VAMPY

Dex doesn’t reply, not even with his usual stilted “Thanks”.

You’re fine with that, totally; you already know Dex is, well, himself—man of few words and composure and too-sharp jawline… So. You assume he’s just ignoring you as usual, which makes you a little bit pleased knowing you’ve probably stupefied your poor coworker into bewilderment once again.

What you don’t know is that you’re exactly right. Twenty feet away, in a sterile cubicle surrounded by discarded tactical gear and stacks of paperwork, Dex is staring at his screen like it personally offended him.

Dex blinks once, finally, slow like a cat watching a ceiling fan.

“…The fuck.”

 The badly edited puppy has a syringe full of mercury pointed into its brain and someone’s holding an orange bottle of ADHD pills behind it. He rereads the sentence, just in case it holds a secret meaning. 

     theyre doing this to me at work tomorrow btw

He leans back in his chair like a man confronting the unknowable void.

“Is this funny?” he mutters. “Do I say something?”

He opens Google.

     “dog on ADHD medication??”

No luck. It sends him to some Instagram pages with dogs he doesn’t care about, and he closes the tab after seeing a bunch of drama on the PetMD forum. Symbolism perhaps? Puppy = you; mercury = brain damage; the cell tower = some kind of conspiracy… at work… the Bureau...? 

Oh fuck it. He gives up.

     Are you ok?      [Sent 10:40 AM]

Aha, so the man responds. You send back four emojis: 💻💀😭🙏

A few minutes later, your phone pings.

     I hope they don’t inject anything into your head.      [Sent 10:45 AM]

You snort, trying to stifle your snicker. You can hear this guy’s voice in your head. thank u king that’s so thoughtful, you send back.

By lunchtime Dex is three articles deep into “Millennial vs Gen Z Humor: A Brief History of Nihilistic Absurdism.” He doesn’t mean to care, really. You’ve probably forgotten about it entirely but he hasn’t. He’s finally gotten the point of the picture you sent, to his satisfaction, but why is the skull emoticon thing everywhere now? 

     skull emoji meaning      Result: “Used to express laughing so hard you’re dead.”

He shakes his head. That doesn’t make any fucking sense.

The next day, you wake up to multiple messages from Dex.

     Thank you for your dog Meme, it’s very funny.      Work is like that sometimes.      Haha      ☠️      [sent 5:10 AM]

You stare at the screen for a long time.

     ☠️

Actually, you think your hands are shaking now. You message back:

     wtf u know how to use emojis????????????

He replies immediately:

     Yes.      I think

Then:

     🔥

Why is there fire now. What does the fire mean. Is he okay. Your face’s gone hot and you screenshot it for maybe nothing in particular but, well, to look back at later on and laugh harder.

It’s Friday, which is a vacation enough in itself but unfortunately that still means you should be working and processing the latest field report Mockta dropped on your desk. But instead, you’re doing something far more dangerous. You’re messing with Dex again. You send him a photo of someone furiously petting a cat’s head.

     Me rubbing the workweek’s pussy so it finishes faster      [Sent 9:48 AM]

Dex is drinking his coffee—straight black, very sad—when he sees the notification. He reads your caption and almost spits into his sleeve.

What did you just send him.

He stares and reads it again.

“Me rubbing the workweek’s… Oh God…” He trails off, rubbing his brow in anguish. He lowers the phone slowly, looking around the bullpen, the hallway, the exit. Then he turns to his laptop and opens Google. God help him.

     pussy rubbing work week 

He hits Enter and immediately regrets it. A new tab opens. A very not-safe-for-work one accessed through the Bureau Wi-Fi. There’s moaning and a lot of exposed skin. One of the women is holding a calendar. He slams his laptop shut so hard the desk rattles, mind racing.

He didn’t read about this shit in any of the articles he read last Tuesday! Staring into the abyss of his screen, Dex messages back:

     ?

     omg dex it’s a joke      i hopeyou did NOT google that      are u okay

There’s a long pause, an eternity really. You sip your coffee, wipe at your eyes. Then, finally:

     Understood.      Thanks for the explanation     I did but i won’t Google anything ever again.      [Sent 10:21 AM]

The mental image of him in a mortified fugue state, recoiling from his screen, is almost too much—but you manage to swallow your laughter as Ray walks past your desk, shooting you a wary look.

The rest of the day is uneventful. You manage to make a small dent in the field reports. Dex doesn’t message you again and you assume you’ve broken him with the dirty joke, which—honestly—fair.

You don’t see him again until you're heading out, bag slung over your shoulder, keys jangling in your hand. You pass Dex’s desk, and he stands up so fast he almost collides with the corner of his desk. 

“Hey,” he says, voice weirdly formal. He wrings his hands. “Uh. Wait a second.”

You stop. “Yeah?”

He hesitates, squinting as he unlocks his phone, and silently holds it out to you. You blink down at the screen.

It’s a Minion. A fucking Minion. The image is so low-res you can count the pixels, jpeg artifacting all over. The Minion’s mid-stride, throwing up a peace sign. The text reads:

     BestfriEND      BoyfriEND      GirlfriEND      Food      Only Food has no END.

There’s a watermark in the corner that says something like “Susan's Recipe Shack,” straight from the Facebook feed of someone’s divorced aunt. It takes you a second to process what’s happening. And then you wheeze, laughing so violently your knees buckle a little. Two people from Cybercrimes glance up. You wave them away, tears in your eyes.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, clutching your chest. “Dex. Dex.”

He’s standing stiffly, eyes flicking nervously around the room, like he didn’t expect you to react. His phone wavers in his hand. “You don’t have to laugh that hard,” he mutters, starting to pull it back.

“No, no—don’t you dare delete that,” you grab his wrist, still breathless. “You made this? Where did you find it?”

He blinks. “Facebook.”

“Christ almighty, you’re going deeper.”

He swallows, ears red and flexing his hands. “You seem to like them.”

You giggle again and this time somebody mutters something about needing to go home. You don’t care. Dex is still standing there like he’s not sure if he should run away, but a smile’s starting to tug at his mouth too.

“Keep going,” you say, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt. “I want more tomorrow.”

“…Alright,” he nods. He’s serious but the blush’s absolutely radiating off his face. “I’ll look for more Minions.”

a/n: this is what i was talking about btw