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starliecharlie · 3 months ago

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Could you pleaseeeee write a milchick x reader where the reader comforts him after his performance review???

SLEEP WELL, AND GOODNIGHT

synopsis: it's been a week since your neighbor got his big promotion at lumon, and you've noticed a worrying change in his schedule. you decide to bring over some cookies as an excuse to check in on him

word count: 2,895

warnings: none really, just sweet and fluffy, i kinda love them tbh, gender neutral reader, no y/n

notes: my first finished x reader fic!!!!!! seth milchick my beloved i'm a little mad at you after the finale but i still love you so so much - also this ask was such a good prompt and tbh i don't think i would've finished any fics if not for this so thank you anon!! this isn't beta read and i finished it at 2am, so if there are any typos or anything let me know!!!

This is the eighth night in a row your neighbor’s come home late from work, and it’s really starting to worry you.

Not that you’ve been stalking him or anything. You’ve just grown used to the crescendo of his motorcycle nearing your street at 6:00 p.m. sharp every night, the brief rumbling of the engine when he parked in his driveway. He became an unconscious alarm of sorts, a reminder to start making dinner for yourself, to the point where you aren’t even hungry until the second the sound hits your ears.

Recently, however, your neighbor hasn’t been coming back until 9, even 10 at night. Your sleep schedule’s been thrown for a loop because of it, which irritates you to no end, but you find that you’re more bothered by the sudden change to his routine than your own.

You’ve only had a handful of real conversations with Seth Milchick. The man has a way with words that makes your head spin, and exudes an effortless charisma that leaves you tongue-tied. He’s clearly had some very rigorous PR training, though: he talks around a question so skillfully you forget what you asked in the first place. Still, from the bits of information you’ve gotten out of him, you’ve put together that he manages the Severed floor of Lumon Industries, and he’s recently gotten a big promotion.

You remember seeing an exhaustion in his eyes, hidden behind his polite smile and proud voice, when he finally told you the news, but you didn’t think much of it. The exhaustion hadn’t lingered anyway, disappearing as soon as you congratulated him, growing grateful as you told him sincerely that he deserved it.

While you wouldn’t consider the two of you friends, per se, you figure neighborly concern is enough of an excuse to check in on him. Armed with a plate of cookies, courtesy of stress baking, and your winter coat, you stand in front of Seth’s house at 11 p.m., hand frozen just in front of his front door.

“Just do it. Just knock,” you mutter to yourself, inching your hand closer then pulling it back again. “You’ve been neighbors for over a year. You’re allowed to knock on your neighbors door.” Forward an inch, back two inches. “You just noticed a change and wanted to check if everything was okay. This isn’t weird. You’re not a creep.” You rest your knuckles against the door gently, careful not to make any noise. You press your forehead against your fist. “This is weird. It’s weirder if you don’t knock,” you coax yourself. You breathe in. You straighten up. You breathe out.

You knock.

There’s no response.

You count to 60 before you knock again, then step back so you’re directly in front of the peephole. “Hey, it’s your neighbor,” you call out, after another minute. Your free hand moves to the underside of the plate of cookies and you rock on your heels, waiting. The motorcycle sitting in the driveway confirms he’s home, so either he passed out as soon as he got home, or he’s ignoring you. You choose to believe it’s the former.

Another minute or so goes by, with no response. A sigh fogs around your face. As you kneel down to leave the plate at his door, you hear a lock click.

“Good evening,” Seth utters, opening the door as far as his chain lock allows. He looks down at you, and though the shadows from the door obscures his face, the weariness in his voice paints enough of a picture for you.

Smiling timidly, you slowly straighten up, brushing bits of snow from your pants. “Hi, Seth. I, uh, baked some cookies,” you raise the plate, “and I remembered that you got a promotion at work, so I thought I’d bring you some as a belated ‘congratulations’.” You press your lips into a line, mentally smacking yourself for not being upfront about why you’re there. Now it’s going to turn into a thing. Now you’re going to have to make small talk, to dance around the real reason you showed up, to walk away without actually having checked on him.

Seth takes a breath, but you cut in before he can say a word. “Sorry, no, that’s not true. I mean, obviously congratulations about the promotion, that’s a big thing and you deserve it, seriously…” Forcing yourself to trail off before you can continue your rambling, you take a breath, then look into his eyes, still shadowed by the door. “I noticed you’ve been getting home a lot later than usual, and wanted to come over and see if you’re doing okay.”

There’s a silence. A wind picks up, whistling behind you. Breath clouds the space between you and Seth. Your nails tap against the porcelain plate in your hands.

The door closes, a chain rattles, and the door opens again. Seth stands across from you in a turtleneck and black slacks, one hand gripping the edge of the doorframe. He stares at you, stoic and impassive, though the slight tremor in his free hand cracks his facade. “I see the weather has grown quite tempestuous. Please come in, if you’re so inclined,” he offers, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the dark house, door left ajar.

It takes snow nearly blowing into his house for you to unstick your feet from his porch. You push the door closed and pull your shoes and gloves off as you take in his home. It’s… empty. Not bare, obviously: there’s a couch, and a tv, and a fridge, the usual amenities, but there’s nothing here that’s Seths. No picture frames on the mantlepiece, no décor on the walls, no spare knickknacks on the coffee table. If you couldn’t hear Seth’s footsteps wandering around, you’d think the place was abandoned. The plate of cookies end up on the kitchen island, and you sit in one of the wooden chairs after flicking on the lights. They’re loud, despite not being very bright. You bite your nails, waiting. Waiting.

The buzzing of the overheads are driving you crazy. “Sorry if I interrupted your night in,” you say after a moment.

“Nonsense,” Seth responds from somewhere in the house. He appears in the kitchen a second later, standing at the counter directly across from you, that familiar polite smile on his face as he offers you a glass of water. You’re not sure where he grabbed it from but you accept it nonetheless. “Although I must admit, the…” he takes a sip of water, and you catch a crease in his brow when he continues, “worry you feel regarding my altered schedule is curious.”

You chuckle lightly. “I’ve been using your homecoming as a reminder to make myself dinner for the past year. It’s purely selfish,” you joke. Seth’s smile grows the faintest bit, but it still doesn’t reach his eyes. Sobering, you continue. “You’ve been coming home a lot later than usual, and I know you get up ridiculously early for work, so I wanted to make sure you’re doing okay, I guess? I’m not pretending to know how Lumon works or anything, but out of the blue promotions can be taxing at any job, so. You know.” Looking up, you see that Seth’s smile has gone completely, replaced with a hard stare that makes your breath catch in your throat.

Seth looks away first, growing very interested in the plate of cookies you brought. He picks one up as you quietly sigh, breaking it in half and holding the two parts in each hand. “Do you believe me excessively verbose?” he asks suddenly. You look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion. He doesn’t look at you. He repeats his question, voice small, hands trembling.

You take him in. Besides his hands, he appears relaxed, confident, unshaken. His posture is perfect, his shoulders back and spine straight, his face is calm. His eyes, still cast downward, are inscrutable. You don’t know how he wants you to answer, but if he’s being vulnerable enough to ask, you can be vulnerable enough to tell the truth. “Sometimes what you say flies over my head,” you admit. “But I don’t mind. And, honestly, whether I think you’re ‘verbose’ or not doesn’t matter. You talk how you talk. If other people don’t understand what you’re saying, then that’s their problem, not yours.” Seth doesn’t move. You wait for him to say something, to look you in the eyes, to walk away, anything.

Instead, he slowly reaches one hand over the threshold of the counter, holding out one half of the cookie. He’s offering it to you, you realize, and you reach forward to take it. “Your candor is welcomed with cheer,” he responds, finally meeting your eyes. There’s still a tiredness lingering around the edges, but you see a spark in them that’s been missing the past couple weeks. You smile, face warming at his openness, and take a small bite of your cookie.

“Can I ask why you asked me that?” you broach, watching him carefully. If you weren’t already looking at the line of his shoulders, you would have missed how they grew tense at your question. Instead of backtracking, you take another bite, waiting.

Seth surveys the room, strangely enough. His gaze darts from the corner of the kitchen to the living room, then back to you. That guarded look is back as his eyes flick over your face, but the longer he studies you, the less wary he becomes. He braces his forearms against the counter, tilting his head slyly. “This sudden curiosity with my occupation is rather peculiar.” Despite his words, the dimpling in his cheeks gives him away. A small laugh huffs out of you, followed by a quiet chuckle from Seth as he finally gives you a full smile, one that you can’t help but return.

“It’s cause I’m worried about you. As your neighbor, and, as your friend, too.” You pause, taking a sip of water. You don’t want to push your luck, considering this has been the longest conversation you’ve had, but Seth says nothing. He just watches you, smile having eased back to a closed-lip grin. “You did just give away that it has to do with work, by the way,” you point out hesitantly. You watch him consider your words, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, before releasing a sigh of assent. “You don’t have to answer,” you start.

He sighs, head bowed ever-so-slightly. “No, no, it’s only fair.”

“I don’t care about fair, I care about you.” Seth’s head jerks up, just as your mouth snaps shut. “I mean, your comfort. Like, I care if you’re comfortable with sharing or not. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” You’re rambling. Please shut up now. You can feel his eyes on you, so you look anywhere but at him. You take a bite of your cookie so you don’t start speaking again.

The lights buzz. Part of you wants to leave without another word. Part of you wants to break the silence even if it digs you into a bigger hole. Part of you wants to sit in the silence as a twisted punishment of sorts.

“I received my Performance Review this afternoon.” The quiet words make you look up. Seth’s staring at the counter now, too, hands folded together with his cookie half returned to the plate. You adjust in your seat so you can lean forward comfortably, not wanting to make him speak up but silently asking him to continue. After a breath, he does. “Lumon has delegated to me the duties of three positions. I’m honored that they hold such confidence in me, however there have been exigencies too incongruous to rectify alone.” He sighs. “My superiors are… unimpressed, with my productiveness thus far. Alongside other reprimands, they expressed a particular remonstrance concerning my vernacular.” His eyes flick up to meet yours when he pauses, noticing the lost look in your eyes before you can hide it. “There was a complaint lodged against me citing ‘too many big words’,” he clarifies, and his gaze drops again.

Quietly, you ask, “weren’t you only promoted, like, a week ago?”

Seth nods.

You bite the inside of your cheek. Slowly, you move your hand towards where Seth’s are resting. It lands close enough to get his attention, but far enough to let him pull away. “I’m sorry.” You tap the counter between your hands.

It’s all you can say, really. You know high-ranking Lumon employees think the sun rises and sets with the company, so you don’t cuss it out, no matter how much you want to. You also know you know very little about what actually goes on in that building, so you can’t tell him that he’s doing the best he can You know very little about what Seth does in that building. The work remains a mystery to you, and everyone else working a low-level Lumon job, so the best you can do it offer him an ear.

He shakes his head. “I should be capable of fulfilling my obligations to Lumon.” Seth’s hands loosen and flatten against the counter, despite the certainty of his words. His pinky finger rests inches from yours.

“Yeah, your obligations. Not the obligations of three people,” you counter. “You need to give yourself some credit, Seth. If I was in your position right now, I would have lost my mind the first damn day,” you chuckle. Even at the downcast angle, you can see the twitch in his cheek. So, you keep going. “You were promoted barely a week ago. You were barely given any time to adjust to your new duties before they sprung this on you. This performance review doesn’t reflect who you are, as an employee or as a person.” Taking a breath, you bridge the gap between the two of you, gently placing your hand over his. “You’re more than just your job, Seth.”

Seth stands across from you, silent. You don’t dare to look away, worried that even the slightest movement will send him running. His eyes are still, locked onto your hand resting on his, and the only semblance of movement you is the slow rising and falling of his chest. Heart pounding in your ears, you unconsciously start to mirror the steady movement. The two of you breathe together, and outside the wind whistles.

So fixated on his face, you don’t notice the movement from his other hand until it covers yours. It startles you, but you stop yourself from jolting in case Seth takes it the wrong way. Heat envelops your hand, and you watch as the hand beneath your own slowly turns so his palm presses into yours. The fingers of both hands curls around yours, and you return the gesture. He squeezes his eyes shut, his breath slightly stuttering, and though his shoulders grow tense his grip on your hand never constricts. It stays gentle, almost afraid of grasping it too tightly.

Minutes pass by in silence before he squeezes your hand once, twice, and then pulls away. “Thank you,” he rasps, blinking rapidly. When he catches your eyes you swallow, seeing how bright they look in the dimly lit kitchen. “I… I appreciate your words.” He smiles, one you easily return. Then, he clears his throat. “And the treats you provided as well,” he says, turning to the plate sitting beside him. Scooping up the cookies, he avoids your eyes as he turns to the counter behind him. “Allow me a moment to put these in another container, and I’ll escort you to your door.” You tell him okay, and pretend not to notice his free hand swipe across his eyes as you make your way to his front door.

Despite the short walk, you can’t help but linger on the distance he keeps from you. He hands you your pair of gloves, he opens his front door for you, he holds an umbrella over your head as you walk, but he does so in silence, and with a foot of space between you two.

You reach your front door in no time, and he keeps the umbrella open even after the two of you duck under your porch. “Well, uh, thanks for letting me know you’re doing okay,” you say lamely, hands clasped in front of you.

Smiling softly, Seth nods. “And thank you for checking on my wellbeing. Your concern is gladly received.” Back to cordial conversation, you guess. Hiding your dejection, you give him a tight-lipped smile and wish him goodnight.

You face your front door and pull off one of your gloves to fish out your keys, when you hear Seth call your name. You turn back around, and while you’re not sure what you were expecting, you definitely aren’t expecting him to press his lips to your cheek. His mustache tickles the skin beneath your eye, and you barely have time to process what’s happening before he pulls away. A small smile grows on your face, one that matches the one Seth gives you, and you step forward to return the favor. You linger just long enough to feel his own cheeks warming up, and when you pull away he breaks into a full grin.

“Sleep well, and goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Seth."

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