hoosierbitch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hoosierbitch) wrote2010-05-17 02:24 pm
hoosierbitch) wrote2010-05-17 02:24 pm
Entry tags:
FIC: Skype sounds kinda dirty, doesn't it?
So I start my new job today, and it's a work-from-home-thing. And I was setting up all my phone/computer equipment, and, uh, this is what was going through my head:
<hr>
When Peter came down from his office at noon, he'd been expecting Neal to be off flirting with someone, or stealing sugar packets, or drawing on the walls because he had the self-control of a two year old. He hadn't expected Neal to be sitting at his desk, staring at his phone with a look of horror. "Neal? What's wrong?"
Neal looked up at him and then looked morosly back to the mass of black plastic on his desk. "I am a very smart person," he said.
"...yes," Peter replied suspiciously, wondering what trouble Neal possibly could have gotten into in the two hours he'd been on his own.
"No, I mean, I'm really very intelligent. You know that, don't you?"
"...yes," Peter replied, in a somewhat more bemused voice.
"But the phone. Peter - this phone is evil. It has things and ball bearings and pivots and some weird headset-hanger wire that doesn't plug in anywhere and for some reason they gave me TWO headsets - am I supposed to wear one on each ear? I can't even figure out how to get the ear pieces attached, and that foam bit is staring at me." He poked at a tangle of wires cautiously. "Is this the kind of thing you learn at, like, real jobs? Or school?"
"No," Peter said, walking around Neal's desk and looking at the destruction he'd caused. "This is something you learn by following directions."
"Ah," Neal said, enlightened. "There were indeed papers. With pictures of things. And words. But none of them made sense. I even tried reading the French and Spanish versions - but it is nonsensical in every language."
Peter got the instructions out of the trash and gave Neal the task of untangling the wires. A few minutes later, he handed Neal three different earpieces. "See which one fits best, and we'll give the other two back."
"Right," Neal said, and he carefully tried on each ear piece, somehow managing not to disturb his carefully created careless hairdo. "This one," Neal said, pointing at the biggest. "Peter?"
"Yes?"
"Do I have big ears?"
"No," Peter said with a sigh. He did have big eyes, though. Like a starving kitten. "They're perfectly average."
"You're just saying that," Neal said morosly, fiddling with his earpiece while Peter put the other two back. "I bet even if they were huge, you wouldn't tell me." Peter pondered. Was this one of those things like saying no-honey-your-ass-looks-great that men were supposed to lie about? Elizabeth had always told him to just be honest, if she asked for his opinion it meant she wanted it. And also, her ass always looked great. He looked at Neal's ears.
"They're fine."
Neal brushed his hair out of the way and tilted his head so Peter would have a better angle. "Are you sure?"
"I don't want to know," Hughes said, walking briskly past them.
Neal untangled the cords, and Peter plugged them all in to the appropriate sockets. Neal looked on admiringly. "You're very handy," Neal said, with an oddly proprietary tone. "I like that in a man."
"So does El," Peter replied. Neal hmm'd and leaned back in his chair to stair at Peter's ass while he bent over the desk to get the USB headset plugged into the right port. "Neal! Eyes up front!"
Neal sighed and then picked up the two different headsets. "Peter - what on earth could I possibly be doing that would necessitate carrying one two silmultaneous conversations? And also, what happened to just holding up the phone with your hand?"
"Things have changed in the past four years," Peter said wisely. "Great technological advances."
"People are lazy," Neal said dismissively.
"Also, that. Now, look - this headset's for your landline. And this one connects to your computer - in case you want to Skype with someone, or do a voice chat." Neal stared at him, baffled.
"Is that, like, a sex thing?"
"What?"
"Skype. It sounds kind of dirty. Am I supposed to be phone sexing? Or sexting? I read about that in Newsweek."
"Please," he said. "Please, stop talking. I am running out of high blood pressure medication. Now, you've got everything set up. Any other questions?"
Neal looked at his desk with a tragic expression. "I have a job," he said quietly.
"Yeah," Peter replied, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder. "You do."
"If this is what being a grown-up feels like, I think I'd like to quit," Neal replied.
"How about I take you out for lunch instead?"
"Yes," Neal said decisively, standing up and grabbing his coat and hat, giving his desk a wide berth as they walked past it. "You can explain my phone to me. It's tiny, Peter. It is made for people with dwarf hands." Peter resisted the urge to facepalm, and followed his consultant out the door.
<hr>
When Peter came down from his office at noon, he'd been expecting Neal to be off flirting with someone, or stealing sugar packets, or drawing on the walls because he had the self-control of a two year old. He hadn't expected Neal to be sitting at his desk, staring at his phone with a look of horror. "Neal? What's wrong?"
Neal looked up at him and then looked morosly back to the mass of black plastic on his desk. "I am a very smart person," he said.
"...yes," Peter replied suspiciously, wondering what trouble Neal possibly could have gotten into in the two hours he'd been on his own.
"No, I mean, I'm really very intelligent. You know that, don't you?"
"...yes," Peter replied, in a somewhat more bemused voice.
"But the phone. Peter - this phone is evil. It has things and ball bearings and pivots and some weird headset-hanger wire that doesn't plug in anywhere and for some reason they gave me TWO headsets - am I supposed to wear one on each ear? I can't even figure out how to get the ear pieces attached, and that foam bit is staring at me." He poked at a tangle of wires cautiously. "Is this the kind of thing you learn at, like, real jobs? Or school?"
"No," Peter said, walking around Neal's desk and looking at the destruction he'd caused. "This is something you learn by following directions."
"Ah," Neal said, enlightened. "There were indeed papers. With pictures of things. And words. But none of them made sense. I even tried reading the French and Spanish versions - but it is nonsensical in every language."
Peter got the instructions out of the trash and gave Neal the task of untangling the wires. A few minutes later, he handed Neal three different earpieces. "See which one fits best, and we'll give the other two back."
"Right," Neal said, and he carefully tried on each ear piece, somehow managing not to disturb his carefully created careless hairdo. "This one," Neal said, pointing at the biggest. "Peter?"
"Yes?"
"Do I have big ears?"
"No," Peter said with a sigh. He did have big eyes, though. Like a starving kitten. "They're perfectly average."
"You're just saying that," Neal said morosly, fiddling with his earpiece while Peter put the other two back. "I bet even if they were huge, you wouldn't tell me." Peter pondered. Was this one of those things like saying no-honey-your-ass-looks-great that men were supposed to lie about? Elizabeth had always told him to just be honest, if she asked for his opinion it meant she wanted it. And also, her ass always looked great. He looked at Neal's ears.
"They're fine."
Neal brushed his hair out of the way and tilted his head so Peter would have a better angle. "Are you sure?"
"I don't want to know," Hughes said, walking briskly past them.
Neal untangled the cords, and Peter plugged them all in to the appropriate sockets. Neal looked on admiringly. "You're very handy," Neal said, with an oddly proprietary tone. "I like that in a man."
"So does El," Peter replied. Neal hmm'd and leaned back in his chair to stair at Peter's ass while he bent over the desk to get the USB headset plugged into the right port. "Neal! Eyes up front!"
Neal sighed and then picked up the two different headsets. "Peter - what on earth could I possibly be doing that would necessitate carrying one two silmultaneous conversations? And also, what happened to just holding up the phone with your hand?"
"Things have changed in the past four years," Peter said wisely. "Great technological advances."
"People are lazy," Neal said dismissively.
"Also, that. Now, look - this headset's for your landline. And this one connects to your computer - in case you want to Skype with someone, or do a voice chat." Neal stared at him, baffled.
"Is that, like, a sex thing?"
"What?"
"Skype. It sounds kind of dirty. Am I supposed to be phone sexing? Or sexting? I read about that in Newsweek."
"Please," he said. "Please, stop talking. I am running out of high blood pressure medication. Now, you've got everything set up. Any other questions?"
Neal looked at his desk with a tragic expression. "I have a job," he said quietly.
"Yeah," Peter replied, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder. "You do."
"If this is what being a grown-up feels like, I think I'd like to quit," Neal replied.
"How about I take you out for lunch instead?"
"Yes," Neal said decisively, standing up and grabbing his coat and hat, giving his desk a wide berth as they walked past it. "You can explain my phone to me. It's tiny, Peter. It is made for people with dwarf hands." Peter resisted the urge to facepalm, and followed his consultant out the door.