Work Text:
The office smelled faintly of burnt coffee, recycled air, and despair. Korvo sat hunched in his cubicle, four monitors glowing with overlapping spreadsheets, code windows, and a rapidly multiplying set of red error notifications. His upper arms were rigid, shoulders creeping toward his ears as if they were trying to escape his body. One hand tapped incessantly against the desk, a staccato rhythm that matched the twitch in his eye.
“Working at a rake company sucks so much ass,” Korvo hissed under his breath. He knew the quarterly productivity algorithm was wrong. The data inputs were clean, the formulas flawless, and yet the projections made no sense. Every time he adjusted one variable, three errors bloomed like mold.
Behind him, someone laughed too loudly at a joke that wasn’t funny as the printer jammed, and the overhead lights flickered.
“Korvo?” The sound of Terry’s voice cut through the noise like a soft chime.
Korvo stiffened. “I am busy.” Terry leaned into the cubicle anyway, elbows braced casually on the partition. He was holding two coffees, one black and one with an alarming amount of cream and sugar, and wearing that stupidly warm smile that made Korvo feel hot and weird.
“Yeah, I can see that,” Terry said gently. “You’re doing the thing where your pupils look like they’re trying to file a restraining order against your brain.”
Korvo did not look up. “This model should not be producing a negative growth curve unless the entire department has spontaneously lost 40% of its cognitive function.”
Terry nodded. “Okay, first of all, have you met this department?” Korvo growled in reply, and Terry set the black coffee down within reach. “Second of all, you’ve been in this chair for, like, three hours. You haven’t blinked, and your shoulders are basically tectonic plates right now.”
Korvo finally glanced at him, irritation sharp but tired, saying, “What do you want, Terry??”
Terry hesitated, then smiled a little more softly. “Do you want a massage?”
Korvo scoffed. “That is absurd. Not in this professional environment. That’s basically sex.”
“You are actively vibrating,” Terry pointed out.
Korvo opened his mouth to argue but hesitated. His back ached, and his neck felt like it had been fused into a single solid rod of stress. The coffee did smell good though. “Five minutes,” Korvo muttered. “And do not draw attention from the boss, or anyone!”
Terry grinned. “Deal.” He slipped into the chair behind Korvo, careful and quiet, hands hovering for just a second before settling on Korvo’s shoulders. The touch was warm and grounding. Terry pressed gently at first, thumbs working into the knots with practiced ease. Korvo inhaled sharply despite himself.
“Oh. That-!” He stopped, scowling. “That is really putting in there, ohhhh, fuck.“
Terry chuckled. “You hold all your stress right here. It’s like your body’s screaming ‘HELP ME’ in morse code.”
Korvo closed his eyes without meaning to. The constant buzzing in his head dulled, just a little, as Terry’s hands worked slow circles into his muscles.
“This office is an affront to logic,” Korvo muttered. “Their workflows are redundant. Their communication inefficient. And their insistence on ‘team synergy exercises’ borders on psychological warfare.”
“Mmm,” Terry hummed. “You tell ‘em, baby.” Korvo didn’t stop smiling. The massage continued for another minute, Korvo’s posture gradually loosening despite his best efforts. When Terry finally pulled his hands away, Korvo almost protested, but then immediately scowled at himself for the thought.
“There,” Terry said. “You look like you might only commit one felony today instead of three.”
Korvo straightened. “I do not commit felonies.” Terry raised an eyebrow. Korvo cleared his throat. “Frequently.” They shared a look. That was one of those moments where the noise of the office faded into the background, where the space between them felt charged, dangerous, and familiar all at once.
Terry broke it first. “Hey. Come with me.”
Korvo frowned. “Where.”
“The break room’s empty. I checked.” Terry’s grin turned a little mischievous. “You look like you need to decompress.” Korvo hesitated. Every rational instinct screamed that this was a terribly, unprofessional and quite risky idea. And yet……..
“Fine,” he said sharply. “7 minutes.” They slipped out of the cubicle maze and into the break room, the door clicking shut behind them. The hum of vending machines filled the silence.
Terry didn’t waste time. He stepped close, hands resting lightly at Korvo’s waist. “You okay?”
Korvo exhaled. “Yeah.”
Terry leaned in. Korvo met him halfway.
The kiss was quick at first, just a brush of lips, familiar and grounding, but it deepened almost immediately. Terry’s hands tightened, pulling Korvo closer, and Korvo’s hands curled into the fabric of Terry’s shirt.
For a moment, the office and deadlines didn’t exist. There was only warmth, pleasure, and the quiet relief of being understood without explanation. They broke apart, breathless, foreheads touching.
“We should stop,” Korvo muttered.
“Yeah,” Terry agreed. Neither of them moved. But they kissed again, slower this time, softer, like they were trying to steal comfort in small, careful increments.
The door slammed open.
“Ahem.”
Korvo froze. Terry swore in Shlorpian tongue. Their boss stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable in that uniquely corporate way that suggested disappointment had been carefully workshopped.
“Is this your idea of ‘cross-department collaboration’?” the boss asked.
Korvo straightened so fast he nearly dislocated something. “This is not what it looks like I swear!”
Terry waved awkwardly. “Hi, sir.”
The boss sighed. “You two get your asses in my office, NOW!”
As they walked past, Korvo hissed under his breath, “This is your fault.”
Terry leaned in. “Was worth it though.” Korvo didn’t disagree.