"You're saying you didn't plan this?"
He looks incredulously at her. “You think I planned us getting stuck in an elevator?”
She shrugs, but there’s a lightness to her eyes that gives away her amusement, and it pulls back what little fight he’d had in him into nothingness. “You’re the one who’s been complaining all week that we haven’t had more than five minutes together.”
He takes a step toward where she’s leaning against the wall. “So I broke down the elevator on the way to one of the most important meetings in this company’s history.”
Her fingers play with the edge of his tie, and it’s no accident that her palm brushes against his belt buckle, and she’s not disappointed when his hips readjust, coming closer to her. “You’ve done stupider things.”
"Mmhmm." He leans down, lips skirting feather light against her jaw before he presses a kiss behind her ear, the shiver that runs through her automatically pulling his hand to her hip; the heat spreads as he widens his fingers, and he matches her smile.
Her thumbs slide through his belt loops but he still doesn’t kiss her properly — because he wants to tease her, she’s sure, and not because they’d agreed to keep everything between them private and out of the office. Instead, he presses his mouth to her pulse point, sucking gently, before moving to the other side. He nuzzles her earring out of the way and wraps an arm fully around her, and she puts her hand on his chest, just above his heart. She can feel it beating heavily, and somehow instinctively knows it’s not borne of their intimacy.
"You’re going to do great," she says, pulling her head to the side so she can look up at him. She moves her hands to smooth out his tie and jacket, the light from the yellow backlit panels that surround them bouncing off the diamond solitaire on her left hand — the first thing successfully built in their brave new world.
He looks at her with uncertainty written plainly in his features, and she presses a gentle kiss to his lips. It’s become a pattern for them, whether he’s clad in a business suit or his leathers; a quiet but pervasive reminder she is with him no matter where he roams, and on his weakest days, it’s her strength that keeps him going.
He slides his other arm fully around her and just holds her, and she listens as his heartbeat slows. “I’m proud of you,” she says quietly. “And they would be, too.”
He sighs then, not out of frustration but absolution, and the tension he’s been carrying in his body for days — maybe years — finally dissipates. She smiles against his chest, careful not to get any of her lipstick on him, and squeezes one final time just as the elevator car lurches slightly and begins moving again.
He walks into the boardroom with his head held high and confidence in his step, and she tells maintenance not to rush with the elevator repairs.
the media: one direction is a terrorist organization lol
1d fans: we understand that it was meant to be a joke but that came off as islamophobic because one of the members is a muslim
the media: we have been ATTACKED by DERANGED HORMONAL teenage girls on SOCIAL MEDIA bc of a HARMLESS joke
"What I would really like to do is an adaptation. I like period drama because everyone is so restrained, but they have all these emotions raging underneath."