Chapter Text
The Seducer
by Scribe
Part One: Smitten
Drew peeled the wrapper down on a Slim Jim, took a bite, and laid it on his blotter. Another day with no time to take a decent coffee break, he groused mentally. Wick was being a real bastard about the annual work hours estimations, and he was trying to figure out how to cut hours without unduly hurting anyone's income.
"Hey buddy!" Drew looked up from his desk to see the familiar, rangy figure of his friend Oswald lounging in the doorway of the office.
Drew frowned. "Oswald, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be working?"
"I am. I just delivered a package from Victoria's Secret to Steve."
"What the heck is Steve doing receiving personal packages at work?"
"Oh, it was addressed to his house, but I knew he was at work, and I wanted an excuse to goof off." He came over and sat across from Drew. "Lewis wanted me to ask if you were going to be at the Warsaw tonight."
"Oswald, I'm at the Warsaw every night."
Oswald shrugged. "I know. He's feeling a little insecure these days. Just a second, something's binding." Oswald stood up and adjusted his shorts. He was wearing his usual brown Global Parcels uniform, but something was different. "You've changed your style," said Drew. "Don't tell me, let me figure it out. Hm. Hat, okay, shirt, okay, shorts..." He blinked, took off his glasses and polished them, put them back on and looked again. "Shorts?"
Oswald's usually almost knee length, baggy brown shorts were about the size of a pair of Daisy Dukes. What looked like several miles of strong, hairy legs were exposed. Oswald shifted uncomfortably. "Lewis washed them. They were covered in cod liver oil and grape jelly."
"Do I want to know about this?"
"Not unless you'd really enjoy therapy for the next five years."
"Thought so."
"Anyway, my winter uniform is in storage. I have to wear these till I can get another pair." He picked at the fabric. "I wouldn't mind so much, but they keep riding up my crack." Oswald's eyes lit on the Slim Jim, then his eyes just lighted. "Hey, beef sticks!" He reached toward it. "Mind if I...?"
Drew snatched up his snack. "Get your own."
Looking hurt, Oswald withdrew his hand. In the process he knocked over a pencil holder and several clattered to the floor. "Oops! I'll get 'em." He turned and bent at the waist to pick up the pencils.
At that precise moment Drew heard the door to Wick's office open behind him. That supercilious, British-accented voice said, "My goodness, what a luscious bum."
Oswald straightened up and turned indignantly. "Hey! I work for a living."
There was a shriek and the door slammed again. "Was that Wick?" Drew inquired.
"Dark-haired guy, well dressed, snotty English accent, looked a little green? Yep."
"He screamed, Oswald."
"Yeah, that's funny. Usually it's Lewis that gets that reaction. Well, gotta go. See you this evening."
As he left Drew heard the door creak open again. "Carey?"
Drew swivelled around to face Nigel Wick. "Sir?"
"Carey, I seem to be hallucinating. I could have sworn...," He giggled. "It's so ridiculous, really, but I could have sworn that the vision who just flounced out of here was your friend, Oswald."
"That vision was my friend Oswald, sir."
"Really?" Wick's eyes were round. "How extraordinary! Why, he's beautiful without his pants. I haven't seen a piece of tail that magnificent since my mum got rid of the family peacock."
"Excuse me, sir, but are you drooling over Oswald?"
"Yes. Oh, don't look so surprised, Carey." He waved a hand at himself. "Perfect grooming, exquisite style, poncy accent, British boys' boarding school--I'm a pouf, all right? Bi, to be exact, but I prefer sausage to sushi, if you catch my drift."
"Very fashionable, sir."
"Damn straight, if you'll pardon the expression." Wick wandered out into the office, and went around to the chair Oswald had just vacated. "He was sitting here, wasn't he?" Drew nodded. Wick put his hand on the seat, and closed his eyes. "Ooo, it's still warm." He sat down in the chair, squirming a little.
"Okay, now you're creeping me out."
"Why Carey," Wick purred, "haven't you ever heard of love at first sight?"
"I'm afraid I don't believe in that."
"Then how about lust at second look?"
"Oswald?"
"You know, I never noticed what a musical name that is--Osssss-wald." Wick crooned the name. He sighed, then said matter of factly. "I want him. I'll have him."
"Mr. Wick, he isn't like that."
"Come now Carey. He's a grown man living with a male room mate. He runs around all day in shorts. He's not married..."
"He was almost married."
"Close only counts in horseshoes, Carey. It doesn't mean a damn thing in the sexual Olympics. So," He bounced brightly in the seat. "tell him I like him."
"What is this, Sweet Valley High? You tell him."
Wick pouted. "He's your friend. Find out if he likes me."
"Sir, I doubt you do more for him than register peripherally on his 'piss off' meter."
Wick wailed and put his head down on Drew's desk. "He doesn't know I'm alive!"
People began peeking through doors. "Get hold of yourself, man."
Another wail. "That's the problem. I've been getting hold of myself for too damn long. I want Oswald to get hold of me, or me to get hold of him. I don't care. I'm flexible." He looked up suddenly, a familiar wicked light in his eyes. "In more ways than you can possibly imagine."
"Oh man, major creepiness."
"Just tell me what I should do, Carey. I haven't been this smitten since Darcy Fitzhebert cornered me under the stands at the Eton-Harrow cricket match my senior year."
"How the hell should I know what you should do? I'm not Dr. Ruth. She's shorter and has an accent." Wick's bottom lip started to tremble. "Okay, okay! Geez, I can't stand it when you cry."
Wicks smirked. "Tears--the ultimate weapon." he gloated.
"Look, what do you usually do when you're courting a woman?"
"Give them the validation number of my VISA card."
"No, no--courting, not ordering delivery."
"Well, I find out what she likes. I send..." A light dawned. The evil glint was back, and this time it brought a rapacious grin with it. "Ah, I see! Romance. Yes, excellent. Thank you, Carey. I'll invite you to the wedding." He got up and hurried back to his office, muttering busily, "Plots, plots, plots."
Drew picked up the paper he had been working on before Oswald came in. He muttered, "Poor Oswald. He's gonna make Bambi trapped in the headlights look like Godzilla. Maybe I should warn him." He thought. "Nah. This is gonna be too good to miss."
TBC