#crimeaid | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

somedayonbroadway · 3 months

Note

the office au: crime-aid with medda comforting spot on the whole race situation :))

The Office AU

Love this. Made it a bit more angsty than the tv show, but i feel like Sprace demands angst and I’ve been watching Hazbin Hotel on repeat and need more whump and angst in my life.

Spot was really focused on his computer as he listened to the sound of phones ringing all around him. Nothing was on his computer. Just the standard background that came with the company and unopened apps perfectly placed in alphabetical order on the side. He’d been up all night again, plotting the demise of the world’s worst paper salesman that sat five feet away from him who had somehow managed to lure an angel into an engagement with him.

In fact the thoughts were still whirling through his head. He did have a large cleaver hidden in the tiles above his head. He smiled as he thought about how it would feel to chop the man’s hand clean off.

The thought was halted when an off-white envelope was waved in front of his face. “And one for you, Spottie-Dottie,” Albert sang with a bit of a baby-ish tone. Spot despised the way the man spoke to him.

The man tore the envelope from the man’s hand. “What is this?” he growled, ripping the thing open and freezing when he saw the linen cardstock inside.

“Your Save-The-Date, my good man,” Albert states with a British accent before moving on, not noticing how Spot’s lip hung open ever so slightly as he walked away.

“You set a date?” Spot whispered, his eyes wandering over to the most beautiful accountant in the corner.

Those blue eyes darted away from him the moment Spot made eye contact. Race was chewing on his lip, like he did when he was worried. It was adorable. Spot loved to kiss him when he did that, promising him there was nothing to worry about. He watched the other man concentrate on a sheet in front of him, but the lip biting didn’t stop.

Unable to stop it, Spot just looked back down at the invitation in his hand, running his fingers over the name printed in silver at the top. Anthony Isaac Higgins. He didn’t notice Medda looking over his shoulder with soft eyes, seeing how completely helpless he felt.

He grabbed his pocket knife and a piece of wood from his desk before marching into the break room and beginning to hack at the thing, trying to breathe. None of this made any sense. He couldn’t understand it. Albert was a buffoon. He was nothing. He’d never had any hardship. He’d grown up with everything, but Spot had worked for what he had. He’d made sacrifices. He could protect Race. He could be everything Race would ever need.

Medda sighed as she made herself a cup of tea. “What’re you doin’, honey?”

“Making a knife,” Spot spat at her sharply.

“Makin’ a knife with a knife?” Medda asked skeptically.

“You got a better way?!” Spot snapped. But when he looked up at her, he softened a bit, shaking his head. “Just don’t.”

“You know I know,” Medda insisted. “You could just… talk about it with me instead of pretending like you’re at it alone, like you always do…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spot growled.

Medda nodded. “Okay,” she said, sitting back down and flipping through her magazine as she sipped her tea. “You know, my husband—“

“He introduced me ta so many things,” Spot said. “Sign language, people watching… presents just because you wanna show someone you’re thinking about them.” That made Medda melt a little bit. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard Spot say something that sweet. “I just don’t get it,” he continued quietly.

“What?”

Spot finally looked over at her, shaking his head with a small shrug. “Why is he marrying Albert?” His voice wavered a bit, almost sounding like he was, well… heartbroken.

For Medda it wasn’t a mystery. So she let out another sympathetic sigh and shrugged. “Well… Anthony isn’t really a risk taker,” she explained. “And Albert’s not much of a risk.”

Spot sniffled a bit and ran his sleeve down his face. He shook his head. “I could protect him.”

“I don’t think he doubts that, honey,” Medda whispered. “Why don’t we go for a walk?”

Spot scowled a bit but nodded, grabbing his lunch and waiting for Medda to do the same before they made their way down to a bench outside the building. It was where Spot always went if he needed a quiet place to be alone from these idiots. But today, he needed to talk.

“Ya know, he was the one who asked me out?” Spot said.

Medda raised her eyebrow at that. “Really? I wouldn’t have ever guessed that,” she admitted.

“He puts on this front, like… like he’s reserved an’ all that, but… he loves ta be loud and crazy and when we would go back to his place, he’d take his hearing aid out and when he’d try to talk to me, he’d basically start screaming and he wouldn’t even care.”

A smile spread on Medda’s face at that. She nodded, just letting Spot continue.

“He’s got this thing he does with his tongue when he’s really focused on something. And when he gets excited, he’ll literally bounce up and down like a little kid, it’s so cute,” Spot insisted. “And I love him, Medda… I didn’t know what love was before him, but now I look at him and I know I’m gonna be loving him for the rest of my life…”

Those were the words that really hit Medda hard. “That’s hard,” she admitted. “I’m really sorry, Sean—“

“Thanks for listening,” Spot said suddenly before he stood and left. Medda didn’t try to stop him. She just watched him leave and then looked down at the sandwich he’d left behind.

Well, he didn’t seem to be eating it.

—

They’d been robbed. The whole place. Some idiot left the door unlocked and now, Race’s backup heading aid was missing. He was trying not to be stressed about it but his hands were shaking now because his batteries were also gone and his hearing aid was dying. He could see Oscar trying to get his attention, but he couldn’t hear a word he was saying. It was all a jumbled, muffled mess. He tried to read the man’s lips, shaking his head and trying to make him see that he couldn’t understand.

Someone touched his shoulder. Race whirled around to find Jack standing behind him, still trying to talk to him, but Race shoved at him, yanking his dead hearing aid out of his ear and getting overstimulated and overwhelmed. He had tears in his eyes as he realized everyone was watching him. He looked around for anything safe, for the only other man who he knew he could be safe with, but someone else stepped into his eye line.

Albert smiled at him, not attempting to speak, just gently taking his face in his hands and signing the word “okay” to him, over and over again until Race rushed into his chest, letting Albert hold him in front of everyone because he just couldn’t handle this.

And from across the room, Spot scowled and turned to Medda. “Elevators, now!” he hissed. Before she could even respond, he was already heading to the hallway and all she could do was follow.

She let him take her into the elevator before he forcibly pressed the Door Close button. Then he turned to her, clearly hurt and frustrated. “I know he loves me, Medda. I know he does! He doesn’t need that idiot!”

“Then give him an ultimatum,” Medda insisted. “It’s either you or him. Not both.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“I think it’s the only way you’ll know for sure what his priorities are,” Medda said, getting off the elevator when the doors opened. Then she paused. “Wait, this isn’t our floor— Sean—“ she called as the doors closed on her.

—

Race was finally calmer now, having washed his face in the bathroom. He was trying to get back to his desk, when Spot stepped in front of him. “Can you hear me?” the man asked.

The blond nodded. “Yes. Oscar ran out and got me new batteries—“

“Good, cause I’m only gonna say this once,” Spot said. “You can either end your engagement with that singing moron and date me, or what we have, the secret meetings, the late nights, all of that, gone.”

Race was stunned. He stared at Spot with his mouth agape as he shook his head, looking down. “I don’t know what you mean—“

“Don’t play dumb with me, monkey,” Spot insisted. “You have until six fourteen pm.”

Race sniffled and shoved past him, rushing to return to his desk.

—

When Spot’s stopwatch went off later that day at exactly six fourteen, he looked over to the only person in the world he’d ever loved to find them looking straight at a red headed man who was completely clueless to the world. The auction happening in the background became loud and irritating as Spot rushed from the room, kicking at the door on his way out.

When he came back, he grabbed Medda’s wrist. “Come with me, someone slashed all your tires,” he said.

So Medda stood immediately and rushed out behind him, following him to the parking lot and finding that her tires were actually all flat, but the air had just been let out. “Spot, did you actually let the air out of my tires—?”

“He chose Albert,” Spot insisted, sounding out of breath like he’d circled the building nine times. “What now?”

Medda’s heart broke a bit. “You move on, sweetie—“

“Okay, I’ve moved on,” Spot stated, sounding desperate. “Now how do I get him back?”

Medda stepped towards him and gently took his hand. “Honey… I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You deserve to be with someone who wants to be with you—“

“That’s it? That's all your advice?” Spot demanded.

Medda didn’t respond. She could only shrug. “I’m sorry, Spot. It’s time to find someone who will love you the way you’ve loved him.”

Spot stared at her for a moment before he shook his head and started to walk away. Then he turned around, eyes on the floor. “Thanks, Medda…” he muttered, before he rushed away.

He didn’t know what he’d do next, but at least he knew he wasn’t alone. Not completely.

13 notes · View notes