Work Text:
Alex woke up, for once before his pesky alarm and genuinely feeling pleasantly rested. His morning stretch extended his hand all the way over to the phone on his bedside table, so he unplugged it and decided to stay in bed for a quick scroll of his messages.
There were several, but he figured the one from Andy D might actually be important, just hopefully not urgently so.
Hey, mate, what's up with your calendar? You know we can see it, right?
Cryptic messages in the morning were not his favourite.
Is something up? I don't know?
I'm not.
He yawed, stretched some more and gave his face, head and neck a good morning scratch. He remembered the post-recording high from the day before. It hadn't worn off until he was back home and he had... well. Resorted to relieve the tension, as it were.
Before leaving the studio, several people had foregone the usual friendly see yous and had instead reminded him that he could, should and actually just straight up must go fuck himself. It had very much turned into the line of the evening, even overshadowing the quite risqué banter. He had a feeling it would keep going for the rest of the studio series and possibly beyond.
Kumail had given him an entirely too strong handshake, accompanied by far too intense eye contact and a low pitched 'You must fuck yourself'. Amy had cheerfully shouted 'remember to fuck yourself, Little Alex!' from a distance, just as Kumail let his hand go with a final squeeze, before leaving the studio surrounded by Joel and Amy. Greg had already fucked off, but Joanna had giggled and gone on at length about something that was possibly headed into explicit territory. Luckily, Armando had put an end to that by wiggling his eyebrows and punching him in the arm, which in turn had made Alex spill his drink down the front of the tiny, loud and now wide-eyed Joanna.
Alex finally remembered what he had been doing in the car on his way back home last night. It had been fun, and very silly.
The notification sound brought his attention back to the screen, showing a preview of another message from Andy, with an image attached.
You've set yourself daily meetings titled, and I quote, "Fuck myself! :))". Flagged with High Importance. Recurring daily meetings with no end date. It's everywhere!
The image was a screenshot of Alex's monthly calendar. There were indeed daily fuck myselves. Or 'Fuck myself! :))', more accurately. Every day at noon, clogging up his work calendar with no end in sight.
Alex noticed the small bell icon and remembered how he had decided that getting a 'Fuck myself! :))' notification on a daily basis would be the absolute pinnacle of humour. He hadn't even been drunk.
He started typing a reply to Andy.
Being driven around is boring. Was just having a laugh!
He wasn't sure it was as hilariously funny now, but he'd see the bit through, of course he would. He added a farmers' market quantity of aubergine emojis and sent the message.
Having a laugh in Outlook??
Yep! Excel is next.
Alex got excited again and started getting out of bed, about to run to his computer to send Andy the "Gloria in Excel sheets deo" file he had been saving for exactly this type of situation, but Andy was typing again.
...
He held off, one leg on the floor, one still in its warm cocoon.
The typing dots kept dancing. Alex kept staring and waiting, his brow slowly knitting itself into a worry pattern.
Happy for you and all but maybe don't schedule daily wanks during work hours in your shared calendar?! On days we work together and in a very SMALL HOUSE?
Why not make it a pre-work... event?
At least set it to private and we can all pretend nothing weird is going on.
What? No! Sure, it wasn't exactly strictly professional behaviour, and rather on the juvenile side of things, but absolutely nothing to take seriously. Just Alex making fun of himself. Again.
Nothing weird is going on. It was just a joke.
Mate. You've invited Greg as a required attendee.
Alex couldn't really remember having done that, but he also hadn't turned off Outlook auto-suggestions, so it was entirely possible.
With a Teams video meeting link. Which he now has an RSVP email notification for.
Oh. Oh, no. Alex went floppy on the bed.
And as if on cue, his phone screen lit up again with a new message preview.
Greg Davies
Unexpected erection #hardforhorne
Quickly followed by an Outlook notification.
Greg Davies
Accepted: Fuck myself! :))
Oh, dear.