Chapter Text
It wasn’t like she had much of a choice, given it was a smaller town… and having burned through quite a bit of opportunities already, she was desperate.
She wasn’t a bad person, she wasn’t rude or difficult—she was just different… not quite understanding how to be the picture perfect face of customer service, or how to magically read the cues of her bosses. Not like disgruntled coworkers and customers cared to think she was just simply suffering to be social… leading to all of her jobs ending with a fake smile and a “gentle” firing from her managers.
So, in passing, she had heard of career counseling. As much as she tried to hide her embarrassment, as she walked through the office building, sitting in a waiting room to be counseled on jobs… it was difficult not to feel so little, so ashamed that she was the only one her age who seemed to suffer so much.
A call of her name in an upbeat, gentle tone had her thoughts cutting short. Her head swiveled over to a now open door—an older man, probably in his late forties, was smiling at her. She stood quickly, awkwardly fixing her shirt and clearing her throat, and gave the man a small smile back.
She couldn’t help but notice, even for someone much older than her—he was quite attractive, in a disgruntled authority figure way. He had piercing eyes, dark hair now graying in a fox-like manner, and god… even from this distance, her head still had to tilt upwards to make eye contact - the man standing at least 6 '4".
And when she slowly made her way over to him, she noticed how much smaller she was in comparison to him—how briefly, as his eyes flitted to her, it felt like she was truly being looked down upon… she didn’t mind it.
“I’m Steve Raglan,” He said cheerfully, his hand offering itself to her, and when she took it, he seemed to smile even more as he gently shook her own, “Come on in, come on in… we’ll figure out what we need to do for you.”
She hoped he didn’t feel the nervous sweat on her palms when he took her hand—her mind easily went into overdrive, as she followed him into the office, hearing the door click shut behind her. She sat down across from him, he too sat at his desk, and she looked around the room to avoid any more eye contact.
“So, quite a few jobs here, hm?” His voice was punctuated by the shuffling of papers, and when she looked back at him, she saw him squinting his eyes behind his glasses, reading through what she presumed was her records of previous jobs, “Hm…”
“I see no insubordination, no criminal acts, no bad behavior…” He listed off, “What exactly caused you to lose these jobs?”
She rubbed her palms against her knees, looking down at her feet tapping anxiously against the ground, “Well… uhm, I guess I’m not so sure. I was told that I wasn’t doing what was expected of me in customer service, or that people thought I wasn’t friendly because I wouldn’t talk much, or that I didn’t want to approach customers...”
Steve chuckled a little, “So, you’re shy?”
It wasn’t much of a stretch, really at all, for him to assume that. Given the way she couldn’t maintain eye contact, could hardly stand herself as she was around others.
“I…” Her cheeks felt warm as she looked away, “I suppose.”
“That’s alright, the world is a scary place - and hey, you’re only, what?” He looked down at her file for a brief moment, “In your early twenties. I can’t blame you, sweetheart.”
God, the way that word curled out his mouth, like a soft caress… she felt herself shake a bit, her face going hot—she hoped so badly it didn’t show on her face, even as she couldn’t help but look down at his hands, seeing no ring on his finger. He was quick to soothe her, with a gentle tone, as if he was used to comforting like a father.
She wondered if he had any kids.
She thought briefly, if he did, they could possibly be close to her age.
Shame flooded through her, flushing her cheeks, as she realized how inappropriate it was to even think of this random man— whose job was to help her— in such a manner.
Maybe this was why she had no friends.
But that light friendly voice of his broke her out of her thoughts, and he tapped a pen casually against one of the files, seeming to think as he leaned back in his chair.
“You don’t seem like a bad girl,” He said lightly, his head tilting to the side as his gaze seemed to intensify with his words, as if he saw her shift in behavior —but she was always reading into everything too much, wasn’t she?— and he shut the folder with a quiet clack of papers, “I’m sure you just need somewhere more suitable to your needs, maybe somewhere a bit quieter?”
There was a sparkle of hope in her eyes, twisting in her heart at realizing he seemed very understanding. She wasn’t used to that. She was used to harsh glares or incredulous looks. So she nodded, her feet went still from their anxious fidgeting, and she looked at him expectantly.
“Now you see, ah, given there aren’t many jobs with the requirements you meet…” He fixed his glasses briefly, gazing at her with a sympathetic smile, “Your options are going to be limited.”
She nodded, that pit in her stomach already well aware she was fucked, “That’s okay… I’m open to whatever you can give me.”
◇
That was two months ago—he had graciously gotten her a job at an office space, something small and simple… where she was left in a room, hardly needing to interact with anyone except files upon files. It was nice, it was repetitive. The pay wasn’t good, but it was something.
But her luck was always so fragile—now she was trying to hide her sniffles and glossy eyes, when she had made another appointment with kind Mister Raglan, having to tell him that they had fired her… simply because they found a more efficient way to sort files, without the need for multiple people. Technology, what a way to ruin her one chance at a job - even when she had no complaints of her character.
“I’m sorry, Mister Raglan,” She sniffled, staring at the wall to the side, “I didn’t want to bother you again… I don’t know why I can’t hold a job.”
Her hands fisted into the skirt she wore, the tips of her nails digging into her black tights. Firm grip, something to keep her grounded, so she wouldn’t make more of a fool of herself. So she wouldn’t cry like a foolish girl in front of him.
He let out a soft chuckle at her words, and while she was refusing to look at him for the sake of her dignity, she couldn’t see the glint of amusement in his eyes, “Darling, don’t apologize, it’s my job to help you. It was just unlucky, you did nothing wrong here.”
His words did seem to calm her, like a wolf’s gentle lullaby to a shaking rabbit—and she slowly looked back at him, a soft frown marring her features, her eyes teary. She felt silly… she was an adult, almost crying in front of a career counselor, but he didn’t seem to mind.
He didn’t seem to mind, as he rested his elbows on his desk, resting his cheek against his palm as he gazed at her with a look so understanding.
He didn’t seem to mind as he softly smiled at her, like she was a child who just got scared from the dark, needing someone to tuck them back in.
“Hey, it’s okay,” He whispered calmly, “It’s okay to cry, sweetheart.”
And even as he comforted her, she could tell there was something genuine in his eyes, but something else she couldn’t quite place. But she didn’t care to find out what it was, liking the way he looked at her.
Always so eager to please, as she saw his other hand beckon her forward, so she carefully leaned towards the desk, closer to him. Her fingers grasped the end of the wood, her body nearly touching it. And her glassy eyes couldn’t help but look at his hand… long fingers, slender and rough and perfect.
A soft gasp left her lips as she felt his hand press against her cheek, skin warming beneath his touch so easily. His fingers cradled almost the entire side of her face… and her lips parted as his thumb brushed a lone tear that escaped down her cheek.
This was definitely not a part of his job.
But neither of them seemed to care.
Especially not her, as she felt his hand trace down her face, his middle finger briefly resting on her bottom lip—and with a little pressure, she opened her mouth further, looking into his silver eyes… seeing a pool of something dark swirling in them. But her own were so doe, wide with want - a want for comfort or for something more?
The air felt thick and tense, heady with a sense of danger yet thrill. And she couldn’t see how he reveled in it, how his eyes flickered like he was soaking in how vulnerable she looked, with her brain wracking through too many thoughts of him; his hands, his soothing voice, his charm.
But it ended as quick as it came, his hand pulling away as he smiled so sweetly at her, as if she hadn’t just opened her mouth like a wanting pup, with his finger pressing against her lip.
It was just a comforting gesture, right?
For someone she barely knew, someone so much older than her, for someone meant to guide her… to comfort her like that. It was okay, she thought, it felt right.
“You know, if you really are that desperate,” His tone held humor in it, “I think I can offer you a job…”
“The pay isn’t great, the hours even worse… but it’s something, right?”
She didn’t think twice about it, of course she wouldn’t.