By Minim Calibre
Notes: For ellia in Yuletide 2009. Thanks to templemarker for the sanity check beta. Thanks to the existence of the Reynholm Industries website, a timesucking black hole from which I was fortunate to escape. Thanks to the humble caffeine molecule, without which, this story would not be here today. Originally posted here.
“Ah, no. No no no no no.” Roy pushed back from his desk, the Cuke in hand forgotten at this newest slight from up above. “Jen, Moss: have you seen the latest email from HR? It’s an outrage! The sheer nerve of them!”
Jen paused her afternoon’s nail filing, sitting bolt upright on the sofa. “No, no I haven’t. As a matter of fact, I haven’t checked my email all day.” Her eyes grew wide. “Oh, god. Should I? What’s going on? We’re not being made redundant, are we? Please tell me we’re not being made redundant. Oh, I knew I shouldn’t have bought that pair of Manolos, but they were half off.”
There was a clattering from the general direction of Moss’s desk, followed by those seal bark noises that meant he was hitting his inhaler especially hard at the thought of Reynholm Industries cutting any further meat from the company bone. Which would be pretty hard to do, considering the bloodbath of late June. And late July. And mid-August.
Might as well nip that bit of panic in the bud. Roy hastily clarified his outrage. “No, nothing like that. They’ve just cancelled the company Christmas party, is all.”
The back and forth rasp of file vs. nail resumed. “Oh, is that all? Well, good riddance, then.”
Roy’s can of Cuke stopped halfway between desk and mouth in shock. “Jen, I thought you loved company parties. I mean, isn’t that why you’re always yammering on at us about going?”
“No, Roy, I’m always yammering on at you about going because I’m the Relationship Manager. That’s what I do.” She waved her arms like it was a product demonstration. “Manage relationships. Specifically, between IT and the rest of the company. So when I tell you you need to go to the company party, I am ‘managing'” — here she made exaggerated finger quotes — “your ‘relationship’ with the normal people to increase your ‘visibility’.”
“She means she wants people to know who we are,” Moss added, not helpfully.
“Thank you, Moss. I believe we all understood what Jen was saying.” Roy turned his attention back to Jen. “But you’re always going on about the free food and drink. And the girls from the seventh floor in their skimpy little party outfits.” Though now that he thought of it, Jen didn’t really seem the type to admire the girls from the seventh floor.
“Yes,” Jen spoke slowly, brightly exaggerating every word. “To get you to go.”
“Well, regardless, you always seem to be having a good time. I mean, you go to every single one.”
“He’s right, you do.” Moss’s unhelpful streak of stating the obvious continued unabated. This time, Roy chose to ignore him.
“And every company party I’ve been to, you’re still going strong when I leave to go home. You really expect me to believe you don’t like them? Come on!”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Do either of you ever listen to a word I say? I mean, really listen? Ever?”
“You know what I think?” Roy said, after finally swallowing the last mouthfuls of Cuke. “I think we should throw our own Christmas party. That’ll show them.”
“Oh god.” Jen rolled her eyes again.
At the same time, Moss piped in with, “I think that’s a splendid idea.” He paused, frowning. “We don’t have to invite Richmond, do we?”
“So. First things first: party funds. Moss, how much have you got?”
Moss’s desk drawer clattered again. “Half a bag of Maltesers, three empty inhalers, and twelve quid.”
“Right. I’ve got…” No, that couldn’t be right. Had to be more than that, surely. Roy checked again. No, that was right. “50p.”
“Do you have any sweets? Possibly hidden in the back of your drawer? Perhaps some Smarties?”
He pulled the top drawer out, pushing through the stacks of cables and thumb drives. “No, nothing. Oh, wait. I have a Smartie.”
“Good. What color is it?”
“It’s…” Roy picked it up and rubbed the grime off of it. “Blue. I’d say it’s definitely blue.”
“New blue or old blue?”
“Old blue.”
“I see. It’s a vintage Smartie. In that case, we may be able to sell it as a collectible.”
“Oh, for God’s sake you two.” Jen set down the file and got up from the sofa, exhaling sharply before storming off to her office. She paused at the door. “I’ll fund your bloody soiree, if you’ll just bloody well shut up about it!”
“You ask her.”
Moss shook his head, panic style. “No, you.”
“All right, we’ll both ask her.”
They crept up and gave a tentative knock.
“WHAT?”
“It’s about the party, Jen,” Moss explained. “You see, Roy’s flat’s too small, and my mum’s very strict about no loud noises after seven o’clock. So we were wondering–”
Roy cut him off. “We were wondering, Jen, if maybe we could have it at your place? Seeing as you’re funding it and all.”
Slowly, the door opened. “All right, we’re not inviting Richmond, you’re cleaning up, and if I get a date for the night, the party’s off.”
In harmony, Roy and Moss answered, “Deal.”
“When were you thinking of having it?”
“Tomorrow,” Moss stated. “We were thinking of having it tomorrow.”
“We couldn’t just have it here, in the office, could we?” Jen flipped idly through her copy of Heat, voice a little too casual.
Roy pressed a button to route the incoming calls to the answerphone. 4:15 was nearly 5:00, after all. “Jen, the whole point of an office party is to get out of the office.”
She gave a defeated sigh and stood up. “Well, in that case, I suppose I’ll see you both at 7:00. It’s nearly 5:00. I’m heading out.”
A ghastly apparition poked its head out from behind a door. “Who are we seeing at seven, then?”
Jen, Moss, and Roy said in unison, “No one, Richmond.”
“Moss, do you think I should change shirts? Isn’t this one maybe a little bit formal?”
“Roy, it’s a unicorn fighting a werewolf.”
“You’re right. I should change into something a little more casual. Maybe the ‘technosexual’ one.” He checked the clock. 4:19. “Right, I’m off. See you at Jen’s.”
“Beer’s over here, wine’s over there, and there’s a cheese plate on the kitchen counter.” Jen said, taking his coat. “Moss is on the sofa and has Shaun of the Dead loaded and ready to go. I’ll probably go back to my bedroom, lock myself in, and read a book.”
“Where’s your Christmas party spirit, Jen? Don’t be a Scrooge, come watch the movies with us. You’ll have fun.”
Roy couldn’t quite make out what she muttered in response, but it sounded suspiciously like, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Jen, your toilet’s just down the hall?” Roy shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. All that beer he drank during the first film was wanting out, and they were barely an hour into Grindhouse.
“Down the hall and to your right.”
He drained his bladder, tucked himself back in, and hurried back out so as not to miss the end of Planet Terror.
He missed it anyway when he came back to find Moss with Jen’s tongue down his throat and Jen with Moss’s hand down her blouse. Somehow, that made it hard to concentrate on the film.
They’d broken apart almost as soon as they’d noticed Roy was in the room. At least, they’d broken apart before the start of Death Proof. Honestly, Roy was still a little fuzzy on the details.
Jen waved her unlit cigarette around as she continued her attempts to explain herself. She’d already gone through half a pack without lighting a single one. “And so you see, Roy, this is why I hate company parties.”
“Because you have a few drinks and end up snogging someone you shouldn’t have? Who hasn’t done that?” If you asked him, which nobody had, it was a shame he’d been the one having to go use the toilet instead of Moss. Roy opened another bottle of beer and took a swallow.
“No. Well, yes, but more specifically, because I have a couple glasses of wine, and I end up shagging Moss.”
The beer splatted out of his mouth as he choked. “Moss, is that true?”
“Yes, Roy, I have had sexual relations with Jen following each of our company parties since she started working for Reynholm, beginning with the one for Project Icarus: Christmas, New Year’s, Douglas Thanks God It’s Friday and the Paternity Suit was Settled, and all the rest of them.”
Was it just him, or had the whole world turned upside down and inside out? “And you never thought to mention this–why?”
Jen stubbed out the cigarette, still unlit, on an empty beer bottle. “Because I threatened to disembowel him.”
“Because she threatened to disembowel me.” Moss paused and added, “With a shoe.”
“But I thought you told me you’d never been with a woman.”
“I haven’t. I’ve been with Jen. She doesn’t count.”
“I can still reach the disemboweling pump, you know.”
“You and Moss.” The credits rolled unnoticed as anything other than a blur in the background.
Jen poured herself another glass of wine. “Yes, Roy. Me and Moss. Is that so hard for you to wrap your head around?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Yes it is.”
“He’s right, Jen. It doesn’t make a lick of sense, the two of us. No more sense than the three of us would.” Moss shook his head. At some point, he’d lost his tie and his shirt had become unbuttoned. “Can you imagine: the three of us, performing sexual acts on one another?”
Jen cocked her head. “You know, I can, actually. I mean, what the hell, you only live once. What about the two of you? Are you up for it?”
Moss considered her words. Presently, he answered, “In a matter of speaking, yes. I believe I am.”
“All righty, then,” Roy said. Because really, how the hell else was he supposed to respond?
“So,” Roy choked out. “What do we do now?”
“I don’t know, Roy. This wasn’t covered in ‘Gay – A Gay Musical’. We are entering territory where my unquestioned assumptions are once again unquestioned, where my virgin values remain pristine and unsullied, fresh and innocent like… like paper towels on an untouched roll in a supply cupboard.”
“So what you’re saying is, you’ve never done this before.”
“I believe that to be correct Roy, but let me confirm with Jen. Jen, have I ever done this before?”
“Not with me around, no.”
“In that case, yes, Roy. I have never done this before.”
As it turned out, when he wasn’t distracted by bank robbers and police vehicles, it wasn’t at all bad, being snogged by Moss. And Jen’s skin was surprisingly fragrant and soft. “You know, you smell a bit like chocolate,” Roy said, from somewhere near her ribcage. He noted for the record that the ginger was natural as he moved further down.
She lifted her mouth from Moss’s willy. “It’s the cocoa butter. Nice, isn’t it?”
“She smells like Smarties,” Moss interjected before Roy had to come up with an answer. “I like that in a woman.”
Roy let out an undignified sort of squeaking sound as Moss worked his bum and Jen worked his balls. And another, and then another he thought would best be classified as a moan. No, wait. That was Jen. His was definitely still in the squeak category. Gasping for air, he asked, “Moss, I know Jen’s a worldly enough lady, but if you’ve never done this before, how is it you’re so bloody good at it?”
“That’s an easy one, Roy. I’ve read the flipping manual.”
“He has,” Jen confirmed. “It’s over there on the shelf.”
“Yes, and it’s a ruddy shame we don’t have a mechanical bull.”
“It’s a good thing we didn’t invite Richmond,” Moss yawned from his position in the middle, right arm around Jen, left around Roy. “Can you imagine the four of us?”
As one, Roy and Jen spoke, “Good god, no!”
“You’re right.” Moss pulled them both closer. “There wouldn’t room in the bed with four.”