S.P. One Shots

Meeting my purple |w.v|

The day that I met you, I started dreaming...

I've been working with Wilhemina for... 5 years, 8 months, and 12 days. In that time, I've seen more assistants come and go than I can count on all my fingers and toes. Some of them leave crying, others leave rejoicing the end of their 'torture'. I've seen a few even get escorted by security, as they refused to leave.

I'm fortunate enough to just work in the office next to hers, as peers. Now, that doesn't mean she sees me as a peer but I am regardless. We often have to collaborate on projects or split the workload to get shit done. I wouldn't say we're besties, but we do get on pretty well. She's never outright yelled at me, I don't allow her to.

She respects how I work and vice versa. We have bumped heads a lot though, both literally and figuratively. She's very calculated and precise, always checking and double checking documents. I, on the other hand, am nowhere near as organized. I mean I keep my office clean and all that jazz but I'm more laid back.

I go with my gut and use my intuition for most things. It's not a 'hope things go right' type situation as she says. I'm quite confident in myself and my abilities. It may sound arrogant but I know when something is right or accurate. So, even though I tell her not to, she's always double-checking my work.

I have managed to get her to calm down in that area however. Every time she checks it, I'm right. Which I suppose has instilled a certain faith in me, in her. I can still vividly remember my first day as if it was just a few seconds ago...

"My name is Wilhemina Venable, but you may ONLY refer to me as Ms.Venable. I run a tight ship and I expect you to fall in line" she says. "You do know I don't work for you, right?" I ask with a smile, "no matter. We will be working together at some point and you must be familiar with my style" she states. "Well I see you like purple and suits with a skirt... what else is there to know?" I joke, she glares at me and turns around.

"I have a very specific way of working, and an order to the way I do things. It's proven to be the most efficient and I expect you to follow the schedule. If you have any suggestions, feel free to leave them in the suggestions box" she finished. "But- that's just a trash can" I point out, "it sure is!" she says feigning astonishment. She then closed her office door in my face and through the glass I watched her sit down at her desk.

I chuckle at the memory, she was so serious with me and it was the funniest thing ever. She has slacked up over the past few years, with me at least, she's still just as harsh with anyone else. I turn to her as we sit in her office, me on the front side of her desk in the provided chair.

"Winnie" I call her, "you know how I feel about you calling me that" she mutters. Her focus on her laptop as she types away on our shared google doc for an upcoming project. "You love it. Anyways, just a... 'suggestion'..." I voice funnily, she looks up at me and glares. "Don't you think you could be a little... less of a bitch with your assistants. At some point we're gonna run out of willing applicants" I claim.

"First of all, I'm not a bitch. Don't ever call me that. Secondly. They're all incompetent, arrogant reprobates. Maybe I would be easier if they could actually do the job they were hired for" she explains. I smile softly and push her laptop to half closed. Her eyes dart to me and she scowls, narrowing her eyes in a dangerous manner.

"Look. All I'm saying is... why can't you treat them how you treat me? I think it would give them incentive" I suggest, "because they are not like you" she counters. "What's the supposed to mean? 'Like me"? I'm sure they wouldn't have applied for the job if they weren't qualified. It's just that their energy is directed so much at not pissing you off, that they can't focus on anything else" I ascertain.

"No, y/n... they just aren't you" she says softly and I look at her confused. "I'm not picking up what you're putting down" I chuckle loudly. "You're special, y/n" she mumbles, "in what way? Mentally? I know" I joke. "For christ's sake! No, y/n. I mean you're... like..." she stutters and I look at her surprised.

"Stop looking at me like that" she scolds, "like what?" I ask genuinely. "Like I'm an idiot!" She exclaims, "that's not what it is at all. I've just never heard you stutter before..." I remark. "Yeah... me either" she agrees, "well... what were you going to say?" I smile and lean forward, she just stares at me for a moment.

"I like you, y/n. You're different and... special... in every way imaginable" she expresses. "As in..." I say questioningly, "as in romantically? Yes" she answers. "Can't lie, I did not see that one coming" I smile, "I like you too" I add before she can backpedal. She smiles widely and looks down at the pen she'd been playing with.

"For how long?" I ask, hoping that I haven't been oblivious for TOO long. "5 years, 8 months-" "and 12 days" I finish in a whisper. She looks up at me and blushes while she smiles softly. "Damn. I'm an idiot" I giggle, "just a bit, darling" she replies. I smile at the cute little pet name and then smirk.

"So boss lady. Saturday at 8" I say, "Saturday at 8" she confirms. "Harley's on 5th street" I add, "only if we get-" "the chocolate lavender cake" I finish. "You know me a little too well" she observes, "is there such a thing? I don't think so" I respond. "Get back to work, y/l/n" she utters, a grin on her face as she opens her laptop again.

"Sure thing, baby" I reply just to see her cheeks heat up, which they did. "Professionalism, Ms.Y/l/n. Remain professional" she comments, "that was more for you than me, wasn't it?" I remark. "Maybe" she whispers before we both continue our work on the project.