Work Text:
“Huh,” you scoffed to yourself, an amused air washing over you as you examined the newfound information before you.
There, on your boss’s LinkedIn page, under the section titled Birthday, was today’s date: November 3rd.
Just a few feet away, your name was called with polite urgency. Your gaze rose from the computer screen to the desk across from you, where your boss sat patiently, hands folded and head tilted curiously.
“Did it upload?” he asked, referring to the favor he’d requested a minute ago—something about making sure his newest LinkedIn post had gone up, since the company’s Wi-Fi was acting up today.
“Yes,” you replied with ease, eyes flicking over the listing under Mr. Arlert’s feed. Just then, your attention caught again on the word Birthday, and instinctively, your lips parted, ready to offer a polite happy birthday—but something stopped you.
That something was the idea of saying it without a gift. And as Mr. Arlert’s new assistant (though you’d been there over half a year), you should’ve known about his birthday. You hadn’t, and you didn’t, so it was your responsibility to make up for it.
When the little hand on the wall clock finally reached five, you began gathering your things for the day. Straightening a stack of papers against your desk, you cleared your throat, trying to sound as casual as possible as you asked, “So… any plans for today?”
He watched you intently as you rose from your desk and found your way over to his. There was something so effortless about your charisma, especially when it came to his perception of you, so that he couldn't help but watch in awe at your charming strides towards him. “I’ll be working overtime reviewing everyone’s progress report spreadsheets. How about yo—”
“Overtime? Today, of all days?” You gasped, slamming the papers on his desk with more aggression than intended. He flinched in utter surprise and gazed at you in confusion.
Taking a shameful stumble backwards, you nodded sheepishly with a throat-clearing apology. Then waved him a quick goodbye and good evening as he returned the favor, except with more hesitation and uncertainty.
Armin’s crystal-blue gaze lingered on your figure as you slipped out through the office door and out of sight. He couldn’t help but let a sigh escape his throat.
His friends, while they hadn’t entirely forgotten his birthday, were all too busy with their own lives to do anything more than send a quick text. And he couldn’t hold it against them. All he could do was reply with a simple thanks and move on with his day. Still, he couldn’t blame anyone but himself for keeping today’s significance so quiet.
⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
At nine o’clock that night, the office door swung open. The sudden clatter of it jolted the blond, and his head snapped up from the papers scattered across his desk.
There you stood in the doorway, a gracious smile on your face and two scraps of paper crinkled in your right hand.
He stammered your name in surprise, eyes darting to the clock as if to double-check the time before blurting, “What are you doing here so late?”
A sheepish smile tugged at your lips as you sauntered over to his desk. The clutter spread across it was wildly out of character—he was always a neat freak. That was the first sign of overwork. The second was the faint shadow of eye bags beginning to form beneath his soft blue eyes.
“I should be asking you the same thing,” you replied, crossing your arms and tilting your head. Resting one hand on his desk, you looked up at him with a grin. “Happy birthday, Mr. Arlert.”
His face went blank, his body stiffening in quiet disbelief. And for a moment, you reciprocated his reaction and began to second-guess; had you read the date wrong, or was celebrating his birthday in a way offensive? You took a step back before catching a glimpse of the slight glisten in his eyes; they seemed to be watering.
He turned his head away and muttered a few words that went unheard to you.
“Hm?” you insisted cautiously.
“...I said thank you.” He muttered, and as he turned his face back, you could now evidently see the rims of his eyes welling with tears.
“Armin—I mean, Mr. Arlert… are you—?”
He let out a shaky laugh that cracked midway through, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “This is so embarrassing,” he blurted out, voice trembling between laughter and tears.
“No, no—it’s okay,” you said quickly, stepping closer. “I don’t mind.”
He gave a watery smile, his shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion and emotion. “That just… felt strangely comforting to hear in person, you know?”
“I understand,” you murmured, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder before offering him a tissue from your pocket. He accepted it with a quiet, grateful sniffle.
“You’re just so nice to me,” he mumbled, dabbing at his eyes, “and I’m always bossing you around.”
“Sir,” you said with a soft laugh, “you’re my boss. That’s literally what you’re supposed to do.”
The office fell silent after that, the hum of the overhead lights filling the space where words used to be. Then, gently, you slid something across the desk toward him: two glossy slips of paper.
Armin blinked, confused, until he looked down and saw what they were. Two tickets to the city aquarium.
“Here’s my present to you,” you said with a small, proud smile. “Because you’re the nicest boss I’ve ever had—contrary to what you might think.”
His mouth fell open as he stared down at them in disbelief. He attempted to muster up a word or two, but his voice caught in his throat.
“I figured you’d like the aquarium,” you continued, “since you have the conch shell on your desk and… all those ocean-themed decorations in your office.”
That was it, the final crack in his composure. His lip trembled before he started to laugh again, though this time the sound broke into open sobs.
“Thank you,” he choked out, voice breaking as tears slipped freely down his cheeks. “Thank you so much. But I—I can’t accept these.”
You shook your head quickly, taking a half step closer. “No, no, no—you can.”
He blinked up at you, eyes glassy and unsure. “Hm?” he breathed, the sound small and disbelieving.
“They’re free,” you said with a gentle laugh, trying to ease his tension. “My sibling works at the aquarium, so I can get free tickets as often as I’d like. There’s no shame in accepting these, really.”
He looked down at the slips of paper in his trembling hands, running his thumb along the edges.
“Besides,” you added softly, your voice light but careful, “I got you an extra so you could bring your… significant other. Or any other special person in your life.”
At that, his expression faltered. His gaze unfocused for a moment, as though he were mentally scrolling through a catalogue of names. When none came to mind, his shoulders slumped slightly. A quiet, humorless laugh escaped him, soft, self-mocking.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, brow furrowed with concern.
He rubbed at the back of his neck, the corners of his lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Nothing at all,” he murmured, voice thin. “Just…thank you so much.”
You studied him for a moment, the silence heavy but not uncomfortable. The words slipped out before you could stop them.
“You don’t have anyone to go with, do you?”
His eyes flicked up to meet yours, wide and startled. For a second, neither of you spoke. His silence said more than anything could.
“Then I’ll go with you,” you blurted, your tone trying to sound casual but landing somewhere between nervous and pressing.
“What? No—” He sat up straighter, alarmed.
“Yes, I will,” you insisted, a teasing lilt slipping into your voice. “If you don’t mind, of course…”
He opened his mouth to argue, hands lifting in protest. “I can’t allow that,” he said firmly, though his voice wavered. “I’m your boss. You’re my employee.”
You only smiled, leaning slightly against the edge of his desk. “It’s outside of office hours. Just consider it a friendly outing between coworkers.”
He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders deflating. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to keep arguing, but instead, he fell quiet. His gaze drifted down to the tickets again, thumb brushing the glossy surface.
When he finally looked back up at you, the faintest smile ghosted across his lips, hesitant but genuine. And once again, he didn’t have anything left to say.
You grinned quietly to yourself, then bent to stack the scattered papers, sliding them into neat piles.
“You don’t have to—” he started, reaching for a folder, fingers hovering awkwardly.
“I’m your assistant,” you said, straightening, voice certain. “It’s my job. You just gather your things, and we’ll go.”
He let out a low, defeated sigh and moved slowly, brushing stray papers into place. His hands lingered on the edge of the desk, then folded over a folder.
The office hummed quietly. Your shoes shuffling over the carpet as you stacked files. He flipped switches, straightened chairs, closed drawers, the soft clicks and rustle of paper cutting through the calm night. Finally, he reached for the light switch, and the office went dark.
⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
The door swung open, and the cool night air brushed your cheeks. Streetlights pooled along the sidewalk, and a faint breeze carried the scent of rain from earlier. You both paused, neither moving, eyes meeting in the quiet.
Then Armin stepped forward. He hesitated for a heartbeat before wrapping his arms around you. You froze, heart skipping, before instinct pulled you closer, pressing against him. His frame was rigid at first, then slowly softened, shoulders sinking against yours.
Your hand brushed up and down his back in small circles. His breath hitched once, twice. “I… I wanted to do this back in the office, but it wouldn’t have been appropriate,” he muttered, voice muffled against your shoulder. His hands clenched slightly before loosening.
You laughed softly, a light, airy sound. He pulled back just enough to look at you, wet rims of blue eyes catching the streetlight. A faint, hesitant smile tugged at his lips, and his chest rose and fell with a long exhale, lighter than before.
You stayed like that for a moment, arms still linked, the hum of the quiet city wrapping around you, before finally letting go.