Oh My, Mr. Finch! (Reader Insert)

Should I Start Soon?

You hadn't mean to let your disbelief slip through.

You thought for sure, if at any point he were going to ask you to sleep with him, it would be when explaining your duties as an assistant. It made the most sense. Of course, there would always be other times to pose the question, but it would make it so much easier if he stated it outright. After all, he never was one to dance around the bedroom, just the feelings afterwards.

You realize the flaw in your theory too late. You were so sure of yourself, and if he doesn't want that, then what could he possibly want? That's when the hesitation hit. How were you going to explain this one?

Suspecting your boss of such an act. Accusing him of using his power over you to sleep with you.

However, when you voice these thoughts, Mr. Crow doesn't seem angry, or bothered in the slightest when you speak. In fact, he seems almost... overjoyed. Why would he be happy of an employee thinking something like this? Anyone else would be ashamed, embarrassed, or even distraught. Now would be the time to act as he normally would around you.

Yet he seems happy at the idea.

Then you mention Helena.

That's another thing that just slipped out. You know that if he finds out about her informing you of his personally life, spreading rumors, she could get in trouble. You want to protect her. Yet you can't shake the off feeling about her. She told you wrong. She was your friend. A friend that knew you best, yet still told you that he was not to be trusted.

Why would she do that?

You put the slightest hint that she helped you formulate an ill opinion of him. He looks infuriated.

You have never seen his expression change so fast. It is like a switch is flipped when you say her name. The words come out like a flood before you can stop them, and suddenly you regret saying anything at all.

You finish your soup in silence.

At least before, there was some sort of expectation. You were expected to talk about your job, eat, further your soiled plan. Now there is nothing. Nothing but the clanging of spoons and the sound of your slurping, which causes Mr. Crow to look up at you occasionally.

How odd. This man can go from shy, to overjoyed, to angry, then finally indifferent and cold in the mere matter of minutes.

"When do I start." you finally mumble just above a whisper, as you grew increasingly uncomfortable, desperately searching for something to grasp onto.

Mr. Crow looks up at you. It takes a few minutes before he answers, and by the time he does, he has a small smile on his face, that you assume is supposed to be comforting. It's not.

"How about Thursday." He pauses, thinking for a minute, becoming more and more red in the cheeks as he does. "That will give you a.. um.. a day to rest and prepare, as today is Tuesday."

"Alright. Thursday then."

The table falls back into silence. Mr. Crow puts back on that stern face as he stares at his bowl, before noticing that you have finished and calling for the check.

"I'll drive you home. There is no need for you to return to work today. I'll have- I'll have your things sent up to my floor."

"No thank you. I can walk from here. I think I know the way. My apartment isn't far."

"I can't let you walk! The only apartments around here are the Potoo Landscapes. Surely you live farther than you think!" He clenches his fists and hangs his head towards the floor. Presumable to hide his expression. The one that your so used to seeing. The Pathetic One.

He just insulted your apartment buildings. You surely can't live there? Sure, they are shady, but it's all you can afford.

"That's where I live. Potoo Landscapes."

He stops his childish actions.

"What?"

"I said I live there. That's where I live. Mr. Crow, as you implying that my living conditions are poorer than you thought?"

He looks ashamed of himself.

"Yes... There was just a stabbing there last week. Please let me take you to my house instead. I have a guest room. You can stay the night. Please don't let what Helena has said affect you choice." He sounded pleading, voice rising in volume as he tries to convince you, until the last line, which seemed bitter. More quiet as he thinks back on what you said.

You think about your options. You really didn't want to go back to your appointment. The secretary is flirty and the shady man that smokes outside isn't really the most assuring thing in the world.

You inspect Mr. Crow's face. It's bright red, and you can only assume it's because you are so close. Nothing at all to do with the fact that he had just shouted for you to come home with him.

You are sure he will give you good food, as the man is rich, and you can only imagine the feeling of the bedsheets compared to your scratchy ones, the only thing you could afford.

You hate to use your boss for money, especially since you are trying to remain professional, but the offer is tempting.