orphic cherry

they once find you in their office, straightening a poster that's been peeling since forever, which they liked just as it was, a gift from a student of theirs.

"Is there a reason you're in my office?"

"May the force be with you," you announce. That's... Star– wars? No, star trek isn't it?" You say, looking excited for some reason.

"It's star wars."

"I don't know why I try. It's always the other one."

"it says star wars at the bottom of the poster."

you wave your hand and tell them to come in as if this isn't their own office, saying you were waiting on them for a meeting because they weren't answering their phone, and that they should keep their phone in hand for more efficient communication.

The smile hange gives you is tight, they're sure you can hear their teeth grit.

in the break room you hear them complaining about a machine not working, and you turn around to ask them if they've tried calling the company and requesting for maintenance.

they blink at you. and they tell you of course they have, slowly and clearly, and it was an older model, so there's no help the company can provide.

the moment you leave the break room they're venting about you. the next day there's a newer model of the machine, with a post it saying for my most hardworking scientist!

this seemingly one sided beef keeps going, you're aloof and condescending and corporate and hange is one bad day away from choking you to death after you tell them they're 3 mins late for a meeting.

no one seems to get it, no one seems to get how insufferable you are and how your wide eyes and sweet smiles mean absolutely fucking nothing when you tell them that a deadline can't be extended while they in the most polite possible way tell you that the results you're demanding are simply impossible to provide within this period of time.

of course everyone applauds you when you show up the next morning and say you've got the deadline moved by a week as if hange wasn't the one who pressured you into doing that because no way in hell are they going to put their department under such pressure. of course.

And that's the thing, you're so fucking rude but you conceal it with you extreme politeness and your sincere smile and the wrinkle in your eyebrows as you nod like you're understanding the problem. And then you slam down the same verdict as before, just with an I hear you, or an I know, or that must be terrible, are you saying you need some help?        

You go over their head every fucking time, and then have the audacity to come to the lab and tell them that you're just the manager, they're the real force here and this is their area of expertise.

You say you look forward to a good friendship with lots of communication with them so you can understand how you can help without making it seems like you're speaking over them. Which you are. Every. single. time.

And then you have the nerve to reach for a hug and say this is about collaboration!

Hange has half a mind to fling you across the room, but the smell of your perfume wafting up from you, and the way your hair tickles their collar bone as you hug, and how your tits press against their chest has them stuttering, their hands uselessly grabbing your waist and then your back because the curve of your waist feels too intimate for someone they hate.

You stock the pantry with some of the nicer things that you heard the employees wishing for. You give half days whenever you feel like there's not much to do. This ridiculous mix of corporate behaviour and a friendly, young and hip attitude you're fostering makes no fucking sense to hange, but everyone else seems to be high off of you, and cannot stop raving about you.

Erwin validates them a little bit by saying that he didn't think you'd do a good job either when you started, but you're proving yourself to be dependable and friendly, yet relentless.

Levi simply says that he's glad to see that the old bum that was managing them before, who had let the department run wild and sloppy is now gone.

Moblit asks Hange what their problem is with you and hange can barely put together a sentence that doesn't sound like a reckless teenager upset that there's a new teacher around.

They settle with saying that you're condescending with plausible deniability and don't seem like a real person. Like a mould of what some handbook expects a manager to be but with too little guts to be ruthless– instead trying to be the cool new gal.

Moblit looks at them like they're stupid, but doesn't push it. Hange's glad.

One afternoon they're typing up a report, and you appear next to them, asking stupid questions whose answers you would know if you read the fucking report they were writing. They mumble that to you, and wait for you to leave, but you're still fucking there, and this time you're talking about how their hair is falling on their eyes and they couldn't possibly see, could they?

And the next thing they know, your fingers are tipping their chin up to face you, light but firm enough that they can't move their face any which way other than looking at you.

You pout for a moment and mutter to yourself, "this can't do. Stay right here!"

And then you scurry off, fast depsite your heels, as though hange is a flight risk. And hange stupidly waits, chin up, as you come back, some sparkly hair pins in hand.

Your long nails thread along their parting, while you put the pins in your mouth. They stare at you, as one hand holds back their hair and the other plucks the pins from your plush, smooth lips and push it into their bangs gently.

You're very pretty. Very pretty. You're rather intelligent too, in your area of work. Were you a prodigy at school or something? They wonder why you put up with half the shit you do, from people much older than you. Every time hange has told you off, you take it as it is, instead of throwing your power and connections around to belittle them. Your skin is so soft and gentle, especially in comparison to hange's. Their scalp tingles from the way your fingertips sink into their hair

"Am I too tight for you?"

"What?"

"Am I putting the hairpins in too tight for you?" You ask, your eyes wide, "you were just glaring at me, so."

Hange shakes their head. They can't even comprehend if they're too perverted or if you actually said that.

They just stare forward instead of into your eyes, and with a start realize that they're just staring at your tits.

"All done!" You exclaim, smiling and holding their face. "There you are! My favourite scientist!"

"Here I am," they croak. Their face is so hot, and they wonder if your hands can feel it. Why the fuck are you even holding their face like that?

"You're very pretty... handsome? Which do you prefer?" You ask, your eyes roving over their features.

"Uhh," hange's hardly sure what noise is coming out of them even.

"Whichever. Both. All. I'll have my cake and eat it too, good ma'am." They add, in a British accent. "You know me."

What the fuck was that.

Hange has managed to charm women older and younger than them, and the younger ones are much easier, with their desperation and little outfits, clinging to hange at the bar when they ask for a dance.

But you're just looking at them with the same smile they're sure you plaster on for everyone.

"See, I don't know you actually. What do you do when you're not buried in lab work? Do you keep up with sports or celebrities? You never turn up at any of the company dinners! Is there a Mr. or Mrs. Zoe?"

You slapping them across their face would give them less whiplash than the way this conversation is going.

"No- not interested in havin' a Mr. Zoe," they choke, "and no Mrs. Zoe as of now."

"Aww," you say, pouting a bit. The fuck was that for?

"Anyways, do you like your hair?" You ask, whipping out a hand mirror from your pocket and positioning it to face Hange.

They look worse than they expected. Hair neatly pushed back with black sparkly pins but their face is wide eyed and red, even through the tan of their skin. You bend so you're level with the mirror too, and now you and hange are cheek to cheek, side by side. In the mirror, your eyes glance at them. They can feel your hair tickling their collarbone and if you leaned in just a bit more, your nose would be in their neck.

"You like?"

"Uh huh."

"Cool!"