Chapter Text
Jen had been trying her absolute hardest to forget everything as soon as she’d begun remembering it, especially after that disastrous trip to the theatre. She honestly hadn’t forgotten that much of the night after the party, and by now every single moment of it was back in glorious technicolor; “Jen Likes Kissing Massive Dweebs” scrolling across the marquee. God what would her friends say? What would the girls from seven say? What would her Mum say? Jen wasn’t about to find out. She shoved every warm, tingly feeling she had towards Moss under the metaphorical mattress of her psyche where she didn’t have to think about them, never mind the fact that occasionally Moss would smile at her and undo her efforts just a little bit. All of that changed, however, when she met Peter.
Peter was classically handsome (though, he didn’t have a sweet little dimpled chin), he was smart and successful (but he didn’t know how to remove all of the viruses that she accumulated through clicking on pop up ads), he was funny and sensitive (though he’d never hand stitched her a dalmatian puppy heating pad for her period cramps.), and he liked the same cheese as her! It was a match made in heaven, and she was absolutely over the moon, head over heels in love. Hell, it was the first ‘first date’ she’d been on in over a decade where everything had gone exactly according to plan. It was as though she were living in a fairytale, which made forgetting about an almost-one night stand with her weird subordinate with the hot ear so much easier.
The fact that everything was Norman Rockwell, Hallmark card, Peaches and Cream perfect should have been a big, glaring red flag to begin with, but Jen had her rose colored glasses on, content to overlook the brewing storm in order to enjoy her blue skies as long as possible. In hindsight, she should have known that bringing Peter by the office to meet the boys was a mistake, but she’d been cooped up with them in that little basement for so long that she’d grown fond of them. Like when you begin feeding stray cats. She wanted to share her happiness with them, and for them to get along with Peter, and for Peter to get along with them. It would just make everything that much easier.
So she’d introduced Peter to her boys, looking at him as though he’d hung the stars and laughing at their little cheese story like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard, well and truly smitten with the man. It had all gone so well, until Colin had dropped out of the dinner party, leaving Stephen and Jake without a ride and Jen in the awkward position of having to tell her boys that she loved them but not enough to welcome them into her home. Not again. Not after last time.
It was too intimate. Too dangerous. Who knew what could be uncovered if she allowed them into her safe space again? What truths she’d have to face? She’d been doing such a good job of compartmentalizing, and forgetting, and moving on, but one bad night could blow the whole thing wide open and set her back half a year in progress. She had to put her foot down. She had to. Even with 3 pairs of sad eyes looking at her as though she’d promised them all lollipops and then taken them out of their hands. They weren’t coming over, and that was the end of that, and just to avoid being guilted into letting them come, Jen locked herself in her office and flicked the blinds closed.
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Moss thought that altogether, he was doing an excellent job of holding it together and pretending as though nothing was wrong, but even he had a limit, and that limit was apparently being tossed aside like yesterday’s jam by a woman whose opinion of him mattered to him way more than it really ought to. Meeting Jen’s new boyfriend- who was not him, and who was taking her to Paris- was hard, but the assurance that he was still her friend and he still mattered to her had been enough. He could have lived happily within the friend zone, until he realized that the zone he’d been put in was not really friendly at all. It was more like the “take advantage of you when I need you, and then leave you high and dry like you’re some kind of support animal” zone, and that just hurt. Add to that the fact that his sock was on wrong and the seam of it had been rubbing uncomfortably against his foot the whole day, and Moss simply couldn’t take it any longer. Jen had excused herself to her office, and Moss had excused himself to the break room to have himself a little cry.
The door to the break room locked, so he really had very little concern of being walked in on when he’d shut it and leaned against it, bottom lip already wobbling with emotion. He’d just have himself a cry, relieve some of the emotional pressure, fix his sock, and he’d be good to make it through the rest of the day. Moss slid to the floor, letting out a mournful wail as he let it all boil over, tears rolling freely down his face. He removed his glasses, putting them into his breast pocket to keep them clean while he cried, folding his arms over his knees and resting his head upon them.
”You’re crying.”
Moss let out a shriek, instinctively scooting backwards into the door at the sound of another person’s voice. He could have sworn the room was empty when he entered it, but the familiar greyish black blob poised in front of him told him otherwise.
”Richmond! Where did you even come from?! This room is tiny!” Moss placed his glasses back on his face, leveling a glare at the goth as he came into focus.
”I was in the cupboard. It’s where I watch movies during the day.” Richmond shrugged, still staring wide eyed at him with those freaky blue eyes of his. God, did he ever blink? “Why are you crying?”
”...My sock is on funny.” Moss said, only a half-truth really.
”Is that all?” Richmond asked, sitting down beside Moss on the floor. “Seems a bit of an overreaction. Here.” He handed Moss a silk handkerchief from his back pocket, which he took gratefully.
”No.” Moss sighed, dabbing at his eyes with the handkerchief. “It’s Jen.”
”Oh yeah.” Richmond nodded understandingly. “Who the hell does she think she is? Asking for makeup recommendations, getting our nails done together- she was the only one in this whole building who stood up for me, you know- and now what? I’m a ‘nutjob’? What a fucking two faced bitch.”
”Hey! I happen to love that two faced b-word, and I don’t appreciate you talking about her like that!” Moss snapped defensively before he could think better of it.
Well shoot. All that time spent carefully concealing his feelings, keeping them secret even from Roy, and Richmond of all people had managed to get it out of him without even actively trying to. Some great secret keeper he was. Moss sniffled, wiping his nose on Richmond’s handkerchief and keeping his eyes cast shamefully to the tile floor as his weird coworker looked at him with an unreadable, uncomfortable stare.
”Really? That’s interesting.” Richmond nodded.
”She is being a real meanie, though.” Moss conceded. “I thought at the very least we were friends.”
”Tch. You and me both.”
Moss had stopped crying at this point in favor of staring pointedly at his shoes as though he could readjust his sock telepathically. The cry had been very much necessary, and now that his head was clearer, he felt as though he could understand the situation much clearer. Honestly, looking at Jen’s actions without the hyperemotional lens of overstimulation and heartbreak, it sort of made them seem even worse.
”You know what?” Richmond said suddenly, smacking him on the shoulder. “We should get her to invite us over, and then absolutely ruin her party.”
”But that would be rude.”
”Yeah, that’s the idea. I’m gonna share with you a little phrase we used upstairs, back when I was cool: ” Richmond grabbed him by the shoulder, leaning in as though he were about to divulge an important piece of wisdom. “Don’t get upset. Get even.”
”But doesn’t that just make us terrible people as well?”
”Nah. It just evens things out.”
”Is that how you ended up banished to the basement?”
”Why don’t you fix your sock and get back to your desk, Maurice?”
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This was a terrible idea. A horrible, awful, terrible idea. Jen had felt that sense of foreboding in her bones from the moment Peter’s friends had dropped out, and it only grew as the minutes ticked by ‘till the event. They should have just cancelled. They should have rescheduled. But they’d all ganged up on her. Roy with his shit attitude, Richmond and his big, sad eyes, and Moss copying both of their methods in equal measure had worn her down, until finally she caved. She touched up her makeup in the mirror, mind racing with all the ways this would definitely go wrong as she did so. Peter came up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist as he buried his nose in her hair, planting a kiss atop her head.
”What’re you thinking about, love?” He asked her, squeezing her tighter.
”Oh, nothing. Just all the ways this’ll go wrong.”
”It’ll be fine, Jen. You worry too much.”
”You don’t know the boys like I do.”
”Maybe not, but they seemed like decent fellows. Have a little bit of faith, alright?”
”I’ll try, but no promises.”
Peter laughed, pressing another quick kiss to the top of her head before reluctantly letting her go. She really did love him.
”I have to go finish up dinner. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need moral support.”
”Of course. I’ll keep things running as smoothly as they possibly can go with this bunch.”
She had a plan, though. Margaret was freshly single and well desperate. She’d sit her next to Moss, sparks would fly, and then she wouldn’t have to think about him any more. Margaret and Moss would be a thing, and she and Peter could carry on in perfect bliss, and there would be no more confusing feelings for anyone.
As if on cue, the doorbell rang, and Jen took a deep breath to steady herself. Peter was right. It was just a little dinner party with her friends. Everything would be just fine, and she was worrying too much.
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This was a terrible idea. He hadn't even wanted to go to Jen and Peter's dinner party in the first place, he'd just been upset to have been deliberately excluded, and now that he was here, he'd literally rather be anywhere else. Margaret was too handsy, Roy was ignoring him in favor of being rude to that poor disfigured model, Richmond had been playing tonsil hockey with that annoying girl all night (Though he was slightly grateful that he managed to shut her up), and worst of all, he'd had to watch Jen and the magnificent Peter File be all dewy and in love with one another.
Flipping Peter. Up until Peter, Moss had been able to take solace in the fact that Jen had terrible taste in men, but Peter? Peter was perfect. Peter was dashing, and polite, and an amazing cook, and most importantly, he looked at Jen like she'd hung the stars. The only thing he had going against him was the fact that his name sounded like "Pedophile", and Moss had to admit that was a pretty shallow argument. For the first time since this whole thing had begun, Moss was forced to confront the fact that he really didn't stand a chance of winning over Jen's heart, and it was breaking his own. Best he could do was continue to point out that "Peter File" sounds like "Pedophile" and hope that that was enough to break them up.
His heart wasn't really in it, though. Even if Jen and Peter did, by some miracle, part ways, he couldn't possibly compare to the man who would take her to Paris and buy the same cheeses as her. Besides, it was hard to make a concerted effort at destroying a beautiful, healthy relationship with a drunk divorcee tickling him at every opportunity. It was time to face the facts. Jen had only kissed him that one time because she was drunk, and that she hadn't meant a word she'd said, and that was all that would ever happen between them. He'd have to just pack up and move on.
So why couldn't he?
Why couldn't he just switch this off, the way he could most things? It was like the seam of his socks, or the tags of his shirts, or sleeves that were too long. Annoying and itchy and pitching quickly towards painful the longer he allowed it to rub against him. However, unlike an unruly tag, Moss had no idea how to begin to fix this.
---------------
"You seem melancholy."
"I'm not 'melancholy', Richmond." Moss lied through his teeth. "Why are you even here? It's Saturday."
"I'm scheduled nights and some weekends." Richmond shrugged, shoving Moss's things aside to sit on his desk, completely ignoring the fact that his presence was unwelcome. "Why are you here on a Saturday, moping about?"
"I wanted to be alone." Moss said flatly, leveling a glare at him that also went ignored.
"I thought you weren't melancholy."
"I'm not melancholy, but I'm about to be angry." Moss snapped, carefully rearranging his desk to accommodate Richmond. "Don't you have something better to do?"
"No. Why, do you?"
"...Not really."
"That was some dinner party. I think we did a pretty good job of spoiling the mood, yeah?"
"Margaret could have done that all on her own. I can't believe Jen thinks we're the nutjobs when she's friends with that woman!"
"She was a piece of work, wasn't she?" Richmond chuckled, picking up a figure from where Moss had so carefully placed it. "It wasn't all terrible though. I had a lot of fun."
"Yeah, I'm sure you did." Moss jerked the figure away from him. "I had an absolutely terrible time, and quite frankly, I resent you for convincing me to go."
Richmond looked hurt and bewildered for a moment, before his memory caught up with him and his expression turned sympathetic. He reached out to place a hand on Moss's shoulder, frowning slightly.
"Oh, Maurice. I'm sorry."
"It's fine." Moss shrugged. "It's not your fault the woman I love has found a more suitable partner"
"Stop that." Richmond used the hand that had been resting on Moss's shoulder to smack him gently. "You can't be self-deprecating and gloomy. It'll ruin the office ecosystem. I’m the gloomy one. Your job is to be wide-eyed and annoying.”
”You think I’m annoying?”
”Everyone thinks you’re annoying. It’s part of your charm.”
”Great. I’m going to die a virgin and everyone thinks I’m annoying.” Moss pouted. “Any more wise words of wisdom, prince of darkness?”
”Have you tried just getting laid yet?” Richmond suggested casually, looking him up and down. “It couldn’t be that difficult. You’re cute enough, I’m sure if we took you out to the right place, you’d be fighting them off you with a stick. In fact, I’m sure you’d be a big hit in my scene. Do you fancy yourself more of a dominant or a submissive? We’ve a lot of Doms, but-
”No thank you, Richmond.” Moss interrupted, his face suddenly very hot. “I’m- uhm. I’m not particularly fond of the idea of casual sex.”
”I see.” Richmond nodded. He stared pensively into the distance for a long moment, as if the answers to Moss’s problems would be written on the opposite wall. “Maybe you should just get a hobby, then.”
”I have hobbies.”
”Do them, then.” Richmond said plainly, standing from Moss’s desk and stalking towards the door to the server room. “It’ll help take your mind off of the bleeding in your heart.”
”Thanks, Richmond.” Moss said, waiting until he’d slunk behind the door to add. “For nothing.”
Thinking back to Richmond’s suggestions, Moss pulled open an old word document, scanning it for typos halfheartedly. He’d been working on this fic for months, if writing six sentences and then spending 20 minutes second guessing them counted as writing. It was a process. He couldn’t focus long enough to even get that much done, though. His mind kept drifting, running scenarios that had nothing to do with Star Trek: Deep Space Nine whatsoever. All he could think of was what Jen might be doing at this moment. Peter File was supposed to be flying her out to Paris today. She was probably sitting on a plane right now, cocktail in one hand and Peter File’s hand in the other. Or maybe she was laid against the window, fast asleep and snoring up a storm. She was so cute when she was asleep. Sprawled across her desk, or curled into a ball on the couch like a little ginger cat, or pressed right up against his side, using his chest as a pillow, sleeping Jen was one of his favorite Jens. Did Peter File appreciate her sweet little snorts like that? Did Peter File let her drool on him all night because he didn’t have it in him to move her? Probably. Peter File was flipping perfect. As the words of his fanfiction began to blur together into an unfocused sludge, he swore he could almost hear Jen’s heels clicking on the linoleum as she stomped into the office.
”Moss?”
Yeah, that’s how her voice sounds. Sweet and musical, almost. Even if she’d never like him back, he really wished she were here.
”What are you doing here? It’s a Saturday.”
Wait. That’s not something that fantasy-Jen would say to him. That’s something that real-Jen would say. He looked up from his computer to see Jen standing in the doorway, looking haggard and just as confused as he felt.
”Jen? What are you doing here? I thought Peter was taking you to Paris for the weekend?”
She looked uncomfortable for a moment, eyes cast to the ground as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Something had clearly happened, and if Peter had hurt her, he swore he’d send a very strongly worded email to his employer.
”Yeah. I just…I don’t think it’s gonna work out between Peter and I.” She said, nose wrinkling as she grimaced.
”But you buy the same cheeses? What happened?”
”Well…” Jen shifted uncomfortably on her feet for a moment, looking almost guilty. “His name sounds like ‘pedophile’, doesn’t it?”
That had really been enough? Moss could hardly believe Jen was actually so shallow, but in this case, it had worked out in his favor. The sense of relief that flooded him was so strong that he couldn’t help but smile.
”It does sound like ‘pedophile’.” He laughs softly, before remembering that the end of someone’s relationship is a sad affair that he shouldn’t be laughing about, no matter how funny it may be or how happy it secretly makes him. “Sorry about your relationship, Jen.”
”Eh, it’s alright.” She waved him off with a half hearted smile of her own. “There will be others. Best not dwell on this one.”
In the beat of silence that followed this statement, Moss considered coming clean. He considered the possibility of asking if he could be the next mistake she made. If he could be the last mistake she made. But he couldn’t do it. The timing was wrong. It wasn't fair to blindside her like that. Moss let the words die on his tongue, licking his lips and turning his gaze to the floor.
"I just came for my work laptop." Jen explained, making her way to her office. "I figured since I wasn't going to be spending the weekend in Paris, sipping coffee and falling madly in love, I might as well spend it clearing out the complaints."
"That's probably a better use of your time, yes."
"Right. Well. You should go home too, Moss. It's the weekend. You're supposed to spend it doing things you like. And drinking."
"Yes, you're right." He conceded with a nod. "I'll head home right after I finish this email. Thank you, Jen."
"Of course. What kind of relationship manager would I be if I let you freaks spend your every waking hour here?" She laughed, making her way to the door. "I'll see you Monday, Moss."
"See you Monday, Jen." He echoed blankly, already pulling open his email and beginning to type.
SUBJECT: Dinner CONFIDENTIAL
Hi, Jen!
Firstly, I’d like to thank you again for having me over for dinner. It really was lovely, and I know that it was difficult for you to let Roy, Richmond, and myself into your space like that. I’m sorry that it ended up going downhill so quickly, though I would like to say that that was no fault of my own, and your friend Margaret has serious boundary problems.
I really am sorry to hear about Peter, as well. He really seemed like a good match for you, despite his unfortunate name. I'm sure you'll have no problems moving on quickly, though.
Speaking of moving on, I was wondering if I could take you to coffee this week to make up for the dinner party? I was going to ask you as a friend, but since the opportunity has presented itself, maybe it could be something more? Only if you're interested, of course. I know it's still very soon.
Maurice Moss
Reynholm Industries, IT Department
P.S. I love you. I just felt like you ought to know that, all things considered.
No, no. This one is by far the worst email he's ever composed. He couldn't possibly send that. Moss moved it into his drafts with a sigh, resolving to say nothing and just get Jen's coffee for her Monday morning- A small white chocolate Mocha with a double shot of espresso. No whip. It's the least he could do, after everything.