A/N: Hey all, long time no see. This is a work I've been doing with my friend Dani, and it's posted on her ao3 account as well as on tumblr. It's based from the movie The Proposal, and we've had so much fun writing it so I thought I'd post it here too. Life is so crazy right now, and I've been co-writing, which is why you haven't seen a lot of me. Don't worry though, I'm getting back into the flow of things! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy and thanks again for reading.
The lush green of the Irish countryside grounded him; there was the steady guitar strumming in his ears, and it made the piles upon piles of code in front of him seem like a less daunting task. He slowed the stationary bike to a halt, the screen in front of him in sync with its progress, and pulled out his headphones. He still had an hour before having to head to work. Brian O'Shea was the head developer for Matis Games, a prestigious video game company in Los Angeles that produced millions of dollars worth of best selling games. He had an entire team at his disposal, and he wasn't necessarily liked, but they got the job done and that was all that mattered. He placed the papers in the envelope they came in, ready for them to be handed off to his team when he entered the office. The code had a few errors, and he looked forward to the lecture he was going to be giving to the programmers.
Across the city, the streets of LA were already heavily packed as early morning turned to late. Inside a small apartment, an alarm clock blinked furiously, reading the wrong time as Brock Paxton finally woke. He opened his eyes, only to realize the actual time and began to panic; he was late, again. "Son of a…" He cursed to himself before hurriedly throwing the covers off and nearly jumping out of bed. This was the third time this week, and he definitely had a feeling that his boss would probably kill him this time.
Brock was the assistant to the lead developer at Matis Games, Brian O'Shea, and to be blunt about it, the guy was a bit of an asshole. The only reason Brock put up with him half the time was because he wanted to make his own games someday. He knew that everybody had to start somewhere, which is why he moved to Los Angeles in the first place.
After he dressed, he grabbed his things and was out the door; maneuvering in and out of different people, rushing to get Brian's morning coffee. He almost got hit by three different taxis, but he managed to make it to the Starbucks relatively unscathed. The second he opened the door, he hit a wall of people waiting to get their own coffee for the day. Problem was, Brock's boss was quite murderous without his coffee, especially if Brock was late in the delivery. As he thought of other cafes he could stop along the way to work, he heard his name being called and two coffee cups were held high in the air.
"Brock! I already have everything ready for you. I noticed the time and figured you were running late." Catherine, the blonde barista, was grinning at him over the crowd of people. He made his way forward, and took them with a grateful smile.
"Thanks, Catherine. You may have saved my life." Brock told her.
"These are on the house." She said with a shy smile.
"I owe you one, Cat. See you tomorrow!" He waved, ignoring the crestfallen look she had sent his way. Catherine was nice, and beautiful, but she wasn't exactly his type.
Once Brock had the coffee, he continued his race to work. It only took a few minutes of weaving in and out of crowds of people, before the office came into view. He ran through the lobby, dodging other employees, trying desperately not to spill the coffee he had in his left hand. He managed to make it to the elevator in one piece, but did receive a few odd looks from his co-workers.
He received a reproachful glare from the secretary after exiting the elevator onto his floor. "Cutting it close!" She whispered furiously.
"Rough start…" Brock started to reply, until he suddenly collided with the man from the mailroom, effectively spilling one of the coffees down the front of his shirt and completely ruining it. "Oh my god!" He could barely hear the frantic apologies from the other man as he ran down the aisle of cubicles to his friend, Marcel. "I need the shirt off of your back...literally."
The man looked at him like he had suddenly grown three heads since he'd been standing there, before laughing. "No fucking way."
"Marcel, please. Look, how about two tickets to the Lakers game tonight? Company seats at center court! I'm begging you man." Brock folded his hands. "He'll be here any minute."
Marcel scowled, but finally conceded as he stood and began to unbutton his shirt. "You owe me more than Lakers tickets for this, Brock."
"Look Arlan, we need you." Brian said into his phone as he made his way into the office. "This game won't be the same without your voice acting..." He didn't want to sound desperate, and he definitely didn't want to beg, but if his company wanted any chance at Game of the Year, they needed the best. Arlan - better known as Silent Droidd - was the best. "Yes, I know you don't do video games anymore, but this would be a great comeback! Don't you think?" He tried to persuade the young man as he continued to walk and talk. The office was buzzing with chatter, but as soon as Brian entered, it quickly died down. "Okay, you don't have to decide now, but just think about it and call me later, alright? Sounds good, bye." He hung up his phone as he entered his own office, and was greeted by Brock.
"Morning boss," The man got out, handing Brian his routine cup of coffee. "You've got a conference call in about an hour, and a staff meeting today, too." He added as Brian sat down at his desk.
"About the new game, I know." Brian replied.
"Oh! And your immigration lawyer called this morning, he said it was important."
"Okay," Brian nodded. "Go ahead and cancel the call, move the meeting to tomorrow, and I'll deal with the lawyers later." This was how all of their mornings usually went. "Also, get ahold of the press and let them know that Arlan is doing the game."
Brock turned to him, surprised. "Wow, good job."
Brian gave a wry grin. "If I want your praise, I'll ask for it… Get to work, Brock." He began to sort through some papers on his desk before picking up his coffee and turning around in his chair. However, some black handwriting on the cup made him stop. Brock was nearly out of the office when he heard Brian call him back in. "Who is Catherine and why does she want me to call her?" He gave his assistant a puzzled look as he turned the coffee cup for him to see as well.
"Uh…" Brock hesitated for a moment. "Well, that was actually my cup of coffee."
"And why am I drinking your coffee?" Brian questioned.
"Your coffee spilled."
Brian nodded, not amused, as he took another drink. "So you drink cinnamon lattes?"
"I do." Brock replied. "It's like Christmas in a cup."
Brian looked at his cup, then back to Brock, "Is that a coincidence?"
"It is… I mean, I wouldn't ever drink the same coffee as you just in case yours spilled…" Brock trailed off as the phone in the office began to ring. "I would never do anything like that," He added with a shake of his head before he picked up the phone. "Good morning, Mr. O'Shea's office… Hey Bob," He greeted, giving a confused look when Brian gestured to him. "Actually we're headed to your office now." Brock finished before hanging up the phone. "And why are we going to Bob's office?"
Brian said nothing, only gave his assistant a tight smile. Brock smiled in return and nodded; he knew what that look meant any day. At that moment, he waited until Brian was looking down before nearly running out of the office, and to his computer. THE WITCH IS ON HIS BROOM. He typed quickly, sending it to every employee so that they could act like they were working when the boss came out.
It was a few seconds later when Brian did finally join Brock, and they began their walk down the hall to Bob's office. "So did you ever get the chance to go through that game proposal I gave you?" Brock asked curiously.
"I glanced at it, yeah." Brian replied. "It's going to be a pass."
"Can I say something?"
"No."
Brock didn't let it deter him. "I've read thousands of proposals and this is the only one I've given you. I think we could really make it into a best selling game."
"Uh, wrong." Brian's eyes flicked to one of his employees. Marcus, Marion...Marcel, and saw that his shirt was stained with the coffee that Brian suspected was his own. "And I do think you order the same coffee as me just in case one spills, which is in fact, pathetic. Why don't you just call Catherine and have multiple little coffee babies, just in case one of them dies. See? Pathetic."
Brock rolled his eyes discreetly, not wanting to delve into the conversation about his sexuality and why that wouldn't be remotely possible. He ignored it. "I like to think it's impressive."
"It would be impressive if you didn't spill it in the first place." They approached Bob's door. "Remember that you're just a prop in here." He told his assistant as he entered the office without so much as a knock.
"Won't say a word." Brock mumbled as he followed his boss.
Bob stood from his desk when he saw them, a nasty grin plastered on his face. "Well, if it isn't our fearless leader and his liege. Please, come in."
Brian walked over to the antique cabinet on the back wall. "Oh, is this new?" He asked as he ran a hand along it.
"It was a piece from the 1800's that was restored but yes, it is new to my office." The response was full of sarcasm and snark, and Brian was feeling more enthused about the news he was about to deliver.
"Bob, I'm letting you go."
Bob looked up with wide eyes, and even Brock whipped his head towards him at the sudden bombshell. "Pardon?"
"I've asked you over a dozen times to get Arlan to agree to acting, and you didn't do it. You're fired." Brian said. He had to keep his eyes away from Brock, as the other man was fidgeting restlessly. His assistant was never good in these situations, where it could get awkward and hard to watch in the blink of an eye. He briefly thought that he should have warned him, but then again, Brock should be used to it by now and should anticipate Brian's every move.
"Arlan hasn't done an acting job in years. It was impossible." Bob took off his glasses and pinched his nose.
"Well that is certainly interesting, seeing as how I just got off the phone with him and he agreed to the job." Brian smirked.
"Excuse…"
"You didn't even call him, did you? I know, I know, Arlan can be a bit scary to talk to... for you. Listen, I'll give you two months to find another job and then you can tell everyone you resigned." Brian took a sip of his coffee. "Have a nice day." He nodded his head at Brock and the other man jumped to open the door for him, as if he couldn't get out of the room fast enough.
Brian walked slowly back towards his office. "What's he doing?"
Brock looked back. "He's moving. He has crazy eyes. Oh no, here he comes."
"Don't do it Bob." Brian murmured.
"You spiteful dick!" Bob came tearing out of his office, waving his arm wildly. Every head in the office turned, and Brian felt a sort of satisfaction that it was about to end this way. "You can't fire me! I see what you're doing. You're sandbagging me on Arlan so that you can look good to the board! You are threatened by me, and you are a monster!" Bob looked about the office, as if he was expecting people to stand with him. Brian knew that they would never, but Bob was too naive.
"Bob, stop…" Brian said, but not convincingly.
"Just because you have no semblance of a life outside of this office, you think that you can just treat us all like slaves! I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you're going to have on your deathbed? Nothing, and no one."
Brock cringed, and Brian took a deep breath. This was his favorite part. "Listen carefully, Bob. I didn't fire you over Arlan. I fired you because you are lazy, incompetent, entitled, and you spend more time cheating on your wife with Elliot downstairs than you do at your actual job. And if you say another word, Brock here is going to have you thrown on your ass. Another word," Brian interrupted Bob's attempt at defending himself. "And you are walking out of here with an armed escort, Brock will record it on his phone and it will be on Youtube within the hour. Do you want that?" Bob remained silent, his eyes wide and full of barely suppressed rage. "Didn't think so. I have work to do." Brian turned on his heel, Brock following obediently along. "Have security take his cabinet out of his office and put it in my conference room." He ordered as they walked along, Brock only nodding. "And I'm going to need your help this weekend with the whole Arlan thing."
"This weekend?" Brock inquired.
"There a problem?" Brian turned to look at his assistant.
"No, uh… I, it's just that it's my grandma's 90th birthday so I was going to go home," As he continued to talk Brian shook his head and began to walk away. "It's fine, I'll cancel it, no big deal… You're actually saving me from a horrible weekend anyway." It was apparent Brian couldn't hear him anymore, but Brock continued to ramble. "Okay, yeah, good talk."
A/N: To be continued...?