#artem wing fanfic
[5:35 AM] - ARTEM WING
18 hours. You have been in the office for 18 fucking hours, and at this point if you look at your keyboard for any longer you’re pretty sure you’ll become permanently cross-eyed. So, slowly standing up, hearing the cracks in your back as you stretch, you amble your way over to the coffee machine.
Just as you reach it, you can hear a door softly open, and watch as Artem strolls out of his office. You quickly brighten up, waving tiredly over to him as you lean against the counter. “Hey Artem, what brings you out of the office?” He smiles at you, turning to open a cupboard to reach for two mugs, and your heart swims with silent fondness as he sets a mug down for you to pick up.
Many wouldn’t believe the youngest senior attorney was exhausted, or even that he was capable of exhaustion, but you noticed the miniscule eye bags and undone tie like huge red signs pointing to how tired he truly was.
“I just wanted to get a cup of coffee is all.” Your brow furrows as you remember the pristine coffee machine in the corner of his office. “Did your coffee machine break, Artem? You know you could always tell Christine and I’m sure she would get a replacement for you.” His eyes seem to widen as he glances at you again, coughing into his hand as the tips of his ears turn crimson. “My machine is perfectly fine, I simply like the coffee this machine makes better.”
You cast a side glance to the coffee machine in the break room. A hunk of metal that you sometimes hesitate to call a coffee machine given the…. “Coffee” that sometimes pours out on rougher days. You raise an eyebrow. “There’s nothing like sludge to get you through overtime, isn’t that right Mr. Wing?” Your eyes crinkle with mirth at the way his throat stutters when he quickly grabs his cup and turns back around to face the coffee maker.
As you lightly chuckle and turn to begin to make your own coffee you hear your name called, echoing in the empty law firm. “I… I don’t like the coffee.” You laugh openly now, smiling at the guilty look on his face. “I could’ve guessed that from the look on your face every time you taste it.” Artem seems to suddenly find the machine fascinating, refusing to look at you in favor of fiddling with the settings splayed across the top.
You assume the conversation is over as you chuckle softly and turn away, but Artem’s voice, wrought with all the softness you can imagine, causes you to pause. “It allows me to see you more.” He says it with such a hesitation, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard Artem this unsure.
The blood rushing through your ears doesn’t allow you to answer him, and the silence that follows is deafeningly loud. He turns to face you awkwardly, clutching the mug in his hands. “I’m sorry. That was inapprop-” the feeling of horror at the realization he was going to take it back loosens your own lips.
“I like seeing you too!” Shock spreads across both of your faces as the words are blurted out of your traitorous mouth, and he quickly raises one hand to cover his own face, coughing into it as you spot the red peeking out from underneath his fingers, matching the red spread across your own face.
“Ah. I see. Well then I am glad.” As he begins to walk back into his own office you manage to compose yourself enough to finally speak again. “You don’t have to drink that anymore. You can come visit me anytime.”
The thought of Artem leaving his office just to see you still sends your heart careening through your ribcage, but you can at least get the words to leave your throat and rest in the air. He smiles as he opens the door to return to maddening case files and paperwork, and when you leave the office two hours later, you still cannot get the words out of your mind.
“You are worth it.”
