Chapter Text
As cliché as it is, the records room really is the best way to get away from the team for a few moments.
It sure as fuck beats the locker room, and any of the bathrooms, and any of the tight janitorial closets (that used to be a fine option until fucking Waterboy joined up, and even though he’s out in the field now, there’s a non-zero chance he’ll pitch in to clean a window during lunch break). The records room isn’t perfect, by any means. It’s quiet, it’s dark, it smells like musty files and dust but the shelves allow for some privacy.
And the sound of Robert’s low moan as she blows him against one of said shelves… The room’s small, but the sound reverberates in a way that crackles up her spine like a livewire. And the way his breath hitches when she cups him through his pants…
He makes the prettiest sounds when he’s in her hand, in her mouth… they’ve never done more than making out and handjobs in that room, with the very, very rare occasion when he sinks to his knees and eats her out. There’s not enough time for anything more than that, not without one of their team wondering where the fuck they’d gone.
[On the way back. RR?]
[Robert: Can’t. Gotta eat something other than a protein bar today.]
Her thumb just barely brushes over the smirking emoji before he replies.
[Robert: And don’t turn that into an ‘eat me out instead’ thing because it’s not gonna happen.]
[Fuck you, you’re no fun.]
[Robert: Fine. Ten minutes. I need to walk Beef, I’ll be back soon.]
Shit, she feels like such a stupid teenager again. Feeling that falling-flying-dropping feeling in her stomach at the idea of sneaking a few kisses during the work day. It’s fucking pathetic, in all honesty. But shock of all shocks, their dispatcher’s a damn good kisser. And she likes the way he puts his hand on her waist and pulls her into him like he well and truly wants her close.
It’s still… weird. Really fucking weird. But it feels good, so… she’s not going to complain.
Courtney doesn’t see him outside of the newly-rebuilt SDN building, so best guess is he’s still inside or somewhere around the block walking Beef. Somehow the mutt’s stayed the same weight throughout everything. Probably because the amount he gets walked is completely negated by the amount of treats the team gives him.
The record’s room smells just as musty and dusty as ever. Someone really should sort through this shit, there are probably records that are twice, if not three times as old as she is. The computer in the corner hums, casting a faint glow but not enough to illuminate the room damn near at all. She doesn’t bother turning the light on — better chance of hiding if someone decides they do want one of the yellowed file folders for some odd ass reason.
She's leaning against one of the shelves, scrolling through her phone when she hears footsteps approaching. Not strolling, like someone casually walking by the hallway on the way to lunch or some shit. With purpose. She doesn’t hear the jingle of Beef’s collar, but that means fuckall, honestly. There’s a high chance that one of her team members grabbed the mutt for some post-mission snuggles or play time. She’s even seen Flambae play tug of war with Beef and let him ‘win’.
Courtney has just enough time to shove her phone in her back pocket, just enough time to hold her breath as the door opens. She steps forward and attempts to grab the collar of her boyfriend’s stupid SDN shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.
Except the collar she grabs is not the 98% cotton, 2% spandex blend that the SDN dispatcher uniform shirt is. It’s silkier, softer against her fingertips. And as much as he probably should use it, Robert does not taste like vanilla chapstick. And his lips are not this soft.
And above all, Robert does not have tits.
“Shit,” Courtney breathes, stumbling back, flickering into view as she raises her hand to her lips. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
In the low, green light of the records room, Blonde Blazer — no, Mandy — stands shocked still, eyes wide as she stares at Courtney.
Mandy's hand flies to her own mouth, mirroring Courtney's gesture. For a moment, neither of them move, frozen in the uncomfortable silence that stretches between them like a taut wire. Then Mandy's eyes dart to the now-closed door, then back to Courtney, and she opens her mouth as if to speak but nothing comes out.
The postergirl of SDN clears her throat, the sound impossibly loud in the awkward silence.
“I…” Mandy starts. “Um… no amount of HR training prepared me for… that.”
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Courtney demands. “Nobody comes in here!”
“That’s…” Mandy starts, and even in the low light Courtney can see the way the brunette’s cheeks turn bright red. “Never mind, I can’t say it, I shouldn’t say it, that’s… that’s another thing that completely violates HR, not that we’re exactly a pristine example of—”
“For fuck’s sake, just say it, no one’s going to—”
“Robert does,” Mandy says quickly.
“Robert does what?”
Mandy opens her mouth, and closes it again, before holding her fist to her mouth and coughing a bit. “The… room’s made to store old files,” she explains. “It’s not soundproofed like some of the offices and conference rooms are. It’s… yeah.”
… shit.
“So you—” Courtney starts.
“Yes.”
“And other—”
“Galen, mostly,” Mandy explains, crossing her arms almost defensively. And fuck, the way the movement makes her tits look is genuinely unfair. Even though to see her in civi clothes while they figure out exactly how to get Chase off of the amulet is weird, it’s… been nice. Lots of pencil skirts and nice blouses and slacks that make her legs look even longer than they are.
Not to mention the fucking heels.
Courtney swallows hard, forcing herself to look past her boss’s boss and trying desperately not to lick the chapstick she can still feel on her lips. "So you came in here to… what, exactly?"
"I was looking for the physical copy of the incident report from three weeks ago," Mandy says, her voice still slightly breathless. "The digital file got corrupted and I need to submit it to the higher-ups by end of day."
“Right,” Courtney mutters.
“And you were—?”
"Waiting," Courtney says, her voice coming out rougher than she intended. She clears her throat.
“I’ve never seen you this flustered, Visi.”
Visi.
There it is, that fucking nickname that Blonde Blazer first called her months ago. Hearing the name Invisigal damn near made her throw up the first several dozen times she heard it, corny as shit and just… wrong in so many ways. But when the first Visi came out during one of the times Blazer took over while their third dispatcher had his fifth — and last — mental breakdown of the shift…
Why does hearing it from Blonde Blazer’s lips sound almost as good as hearing it from Robert?
The door opens, bright light illuminating the dark room as Robert stands in the doorway, brow furrowing as he notices that his girlfriend is not alone.
“Oh. Uh. Hey, Blazer,” he says, a bit stilted, more than a little confused.
“Hey, Robert,” Mandy offers. “Just needed a physical copy of the incident report from Sonar visiting the kids hospital. Nothing bad, just need to include it with the rest of the reports and the file got corrupted. I won’t be long.”
“That’s…” Robert starts, looking to Courtney and mouthing what the fuck? as Mandy starts beelining towards a set of newer-looking file folders, rummaging for a moment before emerging with a manila folder and holding it up victoriously.
“Got it!” she says, grinning before slipping between Robert and the door. “Oh and just… be back by the start of shift?”
“Right,” Robert mutters. “I just… wanted to look at Prism’s file, see if I could—”
“She knows, Robert,” Courtney interrupts. “So does Galen.”
“Oh. …shit," he groans, running his hand down his face.
“Yeah,” Courtney breathes, crossing her arms as Mandy turns and starts to walk away, back towards the elevator. As soon as their boss’s back is turned, she grabs the right shirt collar, dragging Robert into the room and closing the door behind them. “So we’re fucked.”
“Because Mandy knows?”
“Because I…” she starts, before realizing that speaking the words into reality is fucking terrifying, and that it may just be easier to show him. She tugs on his collar again, pulling him down into a kiss, feeling more than hearing his grunt of surprise against her lips.
He kisses her back, because of course he does, but she pulls back before he can go too far, feeling his hand on her waist as he stares at her, brow still furrowed and lips now as moisturized as hers.
Courtney waits for the lightbulb to turn on in her boyfriend's mind.
“I don’t-” he starts, before he frowns, and then licks his lips. “Wait-”
“Took you long enough, genius.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. Fuck.”