#because this fic is going to be a slllllooooooow burn

[angst-fairygodmother]

Idiot (Affectionate) ~ A Bad Samaritan Fic

CHAPTER TWO: FRIENDSHIP

Pairing: Derek Sandoval x Reader Word Count: 2839 Rating: T - racism, references to the plot of Bad Samaritan, mild language A/N: I’m trying to balance covering a lot of time so that this doesn’t end up 20 chapters of the same thing and I never get to canon events and also getting some good, specific moments in, so hopefully this works...

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

Time passed. You found yourself settling into a surprisingly easy friendship with Derek, though not one without it’s frustrations, and certainly not one that looked like friendship at all from the outside looking in. On more than one occasion, Sean had poked fun at each of you, though never in front of the other so they were aware, calling you out for flirting and playing hard to get. 

You hated him for being right and refused to admit that it was what you were doing. Your stupid schoolgirl crush on your cousin’s best friend wasn’t something you wanted to acknowledge.

~

Nino’s had been abuzz for weeks with the news that the restaurant had been booked out for a re-election campaign event for the mayor of Portland, and now that the night had arrived, excitement had turned to panic. Nino had fretted constantly about every detail, from the amount of food and wine available to their arrangements on the plates. He had forgone setting up a buffet table for the cocktail and hor d'oeuvres hour in favor of what he thought was the much more high-end system of servers circulating with trays. And now two of the servers had, at the last minute, called in sick. 

“There are not enough people!” Nino was exclaiming. “But I cannot set out a table now! We would have to rearrange the whole room!”

You had only just arrived, stepping into the chaos from the street like passing through an invisible barrier. One that at least part of you wanted to turn around and cross back over again. 

“You need servers more than valets tonight, why not ask those two boys to help?” one of the kitchen staff suggested.

“That’s really not how their contract works,” you muttered, even though you knew it didn’t really matter in the end.

Nino looked thoughtful and turned to you. “Do you think they’d do it?”

Sean and Derek weren’t even there yet, and wouldn’t be until almost opening, so it would be a gamble, unless Nino could get them to pick up the phone. Plus they didn’t have appropriate service uniforms to your knowledge. Which meant that Nino had to either change everyone’s outfits or hope he had spares somewhere in the restaurant. Not to mention, there was no guarantee they’d even be willing, and since they were hired as valets (technically Nino’s had an account with their business, but since it was the only one so far and they didn’t really seem to be actively searching for more, he may as well have hired them directly), they weren’t obligated to do anything other than park and retrieve cars.

You sighed. The only problem with working with family was that you were expected to be able to know Sean’s thoughts on things, as if you were some kind of mind reader or expert.

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug. “But they both have a lot of respect for you, so it can’t hurt to ask.” 

That was a lie. It could hurt. Saying no would make things awkward, saying yes would cost them a night of tips and...extracurriculars which you chose to actively not acknowledge. But the latter was probably best, since pulling their usual tricks on the mayor, his donors, and his powerful friends would be asking to get caught and spend the rest of their lives in prison.

“Great!” Nino hurried off to the phone as if you had said they would help without a doubt.

~

“Where is your tie?” Nino asked, gesturing, appalled, at Derek’s bare collar. “I told them to find you a tie. You’re not dressed properly. I can’t let you be seen like that!”

The whole staff was gathered around in the lobby for some sort of pep-talk/debrief and assignments before the doors opened for the big event. Nino was checking every detail like a hawk, jittery with nerves. The kitchen guys were anxious, not sure why they’d been dragged from their stations to the front of house, acting like a crowd of kids that got called to the principal’s office. Everyone else was casual, mostly gossiping over who they thought would be there, hoping for a political scandal to break before their eyes. 

Derek held up a length of black silk. “You got any of them clip-on kind? I’ve never worn one before, so I don’t know what I’m doin.”

Nino sputtered. You rolled your eyes, stepping up beside him.

“I’ll take care of this, Nino,” you offered, gesturing at Derek’s entire self, and he had the nerve to look offended.

He nodded, turning away in a hurry, radiating nervous energy, looking for the next crisis. Finding none, he started in on his speech about how tonight was the most important night in the restaurant’s history, how he was proud to have such a dedicated staff. Then he dismissed everyone, listing off assignments as they scattered. You half listened, turning to deal with the problem of Derek’s tie. 

“Hey, thanks,” Derek said quietly, offering you a half smile.

“I’m not doing it for you,” you answered. “Nino’s a better boss than most are ever lucky enough to have. It’d be a damn shame for him to drop of an aneurysm because you don’t know how to dress yourself.”

“Sure,” he chuckled. “Well I guess that means I’m in your hands.”

You smirked at the idea, ignoring Sean’s waggled eyebrow out of your peripheral. Derek noticed, his cheeks coloring slightly.

“You’ve seriously never worn a tie before?” you asked, taking the garment from him.

“No. Why would I? I don’t exactly get invited to the kind of places you need one.”

“Right…” you sighed, stepping closer, throwing the material over your shoulder to free your hands. “Step one is fully close your dress shirt.”

Your fingers darted nimbly, closing the tiny white buttons, ghosting over his throat and making him swallow nervously. 

You continued to describe each step as you took it, looping the tie around his neck, trying to teach him what to do. But he couldn’t focus on your words, not with you standing so close that he could feel the heat radiating between your bodies. 

“And voila. Tie tied. And if someone really wanted to, you have an easy way of killing you around your neck for fashion,” you joked, brushing the fabric smooth. Your hand lingered against his chest for a moment, for reasons you couldn’t explain, before you stepped back.

Silence hung in the air.

“So I’m all set then?” he asked finally, blinking as if coming out of a daze.

“You’ve got to button your vest too, but I assume you can figure that one out for yourself.”

“I don’t know,” he chuckled, beaming at you. “I’ll give it a try.”

You laughed along with him, trying not to think about how handsome he looked, dressed up like this. Not that he wasn’t handsome all the time, even in baggy jeans and a hoodie, but the formal black and white uniform suited him. You frowned, annoyed with yourself for letting your thoughts stray down that path. 

He finished buttoning the garment and spread his arms, gesturing to himself. “How do I look? Pretty good right?”

“Not bad,” you said with a smirk and an effort to keep your voice casual. “Someone nicer might even say you clean up good.”

Suddenly his arm was around your shoulders and he leaned in to your side with a charming smirk of his own.

“Maybe they would, but you know I’ll take a ‘not bad’ from you over that any day,” he said with a laugh.

Before you could respond, he sauntered off, leaving you to glare and gape at his retreating back.

~

Derek couldn’t help himself. He was supposed to be walking around the room with this tray of shrimp puffs - or whatever rich people food Nino had assigned him, he was pretty sure it was shrimp puffs - and offering them to the guests. Instead, he was just standing in one spot, tray held out absently and teetering every time someone brushed past him, watching Y/N. She wove effortlessly through the clusters of men in pressed suits and women in silk dresses that rustled when they moved, smiling easily at them as she offered them champagne or wine. Even from a distance he could see the sparkle in her eye that made each person she spoke to feel like they were special, and as a result scored her numerous ones and fives left behind on her tray when they picked up a glass. His fingers itched to brush aside the piece of her hair that escaped its updo and danced across her temple, tucking it back into place behind her ear. 

He felt a quick flash of guilt as he traced the shape of her body in her uniform, the black vest hugging every line and curve. He shouldn’t be staring, he thought. After all, she was Sean’s cousin and Sean was his best friend. And she was a friend, these days; you don't ogle your friends. But damn if she wasn’t hot, if he didn’t want her. His mind wandered, and he was just starting to imagine what her lips on his might feel like, what she might taste like - she had smelled like apple pie earlier when she was standing so close to him, when he’d been too chicken to make a move while he had the chance, and part of him hoped kissing her would taste like it too - when fingers, covered in too many rings and jingling from the stack of bracelets on the attached wrist, snapped in front of his face, startling him and dragging him back to reality.

“Are you even listening to me?” the woman demanded before raising her voice and slowing her words, over-enunciating each syllable. “I said I want your vegetarian option.”

“Uh. All I got are these shrimp things,” said lamely. “But my buddy Sean is around here with some mushrooms, I think. With like spinach stuff inside?” 

She huffed, glaring and waiting and not saying anything. 

“I'm sorry. I'm not—” 

“Very intelligent. I can tell. I want you to bring me a plate with vegetarian appetizers. That means no meat. Nothing that was alive. And I want a selection, not just dumping all the same thing in a pile.” 

As her voice got louder and her words even slower, it started drawing stares from the rest of the guests. He bristled at her tone, feeling his neck get hot as embarrassment and anger mingled. He knew why she was speaking to him like that. She wasn't the first.

He took a slow, deep breath. Getting angry would just play into her hand and make things worse. Before he could say anything, like maybe some remark about how plants used to be alive too, they just never had faces, Y/N appeared at his elbow.

“Derek! There you are, I've been looking everywhere,” she exclaimed.

He raised an eyebrow, silently asking what she was up to, and tried to ignore the fluttery feeling in his stomach at the idea she’d been looking for him.

“Nino said there was a problem, with the...thing and unless we want the guests to just be eating tiny hors d'oeuvres all night, you have to go talk the chef down from quitting over it.”

“What?” his face scrunched in confusion as he turned to Y/N.

She rolled her eyes (he kind of loved how often she did that) and plucked the tray out of his hand smoothly, fingers brushing briefly against his, sparking under his skin like a hotwiring a car. 

“The thing. In the kitchen,” she said pointedly, like it meant anything. Then she turned to the woman, the largest, fakest smile he had ever seen on her face.

“Right...I’ll uh...get right on that…” he said helplessly. 

“Sorry about that ma’am,” she lied to the woman, voice sickly sweet as she led the woman off. “He’s a culinary genius, but Nino likes to shake things up and keep the staff on their toes.”

“Oh,” the woman said, seeming surprised by the shift. “I just assumed...because he was one of them.”

“One of who?” Y/N asked, feigning confusion now though he could see that her eyes were hard and ice cold. Her smile took on a knife-sharp edge and he found himself grateful that it wasn’t being turned on him.

“Well. You know…”

“I’m sure I don’t. Because I can only think of one thing you might be trying to say. And I know you wouldn’t be so blatantly racist,” her voice got just a little louder, pitched toward the people around them, not the woman she was talking to, “at an important event like this. Would you?”

Derek chuckled and tucked his hands in the pockets of his pants, making his way to the kitchen. It might have been a fake reason, but he figured he may as well take the few minutes break it gave him anyway.

~

“Hey,” you said, dropping into a chair next to Derek, finally catching a short rest while the guests transitioned from one part of the evening to the next and found their seats for speeches and dinner. “Are you okay?”

“Hm? Yeah,” he said quickly, pretending that he had just been zoned out in order to cover for the fact that he was staring, again. “Just exhausted. Is this what it’s like for you every day?”

You chuckled. “It’s not usually quite this intense when we just have a few tables each to focus on. I think serving tables in a bit will be a better idea of that. But I meant about...you know...earlier.”

He made a face of confusion.

“The hag with the cheap perfume and the stupid attitude?” you offered.

“Oh that,” he shrugged. “I’m used to it. She was pretty tame, compared to some.”

“You know that’s the opposite of reassuring right? And not really an answer to the question.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” you agreed reluctantly. “Probably for the best. She’s probably a senator or their wife or something, and something tells me bitchslapping a public figure is a negative on the Character and Fitness review.” 

You scratched the back of your head in a(n adorably) sheepish gesture.

“The what?”

“The thing where I spend all this time on a degree, and in the end it all comes down to one insane bullshit test and a review of my personal history. And a bunch of stuffy old men, and women these days, decide if I’m an acceptable fit for the esteemed legal profession.”

“Legal...I didn’t know you were trying to be a lawyer?!”

“Duh,” you rolled your eyes and dropped your voice. “Why do you think I keep telling you and Sean not to get caught yet. I’m useless to you for another year, at least.”

“You didn’t have to step in like that,” he said after a long pause. “I could have handled it.”

“I didn’t think you couldn’t.”

“Then why’d you get involved?”

“Just because you can handle it, doesn’t mean you should have to,” you shrugged. “I could tell you were uncomfortable. I thought I could help.” 

You let your thoughts race. Had you done something wrong in trying to divert the conversation and give him an out? Did you accidentally make things worse? Was there something else you should have done instead?

“I’m not mad,” he said reassuringly, noticing the nearly panicked expression that danced across your face. “I just don’t usually get people doing that for me.”

“Well, what else are friends for?”

There was the at word again, he thought. The thing he didn’t want to destroy, but that stood unnavigable between you. He didn’t know what he was doing. This was new territory for him. It didn’t help that the line was blurry. What was real flirting and what was joking? Sometimes you made him feel more confident than ever, and then seconds later you left him drowning, insecure and flustered. Maybe this was the moment to ask, you had left the door cracked open just enough for an opportunity.

Sean caught his attention, waving him over. He realized with a start that they hadn’t talked all night, for the first time in a long time. The door clicked shut, another chance lost. 

He turned to say something, and you waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said with a wink and a smile that made his heart flip. “I’m not interested in monopolizing your time. Besides, if I start now, I can probably pop in a quick 10 minute nap before we have to start running the first course.”

He watched you settle further, crossing your arms over your chest and close your eyes, either to continue the joke or to actually do what you said and shook his head fondly, before sauntering off to join Sean on the other side of the room.

#is this self-indulgence/projection? absolutely #but you know what #in reality all that is just window dressing #it's about the yearning #because this fic is going to be a slllllooooooow burn #Derek Sandoval x Reader #Bad Samaritan fic #Idiot (Affectionate) #overuse of italics probably #also possibly the worst title I've come up with to date