Office Confrontations Ch. 01

"Come on, sit down and join us!" she cajoled again. He shivered perceptively and slowly lifted his head to look at Marshall. For a second Marshall's heart stopped, expecting that dark look again, but he was confronted with that pitiful, teary-eyed face staring at him. A frightened bunny look greeted him, with Kyle constantly flicking his eyes down as he tried to maintain his gaze. Marshall sighed.

"Well, don't just stand there all day. Take a seat. I'm not going to bite." He tried to make his voice sound pleasant, but it probably came off a bit rude and choppy. He shrugged inwardly. Didn't matter, he wasn't looking to make an impression, he was merely there to kill time until he could take off. After a hesitating second, Kyle dropped ungracefully beside him, making the seat jolt. His hands stayed wrapped up in his lap and his gaze was focused pointedly on the table.

"Now that everyone's here, it's time to have some fun!" Clara announced, running a stray foot against Marshall's. He pulled back his foot without comment, but Kyle -- who Marshall assumed had been gifted with the same sleazy touch -- yelped and his eyes jumped up, staring wide-eyed at Clara, who winked at him suggestively. He blushed and ducked his head again, and Marshall could see him tuck his feet away as well.

"Yes, I like the way you're thinking." Aaron was all about the flirting. He loved a good dirty talk as much as he liked gabbing about his bed partners afterward, and Marshall unfortunately could attest to that. "Let's see...shall we grab a meal or a drink first? Bar's right over there." He motioned toward the long counter with a dozen spinning stools. A gritty older gentleman was filling pitchers and a slightly younger woman was mixing drinks. For some reason these details mattered to Marshall, so he took in everything.

Anything was better than staring at the quivering puppy beside him. His mouth soured simply at the thought, so he grunted noncommittally.

"I could go for a nice, tall glass." Clara teased, running her fingers along Aaron's forearm. Marshall should have stuck to watching the older couple behind the bar. At least they didn't make him want to gag. "Why don't you get me something tasty, huh big boy?" She crooned, and Aaron was up, hopping out of the booth within seconds.

"Whatever you want, Clare-Bear." He smiled with a glint of teeth.

"Something sweet just like you cutie." Ugh, Marshall would've puked up his dinner if he'd eaten anything before the sick love-fest. Or, rather, lust-fest. Neither of them wanted anything more than to fuck in the bathroom stalls. Marshall moved to get up and assist him, thankful to find some way to get away from Kyle, but that process was hindered by Kyle himself, who had sequestered Marshall in the booth by sitting on the outside edge. His eyes looked up, widened in surprise and confusion, as Marshall stopped in his scooting and resisted the urge to glare.

"Gonna get up?" He asked roughly. Kyle almost fell over himself trying to stand.

"Don't worry about it bro, I'll just take Kyle here with me. Keep him from flirting with my date." Aaron winked at Clara and tugged Kyle into a standing position, making sure to sling an arm around the thin male's shoulders to keep him from toppling over. "Let's go." He demanded, dragging Kyle off with him, and Marshall watched them leave, grimacing every time that little bastard tripped over the carpet or a waitress or his own two feet. He sighed to himself and attempted to avert his gaze.

"So, Marshall...we've never really spoken, have we?" Clara asked, causing Marshall to look over toward the busty blonde. He shrugged noncommittally. "You're a quiet one, huh? I hadn't pegged you as the silent type." She smirked, eyes shimmering with more than simple amusement.

"I'm not. Just don't feel up to keeping a conversation." He muttered, turning his head from her expectant eyes and following the cracked design on the table top with his fingers.

"Ooh, just wanna get right down to it then." She reached forward and claimed his hands, running her palms across his forearms to his biceps. Marshall flinched and tried to tug back, but she'd risen in her seat, caressing his pectorals. "Firm, too. Aren't I just so lucky! You've been avoiding me, Marshall, but I've got you now." She blew kisses at Marshall and attempted to moved closer, to claim his mouth.

"Sorry, not gonna happen." He explained brusquely, removing her hands from his chest and pushing her back into her seat. The look in her eyes said she had something more than kinks on the brain. She smirked and sat back, face more expressive than he'd given her credit before―Marshall had assumed the only faces she could make were slutty cum faces and 'please fuck me right now' faces.

"Oh, I see." Clara ducked her hands beneath her chin and leaned onto the table. Her flirty expression cleared. "Playin' for the other team, right?" She asked, and somehow she had an innocent, sincere smile on her face. Seriously, she picked now to act contrite? Marshall grimaced and shook his head roughly.

"No, definitely not. I just don't like―look, I'm not going after someone my best friend wants." Not that I'd want you anyway, you diseased cunt, he thought to himself. He figured saying that out loud would cause her to storm off, and then he'd have to deal with a horny Aaron all night, so he let it go.

"Oh, really?" She asked, instantly back to the nasty sex kitten, though from her words she sounded more like an all-knowing dating guru. Bitch. "Cause, and don't take this the wrong way, but I've seen the way you've been eying Kyle." The grin widened cheekily and her eyes slid toward the bar, where Aaron had demanded Kyle follow to be the beer bitch. The guy had already slopped half of one down his chest from shaking, and Marshall glared and returned his gaze to Clara, irate.

"No you haven't. I haven't looked at him." The response came too quickly, he was sure. But Marshall wasn't gay. He didn't want dick. He just hated the little fuck. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

"Yes you have. And getting all defensive? Adorable." She tittered like a chipmunk smiled at him with bright teeth and rosy lips.

"I don't think you understand. I fucking hate that little bastard. I don't like the look of him, I don't like seeing him, and I can't stand being here with him sitting at the table, whining and pouting like a bitch." He responded pointedly. All were valid statements, but there was a lot underneath all that he didn't want to drudge up. Not that he felt the blonde bimbo was intelligent enough to pick up on what he was trying to hide, but still.

"Damn, man, that's a bit harsh, don't you think?" Marshall froze. That was Aaron. He'd know that idiotic voice anywhere. Marshall slowly turned, and got an eyeful of Aaron's disapproving face as he slammed a pitcher onto the table. Kyle was behind him, eyes blurred with tears and he clumsily dropped the glasses on the table before wiping at his face.

"I'm-m gon-gonna go-go--" Without finishing the statement he ran off toward the bathroom, stumbling into at least three people on his way. Marshall's chest constricted with fury. Little manipulative bastard.

"That was so mean!" Clara's high-pitched voice had been annoying before, but now it was downright painful. "You made him cry! And all this time, he's been telling me―you're an asshole, you know that? And you should apologize." She glared. She was actually a lot easier to respect when she glared at him, annoying as her words were. At least she stood for something other than whoring herself out. Unfortunately, her stance was bad for Marshall.

"Yeah, Marsh. You really hurt the kid. I've never seen a grown man cry but... that was brutal." Aaron was shaking his head and taking a seat next to Clara, and it shocked Marshall to see him not try to cop a feel. He really must've been bothered by Marshall's actions. "You should go apologize. Poor guy. You know, he looks sad enough around the office with no one to talk to. I can't believe you just made him feel like shit the first time he's been invited to do something since he started working at the firm." All at once Marshall's breath rushed out. Was he being too harsh?

Or was Kyle just that good of an actor?

Either way, they weren't going to let the matter drop until he did something about it. He sighed in resignation and stood up.

"Fine, fine. I'll go say sorry. Now will you two please shut the hell up about it?" He just about pleaded. They didn't comment, just stared at him in blatant disapproval. He groaned in frustration, but turned in the direction of the bathroom.

Here goes...

As Marshall weaved through the crowd in the direction of the lanky, weepy loser, he considered what had happened. Did he really hurt the poor guy? Those tears looked pretty damn real. Fuck, he'd feel like a complete tool if he'd really just made a guy cry over something as stupid as a weird conversation in the elevator. But even so... he couldn't help but think back on that day, the way Kyle was so domineering, so powerful towering over him. Could that have been some sort of fluke?

Marshall no longer knew for sure.

He shouldered the door to the bathroom open and pressed forward, tentative.

"Um, Kyle?" He called out quietly. Something crashed, and he heard a stuttered, sh-shit, before he fully entered the bathroom and found himself staring at Kyle's hunched frame, face hidden even in the mirror reflecting back at Marshall, bent toward the floor and trying to pick up something. Marshall thought it was his glasses, but found as the guy stood up he was simply clutching the container for said glasses.

Fuck. He was still shaking.

"You... you okay?" Marshall asked, feeling like he should punch himself in the face for even being there. Kyle kept himself turned away, pressed against the counter of the bathroom. From his vantage point, Marshall could see Kyle's profile, and his face was really red. There was an angry line down the part of his face that Marshall could see, telling him the tears hadn't been fake.

"Look, what I said out there. I didn't mean any of it. I'm just in a bad mood is all, and I took my frustrations out on you." He tried to explain, stepping closer. When he stood only a few feet from the shaking figure, he paused. "I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't think." Without his permission, Marshall's hand reached out and squeezed Kyle's shoulder. Kyle flinched under the pressure and he jumped a bit from the contact. Instantly Marshall pulled his hand away. "Oh, sorry.

Again. I mean. Really, I didn't mean to--" His sentence was ended abruptly when Kyle whirled around and threw himself around Marshall's neck, ducking his head into Marshall's clavicle and shaking harder.

"I k-kn-know you d-didn't mea-ean it, Ma-Mars-shall." Kyle whimpered, and instinctively Marshall wrapped the man up in his arms. Even though he had his chin ducked into Marshall's neck, Kyle was actually really tall, probably six-feet at least. The lanky, bony figure had always given Marshall the impression that he was really small, but as those arms tightened around him, he could feel the corded muscle underneath the long-sleeved shirt. "Th-thank y-you for ap-apolo-ogizing." He whispered, and the hot breath on Marshall's neck made him want to run. And the close proximity Kyle was presenting was causing his thigh to rub against Marshall's crotch.

Oh, he was not getting excited. No. No, it had just been a while. He just needed a good lay, and he'd be all better. Just hormones acting up, he was sure of it.

Nevertheless, something was responding, and Marshall tried desperately to pull away.

"Okay, Kyle, um, can we go back now? I'd like it if you stayed. I won't insult you, I promise." He stammered, trying to tug out of the taller man's tight grasp. Nails dug into the nape of his neck for a brief second, and it was all he could do to hold back the gasp of breath when Kyle released him and dropped his head, turning toward the sink once more.

"S-sure, let m-me ju-just get cl-cleaned u-up." He was tugging down globs of paper towels and wiping his face beneath the glasses. He frantically tried to calm himself down, make that growing hardness against his leg disappear. As Marshall imagined how gross Clara was, how she probably had warts in awful places, and Megan, the seventy-two year old receptionist naked, he was able to calm himself down to a flaccid position. Marshall breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed the back of his neck, where he tried not to notice the sharp crescents ingrained in his skin.

Abruptly, Kyle whirled around, clutching the case of his glasses and his jacket tight to his chest. His bare arms peeked out where Kyle had rolled up the sleeves, and Marshall tried not to act surprised when he spotted dark Celtic sigils wrapped around the lean male's wrists. Two Celtic crosses glared vivid red at each wrist where pale blue veins stood out against the alabaster skin and entwined themselves with the wraparound red and black band. How had Marshall never noticed those? He brushed the random thought aside and looked back up at the taller man's dark eyes.

A flicker of something crossed Kyle's vision before disappearing again, so fast Marshall wasn't even sure he'd seen it. But the red-rimmed eyes were hard to miss. They almost glowed from recent tears, and Kyle's eyelids were red as well from the rubbing of the paper towels. Marshall resisted the urge to sigh, trying to find some reason not to pity the poor loser. He couldn't find any.

"Uh, come on. I'm sure they're waiting for us to get back. We still have to order." He grunted roughly. He wasn't good at casual conversation, and he didn't really care to stare at Kyle anymore. He'd just barely gotten his lower half to calm down.

Not that he thought Kyle was turning him on. Nope, not possible.

They headed out, Kyle just behind him and to the left, at least three steps back at all times. Of course the clumsy bastard tripped up the step leading from the hallway containing the bathroom to the main room, and of course he had to use Marshall as something to steady himself, gripping Marshall's shoulders tight and barely stopping himself from dragging them both down. Thankfully Marshall had great balance and was strong enough to hold them both up―though Kyle weighed a surprising amount for someone so thin.

"S-so--"

"Relax. Not a big deal." Marshall cut Kyle off, not wanting to hear the whimpering attitude any longer. He didn't like the weird pit in his stomach Kyle's weak voice caused. He didn't like the damn kid, always pissing him off and stumbling into him and apologizing and... and just breathing, dammit! Why couldn't he just disappear and leave Marshall to his supposed heterosexuality? Was it so difficult?

"Hey, Kyle." Clara's soft voice surprised Marshall. Her greeting lacked all the usual slutty slurs, and she made no attempt to welcome Marshall back. She stood -- and the slut-less spell was broken -- and rubbed her ass against Aaron's chest as she wriggled out of the booth to give Kyle a hug. He flinched and pulled back, and Marshall tried not to roll his eyes again. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'm f-fine." He responded equally quietly, eyes cast down at the carpet as they usually were. She squeezed him again, despite the protests, and looked over at Marshall, who had sat in the booth across from Aaron as the exchange had gone down. She flicked her eyes between Aaron and Marshall before returning her attention to Kyle.

"Do you want to sit next to me? I can move that big ol' brute Aaron if you'd like." She asked, no trace of that lusty tone she'd used earlier.

"N-no, it's f-fine. I-I'll b-be ok-okay." He stuttered, pulling from her grasp and slumping into the seat next to Marshall. Marshall himself tried not to noticeably scoot away. Kyle had sat himself closer than before, and they were merely inches apart. After completely insulting the kid and literally making him cry, Marshall thought clinging to the wall in an attempt to get away would appear cruel. Still, sitting so close felt a little uncomfortable. Part of him was worried he'd react again, and part of him was worried he'd punch the weeping sop by the end of the night. Neither option felt particularly pleasing.

"Well, if you're sure." Clara stared at him momentarily before tucking herself back into Aaron's lap, this time making no effort to push past to her own spot. "I guess I'll make do with this one." She grinned and pointedly ground her ass into Aaron, who groaned. Marshall resisted the urge to gag yet again.

"So, did you guys order, or were you waitin' on little ole me?" Marshall joked in an attempt to break the horny adults apart. Didn't work as well as he'd liked. Maybe because he was never very skilled at jokes.

"Nope, just enjoyed each other's company." Aaron winked and circled his arms around Clara. Marshall threw a menu at Aaron, who deftly caught it and turned it over. "Thanks, man."

"I was aiming for your face." He commented under his breath. Kyle's breath hitched and he coughed, causing Marshall to look over at him. His eyes were watering again, but this time he almost thought it was from laughter. But that didn't seem right. Marshall ignored the twist in his gut and pulled out a menu for himself, perusing the laminated object in hopes to find something edible.

"Can...c-can I have o-one of th-those?" This was the first time Kyle had struck up conversation himself, and even though he was merely asking for a menu, Marshall couldn't help but look up in surprise. The red color in his eyes had disappeared, and even behind the glasses Marshall could see that Kyle's eyes were no longer wet. His face was back to normal, too, but what surprised Marshall the most was the eye contact.

Kyle was staring at him. A blank stare, too, not a creepy predator stare nor a whimpering, terrified stare. Mutely, Marshall grabbed a menu and held it out, never taking his eyes off of Kyle.

"Th-thanks." Kyle said, face still virtually a blank mask.

Fuck, what's with this guy?

"No problem." He grunted, no longer seeing the menu in front of his face.

This is going to be a long night.

* * *

Drinks last night had gone surprisingly okay, if Marshall discounted the drunk flirting between Clara and Aaron, who -- as he'd heard -- proceeded to have a lot of sex before stumbling home.

Kyle had been tolerable. He was constantly stuttering and whimpering in his seat, almost never speaking, which was nice. Marshall barely noticed him so long as his mouth wasn't open.

Sort of. Constantly, their knees would brush against each other, or Kyle's elbow would accidentally bump into him. And, constantly, the lanky male would stutter out an apology and Marshall would wave it off. Did the kid ever get tired of apologizing?

Unfortunately for Marshall, Aaron was approaching with a long, gruesome retelling of the night's adventures on his lips. Marshall groaned to himself and ducked further down into his cubicle.

"Marsh! My man, I see you made it out alive." He was smiling, stupid expression clear on his face. "Had a great night last night." He waggled his eyebrows and laughed, leaning against Marshall's short cubicle wall without thought.

"Yeah, can we do this later? I've got things to do."

"Oh really? Like what, crunch some more numbers? Dude, you have the rest of your life to punch out numbers. As a friend, the least I could do is give you something interesting to hear instead of letting you waste away from boredom." God, could Marshall just not catch a break? He groaned inwardly and stood up.

"Alright, if I'm going to hear this I'll need caffeine. You stay here, I'll be right back." He muttered, trying to ignore Aaron's excited grin. Of course the idiot was happy, he'd gotten laid. What man wasn't happy after getting it on?