Work Text:
It’s some minutes past ten in the morning when Gerri first hears Roman move. She knows because she just checked the clock on the other side of the room, wondering if there was time for a snack or if it was only going to ruin her appetite. Gerri can’t help the fond smile that tugs on the corners of her mouth even as she rolls her eyes. Roman truly brings her soft side out in the worst ways.
Trying not to think about what that means too deeply, Gerri attempts to focus on her work again. But not five minutes later, she hears footsteps on the hardwood floor and not long after that she can feel Roman’s presence on the other side of the desk. Schooling her features into a stern expression for appearance’s sake only, Gerri looks up.
The sight of Roman on the other side of the desk, eyes still half-closed from sleep, hair ruffled and sticking out in all sorts of different directions, and yawning immediately melts all the hard lines off of Gerri’s face. An exasperated but soft smile returns to her face as she watches Roman stretch and scratch his belly sleepily. That, in turn, makes Gerri realize what her partner is wearing.
“Like what you see?” Roman asks the last word swallowed almost entirely by a yawn. Gerri isn’t entirely sure what to say to that.
Roman’s been on a journey to find himself lately. After spending his entire life under his father’s thumb and aiming to please in everything he said, did, wore, Roman has been more experimental these past months. At first, Gerri had only seen it from afar, burying herself in her work for Waystar again while Roman licked his wounds after the lost board vote. But ever since they had managed to mend what had been broken between them, turned their dysfunctional mess into a sometimes-semi-functional relationship, and moved in together, Gerri’s been able to experience all his antics up close.
Tonight Roman apparently slept in nothing but a pair of mint green boxers and a black crop top that says “trophy husband” on the front in bold white letters. Gerri, of course, knows that top. Roman had bought it approximately a week after moving in with her and showed it up gleefully when it was delivered. Gerri had reminded him endlessly that they weren’t married and that it was a stupid thing to wear for a man of 39 years but that only made Roman love the shirt more.
“You know what I think of that top,” Gerri says evenly.
“I know you love it,” Roman answers with a smile, stretching again. “What are you up to, anyway?”
“Some of us do actually have jobs,” Gerri reminds him. She always feels a little mean when she says these things but she knows Roman can take it, would probably be more bothered if she wasn’t sprinkling salt in his wounds every so often. “Tom isn’t your dad but he does keep me just as busy.”
Tom is doing a passable job. He’s neither as abysmal at the job as some had feared nor as phenomenal at it as others had heralded. He does have this nasty habit of joking at the entirely wrong time, thus creating an endless stream of work for Gerri. It keeps her busy and she enjoys her work but sometimes, when she’s down half a bottle of rich red wine, Gerri whines to Roman how she wishes Tom knew when to keep his damn mouth shut.
“Boring,” Roman declares, frowning. “And doesn’t your new contract say weekend shifts in case of emergency only?”
“This might become an emergency and I’m trying to prevent that,” Gerri tells him. She’s pretty sure Roman can see through the lie. But he knows just as well as Gerri that she gets restless if work isn’t consuming her every waking hour so she doesn’t call her out on it. Gerri makes a mental note to reward him for that later.
“Anyway, if this is all boring, you sure want to tell me about the many exciting things you got up to last night,” Gerri prompts after a moment of silence.
They may be living together, but they had decided on separate bedrooms early on. Firstly because, if left to his own devices, Roman’s on a somewhat chaotic sleep schedule, and Gerri couldn’t deal with him staying up until way past midnight and being noisy when he finally joined her in bed. And secondly, they don’t do well sleeping in a bed together in general. Roman, of course, has immense intimacy issues, and Gerri, as it turned out, hated sharing her bed after having it all to herself ever since Baird died.
They don’t always sleep in different rooms, of course. Sometimes Roman crawls into Gerri’s bed in the middle of the night and she’ll wake to him pressed flush against her from head to toe. Other times, Gerri joins Roman in his room and watches him play video games on the ridiculously huge tv he got himself for ‘immersion’ until she eventually drifts off. And on some occasions, they even get to bed at the same time like any old vanilla couple. It’s an arrangement that works perfectly fine for them - and leaves Gerri the option to derail a conversation by asking about Roman’s nighttime activities.
“Oh, I didn’t get up to much,” Roman says, yawns and stretches again. “I fell down some rabbit hole of video essays on outlawed scientific experiments on youtube until a bit past midnight. And then I got called every slur under the sun in some combat game voice chat until like four in the morning. I learned some spicy new words. You wanna hear?”
“I’ll pass,” Gerri sighs. Roman only shrugs as if to say ‘Your loss’. “And what are you thinking of doing now?”
An excited smile overtakes Roman’s face at the question and finally, he looks somewhat awake.
“I’ve spent the past hour mindlessly scrolling Instagram and found just the thing to make for lunch,” Roman announces. “And that’s why you’ll have to excuse me now. I have veggies to chop and podcasts to listen to while I do it.”
Gerri finds herself smiling at that. She doesn’t know when Roman picked up cooking as a hobby during his quest to find who he really was but she’s glad that he did. For someone who's been catered to all his life and probably didn’t know how to cook an egg just a few months ago, Roman’s actually gotten pretty good at cooking. He has an eye for finding just the right recipes and a natural talent for improvisation if he decides it’s necessary. There have been failures, sure, but they were few and far between and now Gerri finds herself looking forward to it every time Roman announces he’s going to cook for them.
“Are you gonna tell me what you’ll make?” Gerri asks. Roman thinks about it for a moment.
“I’ll trade you the info for a kiss,” Roman offers, taking a step closer to the edge of the desk.
“No kisses until after you’ve brushed your teeth,” Gerri tells him. It’s one of the few rules in their relationship that she’s firm on. Roman pulls a face.
“Kiss on the forehead and I tell you the main ingredient?” he bargains. Gerri rolls her eyes and nods.
Roman pumps his fist victoriously, then bends down for Gerri to kiss his forehead. Gerri rises from her chair to meet him. When she presses her lips to his forehead, she makes sure to be gentle with it and avoid the scar from the night of Logan’s funeral. She knows it doesn’t hurt Roman anymore but it’s a part of their past she’d rather leave behind regardless.
When she pulls back, Roman beams at her.
“Main ingredient is eggplant,” he tells Gerri. “Lunch should be done at your usual time.”
This being said, Roman turns on his heel and makes his way to the kitchen. Gerri watches him leave and thinks not for the first time that, whichever way his journey to the ‘real Roman’ ends, he’ll get to be this soft and carefree and just adorable .
Then, after chiding herself for how soft she is for Roman, Gerri turns to her work again. And if she doesn’t get much done at all because she keeps checking the clock to see when it’s finally time for lunch, no one needs to know.