle forgets about Jay’s early lunch until it’s time for her own and he still hasn’t returned. It’s not a big deal, their positions don’t overlap, and she’s sure the kid will be back soon, but she is hit with the reminder as she enters the stairwell with her favorite baby pink lunchbox (the one with “it’s a good day to have a good day” emblazoned on the side in sparkly cursive).
There are voices coming from higher up the stairs, letting in a chilly breeze from an unlatched balcony door. They usually stay remain under lock and key — the steep slopes decorating the outside of the skyscraper don’t have guardrails, it’s truly an accident waiting to happen.
“I have to get back to work,” Jay says, in a muffled, whining voice. It’s so different from his normal, professional demeanor that it takes a moment to register as Jay’s voice.
“Can’t you stay just a little longer,” another masculine voice says, equally as muffled, just for the subsequent wet smack of a kiss to explain why. “This is the first time I’ve seen you, like, all week.”
Isabelle is torn between throwing herself back out the door from where she came and craning her neck up the spiral staircase to catch a glimpse of Jay’s mystery boy.
Her curiosity takes the wheel as she sneaks farther up the stairs to get a better view of the top. It’s hard, she can’t get the right angle, but if she fully bends at the waist over the handrail, she can juuust…
“I’ve gotta go,” the mystery man sighs. A flash of dense red fabric blows against the railing high above her. She can’t get a face, not even a hair color, just that damn red fabric. A trench coat? A cape?
“Hypocrite,” Jay says, but Isabelle can hear the smile in his voice.
“Tornado in Kansas,” the other man says, as if that is an appropriate explanation. “I’ll see you at home.”
Jay doesn’t get another word in before a huge gust of wind shoots through the stairwell, and the bright red fabric zooms away onto the roof where she can no longer see it. Jay stands at the doorway a moment longer, and Isabelle processes what she just saw.
It couldn’t be… right?
Did Jay just invite Superman to join him on his lunch break?
Isabelle may mention it to her seat neighbor, Grace, as she makes her way back from lunch, and if she also looks into The Truth and his relationship to Superman on her company computer on company time, well, no one would know unless they’re already doing an investigation on her.
. . .
“Oh,” Brittany exclaims, glaring daggers at the pink-haired boy as she pauses in setting up her new work station. He sends her dirty look right back at her, which doesn’t make her feel welcomed to her new job. “That’s that Truth guy, isn’t he? I’m surprised they let him work here after everything he’s done.”
“It’s shown he can put the work in and get his voice out to the world,” Stewart says. But Brittany doesn’t think this Stewart-guy is the best judge of character, either. He wears a beanie over long, loose hair, and has a patchy goatee like a hipster from a decade ago. Definitely cannot be trusted. “He’s actually the youngest employee to be qualified to work at Steelworks. Not bad, if you ask me.”
“Well, I didn’t,” she huffs. She can’t believe she has to work in the same building as a wanted vigilante criminal. “Don’t places like this do background checks nowadays? How can someone like that be allowed to work here? I thought this was supposed to be a ‘safe space.’”
“Of course,” Stewart says, making himself feel comfortable at her new desk by leaning his twiggy butt against it and shoving her keyboard further into the table. “As I said, he’s perfectly qualified for the job, and passed all background and drug tests, same as you and me. What any of us do in our free time is no one else’s business, am I right?”
Brittany doesn’t deign to answer. She crosses her arms and shoots Stewart an arched eyebrow.
He coughs awkwardly, blowing air on her face with the slight height difference. He stinks of weed and who knows what other drugs he was able to sneak in.
What a terrible workplace. Not even one full day and she’s already being tormented by these crazy woke weirdos. She’s going to complain to someone. She doesn't yet know who, but once she does, there will be a lot more peace in this office.
Brittany meets Grace, the sweet older lady who is supposed to sit across the aisle from her, but mostly spends her day roaming around the halls, looking for things to do. Brittany thinks she’s the event coordinator or project manager or something, whatever position that has her swapping between cramming out emails and pacing back and forth while making phone calls.
“How did Steelworks even manage to hire that terrorist?” she asks, once Grace stops her pacing and returns to the parallel cubicle. “I mean, that has to be a safety hazard or something, right? I mean, he’s even a… metahuman. That can’t be legal.”
“Bah,” Grace says, and waves a dismissing hand through the air. “Jay is a good kid, a good worker, too. He probably worked two weeks of unpaid overtime when he first started, before Stewart finally convinced him to take it easy.”
“So because he’s a ‘good worker’ we can ignore the literal safety risk for the rest of us mere mortals? What if he decides to go on a murderous rampage and destroy the building? We just have to take it because he did some extra overtime to get on everyone’s good side?”
“If he ever becomes a problem—which he won’t, I’m telling you—Superman will take care of him,” Grace says seriously. Then, with a small glimmer in her eye, she continues at a whisper, “You didn’t hear it from me, but rumor has it that Jay and the younger Superman are dating.”
Brittany fumes. “That can’t possibly—”
“You didn’t hear it from me,” Grace repeats, hands up in peaceful surrender. “Some of us stumbled upon some photos of Superman and Jay teaming up, and it looks like they’re still on good terms to this day. That’s all we know.”
“Well he must be brainwashing Superman,” she says, her eyes scanning Grace’s face for any lies. “He’s a fucking meta, we don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“Hey now, young lady,” Grace says, suddenly stern. “Let’s not use that kind of language in the office. I’m not your mother and I’m not your boss, but let’s keep things peaceful while we’re working together.”
“I don’t understand how everyone is so calm about this.” Brittany feels herself becoming hysterical, but how could she not, when everyone is treating her like the crazy one, when the real problem is able to prance around doing whatever the fuck he wants, committing crimes and stealing data while on the clock. “He’s a criminal, a spy, a terrorist—he’s a danger to this country and he’s allowed to work an office job like everything’s normal? I bet he’s not even here legally, he’s from that third-world country or whatever—”
Grace puts an arm over Brittany’s shoulders and walks with her down the hall. “How about we take a little walk outside, okay?”
Brittany’s being coddled, she knows it, but this granny is stronger than she looks. She has a death grip on Brittany’s shoulder as she leads her out to the Steelworks’ front steps for non-optional, fresh Metropolis air.
As Brittany rolls her eyes at the baby treatment, she spots Superman Jr. flying away from the roof of their building.
Jesus fucking Christ, Superman really does know that criminal. She doesn’t yet know how, but Brittany is going to get to the bottom of it.
. . .
A tall teenage boy in a large hoodie holds a plastic bag of what smells like food from the incredible taco truck parked right outside as he loiters in the Steelworks media floor lobby. It is not much of a lobby, just Amber’s little reception desk that stands right outside the elevators to cut off any trespassers, and, unfortunately for Tyler, also the hallway to the bathrooms.
Tyler, still drying his damp hands on the back of his flannel, is caught off-guard by the boy’s appearance, not that there’s anything wrong with the kid, just that there is a kid in the building at all. And that he’s just standing around with a bag of takeout. And the fact that he surely does not want to be in this situation any more than Tyler does, but here they both are.
“Hi…” Tyler says, though that probably should be Amber’s job, to accost the ne'er-do-wells trying to enter the building. But apparently that job now goes to Tyler, since he caught the boy before he managed to reach the front desk. “Can I help you with anything?”
The kid looks at him, checks his phone, then looks back to him with eyes such a deep blue they’re nearly purple. “I’m just waiting.”
Not an answer. This kid is killing him. There’s only fifteen minutes left of Tyler’s shift, and he fears he’s going to have to stay overtime to figure out what this boy wants.
“Waiting for…? We don’t usually get visitors without an appointment,” he says, and he feels quite professional despite never having a public-facing job before. “And, actually, the office is actually about to close soon. So…”
“Oh, I know,” the boy says, and a bright smile lightens up his entire face. “I brought dinner. I’m just waiting for my— uh, my friend. So we can, uh, eat… Together. Yeah.”
Okay, that makes this easier. The guy is so young, his “friend” is clearly either Jay or Brittany, and by god does Tyler hope the friend isn’t Brittany.
“Sure, okay,” Tyler says. He checks his own watch, still another ten minutes to six, but surely they can fudge the numbers a bit for a good cause. The good cause in this case is fleeing this conversation. Tyler is not a fan of teens, despite escaping his own teen years just a decade prior. “Who’s your friend? Maybe we can get you two out of here a little early.”
“I’m okay to wait,” he says, but he checks his phone again, either for the time or awaiting incoming messages, Tyler isn’t sure. “I didn’t tell him I was coming, I wanted to surprise him on his way out.”
Him, thank god. Definitely not a friend of Brittany’s then. And Tyler can maintain the peace in this office. He fears the day that one of Brittany’s little friends finds their way down here. Once they do, the office will never have a day of peace and quiet again.
“If you’re sure,” Tyler says hesitantly. He waves at the two plastic chairs near the elevator doors. “You can have a seat over there and wait for him. But it’s really no trouble to grab him for you.”
The boy stops him with a softly raised hand and an equally soft smile. “Thanks, but really, I’m good out here.”
Tyler watches him open the messaging app on his phone and then think better of it, pocketing the device as he sits in the uncomfortable chair on the left.
“Thanks for nothing,” Tyler hisses at Amber, who was flicking her gaze between them and her computer screen for the past five minutes as she pretended to work. “They should pay me more if I’m doing your job for you.”
She scoffs at him and playfully shoves him away from her desk, but he leans his elbows right back on it once again.
“He’s here for Jay, right?” she asks in hushed tones and with wiggled eyebrows.
“I mean it’s either Jay or Stewart.” Tyler looks back at the boy, who’s now twirling a dark curl near his forehead around his finger. “And if it’s Stewart, we’re gonna need to have an intervention or something, because that would be messed up on so many levels.”
Though Amber sucks in her lips, it doesn’t suppress the growing smile on her face. “That boy likes Jay. Like. You can practically see the heart eyes he’s giving his phone.”
Tyler’s face falls. “It’s a shame that he’s with Superman, then.”
“You don’t think…” Amber’s eyes widen stressfully. “You don’t think Jay is cheating on Superman with this kid, is he?”
Tyler shakes his head emphatically. “I do not think that. I don’t think that at all. You’re the one that brought it up.”
“Come on,” she draws out. Her voice grows a little louder, but Tyler doesn’t think the boy could hear them super clearly from this distance. “Picking him up from work with dinner already in hand? That’s such domestic behavior. If they’re not already together, they’re about to be soon.”
“Jay wouldn’t,” Tyler says, but even as the words leave his mouth, he’s not one hundred percent certain. He hates that he could doubt his young colleague, but the small amount of evidence they have looks pretty damning, and truly they haven’t known Jay for that long.
“Jon?” Jay asks, his personal bag in hand and winter coat already on as he walks to the elevators. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
“No, I wanted to surprise you,” the boy, Jon, says, looking quite proud of his efforts, but sorry for causing even the brief moment of worry. “Already bought dinner for us, too.”
Amber shoots a look at Tyler, mouthing dinner with widened eyes.
Tyler rolls his eyes at her, but also continues paying attention to the pair near the elevator doors. One of them has pressed the down arrow, and the elevator pings softly at each climbing floor.
Tyler must’ve missed the introductory, “How was your day?” because he tunes in with Jay complaining about Brittany’s daily antics, this time about her not letting Jay touch the communal coffee machine in the break room, in case he’s done something to tamper with it.
Tyler agrees with Jay, that if he’d done something to it, why would he proceed to pour himself a cup of the contaminated drink?
“Maybe it’s like The Princess Bride,” Jon says, as the elevator doors glide open. “And you’ve made yourself immune to all poisons and wouldn’t be affected.”
“Yes, that’s definitely what I’ve done,” Jay says, dryly, but with a dorky grin on his face that Tyler’s never seen before. It quickly morphs into the sarcastic look that Tyler has seen plenty, as he says, “You know, I bet Batman has done that before.”
Jon snorts, and the elevator doors close, but Tyler can just barely catch the start of, “I can confidently say, Batman has definitely…” as it begins its descent.
“So…” Amber says expectantly, now that the lobby is clear.
Tyler huffs. “Fine, they are very cute together. Don’t go spreading it around.”
. . .
“Jay, your boyfriend is here for you,” Grace calls from across the floor.
Debbie’s out of the office for the week, and the entire team is much more cheerful for it. Jon arrives with yet another warm lunch for Jay; Grace doesn’t know what he’ll do once Debbie returns to lord over the building. Maybe sneak in through the fire escape, he seems determined enough for it.
“Mrs. Spencer,” Jon greets. “Always nice to see you. Is Mittens doing any better?”
“Jon, I’ve told you to call me Grace,” she nags lightly.
“Sorry, ma’am, I physically cannot do that.”
She shakes her head at him and gives a small exhale. “Mittens’ll get through it. Finally took him to the vet last night and the new meds should help a lot.”
“That’s good,” he nods, like he, too, has a personal stake in her senior cat’s wellbeing. He wiggles excitedly in place, not entirely unlike her old cat. They even share the same dark, frizzy hair, though Mittens has a lot more white in his, these days. “Do you have any more pictures?”
She pulls out her phone and starts tapping out her meticulously long password when Jay approaches from the hall. He catches Jon’s attention far more forcefully than any shared cat photos ever have.
“Ah, another time, Mrs. Spencer,” Jon apologizes with a sheepish smile and a nervous hand in his hair. “Jay’s only got the thirty minute break.”
“Of course,” she says. “You two have a good lunch.”
“Thanks, Grace,” Jay says, polite as ever. “You, too.”
They make their way to the stairwell in the corner, instead of taking the elevator right next to them. Everyone has gotten used to the couple’s picnics atop Steelworks’ dangerous S-shaped ledges. It can’t be a perfectly comfortable set up, what with the strange shape of the building and all that, but the pair seem to enjoy themselves enough. Kids these days seem to crave danger at every available opportunity, as though Metropolis doesn’t have enough danger on its own.
Amber at the front desk catches Grace’s eye as the couple leaves, and Grace shakes her head at her.
“They’re cute together,” Amber says simply.
“I’m not disagreeing,” Grace says. She knows that another Gen X woman that looks the way she does may not agree, but her parents raised her right. “I just hope Jay’s broken up with Superman by now. It’s not right to lead them both on like this.”
“I mean, hey, we haven’t seen Superman flying around the office in at least two weeks,” Amber says. “And since he’s been gone, Jon has kind of perfectly filled that spot. Maybe they just made it official.”
“I hope so. That sounds more like Jay,” Grace says. She doesn’t think Jay would cheat on someone, especially not someone like Superman; it just seems so out of his character.
Sure, they may just be coworkers or acquaintances, but Grace would like to think of most of the people in the media team as friends. They may not know every detail about each other’s lives, but they’re all definitely friendly, and she could see a group of them possibly going out for dinner or drinks sometime after work.
“Gra-ace,” Brittany calls from her cubicle, and Grace has to take a deep breath. She chose not to have kids for a reason, and somehow this 23-year-old is checking all the same boxes. “Can you come proofread this article for me?”
“One second, I’m coming,” she says, before the girl can start whining in earnest.
On her way down the hall, glass shatters behind her, and she worries Amber knocked over the heavy flower vase at the front desk.
“Amber? Are you okay?”
There is no time to respond. The next second has the wall of double pane windows blown to pieces, portions of the higher floors caving in on them, and debris crumbling around them.
Grace curls in on herself, putting her hands over her head and neck as she leans against the nearest cubicle for a modicum of protection. She can’t tell if it’s an earthquake, tornado, or alien invasion, but she knows how to drop, cover, and hold in a crisis.
The chaos settles after a long moment. No further collapses on this side of the building, but she worries for Amber at the front, so close to the initial cave in and all the shattered glass from the windows.
When she feels secure that the building won’t get any worse in the moment, she rises to her shaky feet and shouts, “Amber?”
“I’m here!” she calls back with a waver in her voice. “Is everybody else…?”
“Ugh, I’m alive,” Brittany groans from nearby.
Grace also gets the affirmative from Stewart and Tyler in the camera room down the hall, Isabelle taking her lunch in the break room, and goes down the checklist in her head of everyone in the office today.
“Jay and Jon were on the balcony!” she shouts. “Someone needs to make sure they’re okay!”
“We’re fine,” Jay says, amongst the rubble, and Grace looks up to see Superman holding Jay in a bridal carry through the smashed windows. When Jay’s feet safely touch the floor, he adds, “Jon is safe, he’s making sure the paramedics are on their way. How is everyone here?”
While Jay checks in with Grace, Superman is already scanning the area with glowing lavender eyes, presumably looking for anyone trapped in the wreckage.
“Now that you’re here, everyone on this floor is accounted for. Superman should check the upper levels that collapsed, and everyone in the lab downstairs,” Grace advises. “I can’t imagine what damage could happen down there if something goes wrong.”
“We’re on it,” Jay says, and Grace catches his arm.
“Son,” she says. She knows he’s tough, and has been through worse, but hasn’t he earned a break? Doesn’t he deserve some safety at his own workplace? “Let the heroes take care of this one, okay?”
He nods at her, but then her hand phases straight through his arm as he pulls out of her reach.
“We are,” he says, and disappears into the cracked floor.
Everyone is directed to take the back staircase, farthest from the bulk of the damage, and only once everyone is outside, do they realize just how bad it was.
The entire north side of the building has been ripped apart. Like someone punched a hole straight through the building from floors two to fifteen. They got lucky that so much of the workforce is on vacation for the winter holidays, or there’d be much worse casualties.
Superman flits by, dropping people off at the curb at inexplicable speeds, and no one has died yet. Of course, there are injuries, and paramedics arrive quickly to the scene to begin treatment. But Steelworks got extremely lucky today, and none of them are taking it for granted.
Grace doesn’t calm down, though, until she sees all of her team safely on the sidewalk. She’s got everyone but Jay now. He’s still doing who-knows-what, scouting for survivors for Superman to dig out? She wishes he wouldn’t, but knows he always will. Because who is he, other than someone who is always willing to stick his neck out for others? She’s never met a more selfless young man.
The sound of his voice, though, perks up her ear.
He’s not shouting for Superman to unearth another factory worker, he’s speaking in hushed tones, and Grace wouldn’t have caught it if she were thinking about anything other than Jay, himself.
Jay stands impressively close to Superman, looking up at him with concerned eyes. She can’t hear the exact words from the distance, but knows they’re filled with worry and love.
He wipes a bit of dust from Superman’s cheek, and puts on a small smile for him. Superman holds the hand in his and takes a breath — Grace didn’t know he even had to breathe.
They share a quiet moment together, possibly steeling themselves for the bigger fight to come — whatever punched a hole through a government building, perhaps. They do not kiss, but it is very close to it. For all it seems that Jay and Jon share the bright and happy moments in love, Jay and Superman have only the quiet and softness of goodbyes.
Grace is ready to leave well enough alone. Though she does not approve of Jay two-timing two lovely boys, he is an adult, and he can do as he pleases. It is not Grace’s problem.
“Oh my god, is that Jay and Superman?” Amber says, tactlessly, as she notices Grace’s gaze.
Superman notices them back; he glances, embarrassed, in their direction. He speaks what has to be another quick goodbye to Jay before flying away in a burst of air and dust, scouting the skies for the destructive culprit.
Jay also has the decency to look sheepish at being caught in a romantic moment with Superman as he rejoins the team with a blush on his cheeks.
Grace pulls him into a hug anyway. No matter what happened or what will happen, she’s glad he’s safe.
. . .
The Steelworks office — currently squeezed into incredibly tight quarters due to multiple floors being renovated at the same time — is, in a word, tense. Their normally small team has nearly quadrupled in size, while being shoved into an even smaller work space, due to the aforementioned renovations.
Jay really thinks they should be able to work from home, at least until the bulk of the construction is completed.
Since his position has him usually either working from home or glued to John Henry Irons’ side, he isn’t familiar with most of the people on the floor today, but they are all very aware of him. His entire day is filled with stares, either in awe or disdain, usually about his past work, but also sometimes just about the color of his hair Jay has gotten used to deciphering the different looks over the years.
On top of that, though, Debbie created a seating chart to ensure all the relocated employees have a manageable desk space; unfortunately, that seating chart has Jay and Brittany sharing a desk — Brittany’s desk — a situation that absolutely no one is happy with, and only adds fuel to the fire that is Brittany’s disdain for him.
There’s nowhere for anyone to retreat, with everyone crammed in the office like sardines.
“If you touch me again, I swear to God I will scream,” Brittany says, barely two hours into the day.
Jay feels like screaming, himself. “We’re sharing a desk, and you’re left handed. If we switch sides, we have less risk of our hands touching.”
“But all my drawers are on this side and I don’t want you messing with them,” she says, and Jay feels his eye twitching.
“Again,” he breathes, because if he doesn’t, he will end up getting fired or imprisoned by the end of the day. “We are sharing a desk. You’ll be able to see all of my movements at all times.”
“Um, nuh-uh,” she argues, like she’s actually five years old. “You have your freaky little mutant powers, you’re going to psychically move around all of my things and make me look crazy. Just like you always have.”
Jay has to actually put his head in his hands for that one.
As his elbow rests on the table, his jacket sleeve brushes Brittany’s knuckles. And as she warned, she does, in fact, scream.
“Oh my fucking god,” Jay mutters into his hands. It is covered up by Brittany’s prolonged shrieking. He pushes his chair back. “I’m taking a walk. I am taking a walk.”
“You think you’re so special,” Brittany yells after him. Jay doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction. “Just because you managed to brainwash Superman into fucking you and trick Jon into staying with you anyway.”
Jay stops breathing. “What?”
“Oh my god,” she laughs. She joins him in the hall between cubicles. Everyone’s eyes are on them. “Stop with the clueless act already. Everyone knows you’re a cheating little bitch. You’re already a lying, illegal, traitorous spy, now we all know you’re a heartless cheater on top of it.”
She cocks her head like she knows she’s won.
Jay knew some people in the office thought he was cheating on Jon with Superman or vice versa. It was a tired little joke to Jon and him, once Jon got his secret identity back. But they’d made sure to stop public interactions between Jay and Superman, so it could be certain Jay was only dating Jon. He didn’t realize his relationship status had caused such a commotion in the office.
“I’m not with Superman,” he says flatly. He doesn’t know how to say it earnestly. He can’t say it with disgust, because it’s Superman. He can’t be defensive or it’ll sound like he’s trying too hard. Jay is capable of lying, to a degree, but he is called The Truth for a reason.
“Okay, you’re not ‘with’ him, whatever,” Brittany says. “But what would Jon say if I told him you were sleeping with someone else?”
“I’m not,” he says, doubling down, instead of giving the numerous other responses he’d rather say to her. “Jon wouldn’t care.”
Jay tries not to think about the fact that Jon absolutely would care if Jay started cheating on him, but that’s not at all what is happening here.
“Oh, is it like polyamory?” Amber calls from the not-quite-front-desk, that’s several yards away from the ongoing construction.
“Uh, no, but—”
“But you’ve talked about it?” Stewart asks, with much more of a chill tone to his question.
“No, uh, I think we’re both monogamous,” Jay says, caught off-guard with all the eyes on him.
He’s on a stage — this is nothing like his pre-recorded segments for The Truth. There, he’d be in control of what he says and how he says it; he can re-record if he stutters or forgets the most accurate word in English. For all that his coworkers have come to know him over the last several months, they still don’t explicitly trust him.
To them, Jay will always be, at least a little bit, the criminal who can’t be believed. He does not get the leniency that others are granted, and that is just a part of his life.
“Everyone get back to work,” shouts a nasally voice from the back office. Debbie returned from vacation to a half-destroyed building and a low-morale workforce to build it back up. She is not in the mood to be messed with.
Jay winces, but moves to squeeze back into Brittany’s cubicle.
Debbie stops him with an outstretched hand. She makes her way, slowly, agonizingly slowly, to the cubicle wall and looks between Jay and Brittany.
“We don’t pay you to gossip about your colleagues during the workday,” she lectures Brittany. “Your language is, frankly, wildly inappropriate for the workplace, and this is far from your first offense. I wanted to take it easy on you because you’re young, but this is no way to behave in a professional environment and you’re going to have to learn that quickly if you want to keep your job here.”
Jay is not sure if he’s dreaming or not. He’s never heard a Debbie Lecture where she’s protecting someone else. Especially not himself.
Usually, he assumes she’s just overwhelmed by the need to yell at someone to let out her constant boiling anger — he didn’t know she was even capable of empathy.
“Debbie, I—” Brittany tries.
“It’s also rude to interrupt someone when she’s speaking,” Debbie continues, holding up a gnarled, old finger. Jay is holding back shocked laughter. “You’re going to apologize to Jay, and then I’m sending you home for the rest of the day. Come back tomorrow with a better attitude or you will be looking for a new job. Do you understand me?”
Brittany, to her credit, waits to make sure Debbie is finished speaking. When it’s clear she is, Brittany nods, and utters a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good,” she says, and the conversation is closed. She looks around at the numerous sets of eyes on them. “Nothing to see here. Everyone drop this conversation or you can follow Brittany out.”
Jay grins at Brittany’s miserable face. She looks devastated at the thought of having to apologize for her actions, but Debbie’s office is not so far down the hall that she could get away with skipping out on it.
Through gritted teeth, she says, “I’m. Sorry.”
“I think you can do better than that,” he says, his voice still a little low in case Debbie’s ire turns on him instead.
Brittany gets in his face, as close as she’s ever dared to get to him, only to hiss out her next words. “I don’t know how you tricked Debbie to be on your side, but I will find out. Even if they fire me, I’ll be watching you. You’re a fucking menace, and I’ve got my eyes on you for when you slip up.”
“Good luck with that,” Jay says, and takes a seat at the desk she’s vacated.
“Ugh!” she shrieks. Debbie, down the hall, gives her a very pointed look. Brittany shoulders her bag and stomps to the stairwell in a particularly huffy and loud exit.
Jay smiles. Though no one can outwardly react and disturb Debbie’s quiet workplace, Jay knows everyone is on the same page.
He can’t wait to tell Jon about this.