Boss Me Around

Charlie was not having a good day, despite the sunny nature of the weather outside, the somewhat stereotypically legless sheep resembling clouds, and the annoyingly chirpy twittering of birds. It all seemed quite at odds with the irritation that she was experiencing, and the jocular expression on her brother's face was not helping.

"I refuse to believe it," she said, again, quite firmly, as if she would be able to command her wishes to life through her tone alone. "You simply cannot be gay. You must change your mind at once, Ed. Gayness – is that a word? - is simply not respectable. Why, what would mother say?"

Ed, newly gay, sighed somewhat exasperatedly. It was impossible to reason with his little sister when she was like this. He really ought to have gone with the note-on-whiteboard-idea. "It's not a matter of choice, Charles. I can't just flick a switch and turn it off, you know. And mother's dead, so it's a moot question."

His sister eyed him with irritable frustration. "Well, can't you be bi, or something? At least that's fashionable. All the fashionable people are bisexual these days. It's the in thing, I hear."

"Absolutely not," said Ed. "I told you, it's not a choice."

"I just - I simply cannot believe it. You cannot be gay! Why, if you were, I'm sure I'd have known before now. We did grow up together, and all."

"Well," said Ed, eying his sister with a mix of amusement and wryness. "The fact that I never dated and spent an inordinate amount of time in the boy's locker room really ought to have clued you in."

She brushed that off. "Yes, but you were a jock. All jocks do that. Does Harry know, by the way? Anyway, alright, you're gay, though I do wish you'd told me earlier. But we are NOT having your birthday party at a gay bar."

Ed's hands immediately went to his hips. "And why not?" he demanded. He added as an afterthought. "Yes, I do believe Harry knows."

"Because I say so, of course." She paused. "Harry knows? And he never told me? The cad. I shall fire him."

"It is my birthday," he pointed out. "You know you're not going to, Charlie. You never do."

"So?" said Charlie. "Yes, I suppose you're right. I just know I'll eventually find a use for a large butler, though."

"Uh," said Ed. "Well, you know, traditionally, birthdays tend to be focused around, you know, the one who's having the birthday. Not his younger sister."

"It'll be focused around you!" said Charlie, reassuringly. "Just not in a gay bar!"

Ed smiled.

* * *

How, wondered Charlie, on earth was it that she was in a limo, and about to shortly walk into a gay bar with her gay brother? It was really all too surreal to think about properly. She supposed she really ought to have known Ed was gay when she'd walked in on him and Cindy Jones of the DD cups a number of years ago, and had found Cindy somewhat irritably reading a history textbook while Ed was drawing Superman with his underpants on the outside. It had never really occurred to her though, to think that her macho, jocky brother was gay. She sighed. It wasn't really a bad thing, she supposed. It just meant she wouldn't be able to set him up with her single friends anymore, but the shock had simply come on top of a rather horrid day altogether. Her new boss, well, Editor-in-Chief, happened to be something of a jerk, as Charlie had found to her chagrin some few weeks ago. In any case, he'd thrown out her entire article layout this morning, after stomping it to bits and tearing it up, announcing quite blithely that she'd have to rewrite the entire thing. And then to add insult to injury, ordered her to get him coffee, again... Just the thought of it was enough to make her mutter under her breath something about violent maiming.

"What's that?" said Ed beside her. "Who's getting violently maimed?"

"Oh," said Charlie. "You know, that Jack Danvers fellow – my new boss. I think he'd look charming without an arm and a leg. It's rather catchy actually, that line, don't you think? Jack without an arm and a leg..."

"Charlie," said Ed, looking vaguely perturbed. "You really must cease making death threats against your colleagues. It will one day land you with a restraining order, and then where would we be?"

His sister beamed at him. "But you're a lawyer, and clever and all that. You'd get me out."

"I specialize in taxation law," Ed pointed out. "You know restraining orders really aren't my thing."

"Taxation, restraining orders, larceny...it's all law," said Charlie airily. "Who can tell the difference? Anyway, he's not my colleague, he's my boss. I'm sure there's some sort of provision for boss-murder. What would they call it I wonder? Supervisor-cide? How catchy. I do like that. Or perhaps I shall get Harry to beat him up, since you won't."

"Harry wouldn't do such a thing," said her brother. "He's much too proper."

"Won't he? How unsporting of him. I shall fire him. I have no need for such unsporting fellows."

"You will not. And I still don't get what it is you have against Danvers, you know," said Ed. "It seems to me all he did was ask you for a cup of coffee. You overreact a lot, you know. And"

Charlie stiffened, glaring at him. "Overreact?" she demanded. "I absolutely do not overreact! I never overreact. In fact, for your information, I was very calm about the whole thing. I did not even raise my voice, nor throw anything at him. I think I handled it quite well! Besides, it wasn't just the one time. He's treating me like his bloody secretary!"

And he had been, from that very first day she'd found herself with a new Editor in Chief. She'd stepped into his office while he'd been rather busy flicking through some papers. He hadn't even noticed her, at first – she'd had to clear her throat. He'd looked up, then, and smiled...and ah, what a smile, it was. Slightly crooked teeth, but wonderfully white. (Sharks could have white teeth too, Charlie reminded herself.) "Oh, hello," Jack Danvers had said vaguely. She noted that he was younger than she'd originally expected – not over thirty, certainly. "Would you mind getting me some coffee? Black, please, four sugars." Charlie blinked. Coffee? What was she, his bloody secretary? But he'd looked at her expectantly, and so Charlie, much to her chagrin, had left to get the coffee – black, with four sugars. What sort of pansy drank coffee with four sugars anyway?

When she returned, it was to find him still reading. Charlie cleared her throat, and he looked up. "Ah, thanks," he said, going back to his reading. "Just leave it there."

Charlie did as ordered, and then stood for a moment, expectantly. A minute passed before she cleared her throat again. "Er...Mr Danvers?"

He looked up again. "Yes?" his tone was polite, but impatient.

"Er, well, you asked to see me. Sir." She had no idea why she'd tacked on that last part, but something about the situation seemed to call for it.

He seemed perplexed. "I'm sure I didn't."

"You did," Charlie insisted, feeling a frisson of doubt run down her spine. Had the memo on her desk said three pm? She was sure it had...but if it hadn't, she'd have made a colossal fool of herself...

"Excuse me a moment," she blurted out, and dashed out of the room. Racing down the hall she'd skidded to a halt at her office, rushed inside and grabbed up the memo. "Aha!" said Charlie, triumphantly. "It does say 3 pm!" She was aware, quite suddenly, of the raised brows of several of her coworkers. "Oh," she said sheepishly. "Uh...I have a meeting at 3."

"Charlie," said Jenny-from-next-door, "You know it's ten past now, don't you?"

"Oh," said Charlie. "Oh, yes." She half ran back to the office she'd been in a minute ago and held up the little slip of paper. "It was at three." she announced solemnly.

Jack Danvers blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Shit, she thought. He probably thinks I'm a lunatic. "Well, you wanted to see me at three, sir."

"Oh." He frowned, brows furrowing together. "Who are you again?"

"Charlie Sands, Mr Danvers."

His brow cleared immediately. "Oh!" said he. "Oh, I see. But I thought Charlie Sands was a man." He paused. "You're not a man."

"Er," said Charlie. "No, that's right."

"Then you can't be Charlie Sands."

Charlie blinked. This was not at all how she'd expected the meeting to be going. "I assure you," she said, with a little embarrassed laugh. "I'm really not masquerading as him. Er, her. That is to say, me. My first name is really Charlotte, but I hate it, so everyone just calls me Charlie..."

"Well that's just ridiculous," said Mr Danvers. "Charlie is a man's name. You're not a man."

"Well, yes, I think we've established that," said Charlie, unable to resist.

"Can't have girls running around with men's names." He ignored her comment. "Be awfully impractical. Cause mass confusion everywhere. See what happened today? No, it will not do at all. I shall call you Charlotte from now on, I think."

Charlotte – that is to say, Charlie – stared at him in horror. "Sir...!"

"In any case," said Jack Danvers, and she could have sworn there was a twinkle of something suspiciously close to amusement in his eyes. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Ms Sands. Jack Danvers, but please don't call me that."

"Pardon? Don't call you what?"

"Jack Danvers," said he. "Much too big a mouthful, you know."

Oh, yes. Regular comedian, that one.

"Alright," Ed was saying beside her. "You didn't overreact. What else is it about him that you don't like? Coffee seems to be a bit too petty, even for you."

"He calls me Charlotte," said Charlie sulkily, ignoring the petty comment.

"Oh, I see," said Ed, with a perfectly straight face. "How perfectly horrid of him."

"He is horrid!" Charlie insisted. "He's always criticizing me over the smallest things...and he rips my work to shreds."

"Well," her brother pointed out, "You know, as your editor that tends to be his job..."

"But not that much! He's meant to criticize, not demoralize completely."

Ed patted her shoulder comfortingly. "I'm sure he's just insecure at the moment. He'll get better as he settles in."

Charlie looked at him hopefully. "And if he doesn't? Will you beat him up for me?"

"Erm," said Ed, "Charlie, you know we're not in grade school anymore..."

"Well, yes," she sighed. "And I suppose what with you being gay now and all, I guess it wouldn't really work either."

"Hey!" protested Ed, somewhat affronted. "I haven't suddenly turned into a queen, you know. I can still beat people up. Besides, I've always been gay."

Charlie snickered. Her brother glowered. "What..."

She interrupted him. "We're here!" His sister, Ed thought, stepping out of the hired car behind her, was sounding entirely too cheerful for a straight woman about to spend a night in a gay bar.

* * *

Her high spirits, Charlie decided, downing her fourth shot of whiskey, earlier in the evening had been entirely inappropriate. There was a terrible, terrible irony about the fact that she was in a room filled with men, all of whom happened to be gay. The few women she'd spotted wandering around had all likely been gay, too. Her brother's party, made up of mostly men (gay, she believed, since no self respecting straight men was going to be stepping into a gay bar, and really, where on earth had Ed found the time to be meeting all these gay people when she'd not even known about it until today?) had included only herself on one other female whom Ed, she believed, had thoughtfully invited along so she wouldn't be lonely... It was entirely unfortunate, of course, that she'd hardly seen Cindy Jones of the DD cups since high school.

Charlie sighed. It was really not at all amusing to be sitting at a bar drinking while everyone else was dancing. But Charlie had never been one for dancing, let alone dancing alone...she really couldn't see herself just marching into the pit and dancing. In any case, the noise and the music was beginning to grind on her nerves and she looked around for Ed to tell him she was leaving early. She did, after all, have an article to be finishing up for tomorrow.

There was a movement out of the corner of her eye which caught her interest and she turned to see a figure suspiciously resembling Jack Danvers take a seat at the bar, just around the corner from where she herself was seating. She stared for a moment in perplexity, then amusement. Well, so it turned out that her boss was gay...who'd have thought? Perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised, though...today seemed to be a day when it seemed downright unfashionable not to be homosexual. He chose that moment to look up, and met her eyes. His jaw dropped, and an expression of horror crossed over his face – he glanced down, then before her puzzled eyes tripped out of his chair, half stumbling half running oddly towards the rear of the room.

A little grin curling her lips, Charlie decided to give chase.

She lurched slightly as she got to her feet. Hmm. Perhaps four shots hadn't been so wise a choice. She didn't process alcohol well and two was usually enough to get her tipsy, so four was probably pushing it a bit. She shook her head to clear it and started off through the crowd of people, stumbling occasionally but finally arriving at her destination, slightly confuzzled to see that he'd disappeared.

Ah, the restrooms. She made her way towards them, was halfway towards the men's room when she stopped and rethought the wisdom of barging into a male toilet. Alright. Perhaps it hadn't been as good an idea as she'd originally thought. She'd just stand here and wait for him to come back...then she'd...well. Charlie wasn't sure exactly what she'd do when he emerged, but she'd deal with that when it came to it.

A door opened to her left and she turned her head slightly to see a woman with a very large bosom (did people even use that word anymore?) stepping out of the women's restroom. The woman stopped a few feet short of where Charlie was standing and looked her up and down, a calculating expression on her face. Charlie looked away uncomfortably and pretended to be absorbed in a sign by the door advertising Super Fun Super Stretch Condoms, even as she was aware that the woman was coming rather close to invading her personal space. Yep, there was invasion of personal space right there. The cloying smell of her perfume filled Charlie's nostrils.

"Well hello there," purred the large-bosomed-lady, "What's a pretty little thing like you doing here?"

Good lord, thought Charlie. I do believe she's hitting on me. But why is she hitting on me? I'm not homosexually inclined in the least!

"Erm," said Charlie. There was a pause. "Well, I, er...I...I really need to use the loo!"

Before the woman could blink, she was already dashing into the woman's toilets.

* * *

"Well," said Charlie. "I certainly didn't expect to see you here."

Jack Danvers, emerging from one of the cubicles, froze. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," said Charlie. "This is a women's restroom. Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

He held out a furry bundle in his hand. "There was a ferret." He seemed to think was explanation enough.

"Oh," said Charlie. "That's nice." Then, "Why are you here?"

"The ferret was in my pants."

Charlie wrinkled her nose. "Ew."

He glared at her. "Not like that!"

"Well alright," said Charlie. "That still doesn't explain, specifically, why you're in a female toilet."

"Well I couldn't go in the male ones," said Jack, looking at her like she was mad. "There are men in there."

"Er," said Charlie. "Well, that sometimes happens..."

"Gay men," said Jack.

Charlie stared at him. "So?"

"So, they might hit on me."

Ignoring the illogical nature of that statement, Charlie said, somewhat questioningly, "But...isn't that a good thing?"

Jack looked at her in horror. "Good lord woman," said he, aghast. "I'm not gay!"

"Huh," said Charlie. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," said Jack, very coldly. "Quite."

Charlie, feeling a little dazed, leaned back against the wash sink and crossed her arms. "Well," she demanded, "If you aren't gay, what are you doing in the ladies room of a gay bar with a ferret down your pants, huh?"

Jack stared at her. "I just told you!"

She shook her head. "Nuh uh. Don't believe you."

He sighed, looking towards the heavens as though to say, why me? When his eyes met hers again, there was something of a calculating glint in them. She didn't think she liked that, and inched slightly away, hoping he didn't notice the small movement. He did, and stepped a bit closer.

"Hey," said Charlie. "You stay right where you are now."

Jack raised a brow. "But why?" he queried. "Surely you've nothing to fear from me, since I am gay and all..."

"Well," Charlie spluttered, "Well...well, you might still be a crazy axe murderer!"

"Hmm," said Jack, who was now standing close enough that Charlie's personal space invasion alarms were screaming. Too close! Too close! "Then you'd be in a rather tricky situation, wouldn't you...?"

"I –" said Charlie, suddenly cut off when he kissed her.

Kissed...was that even the word? His mouth was hard against hers, almost violent but not quite – almost painful but not just yet – that combination of fiercely possessive nips and soft, stroking lip touches. Her head spun, and she seemed to stop breathing...

Not altogether a wise decision, since the moment he pulled away to allow her to gasp in breath, she, somewhat still woozy, dazed, and short of breath, jerked backwards too. There was water on the ground, and the combination of slippery surfaces and pointed heels never being great for balance, Charlie found her feet flying out from under her, an undignified shriek escaping her lips, and then the rest of her smacking onto the ground in a singularly unflattering sprawl. She gave up – her head hurt, and it was far too tiring to keep her eyes open after that, and so fell into something of a faint.

When next she opened her eyes it was to find herself in a taxi with her head dangerously close to her Editor in Chief's crotch. Whoa, thought Charlie, where on earth had that come from?

"Huh," said Charlie, still somewhat drunk, "What's going on?"

"I'm taking you home," said Jack. "You're drunk."

"Well duh," said Charlie. "Where's my brother?"

"I told him I'm taking you home. He'll see you in the morning."

"Where's your ferret?"

"I left him with your brother. I'll see him in the morning too."

"But you can't take me home," she protested. "You don't know where I live!"

"Of course I do," said Jack, placidly. "I asked your brother."

"Huh," said Charlie. "Well, you can't anyway."

"And why not?"

"Because," said Charlie, "I've absolutely no intention of letting you set foot in my house. And if you take me home, it's almost certain that you'll expect to be invited in, and I have no intention of doing so. No, you simply cannot take me home, I'm afraid."

He laughed at her. "And how do you intend to stop me? You're not exactly in any state to stop me."

"I have a large butler," said Charlie. "His name is Harry. He is very burly and will certainly throw you out."

"Ah, well," he replied. "We'll see, won't we? Why don't you go back to sleep now. I'll wake you when we get there."

* * *

Jack looked regretfully after the cab speeding away, and then back at the sleeping girl he had heaved over his shoulder. The driver hadn't wanted to wait, and he supposed he could always call another after he disposed of Charlie. Staggering slightly under the weight of her, he lurched to the front door of her surprisingly large house. He struggled to fumble inside her purse for her keys, but the combination of keeping her there and finding her keys was too difficult and he lost his balance, tripping and falling against the door with something of a crash. He regained his balance with some difficulty, sighed and attempted key retrieval once again. He had more luck this time, but then realized that there was no way he was going to be able to pick the right one. He was resigned to having to put her down to find the right one when the door opened, quite suddenly.