The Traveler [h.s. au]

2.*

"Shit. Shit. Shit," I mumble to myself. Clearly not quiet enough.

"Harry. What's going on?" Charlie asks, barely awake. I've been in such a rush, I guess I didn't realize just how loud I'm actually being.

"Sorry, babe." I lean over to kiss her on the head before yanking my phone off the bedside table. "I'm just so fucking late to work. I'll see you when I get home."

She reaches up to get another kiss from me, but I pull away, afraid that if she kisses me, we'll just have another repeat of what happened last night - and well technically this morning. Ignoring her little pout, I flash her a smile and head out the door.

After Charlie paid me a visit at my office, things quickly got out of hand. It started on my desk, which led to the elevator and out in my car, then ended up on the couch and eventually made it to the bed - twice. Let's just say, she had a pretty damn good birthday if you ask me. Much better than the plans I had initially made.

However, the long strand of activity took quite a lot out of each one of us, especially me, and I must have forgotten to set my alarm. It wasn't until twenty minutes after I was supposed to get up, did I glance at my phone and notice the time. I now only have ten minutes to drive up to work and hopefully get there before Ryan notices I didn't complete the paperwork he shoved at me last night. I got most of it done, but once Charlie showed up, I lost complete focus.

Getting up to the office building, I pull out my wallet and what I think is my company key card to swipe across the sensor to open the main door. I yank the door only for it to remain locked. I swipe the card again, still convinced it's the right card. Still nothing. It isn't until I look down do I realize I'm trying to use my fish and chips punch card. Damn, I must be more tired than I thought.

"Need help, sir?" A security guard questions when he strolls over to me and sees that I'm struggling to find my key card in my wallet.

"Uh, kind of. I seem to have misplaced my card to get in. Any way you could just open the door for me?" I try to give him my best innocent smile. I've seen this security guard around a few times, although he's usually the one who works the night shift. I'm sure he has to recognize me.

His eyes look me up and down before he shakes his head. "Nope. Sorry. If you want to get in, you need a key card issued by your company."

"But I have one. Just not with me. I work for Ryan Nicks. You've seen me around here before." I have to fight the urge to yell at this guy for being ridiculous. I just want to get to my desk, not rob the place.

"Sorry. I've heard that line too many times."

"Seriously? Please, just open the door and le-"

I'm cut off by the voice I desperately wish I didn't have to hear again yet am so thankful to hear at this moment.

"Styles. What are you doing out here? It's almost nine - aren't you supposed to be at your desk?" Ryan asks, pressing a few buttons on his phone then shoving it in his pocket.

"I, uh, came out here to get something from my car. Guess I left my key card at my desk," I lie. Ryan shakes his head in disappointment but seems to buy it.

He shoves past the security guard before swiping his own card and getting the door to open. I waste no time following behind him, but not after giving the guard my best fuck-you face for not believing me in the first place. Maybe next time he'll help a guy out. Or maybe not considering his own fuck-you face he just gave me. This guy needs to stick to the night shift.

***

An email icon pops up on my desktop, signalling a new email. I only tend to get them from Ryan and only when he's too busy at his own desk to come to mine. I almost prefer emails because I don't have to hear him bitch straight to my face. Clicking on the icon, I see that it is in fact from him, which I think is the first time he's paid any sort of attention to me since this morning.

My office. Now. is all the email says. That's it. Fuck. I've heard about these messages from other co-workers, ones that don't work here anymore. Trust me - that's not a coincidence.

After knocking twice, I hear Ryan's voice yell for me to come in. Slowly, I swing open his office door and shut it behind me. "You, uh, you wanted to see me?" I don't know what I say as more of a question than a statement. Of course, he wants to see me. He's the one who sent the damn email.

"Sit," he spits out and points at the two chairs placed in front of his overly expensive desk.

This is the first time I'm really spending any kind of time in his office. No one really gets a chance to unless you're about to make him money. I never quite understood what makes him so secretive.

"So do you need me to do something for you?" I question, trying to take as much of his office in as I can.

For someone in his early thirties, I would not have expected such a stuffy space. There's no photos of family anywhere, which I get because he's single and only gets along with Charlie, but there aren't even any of her. He doesn't have any type of sports memorabilia or items suggesting his favorite hobby. With only a desk, two chairs, and a half dead plant in the corner, one would never be able to tell this is Ryan Nicks' office. Well scratch that - the dying plant is kind of on brand for him.

"Actually, I do." He says, bringing me back to our conversation. "I need you to gather up all your personal belongings and make your way out of the building."

My eyes fly open in shock. He's not even looking at me anymore. He's already gone back to working on whatever it is on his computer. Is Ryan actually being serious right now?

"Gather up my personal belongings? What? Why? Are you trying to fire me?" Still not looking at me, he simply nods his head. So I'm not even worth speaking to anymore? "Ryan, come on. So I locked myself out of the building this morning. Are you really going to fire me over that? You and I both know I'm the best damn employee you've got."

His fingers come to a sudden stop on his keyboard as he finally looks over to me. "Do you know how many strikes you get in baseball, Mr. Styles?" He asks, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest.

"Uh, I don't watch American sports that much."

"Three," he shouts and holds up three fingers. "You get three strikes and you're out."

"Okay, and what does that -"

"I'm not stupid. I know you were late this morning." Ryan puts down one of his fingers. "You didn't complete the paperwork I told you to do last night. I got chewed out because of it and had to finish it myself." He puts down another finger. "And you fucked my little sister right outside of my door." He puts down his last finger, just before slamming his now closed fist on his desk. "Now, get the hell out of my office."

I watch as Ryan tries to collect his cool, while I just sit almost frozen.

"Did you not hear me? I said get out," he shouts, making me immediately stand up and head for his door.

As I reach for the handle, I find myself turning towards him. "Ryan, we both know you would be nothing without your family giving you everything you have. I may only be an assistant, but at least I'm not an ass. People actually respect me and see me as a person, not someone to fear. Maybe one day you'll learn the benefits of that."

His focus is back on his computer, which I'm thankful for this time because I'm not sure I would have able to say all of that if he would have been looking me in the eye.

With silence brewing between the two of us, I finally make my way out of his office and to my desk one last time to get my things. I still can't wrap my head around the fact he just fired me. Fuck - Christmas is going to be awkward this year.