Work Text:
Irene felt her body grow hot. It had been hot all day. Every part of her body burned. The lab was hot. It was almost empty. It was meant to be a vacation day, the weekend. Nothing to work on, just a day off. And yet, Irene was obsessed, had to be there with what mattered to her most. Her passion was never ending.
If only that passion was for her damn job.
Barb strode across the lab, bottles of chemicals in hands. She held tightly to a shoe which she had been adding rocket blasters to. Her mind was amazing. The way her creativity was touched by everything she laid her pretty fingers to, it made Irene swoon, made herself ache, imagined what it was like to have Barb Larvernor use her gorgeous mind to create you, to make you special, perfect.
Adjusting her glasses, her eyes fell to Barb who leaned over her lab table. She heard a faint pop and a gentle burst of excitement from Barb’s thin lips. She bit down on her tongue. The way the lab coat hung off her, her hair tied up in a cute little ponytail, shoes clicking against the ground with every small step. She wanted to lift Barb up and throw her down to that lab table and ruin her, rip that oversized lab coat off her and show her everything Irene felt for her, to show her that her creation was sentient. Barb had created this obsession, she just hadn’t yet realized it.
And yet, there was always someone in the way. Some knowing voice in Irene’s head. They weren’t alone. They were at work. No where would be safe to break Barb open, nowhere. And then there came Barb’s own desires, something Irene wished she could ignore, to say that it didn’t matter. She wished she could forget about the way Barb’s face flushed when Agent Curt Mega came into their lab and fucked everything up. She wished Barb yelled at him instead of sitting there in her obsessive crush on a man so clearly a faggot he might as well have had a shirt on that said it.
But no, Barb was blind, even with those glasses that made her face look small, adorable.
“Irene, can you hold this for me?” Barb called to Irene, who glanced up to see Barb smiling over her shoulder. Irene’s heart soared in her chest and she let out a quick nod. Of course she would help. If Barb asked her to jump off a building, she’d do it in a heartbeat. She could be close to Barb, could smell her shampoo. Lavender, roses, pretty flowers in bloom. She wanted to pick them, crush them, watch the petals wilt.
Barb handed Irene a flask when she came beside her, using some tweezers to get something out of the shoe.
“What’s the flask for?” Irene quietly asked, examining the blue bubbly liquid.
“Poison dart pen. It’s going to be the ink. It can be used for signing checks and then stabbing those stupid Soviet’s in the neck,” Irene noticed her grin as she stood back up, catching Irene’s eye, “I’ll take that,” she spoke cheerfully, taking the flask out of Irene’s grip and moving over to the pen beside the shoe, filling it with the inky liquid, “Perfect!”
Irene watched Barb with a breath in her throat as she bent over again. Barely thinking, she placed her hand on the small of Barb’s back, able to feel her spine curl against it. Barb looked back at her. She smiled faintly, almost confused, as if Irene needed something. She did need something. She needed to strip Barb down, push all her gadgets off the table and break her until she was pleading for it to end. She felt herself grow more maddeningly flushed as Barb looked at her, thoughts of unholy deeds thrust back to her mind, the way Barb may taste, the way she would give in and begin to enjoy herself, the way her legs would curl around Irene’s back as she whispered pleads into her ear, desperate for more and more and more, an animal who’s never full.
She wanted to pull Barb against her, breast to breast, bite into her neck so hard she bled. She wanted to feel Barb melt into her grip, to lose her ability to move just from the mere feeling of Irene’s fingers pushing her lab coat to the floor before gently tugging her shirt out from between Barb’s belt. She would show her that Curt wasn’t worth it, that she would never get what she wanted from him. Irene would give her everything. She would give Barb the world if she knew that the world was Irene herself.
Selfish. That’s what the kiss was.
Irene pressed herself to Barb, desperately pushing his tongue between Barb’s lips. She held Barb’s back, fingers soothing despite the intensity of everything else. “It’s ok,” she wished to say “It won’t hurt, I would never hurt you. I’m doing this for you.” She knew that last part to be a lie, which is why she would never say it.
She felt something push back against her, not a disgusted hand, but a loving lip, one of equal desperation. Was it just the desire to be touched? It had to have been. Irene was just the other option. And yet, Irene found she did not care. Any chance to touch Barb just for a moment was worth it.
In a swift movement Irene pushed Barb’s gadgets out of the way, lifting her to the top of the table where she pushed herself between her legs. Irene’s fingers lay on the collar of Barb’s lab coat, she could feel her pulse moving so fast it was worrying. She would make sure Barb would never regret this. She’d make sure she didn’t either.
Irene pushed Barb’s lab coat away, leaving her just in her purple button down and work pants, taking her own off and throwing it onto the nearby work chair as she began to speak. “You’re not going to tell anyone about this, right?” Barb silently shook her head, cheeks red as Irene reached out to unbutton her shirt, Barb’s fingers holding Irene’s waist, bringing her closer, inviting her in for the touch. “And you’ll tell me if it hurts?” A silent nod. Perfect. Barb was her’s, even if just for a moment.
She’d be hers. Not ASS’s, or Curt Mega’s, or anyone's. Barb Larvernor would belong to Irene Wiles. The way it should be. She’d fit in Irene’s arms, her body would melt into hers, and everything would be perfect.