A very disgruntled red reaper arrived in dispatch, eye makeup running down her cheeks, hair drenched and a puddle forming at her feet from her soaked clothes. Her nose scrunched up and she reached for her pocket handkerchief. A terrific sneeze sounded through the dispatch before she could get it more than halfway out. "Bless you," someone said.
"The forecast said clear skies and sunny weather," griped the redhead before sneezing again and then shivered. "It's cold as death in here," she muttered, leaving a trail of water as she went to her desk.
Almost there, the heel of her shoe met the tiled floor and - snap - it went. Grell caught her balance, letting out a string of angry curses. She shot a glare at the door to William's office, expecting him to pop his head out any moment to berate her for her language as she removed her shoes and walked the remaining distance in her stocking feet, but his door remained firmly shut. The sound of someone sniggering caught her ear, but she ignored it, unsure if it was directed at her or not.
Tossing down her pair of now worthless heels beside her desk, she reached for her filched frock on the back of her chair for some warmth only to met with nothing but hard plastic and remembered she had sent it off to the cleaners that morning.
"You should have been more mindful of the weather and carried an umbrella," she could hear William say if she dared to go home for a set of dry clothes. She sat down in her chair, rummaging in one of her drawers for a mirror. The least she could do was fix her face so she wasn't a total nightmare. Holding the mirror in front of her, she cringed at the sight of herself looking like some kind of clown. A sad lonely sort of clown, dabbing under her eyes with a tissue. She had just tossed the spent tissue into the bin and was about to pull out her emergency kit when she heard the firm footfalls of William approaching.
Not in the mood for a scolding, she grabbed a sheet of paper and stuffed it into the scarlet typewriter, trying to look busy. It was then she noticed, to her dismay, the broken fingernail on her left hand. Another sneeze overcame her as William was passing by. This time, she managed to snatch a tissue from the box and bring it to her nose before it escaped. She stole a glance at him. He glanced at her in return, his look indecipherable.
The tissue joined the others in the binand she resumed filling out her paperwork, surprised, yet relieved he didn't say anything. He always seemed to know when she was pretending to work and didn't hesitate to call her out on it. That he had seen her in her current state was punishment enough.
Not long after William had disappeared behind his office door, his secretary passed by on some errand. Grell watched her pass until William's cold and stiff tone commanded her attention. "Sutcliff," he called from the doorway, holding the door open for her to enter. "Bring your paperwork," he instructed, "And bring your impractical footwear," he added as she rose.
"But-," she began.
"Did I stutter?" he interrupted. Grell gathered her things, including her shoes, devil knows why he'd want her bring them of all things, and joined him in his office.
"I only just got back," she whined as he closed the door. "Could you give me a chance to even start doing my paperwork before you begin cracking your whip?"
"Get undressed."
Grell froze, her cheeks turning scarlet as she gasped at the unexpected, yet long awaited request, "W-Will!" He took her items from her and placed them on the desk. "Here?! How scandalous! If I'd have known, I would have prepared!"
"Just do it," he said, going over to a set of pegs on the wall for coats and things. Grell's hands shook as she started to do as he said, excited and nervous for what was to come. She did her best to hide it, attempting to undress in what she hoped was an appealing manner. "Stop that tomfoolery and just get undressed," he said sharply, his impatient tone rippling through her as he handed her a spare shirt. "Put this on for now." She took the shirt and he went to stand with his back turned to her. Grell frowned, stripping down to all but her panties as they weren't that wet and she rather hoped he'd like to see them on her.
His shirt was large on her and barely covered her bits, but it was dry and warm. She sniffed the collar, taking in his scent. "Have you finished?" he asked before her thoughts and feelings could run off with her.
"Y-yes, darling," she replied meekly.
"There's a spare typewriter over there," he said, pointing, "that you can use until your clothes are dry." He took the wet clothes and hung them up on the hanger.
The secretary returned with two cups and set them on the desk. William thanked her and dismissed her then handed Grell one of the steaming cups with a brisk," Don't get any fanciful ideas. We're shorthanded enough as it is and I cannot afford to have you out with a cold."
Even though it was becoming clear what she thought was going to happen between them wasn't, the corners of her mouth still perked up in a demure smile at his thoughtfulness. "Perish the thought," she said, sipping the tea. Grell took a seat in front of William's desk and sat back comfortably, cradling the cup to her chest.
"I'd appreciate it if you would act like the lady you claim to be and sit like one," said William, turning a blushing cheek away from her and back to the window with the it's still downpouring scenery. "And I do not believe that is where I told you to work from."
"Oh let me sit and enjoy my tea for a moment, you old goat. It's been a rough day." He gave her a quick glance, pushing his glasses up his nose. "And yours is getting cold."
"Sit so I shan't have to see everything you were born with and I shall." Grell made a face and closed her legs.
"You can look now, darling."
"Honestly," she thought she heard him sigh and mumble as he turned around. He picked up the broken shoe and took his seat behind his desk, examining it.
"It's such a shame, really," Grell attempted conversation and watching him with interest. "They were practically brand new. Designer."
"If you insist on spending so much on footwear, your money would be better spent on something more practical. Something from Barker or Crockett and Jones."
Her face soured at his recommendations. He still didn't understand or care. "Why do I love you?" she asked. "You of all people should know by now. It's not about practicality."
"I've never understood your obsession, nor do I desire to. Your show can be repaired, but next time, I'd suggest something more suited for the weather."
"It can?!" She sat up excitedly, her negative emotions gone for the moment and almost spilling her tea. "Oh, Will, you're a lifesaver as always. What would I do without you?"
William did not answer that particular question, reaching in a drawer and pulling out a tube of adhesive. "Any idiot can tell by looking at it that it simply needs some glue."
"You're always so mean to me. Isn't today gloomy enough without your abuse?"
"Finish your tea," he replied with a frown.
"You're also always so serious and frowning. You can always talk to me about your problems, you know, considering how long we've known each other."
"Decades of acquaintance, does not constitute a close relationship. There's no need to talk it out with you. I have a therapist for that."
Neither spoke for a while. The only sounds being that of the rain and faint clacking of typewriters. William held the two pieces together while the glue set. "You'll need to wait at least twenty-four hours before wearing them again," William finally spoke.
"It was awfully fortunate you had that glue in your desk."
"It's for my models," he replied, referring to the many models of pigeons he had displayed in the room. "They occasionally need repair. This hold may not be permanent or waterproof. Take it to a cobbler if it should come apart again instead of wasting my glue."
"I never asked you to use your glue in the first place. I'll buy you a new tube, if it'll stop your belly aching."
"Can you afford some after such an expense?" he barbed at her.
Grell scowled. Setting down her cup and scooping up her files, she went to the spare typewriter and was soon slowly typing away at it. William set the shoe aside and resumed his own work. "I...apologize," he said after awhile. "That was harsh and it is none of my business how you decide to spend your money. I'm not in the best of moods today."
"Today?" she snorted, but quickly reigned in her derision. Here he was actually opening up to her a little and she responds in such a manner? Though not undeserved, it wasn't in her best interests. There were still the little things. "Sorry," she said more calmly. "Rainy days and Mondays always get me down too." Thank you, darling, for making this one not so terrible." She glanced back at him when he did not reply to see him adjusting his glasses as he stared down at his work, filling in his signature at the bottom of a page. She smiled softly at him before returning to her typewriter. No. Today wasn't so bad, after all.