Across the Desk IV (Boss!GermanyXSecretary!Reader)

WARNING/DISCLAIMER: This will get lemon-y towards the later installments.  No lemon in the first few parts, but be warned.  There will be enough fluffy romantic poop in the first couple installments to hold you over 'till the real fun starts

~~~

    Slacks.  Of course you was wearing slacks. It wasn’t like slacks weren’t office-appropriate; they were stylish and quite professional.  It was just…Ludwig had been hoping you would wear a skirt today, the tight one that he liked.  But it wasn’t like he’d ever say this to anyone; it was completely out of his place.  He could get slapped with a sexual harassment suit for even hinting at his preference of clothing to his secretary, and there was no way he was going to let that happen.  He wasn’t Gilbert, after all.

    But damn it all if it didn’t disappoint him.  And since yesterday afternoon’s little ‘accident’, it seemed you’d made a point of wearing a shirt that buttoned all the way up to your neck, quite a shame, really.  The whole outfit was quite matronly, leaving pretty much everything to the imagination, though there was one upside.  For whatever reason, your hair was for once not in the sleek and polished bun or ponytail it usually sported.  Your (h/c) locks floated free around your shoulders, framing your face beautifully.  They sported a slight curl, so whenever you turned your head or nodded, they bounced and gleamed; it had to be illegal to have hair that shiny and soft-looking, Ludwig thought.

    “Ooh!  You’re hair is so pretty!” Feliciano greeted you as you clocked in, and for once, you smiled at him.  

    “Oh, well, thank you!” you replied, a little surprised by the compliment.  It was true, you hardly ever left your hair down, it was just so much more work to keep it non-frizzy and shiny when down.  You much preferred to keep it up at work, seeing as you spent most of your time bent over the computer or files, and you hated getting it in your face.  But since your pencil skirts were all in the laundry right now, and you’d specifically chosen this blouse to keep any, uh, slip-ups from happening today, you’d felt rather homely getting ready.

    You weren’t a vain woman, not by far, but you did like to look at least meagerly attractive, after all, in this line of work, unattractive women never got too far.  It was a harsh truth, but it was true, just as unkempt men never got far either.  So, deciding since your wardrobe must suffer today, you would at least do your hair and makeup extra special.

    “You should wear it like-a this all the time!” the bubbly intern said, but the two of you were quickly stopped by a rather tall brunette woman, one Ms. Elizaveta Héderváry.  Now, you weren’t very fond of this woman, but while you wouldn’t say you hated her, you would call yourselves adversaries.  She’d been with the company longer than you, and you’d still been hired as the former Mr. Beilshmidt’s secretary over her.  And to add insult to injury, it always appeared that Elizaveta had had somewhat of a crush on Gilbert, so naturally, she always resented you for working under him.

    “You’re always monopolizing the intern,” she said, wearing a slight scowl.  She stood taller than you, and so you always felt a bit intimidated by the woman, though the worst of her attacks were merely dirty looks.  She took Feliciano by the upper arm and dragged him off to a different part of the office, towards her own desk.  “I’ve got some filing that needs to be done and you’re the one who’s going to do it,” she told him.

    “But I don’t know how-a to file!” he pleaded, obviously as intimidated by your rival as you, if not more.  Wait, scratch that, he seemed terrified.

    “Then I guess it’s time to learn.”  

    “No, don’t-a hit me, you’re so-a scary!  I’m only an intern!”  You laughed to yourself, this guy really was pathetic.  You were sorta glad to have him out of your hair today, even if he’d been nice to you and not annoying, for once.

    ‘I don’t blame him, though,’ you thought, reaching into your bag and taking out a flashdrive containing today’s files, ‘she IS pretty scary.’  

    “Zhere has been a change ov plans, Miss (l/n).”  You swiveled around in your chair to see Mr. Beilshmidt hurrying out the door, tugging his jacket on as he went.  “Vone ov our biggest clients, Mr. Honda ov zhe Aichi Banking firm in Japan has flown in unexpectedly.”

    “Oh!”  Scrambling to gather the necessary materials for a meeting of this caliber, you ended up knocking several things over.  “Coming, Sir!” you called, nearly tripping in an attempt to catch up to him.

    “He has called a meeting vith us and zhe rest ov his business partners, in Conference room B of zhe Hilton.  Verdammt!”  He looked at his watch as you both entered the elevator.  “Ve’re going to be late!  I can’t believe zhis is so last minute!  He usually calls and schedules zhese things ahead of time!”  You remembered the last time Mr. Honda had flown in, back when Gilbert had still been the CEO.  He’d been his usual self, but you realized that it must have come off as rude to the Japanese client.  Perhaps that was the reason for the last-minute notice?  You decided not to mention it.

    Striding out into the lobby, you close on his heels, you both saw the limousine waiting for the two of you out front of the building.  ‘At least he sent a ride,’ you thought, pushing through the revolving doors.  The driver was standing at the door, waiting for the two of you, and you both filed in, and as soon as the door shut and the limo started off, the two of you were flipping through the files you’d grabbed, looking for anything important Mr. Beilshmidt would need to mention or bring up at the meeting.

    “Ve needed a week to prepare zhis, not vone hour!” he said, arms getting full as you continually pulled papers out of the portfolio and shoved them into his hands.

    “You’ll be fine!  You know what you’re talking about.  You’re a good business man,” you said, trying to reassure him, but his scowl didn’t loosen.

    “How do you know any ov zhat?” he snapped, stress causing him to fall back into his old ways.  “You don’t even haf to say anyzhing, you just sit zhere!  I’m zhe vone who has to bring zhe whole meeting togezher and keep Mr. Honda on zhe project!”  You shrunk back at his shouting, but a small pout formed on your lips.  You thought you two had gotten past this.

    “T-then, I suppose you can sort through all of this?”  You stopped attempting to make sense of the papers in the portfolio, closed the whole thing up, and dropped it on Mr. Beilshmidt’s lap.  Your pout disappeared, replaced by a look of quiet dissention.  You would not be talked down to like that, not when you’d done absolutely nothing to deserve it!  It wasn’t even like you’d made a mistake.  You were helping him, and he was being an asshole, and you would not stand for it.  Crossing your arms, you held his stare, which swung from angry to surprised, and then desperate.

    “No!  Okay, I’m sorry!  Zhat vas uncalled for…please help,”  You sat motionless for a moment, and then pulled the portfolio back to your own lap.

    “I understand that this is stressful, Mr. Beilshmidt.  But that’s no reason to snap.  You don’t think any of the other partners are just as stressed as you?”  You felt like a mother chiding a little boy, and Mr. Beilshmidt wore a look of embarrassment to match.  It made you feel a little bad, and your expression softened.  “Here.  Just take these.  Mr. Honda isn’t one for flowery, unnecessary preamble.  Just discuss what’s on these papers,” you handed him a moderately small stack of the files you deemed most important for this task, “and you’ll be fine.  You don’t have to make it sound pretty.  You just have to sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

    “I feel like I haf no idea vhat I’m talking about,” he mumbled, thumbing through the papers he was handed.  “Zhat guy is just so emotionless, it makes me feel like he’s looking down on me, like he knows I’m just babbling…”  His hand raked through his hair, and messing it up.  It had been so tidy and neat, and now locks of blonde hair fell into his eyes.

    “Stop that, you’ll look unprofessional,” you said matter-of-factly, batting his hands away.  And to his great surprise, you started to smooth his hair back, almost as if it were instinct.  He quite liked the feeling of your hands running through his hair.  “Just imagine it’s me you’re talking to.  You give me orders all the time, and believe me,” you paused briefly, feeling a tad bit embarrassed about what you were about to say.  “…You always sound like you know what you’re talking about.  To me, at least.”  It was only a compliment, but it felt weird, comforting someone who was supposed to be your superior.  This whole week had been weird for you.

    “…Thank you,” he breathed, and then there was silence, as you both averted your eyes from the other, having realized you’d been making sustained eye-contact.  The rest of the ride was pretty silent, Ludwig looking over the papers and you trying to make sense of the portfolio in front of you.  The only sounds besides the occasional cough and the rustle of papers was the horns and engines of the cars around the limo.  “Ve’re not going to make it in time,” Ludwig kept mumbling, looking out the window.  ‘He’s never going to calm his nerves if he keeps getting upset at the other cars,’ you thought, remembering how upset he’d been when he’d driven you home.  

    “Mr. Beilshmidt, please, just try to ignore-Whoa!”  Just as you’d leaned over to put your hand on his shoulder, and just as he’d turned to look at you, the limousine hit what was either a bump or a slight dip.  Either way, the back of the car rattled, and you lost your balance.

    ‘Shes so varm, and soft…I vonder if zhis vould be how it vould feel to vake up next to her…’ Ludwig thought absently.  For a couple of seconds, neither you nor Ludwig knew what had happened, but once you gathered your barings and looked up, you were face to face with him.  Looking down, you realized the car must have bumped you two together, and you were know scrawled across his chest.

    There was sustained silence, before a flurry of motion, and a ruckus of ‘I’m so sorry!’s and ‘Oh my God!’s and ‘I don’t know what happened!’s.  You jumped away from your boss, attempting to straighten out your blouse, which had become rumpled, as he did the same to his tie, which had been flipped over one side and gone askew.  Your heart was beating a mile a minute; how embarrassing!  You kept doing things like this, getting yourself into such embarrassing situations!  Mr. Beilshmidt must think you were a complete ditz!

    But as you tried to make sense of the situation in your head, you couldn’t get the memory of how strong his chest had felt under you, how muscular he was.  He was a big guy, sure, but you had no idea he was that toned underneath the plain white shirts he wore!  It caused a blush to creep over your face, and you tried to steady your breathing.  ‘It was just a bump in the road,’ you told yourself, ‘not like I did that on purpose.  No way would I would have done anything like that purposefully!’  Ludwig’s thought were slightly less demure.

    ‘Mein Gott, vhy didn’t I hold her zhere!?  I could haf had her in mein arms, it vould have been glorious!  Holding her, feeling her soft skin, I could haf release some…tension, vith her…’  The look plastered on his face was somewhere between dazed and disappointed, which ended up coming out as a strange, confused look.  ‘Und it’s not like I’m unattractive, if I’d held her zhere, kissed her, she vould not haf said no…’

    “Um, Sir?”  He barely turned his head at your voice, and it hadn’t even registered in his brain what you’d said.  ‘No, no, zhat’s crazy.  I couldn’t force myself on her, she’s just a secretary.  If not for zhis job, she vould probably not haf anyzhing to do vith me.  I’m never nice to her, she vould haf rejected me,’ he continued thinking, and you were starting to get worried.  “Mr. Beilshmidt?”

    “Huh?”  He finally snapped out of it, and turned to fully look at you.  

    “A-are you okay?  I’m sorry I toppled onto like that,” he stuttered, unable to read his expression.  WHAT was that man thinking!?

    “Oh!  Nein, don’t be sorry, it vas not your fault.”  Just as you opened your mouth to say more, the limo came to a halt, right outside the expansive Hilton Hotel.  “I guess ve did make it on time.”  As you both stood and you stretched a little, you entered the lobby, and were directed towards Conference room B.  But before you opened the door, you noticed your boss pause, looking uncertain.

    “Sir?” you said, shooting him a concerned glance.  There it was again, he thought, that concern.  Concern he didn’t rightfully deserve, since he’d been so touchy and on edge today.  It almost made him feel worse.  “Mr. Beilshmidt, you’ll do fine.  I know you will.”  He smiled at that.

    “Only because you helped me prepare,” he breathed, and pushed open the double doors.

~ ~ ~

    You didn’t understand what your boss was so worried about; he was doing fine.  He spoke steadily and confidently, and didn’t stumble once over his explanation and the pitch.  You even caught approving looks and nods from some of the other partners.  He was doing fine, though now you understood what he was talking about with Mr. Honda.  The man didn’t look on with unkindness or scrutiny, rather, he looked on with no emotion at all.  It was unnerving; you didn’t think you could have handled it.  But as another one of the partners stood to take the floor, Ludwig took his sat beside you again, and then, you did something you weren’t sure how he’d take it.  Under the table, away from the others’ eyes, you moved your hand and layed it gently on his forearm, in a gesture of both comfort and congratulations.

    You’d almost expected him to bat your hand away, with how he’d been acting today, but what he did surprised you, almost as much.  Without looking at you, his arm slid away momentarily, only to grasp your hand, squeezing it slightly.  You kept yourself from gasping out loud, but you wanted to; it was such an intimate act, and conveyed the emotion coursing through Ludwig; nervousness, anxiousness, worry, but gratitude for your support, as well.  And then he let go.

    You found your heart pounding again, and wondered why this man elicited such an unconscious reaction from you.  Did secretaries usually feel like this around their bosses?  ‘Maybe if their bosses were as good looking as Ludwig,’ you idly thought, but chided yourself for it.  ‘No, don’t think that way.  Our relationship is strictly professional, and a strained one at that.’  But, you couldn’t deny; Ludwig was good looking, and so take-charge.  That was admirable, to say the least.  It did puzzle you, though; he seemed to carry himself with the type of confidence that came with age; so just how old was he?  He didn’t look a day over 28, which was already two years older than you.  He couldn’t be over 30, there was just no way.

     There was a point where the meeting just seemed to be dragging itself along, until suddenly, Mr. Honda stood, holding up a hand for silence.  

    “Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” he said, looking around the room, eyes finally landing on Ludwig.  “And I wirl say I am grad the senior Mr. Beirshmit is not with us today.”  The rest of the partners chuckled at this, and Ludwig smirked.  “I have heard the pitch, and will get back to you gentremen, and radies, shortly.”  And with that, the meeting was over; you had all been given permission to leave.  As Mr. Honda left the conference room, chatter broke out amongst the associates, and Mr. Beilshmidt let out a heavy sigh.

    “Vell, I’m glad ZHAT’S over,” he said, sinking down in his chair.  You smiled at him, and started to stand up, gathering the papers.  

    “I told you you’d do alright,” you reiterated, and turned to start to leave.  “Are you coming, Mr. Beilshmidt?”  He stood as well, and caught up with you, opening the double doors and holding them for you to exit.

    “Ja, und thank you, again.”  It felt like he just had more and more to thank you for every day.  You smiled brightly up at him, and he could have sworn he heart his heart stop beating.  This was the perfect opportunity; he could see it plainly.

    “Don’t mention it.”  He swallowed hard as he tried to work up the nerve; why was it that in most other faucets of his life, he was perfectly able to find out what he wanted, and demand that he get it, but here and now, when all he wanted was a date, a small chance that he might be with you, he became a child about it.  Blushing and nervous and twitchy.  No, he had to man up.  You were beautiful, and he had to have you.  If you said no, he would deal with it, but if he never asked, he’d forever beat himself up for it!

    “No, really,” he began, feeling his palms getting sweaty.  “I don’t think you know how much I appreciate everyzhing you do for me.  I’m a real jerk to you, Miss (l/n), and I really just-“

    “We already went over this,” you started to interrupt, trying to remind him of what you’d told him outside your apartment building, but held up a hand to silence you.

    “No, let me speak.  I vant to show you my gratitude.  You are zhe best secretary I’ve ever had.  Please allow me to buy dinner for you, it’s zhe least I can do.”  You were standing in the lobby by now, and you both had halted.  You stared blankly for a moment at him, and then tried to decide how to answer.  He was most likely just trying to prove to you, like the ride he’d given you, that he was a ‘good guy’, and you knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer.  You wondered how long the argument would last if you refused.  But seeing as you really had no objects to sharing dinner with your boss, after you’d helped him out today like you had, you didn’t really want to turn him down.  And hey, free food is free food.

    “Well, alright,” you finally said, smiling a bit.  “It’s not necessary, Mr. Beilshmidt, but I know you’ll fight me on it if I press the matter.”  He looked surprised at this but you only smirked.  “So I accept.”

    “Vundabar!  Zhen I vill pick you up at seven,” he declared a smile spreading across his usually rigid features.  

    “Oh, seriously, Sir, you don’t have to go to that trouble!”

    “I thought you said you vouldn’t fight me on zhe issue?”  It was his turn to smirk, and you suppressed the urge to roll your eyes.

    “Fine; seven out front.”

    “Und it vill be nothing but zhe best for mein secretary, so I assume you haf somezhing formal to wear?”

    “…Where is it you’re taking me for dinner?”

    “Zhat’s for me to know, und you to find out.”