pocketknife
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full company chapter 11 snippet
🕑 Added 2025-03-13 21:40:43 +0000 UTC(i have no idea how to work patreon so i just copy/pasted the text much to my phone’s chagrin) but here’s the first half of the chap ive finalized. Just figuring out how to wrap it up, then i can update the full thing here)
Fingers tighten and untighten, twisting curling balling the sheets into tight fistfuls punctuated by the sound of open mouthed gasps. V's hands rest on her shoulders, steadying J’s form as desperate movements rock her whole frame from between her thighs.
"Gentle, buddy.” Uzi lilts, voice muffled from where she presses into her boyfriend’s back. She giggles as he whines eagerly, hips stuttering as he forces himself to slow down.
“Here, lift her leg up like—yeah theeere we go..."
With the assistance of a smaller pair of hands, his trembling grip is relocated to J’s thighs, squeezing the hazard stripes marking the absolute territory stripped bare from her blazer. She groans as her knees are angled open wider, pegs suspended in the air.
The sound of metal on metal rasps through the air, and J has to suck in a breath—biting back a noise caught between a sob and a moan as N continues his rut against her pelvic plating.
From where her head rests on V’s lap, she allows herself to go limp, lulling her neck to the side to punctuate every beautiful, rhythmic creak of the bedframe with a rewarding gasp.
“N-gh—!” He chokes out, simulated sweat droplets beading along his brow. N clenches his eyes shut, gritting his teeth as the pressure of Uzi behind him keeps him firmly situated against the apex of her legs. J makes a similarly strangled yelp, vaguely aware of yet much too…stimulated to really care just how debaucherous she looks splayed out in front of her squadron like some sort of…some sort of hussy.
Her back arches helplessly, casting a lazy arm over her visor to shield her face in embarrassment as her vocoder mewls at a pitch she wasn’t aware she was capable of making. She squirms, other hand pressing down into her core, frantically trying to relieve the pressure building up up up, every circuit in her body revelling in the undivided attention and singing with fire while she’s ground into again and again and again and oh, yes please robo-god use me use me use me love me love me lov—
Snapping back into reality with a jolt, J barely registers her hand slipping from beneath her chin, forehead nearly colliding with her work desk before she catches herself at the last second, blinking rapidly.
Office fans hum overhead alongside old fluorescent strip lighting. It’s still mustier down here than she’d care for it to be. Oh well.
Her current pile of reports she’s supposed to be finalizing lies forgotten beneath her, serving more appropriately as a pillow than its intended purpose.
She shifts in her chair, clearing her throat before placing her hands on top of her table and clasping them together uncomfortably. Jill stares at her from across the room, brows knit together in both confusion and concern over the brim of her coffee cup.
“You uh…you good there?”
“I—I, Yeah. N-No everythings—“ J nearly stumbles over herself as she gathers up her papers, pretending somehow her coworker didn’t just witness her falling asleep at her desk in favor of shameless maladaptive daydreaming. ”Everything’s fine.”
“Are you sure? You look tired.”
“Yep. A-okay.” J pats her desk reassuringly. The oak echoes with a hollow smack in the brief awkward silence.
”Just uh… up… late. With… “
Please don’t say anything stupid.
“Um. Cramps.”
No, Her processor supplies unhelpfully over her blatant lie. You just finished your monthly data cycling. The only cramps you had were from staying up past your bedtime playing idiot sandwich with the second situationship you’ve had in twenty years because you’re sad and lonely.
J was always so full of very smart decisions that sometimes she even surprises herself.
"Ah. Been there. Need me to grab you anything?” Comes the response, followed by the soft squeaking of wheels as Jill slides out of her spot.
With an instinctive dismissal, J waves her hand. “No, No it’s fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I said I’m fine—“ J bristles slightly, then stops, snapping her mouth shut with an audible click. “Nothing’s bothering me.”
Her coworker sets down her coffee, raising an unconvinced brow. J slumps back in her chair, supporting her head against her hands for a brief moment to pull back her bangs along her hairline. She feels a gaze boring into her from where she presses her palms into her optics, letting out a soft trill through her lips.
“Just… a little stressed.”
“Why don't you take five with me? You look like you could use a breather."
J mulls this over for a minute, a refusal dying on her tongue as she decides almost a little too quickly that the air in her office is suddenly much heavier than she’d stand to be in right now.
Sighing, she closes her eyes.
“Yeah, yeah okay. Just let me sign off on this real quick.”
—
The hallway outside the management cubicle is dim and dingy, the smell of wet mildew clinging to every surface surrounding the walls and pipes overhead. A small light flickers just shy from where they stand, illuminating a dilapidated vending machine that casts a harsh blue glow in its vicinity.
Punching in a few buttons and tapping her rations card against the reader, Jill’s 5th caffeinated beverage of the afternoon lazily slides forward and clanks into the dispenser tray. She crouches down, rummaging through the flap and producing a small can, which she cracks open and takes a sip.
Digits tap against J’s thigh as she debates whether to get something for herself, eventually giving in with a defeated grumble. She inserts her own ration card and selects the crudely, recently included ‘OIL’ option on the menu.
“Sooo…” She starts with a prodding look, which J makes a point of avoiding for as long as the convenient distraction of retrieving sustenance would allow. “Do I have to guess again, or are you actually gonna tell me what’s on your mind?”
Jill leans against the wall while J mirrors her previous movements, puncturing her own container with the provided straw.
"I said it was nothing,"
"Uh-huh. And I'm Khan Doorman."
"That would be quite the plot twist."
"Come on, J. You've been out of it all week! Sleeping on the job, missing deadlines… we both know that’s not you…”
It wasn’t that bad. Sure, J may have been dragging her feet a little on some odd jobs lately, but surely it wasn’t enough of a crime to warrant an intervention this early in the day, would it?
She just… had a lot to think about. It’s made things hard to focus.
Upon the… predictable hesitation, Jill crosses her arms over her chest, twirling her wrist expectantly.
The vending machine stuff was always a little on the stale side. It leaves an aftertaste of pennies on her tongue. J stays silent for a moment while she mulls over the taste.
Ugh.
“… Okay,” J starts defeatedly, glancing over her shoulder and shifting from peg to peg.
“Do… you… remember that…hypothetical situation I…discussed with you a couple weeks ago?”
"You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“You know..." Waving vaguely as if the gesture might somehow clarify things.
"The one about... workplace boundaries and... interpersonal dynamics…”
"The… totally theoretical office romance issue that definitely wasn't about you?" Jill’s lips quirk up in a teasing smile.
"It wasn't—"
Another exhale. "I—Fine. Yes. That one."
With a soft tink her finger catches on the tab of her drink, fiddling with it until she can twist it off the hinge and flick it into the garbage on the other side of the corridor.
"There may have been some... developments. In regards to… that.”
Her mouth hovers just shy of her straw, trying to not so subtly guide it closer with her tongue before eventually deciding she’s already made herself look dumb enough today.
“Like… What kind of developments?” Jill asks.
J spits out her oil.
“I'm not seeing anyone!" She says on instinct, then falters as the worker drone next to her watches J process the giant, Freudian-shaped banana peel she just slipped on in real time.
"We're just... exploring... compatibilities." She continues frantically, trying to wipe away the viscous black slick dripping from her chin while simultaneously trying to minimize and backtrack from the admission. “Nothing else.”
“…Compatibilities,"
"I-It sounds worse when you say it."
"How should I say it then?”
Making a frustrated noise, J crushes her empty can in her grip. "I don't know!”
"Maybe start with who we're talking about?"
"W-Well, I’d rather not specify individuals but—“
Like a nervous dog, J can only bring herself to shoot her a look through a sidelong glance. She sets her shoulders, rolling them slightly before angling her chin upward. Immediately, a suspicious brow is raised.
Oh, what the hell. She’s already been caught. J figures now is a good time as any to spill the tea—or whatever the hell it’s called these days. She’s stopped trying after one too many failed attempts at being hip with the kids—which apparently sounds lame too, according to Uzi, at least. With a sigh, she slumps against the wall next to her coworker.
”I- I may have also been exploring… other avenues. Alongside this… happenstance. And it’s made things… weird.”
“J!”
“What!?”
“Don’t tell me you’re two timing—“
"I am NOT a cheater.” she snaps back almost immediately. "Robo-God, what kind of person do you think I am? They're all—"
"I mean... everyone involved is... aware. Of each other." J winces, hearing her voice growing smaller with each word.
"Wait, 'they're all'? As in..." Jill knits her brows together. "Wait, wait, wait, back up. How many people are we talking about here?"
"That's... not… “
She clamps a hand over her visor, as if that might somehow hide the incriminating yellow flush burning up her face—unable to stop the way her core hammers against her ribcage while the rationality of her consciousness grapples with the very irrational teenager inside her who wants to gush about her first kiss behind the bleachers.
“…Three. There’s three of them.”
“Three?”
"I-I don’t know! I just—Guh! One minute I’m—I’m trying to be professional and civil like you said, and the next I'm…”
“… Feeling things."
Something shifts in the worker’s expression, her features softening.
“… Feelings aren't the end of the world, you know."
“Easy to say when you’re married with kids.” J scoffs—then hunches slightly. “I-I can’t even explain it, It's like running too many processes at once. My systems keep overheating and I can't even look at any of them without feeling like something’s about to go haywire and now it’s interfering with my career and—"
"Breathe, J.” Jill interrupts gently— and after a pause, J concedes with a shuddering exhale, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable. On her next breath in, Jill follows suit.
“Okay,”
She starts, deliberate and cautious. “So, just to get this straight, you’re in a relatio—“
“A business arrangement.”
”Fine, You’re currently in a business arrangement with someone.”
“I-I guess,”
“And that business arrangement now has extended to two other consenting parties.”
“S-sort of?—I-I mean! Yes! Yes to…to the last part. About the—consent… stuff…and, yeah...”
“…And this has something to do with the coworkers you were mentioning some…boundary problems with a few weeks ago?”
"Well they’re… they’re not actually coworkers.” J corrects quickly. “S-Since that would be a breach of my contract agreement, I just said that because I—“
Because what? Because she has this weird, infuriating compulsion to default back to stupid corporate handbook vocabulary whenever she was uncomfortable? Because the concept of acknowledging any of this beyond the realm of J’s La La Land would somehow will it more into existence than it already is? Becaus—Stop it. Shut up.
“T-That’s besides my point.” J says, spitefully ignoring the buzzing in her head. "They're my…“
Wince.
“My flatmates.”
"Flatmates," Jill repeats skeptically. "With benefits?"
“Don't—don't call it that!" she hisses back, ducking her head as if someone might overhear them. "It's... complicated.”
The fluorescent light above them flickers, casting strange shadows on the wall. J watches them dance.
“Doesn’t help any that they were already...involved...with each other before I..." J desperately wishes she could crawl into the nearest filing cabinet and die.
“...Joined the merger.”
Jill clicks her tongue, chewing on the knuckle of her index finger. “Huh.”
Letting out a strangled laugh somewhere between self-deprecating and genuine distress, she runs her hand through her bangs while humiliation sizzles in her chest like a sad firecracker. “Yeah.”
“Well… are you happy?”
“It’s… tolerable.”
"Interesting answer.”
An itchy feeling blooms just underneath the casing of her hull at the inquiry. J feels like she’s been gutted enough this week that the idea of another game of twenty questions might make her physically nauseous.
"Well it's the only one you're getting,"
“Fair enough.” Jill shrugs, holding her hands out in mock-surrender as J crunches the canister in her grasp, flattening it into a compact disc shape and tossing it in the bin nearby. Her tail flicks.
"Please don’t tell anyone about this.” She warns with an anxious crack in her vocoder. "I-I have a reputation to maintain.”
That awful scratchy sensation returns when the idea of someone on the outside finding out about J’s certain pastimes off the clock worms its way into her mind. What would they think? Cold, professional, efficient J is... is...
A desperate, touch-starved dolt who can't handle basic social interaction without bugging out and resorting to office speak?
"Hey,” Jill says gently, but J barely hears it over the static in her head. ”Your secret's safe with me,"
—Who lets herself be pinned down and marked up like some kind of—
Shush.
“Thanks.”
The quiet is uncomfortable. J hates it.
She feels her fingers dig into her palms.
Jill takes a deep breath, the sound of her ventilation audible as she prepares to seemingly dump a refreshing bucket of ice water on the conversation. Do over.
"Well, speaking of reputation—those quarterly reports aren't going to file themselves." J says quickly, sure to make a show of herself straightening her shoulders while Jill steals another glance up.
Exhale.
“…R-Right. Unless you need more time...?"
Something in her chest tightens. There's more she could say. Should say, maybe. But J's never been good at putting feelings into words. Especially not the messy, complicated ones that frankly she would rather not think about anymore.
Besides, Jill's already doing more than enough, covering for J's recent... distractions. The least she can do is pull her weight with the paperwork.
So instead of spilling her guts about love and fear and redemption, J builds her walls back up.
"No, no. I should get back."
Her tail thwaps against the wall in an arrhythmic pattern, filling the gaps between conversation. Jill doesn't press further, which is something J appreciates about her. The worker drone knows when to back off, unlike certain other people in her life who seem determined to bulldoze through every emotional barrier she's ever constructed.
"Thanks for... listening," J manages, the words feeling strange in her mouth.
"Anytime,"
The next time she opens her mouth, Jill groans.
"Though speaking of work, I'm absolutely swamped today. Khan's team sent over those requisition forms from last week's tunnel collapse, and they're a mess."
"You need a hand with those?" J offers, partly out of obligation—and partly because diving into paperwork sounds like heaven compared to continuing this conversation.
"Nah, I've got it. It might just be a late night." Jill sighs, rubbing her neck. "The new intake coordinator doesn't know how to fill out a basic supply form to save his life."
J makes a mental note to follow up on that. Maybe some remedial training is in order. Or threatening. Threatening usually works faster.
They start walking back toward the office.
It's…strange having someone know about her... situation. Someone outside of it, anyway. Not that she'd told Jill everything. Robo-God no.
Maybe she should get business cards made. "Serial Designation J: Project Manager, Crisis Coordinator, and Reluctant Participant in a Polyamorous Relationship." That would save her some explaining next time.
Ugh, why does she keep thinking about this? Paperwork. Professional thoughts only. Starting now.
…Three? She'd said three? Out loud? Great. Perfect.
She really needs to get better at keeping her mouth shut. Or at least not spilling her guts to her assistant manager of all people.
Stop it. Enough.
There's a comfortable pause that settles between them. J reaches for the door but hesitates.
"J?" Comes the voice behind her.
"Hmm?"
"Whatever's going on with you and your... friends?" Jill's tone is carefully neutral. "I really hope it works out for you.”
J feels herself flush again. As much as she’d hate to admit it, under everything, there’s something weirdly nice about having someone in her corner.
"Yeah. Well. We'll see."
With a quick nod, she retreats back into her office sanctuary, already plotting how to bury herself in enough paperwork to forget this conversation ever happened.
