#brightisms

Anyone who works at Site-19 knows Dr. Jack Bright has a certain... reputation, for being a playboy. Well, playboy isn't exactly the right word. But he certainly isn't the type to just pick one person, or hell, pick several people to settle down with. You were sure he'd made out with at least one person from every department you knew existed, the ones you didn't know existed, and the ones that would make your head implode if you even thought of them existing.

There was one small problem.

You desperately, desperately want to be one of those people.

You aren't quite sure when it started. Maybe it was back when you were an intern, hearing stories of his crazy antics throughout the decades for the first time. Maybe it was when you caught his eye in the hallway, realizing his eyes were a deep, deep red, red as the ruby of SCP-963. Maybe it was when you had an unexpected conversation with him in the break room and realized he actually was capable of acting like a reasonable person and not a chainsaw cannon-wielding, Pokemon spawning, pandemonium causing, anomaly of a person. Maybe it was after several of those conversations after you kept running into him around the site. Maybe it was when he called you his friend like it didn't feel like a nuclear bomb settling in your chest.

When it started didn't matter. What mattered was that it is the Foundation's Christmas party, and you are going to get that kiss.

Your eyes dart around the room, trying to find him. It doesn't take too long to spot the bright (ha!) ginger hair of his current body, chatting with Director Kondraki and some other personnel near the soda dispenser. You zigzag your way through the crowd, your eyes locked in on your target. As you draw closer, you see him, holding a red cup filled with... something, wearing a blue sweater that read "[ ] Nice / [ ] Naughty / ✅ Keter" and you fondly scoff. He must've gotten it made just for Christmas. "Hey, Dr. Bright? Can I borrow you for a second?" you ask. He turns from Kondraki to you, those deep red eyes meeting yours once more, and you steel yourself to not tear away from his knowing gaze.

"Yeah, what's up?" he replies conversationally.

You turn over your plan in your head. "I need to talk to you about SCP-3671," you say, cursing yourself for not thinking out your excuse more. You weren't even assigned to that SCP, you just heard about its vendetta against Dr. Wright from your co-worker. "The vengeful cereal box!" Bright says with a laugh, and you want to capture that chuckle in a little bottle in your heart forever. "Alright, alright, lead the way. Kondraki, you still owe me." He pointed at the Site Director before looking at you expectantly.

You lead him to the other room, the one where you spotted a mistletoe hanging in the door frame. It's a stupid, stupid plan, but you were getting desperate, and no self-respecting SCP researcher was going to get caught just asking Bright for a smooch--or maybe that was just a you problem--you did have the tendency to overthink matters of the heart. He leans on the door frame. "So, what's the matter with 3671? Did it brutally tear apart Frank yet?"

"Uhm, actually," you say, then you point above the both of you to the mistletoe, hanging innocently.

Bright doesn't even look surprised. You recognize his expression as barely masked playful amusement, like he just thought of a new prank to pull. "Oh, would ya look at that."

...

That was it? THAT WAS ALL HE HAD TO SAY? Oh, would ya look at that. You tried not to show your disappointment, but he looks down at you and his playful expression immediately softens.

"Don't look so sad, jeez," he huffs. "If you wanted to kiss me so bad you should've just said so."

You sputter, seeing your plan fall to pieces. "I- but- you-"

He crosses his arms and looks through you. "Yeeesss? I what?"

"You're... you... and I can't just ask, because, well..."

Bright leans forward slightly. "Because I'm practically a living legend and you feel like dirt beneath my feet even though we work in the same god damn site and drink from the same coffee machine?"

Curse him for being able to read you like a book. "Yeah..."

"Oh, don't worry about it," he said, patting your shoulder. Then his hand slowly moves up to lift your chin up to face him.

"So, just so we're clear. Are we here to talk about the sapient cereal box, or did you bring me here to kiss me?"

You glance away, your face feeling as hot as the surface of the sun. "The- the second one."

"Well then," he says with a cheeky grin. "Let's do this, yeah?"

You nod shakily.

You've had daydreams about kissing Jack before. You supposed he'd be good at it, seeing as he had decades of experience under his belt. But you severely, severely underestimated him.

Jack hums softly as your lips meet, and his hand moves from your chin to caress your face. His other hand, still holding his cup, snakes around your waist and pulls you closer. Your lips move in tandem against each other, and you're nearly overwhelmed with the complete ease he has at making you fall apart without using his teeth or tongue.

You pull apart after a moment, softly panting.

"Wow," you say.

"So it does work," Jack muses, removing his arm from where it was wrapped around you, and you mourn the loss.

You quirk an eyebrow. "What works?"

"This," he holds up his cup, filled with a shimmering, clear liquid. "I snuck in to use SCP-294 before tonight's party and I asked for a cup of "the stuff dreams are made of." I thought it'd get me high, or something."

You laugh disbelievingly at the absurdity and utter cheesiness of what he just said.

"Are you serious?"

"I am! Do you want a taste?' he said, eyes darting to your mouth and his tongue running across his bottom lip. You can probably see where this is going.

"Yeah, sure thing, Jack."