Pt. 2 of Secretary!reader
The unintended side effect of your desk being moved to a central location…more people got to hear what the boys were saying to you.
One morning, Soap gave a particularly loud and proud “hey, sexy!”
…and that’s how you landed here…in HR.
The five of you sat sheepishly in the mismatched chairs (they had to bring in more and squeeze them in for you all to fit) in front of the desk for the head of the HR department.
“Now, sweetie…if these men are making you uncomfortable, you need to let someone know. Help is always available.”
Someone snorted and was quickly shot a nasty glare.
Your face is hot. Even as a kid, you didn’t like getting in trouble. Just being called to the counselors office (it always ended up being for an award or something, never you in trouble) would make you cry, so this situation was highly uncomfortable.
“No…no it’s fine.” You were looking at your folded hands in your lap, but spared a quick glance up. She did not look impressed. You straightened and tried to speak louder, “really! I’m fine…I’m not…uncomfortable…”
Can you just say…if this was truly a situation where you were being made uncomfortable, being in the same room as the perpetrators talking about it would not make you feel better. But what do you know, you’re not HR.
She leans forward on the desk, looking over her eyeglasses to you and stage whispers like the boys somehow can’t hear it, “you’re comfortable…being called sexy.”
You were going to die.
Truly, this had to be your final resting place. You could not think of a more embarrassing situation. Because for all your fussing when they talk to you…it really does make you feel nice. Wanted. Appreciated…not invisible…and they’re quite attractive too.
But now you had to sit here—in front of them!—and admit that you liked when they called you sexy! How humiliating was this!
You purse your lips, “yes.”
Gaz is pulling his cap further down and covering his mouth with his hand, trying to hide how he’s about to burst out laughing. The captain is trying to remain composed as well, seeing as he’s the captain and by all means should be fearing for his job right now! Instead, he’s just smug, crossing his arms and looking at you expectantly. Soap is unabashedly beaming at you (probably in some weird way proud that he was the one that landed the lot of you here). And Simon still has his mask on, but at some point during the meeting he tossed his arm over the back of your chair like some ‘fuck you’ to this HR lady…which for the record is a horrible idea.
She leans back, adjusts her glasses, and picks her pen back up, writing something down on some form. “Well, alright then, hun. I can’t keep askin’, but I can write you all up for some mandatory training.”
That finally mellows them out. “…training?” Price finally asks.
“Mhmmm,” she rips a paper out of her book and slides it to him.
“Harassment in the workplace…” he reads out.
That’s the final straw, your face falls into your hands to hide your embarrassment. “I’m fine!” You mumble out behind them.
“That well may be, sweetheart, but you’ll still be going to this training.”
And that’s how you find yourself here. In a damp room in the basement on a Saturday. Like this is some adult version of detention and you’re all the fucked up Breakfast Club replacements.
The instructor doesn’t look like he wants to be here either as he pulls the projector screen up and down trying to get it to stick in the right position.
On…a different note. This is the first time you’ve seen the boys out of uniform. And as much as you do love the uniform…there’s certainly an appeal to their civvies. Something about Simon Riley in a leather jacket and the captain in a brown Carharrt is invoking images of motorcycles and early mornings on a farm…
“Good morning, sweet’eart,” Price snaps you out of your reverie, placing a to-go cup in front of you.
“Uh, uh! No pet names! We will be covering that!” The instructor briefly looks up from his computer and points a finger at John.
Price shoots him a side-eye before just looking back at you.
You stare at the cup like you’ve never seen one before. “Did…did you bring me coffee?”
“In fact, I did.” Again, his stupid smug mug is back…but still, you are very grateful.
“Thank you.” You say reluctantly.
Despite the size of the table in this presentation room, the boys fill in the seats immediately next to you, which you’re sure concerns the instructor.
Again, Simon’s arm somehow finds its way onto the back of your chair, which earns him a glare.
The instructor goes over the basics of what counts as harassment and where to report it before he gets to an activity portion where you need the brainstorm some examples.
Soap raises his hand and you’re already preparing for the worst. “So…for example…if I was to tell the wee bird that those jeans do wonders for—“
“Yes! Sergeant…that would count.” He cuts him off.
Soap just nods like he deeply understands, “right, yes, that makes sense.”
“And if I were to—hypothetically—ask the sweet thing on a date—“ Kyle joins in on the torture of the instructor.
“Yes! That would be inappropriate!”
Every suggestion you’re sinking further into your seat with your mind sent reeling. Would Kyle actually ask you out? Would any of them?
“Is it safe to assume touching is off the table?” Simon sneaks his arm off your chair and onto your shoulders.
“It is! Remove that arm, young man!”
“Right…so just to clarify…no calling our sweetheart, sweetheart.” John jumps in.
“No! You just did it, captain! Have any of you been paying attention?” He looks on the verge of a heart attack.
“Oh, yes we have. We were just making sure we understood.” John gives him his shit-eating grin and suddenly the boys are all on their best behaviors.
For the rest of the seminar, no complements, no touches, no innuendos. You’re almost inclined to believe you imagined the whole thing.
The instructor wraps up, giving you all the green-light, and seeming very proud of the progress they made.
Finally, he makes his exit.
Immediatley, they’re on you like vultures.
Simon’s arm wraps back around your shoulders while John picks up your cup to throw away. Kyle shoulders your bag and Johnny grabs your coat for you.
“So…what’re you doing after this?”
Oh they’re so not stopping.
Pt. 3
