Work Text:
“Are you ready for your evaluation?”
Seated in the office of William T. Spears, you felt you should have been prepared for a confession. His office – secluded at the end of a rather long hallway – was as plain as William’s monotone voice. Everything – everything – was the standard white furniture that came with all offices. The standard white chair cushioned your behind. The standard white desk he leaned on was spotless save for the weight of several stacks of documents. The standard white picture frame on the standard white wall. He hadn’t even bothered to put a picture in it. Yet, you noticed, no dust settled there. But surely he didn’t clean an empty picture frame. That was too weird, even for William, your straight-laced supervisor of half a year.
Too weird…right?
“Yes, sir,” you said obediently.
He nodded, using his fingers to push up his spectacles before opening up what you assumed to be your file.
“(Your name), you began working here on January 1, 1887, correct?”
“Correct.”
“The same date in which the law 2.88.2 was retracted by the higher-ups?”
Unbidden, your eye twitched. Just the way he said the words…as if he were talking about demons for heaven’s sake.
Blinking, collecting yourself, you nodded. “Yes. I was the first female recruit since 2.88.2 was retracted…”
“And –”
“Because it was unethical.”
William’s sharp eyes bore into yours, his mouth a tight line and his shoulders tensing.
“Unethical? To keep your colleagues from being distracted?”
Here he went again. You had worked so hard to prove to everyone that you were just as effective as any male reaper. A lot more so, in fact, when compared with your final exam partner, Ronald Knox. You’d earned straight A’s. You’d studied every day and even managed to save Knox’s arse when your final exam’s victim fought tooth and nail for their life.
And yet, to William, you were still a “distraction.” A deviation from the norm. An unnecessary blimp in the Dispatch’s personnel. A female reaper on the field instead of behind a desk.
Growing irritated despite your night of heavy breathing techniques and warm milk and yoga this morning and your assurance to yourself that you would not punch your superior in his face, you said, “Yes.”
William tilted his head ever so slightly. “Do you not feel that you have been a distraction to the reapers since coming here?”
“No. I have been an asset to the department,” you insisted. “My record is in front of you. I would think you of all people would want to look at the evidence before jumping to assumptions about me.”
“Hmm,” said William, seemingly agreeing with you as he glanced down at your paperwork. He turned one page and then another, eyes widening slightly before flickering up to your own gaze. “Well you haven’t been as incompetent as some of your fellow employees, I’ll give you that. Forty-seven successful collections in half a year isn’t bad. Though I don’t see any documentation for errors…”
“Because I haven’t made any,” you said. “Not to say that I will not. I’m sure I will. But I’ve been determined to show-“
“If only,” said William. “There is your scythe, for instance.”
You reeled backward. “My scythe!?! Are you kidding me? It’s standard issue. No ‘customizations’ like Ron’s or Grell’s…what error could there possibly be with my scythe?”
“It seems to be too heavy for you,” William said.
“Says who?”
“I say it,” he said dully. “I’ve seen you out on the field-“
“Have you been watching me?”
“-and it is incredibly too heavy. Offsetting your center of gravity. Knocking you off your feet…as it did three months back, I believe.” He paused. “And I am your supervisor. I’ve been supervising you.”
You fumed.
“Your written evaluations of the collections are well done, however. You would have made a phenomenal secretary.”
You threw up your hands. “Really? Really? You’re going there?”
William’s eyes remained still, staring into your own. “Going through what the best options for your career are? As a supervisor, certainly. And, as your supervisor, I would like to advise you to keep your temper in check.”
Inhaling, closing your eyes, you nodded, biting your lower lip before trusting yourself to look at him again. Do not punch him. Whatever happens, do not punch him. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE YOU TO PUNCH THIS MAN.
Though I never thought about the possibility of kicking him…
“Since you called attention to my mention of secretarial work,” said William, pushing his spectacles back up his sharp nose, “may I ask what made you so determined to chase field work?”
“I’m a full-blooded reaper. My mother is in secretarial work and she hates it. My father is in the field and he has always encouraged me to follow my desire to become a full-fledged, field working reaper.”
“Really?” William seemed genuinely surprised. “Who is your father?”
“Is he a part of my evaluation?”
“No. Of course not,” said William.
“Then I fail to see how it matters.”
It was William’s turn to develop an eye twitch.
“Certainly. My curiosity and apologies.” He turned back to your file. “You don’t feel that you would be happier in secretarial work, then?”
Inhale. Exhale. Do not punch. Inhale. Exhale. Do not punch.
“No, I don’t,” you said. “But you are my supervisor and may do what you wish. Just know that I will fight for my position on the field if I am pushed to do so.”
“Hmm,” said William again, pushing his glasses back up. “I don’t think that will be necessary. We’re short staffed and you do a good job…but I will have to ask you to attempt to reign in your colleagues’ attention to you.”
Throwing up your arms in frustration, you sighed. “Who am I distracting? Name ONE person that I’ve distracted!”
“Ronald,” he said quickly.
“Anything with boobs distracts Ronald,” you said. “And I would distract him no matter what department I worked in. Especially so if I was a secretary. He kinda has a kink for them.”
William rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. “Grell, then. He’s constantly interrupting my work just to tell me the latest fashion trends that you’ve shared with him.”
“That sounds more like Grell distracting you than me distracting Grell. And if you’re going to go down the road of someone distracting Grell, I would have a few others high above on that list than myself.” You shrugged. “Besides, I only give him advice when he asks for it. He asked what the best thing to wear on a date would be and we went shopping. On our time off.”
“That ‘date’ was him barreling into my home – unannounced and quite unwelcome – wearing the most dreadful outfit.”
“Oh,” you said, failing to hide your amusement. “Did he go with the pink dress? I told him that it clashed horribly with his hair but he was persistent about it. I’d hoped I’d talk him into returning it.”
Pushing his spectacles up until a glare shielded his eyes from you, William frowned. “He didn’t return it.”
The smile on your face was too difficult to restrain, so you let it settle instead. “Sorry…”
A vein light yet throbbing had appeared on William’s forehead and you focused there instead of his scowling face. As if feeling your gaze, he placed his pointer finger over his head protectively.
“I’m sorry to say, William, but I’m afraid I can’t think of one reaper that I’ve distracted – genuinely distracted.”
Again his hands straightened his spectacles. It would irritate you if you didn’t know how very important they were to a reaper. And Pops had made a rather exquisite pair for William. It shamed you to say, but you rather admired his spectacles – the cold grey of the earpieces was absolutely stunning. And the open slits against the steel-colored background were almost scandalous in their luxury. You couldn’t help but notice the odd placement for the nose pads as well – no doubt the reason that he fiddled with them as often as he did, other than knowing of their grand importance. It had become clear to you from an early age that reapers in the field had the most fashionable glasses. And while you care a bit for fashion, you knew that as a reaper your standard suit would be your go-to outfit for life. So it was only natural that you wanted the most fantastic pair of spectacles to make you bespectacled.
Swallowing, feeling that you had looked too long at your superior’s spectacles, you glanced down, bringing your hands to your own frames self-consciously.
“You’ve distracted someone. Deeply.”
“Yeah, William? Who is that?” you asked dryly.
He tapped his desk once to gain your attention before continuing in that same cool tone. “Me.”
“You?” you repeated. “How have I distracted you? I barely see you. I had to ask Grell for directions to your office for this evaluation. He tried to kill me for looking for you, by the way. Once we’re done here, I want to file a report on that.”
Looking at you with that same cold gaze, William lowered his chin. “Your spectacles are distracting to me.”
Oh no. Oh no no no no no. This was bad. Sure you’d been taken by William’s spectacles, but to say it out loud? To an inferior? Where had his normally calm working brain gone?
He was staring at you now – or more precisely at your spectacles. Heat flew to your cheeks as his eyes worked their way across the lens, lingering on the frames before flickering to your earpieces. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. William let out a breath that sounded rather hitched.
“They’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” you said weakly. “Are they a part of my evaluation as well?”
William shook his head, closing your file. “Your evaluation isn’t scheduled until next week.”
Eyes widening, your gloved nails dug into your seat. “Excuse me?”
“Next. Week,” he bit out slowly. “I told you: You’ve distracted me.”
The way he said it – so cool and crisp – was as if he were informing you that the sky was blue. You frowned deeply, caught somewhere between offended and frustratingly pleased.
“Well, Mr. Spears,” you said, sitting up straight. “Why exactly am I here now then? At…” You glanced to the white clock on the wall. “5:45. So close to overtime?”
He said nothing and you considered repeating yourself before you caught the motion of his right hand rising. His gloved hand closed over his earpiece. Waiting a moment, being sure to have your full attention, William slid the spectacles off of his face. His fingers did not tremble, did not hesitate. His face – naked and still entirely stone-like – was so pale and so clear underneath. Blinking while narrowing his now blind eyes, William extended his hand – his spectacles – across the desk to you.
Oh heavenly Father…
The significance varied from family to family among reaper kind, but the gesture was unanimously regarded as an intimate one. You’d heard of married reapers who’d never touched the other’s spectacles. It was one thing to hand them back to a colleague on the field once they’d been lost or simply thrown to the ground. It was quite another for the owner of those spectacles to offer them freely. There was even the rather recent rise among beloveds to offer their spectacles to those that they intended to marry. Your best friend was recently proposed to as such – as silly and superfluous as you found the rite to be.
You blanched.
Swimming in uncertainty, you swallowed. “You don’t believe in the new fads…do you, William?”
“If you’re asking if this is a proposal, then no.” His eyes slid slightly off kilter from where your face was and he squinted. “It’s a request to address this distraction. Nothing more and nothing less. Will you take them?”
“Address?” you asked, ignoring his insistency upon an answer. “Like…a date or something?”
“A date or something,” he confirmed, hand now slightly shaking. “Will you take them?”
Exhaling, you paused. Did you want to date William? He was rather attractive without his spectacles…and with them…you were scarce to find a better pair held out to you in such a way. And it was just a date…or something. Maybe this would even get Grell back and prevent the tedious paperwork required for him chasing you with his scythe down the hallway. A twisted part of your soul seemed pleased at the idea of Grell being denied of this raw opportunity with William’s spectacles. He would surely come after you now.
You glanced to the clock. 5:48.
William was growing visibly frustrated, his whole arm shaking irritably as he glared in a totally opposite direction from you. “Are you not going to take th-”
Wanting to punch him again, you restrained yourself and simply reached out to accept his spectacles. Making sure to graze your gloved hand against his own, you brought the spectacles to your face.
Pops is a virtuoso.
They were so much finer in your hands than they were on his face. Hesitating, catching a glance at a now calmed William, you drug your glove off of your right hand and placed your fingers against the frame. You were blushing furiously now and nearly doubled over whilst stroking William’s spectacles like a holy artifact.
“(Your name)…”
“Hmm?” you said, glancing up to William. No blush colored his cheeks. He was as prim as ever. But his eyes – snapping and gloriously green – seemed vulnerable somehow. You noticed then that his outstretched arm remained on the desk, his palm down but his fingers arching testily.
You gulped.
“Oh…yeah…only…only fair, right?” You laughed weakly.
Easily, you removed your spectacles and placed them – uncertain yet stilled – in William’s hand. You closed your hand against his own before releasing him to return to his spectacles. They were like a brilliant painting…so smooth and so finely crafted. You brought his spectacles to your cheek, feeling the sleekness in a whole new way that made you gasp.
Horrified at your indulgence, you raised your clenched gaze to William and nearly stopped breathing. Both of his gloves had been cast aside, dressing the white desk with a bit of black. He was sliding his fingers over and under your spectacles as if admiring a fine wine before sipping. That vulnerable look in his eyes had returned and he shot his gaze to you before exhaling shakily. You were surprised when he brought your spectacles to his own cheek before nuzzling them with his nose.
Certainly he couldn’t see you…
Testing, you brought his spectacles to your lips to kiss the nose bridge of his spectacles.
You thought you saw him smile. Or maybe the hand of the clock only moved. You weren’t entirely sure given the dismal state of your eyesight.
But you did see him bring your spectacles to his mouth. And you smiled then, quite amused at him following your lead.
“You have a very beautiful pair of spectacles yourself, William,” you breathed.
William made a humming noise. Something small yet content.
The weight of his spectacles in your fingers was soon becoming welcome. You tested the earpieces, moving them back and forth and imagining William placing them on his face with the grace and ease with which he did everything.
The pads of your exposed fingers ran along the cut outs on the side of his glasses and a rush ran through your very blood.
“There will be paperwork to fill out,” said William absently. “Before our date. Administration needs to know so that I don’t give you preferential treatment…I’ve taken the liberty of filling out my half of the documentation.”
“That confident, were you?” you teased, digging your pointer finger against the jutting cut of his frames.
“Didn’t want to worry with the overtime,” he said. “You’ll want to fill out the rest before you leave. It’s…somewhere here.” You managed to tear your gaze from his spectacles to squint. However bad your eyesight was, you could plainly see he looked in a direction other than his desk. “I’ll find it…in just a moment…your glasses are so smooth.”
“When did you plan on the date?” you asked, determined to ignore the growl in William’s voice.
He shifted where he sat. “If you fill out the documentation before we leave, I’ll drop it off…it’ll probably take a day or two to be signed…hmm…Friday?”
“Friday sounds good.”
“Hmm. You’ll be done on the field for the week as of Thursday, so I thought it would be perfect.” You heard him breathe and were far too delighted to see him – however blurred – watching his breath fog your lens.
Laughing, you let your fingers slip along the swoop to where his left earpiece ended. “Stalker.”
“Supervisor.”
You smiled.
Somewhere outside the world of William’s office, a muffled voice from the intercoms announced the current shift as five minutes to completion. With a jolt, you felt William’s hand on your own. Practically pinching your eyelids to see, you spotted your glasses being offered back in his free hand.
Making the exchange of the spectacles rather begrudgingly, you pressed your spectacles back onto your face. William was already searching through the documents on his desk. Pressing your nose pad against your face in an effort for comfort, you froze. Something felt…off.
Taking your spectacles off once again, you turned them over in your hands until you spotted it – a delicate nip in the line of your right earpiece.
“Here is the document,” said William.
“Did…did you bite my spectacles?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “You have four minutes to finish the document. Make that three…I still have to turn it in.”
Huffing, you shoved your spectacles back onto your face before yanking the fountain pen from your breast pocket. You ran your eyes over the text…signed there…signed here…
“Does it bother you…the bite?”
“Just…random,” you said, scribbling along. You quickly read over the document, hating the butterflies that were fluttering in your stomach at William’s thin signature. “Here you go. All finished.”
Standing and scanning the document, William nodded. “Very good. All is in order.” He rounded the desk, stuffing his hands back into his gloves and watching you stand. “Hopefully that mark won’t be too much of a distraction until Friday.”
You threw him what you hoped was a glare but that you knew was not as effective with the blush that accompanied it. “It won’t be. I’m professional. Unlike some with their fake evaluations.” You scoffed. “And I’m the one called distracting.”
William stopped at the door and turned slightly. He smirked at you.
“Until Friday, (Your name).”
He opened the door and neither of you were the slightest bit surprised when Grell fell forward at your feet.
“What were you two talking about? It’s practically time to leave! I have paperwork to turn in to Will, you know!” He shuffled papers in his hands, all of which looked to be blank. William pushed past him and walked steadily, quickly, down the hallway. “William! No need to rush off now! That’s just rude! What in the devil are you smiling about, (Your name)? Your fashion advice sucks, by the way. William hated that dress and it’s all your fault! Wipe that smirk off your face and start focusing! Honestly! You’re so distracted!”