Erika Sanely (erika_sanely) wrote,
Erika Sanely

Follow-up on the need for brave underpants.

I still haven’t finished my latest epic adventure concerning IG2, have I? Since I’m trying to keep my mind occupied, I think now would be the perfect time to do so.

The first day he was at work this week I was in chaos. My stomach was just butterfly-y all day, and I was just aware of where he was all the time. If he was in the room next to me (and I’m not even talking about him being next to me in the same room. I’m talking different rooms sharing a wall.) I couldn’t breathe with my eyes open. Seriously. Even fifth breath I had to close my eyes, becuase I couldn’t take a deep enough breath knowing he was close.

(You guys already knew I was odd, right? None of this is coming as a surprise to any of you?)

I also couldn’t stop looking at his bum. It’s gorgeous. Truly. So utterly perfect you want to cover it in Hagen-Daas Ice-cream and watch it melt. (The ice-cream; not the arse) I will get caught staring at it, and very soon I fear.

Whenever I started to talk to him Saturday my brain went into mini-spasms. “Don’t say that - it’s crass! Pull back! Pull back!!”

“I can’t - I’m committed to the pun!”

“ARGH!!!! He’s never going to want to see your bits when your mouth is a toilet!”

“Shut up!”

“No! You shut up!!

“You’re the one arguing with yourself!!”

“Oh! Bite me!”

.....Ahem. And all this happens in my head - i just hope no one can tell how confused I make myself.

Only embarrassed myself a few times around him.

The worst time was when he had to find me and it turned out I hadn’t sent some results. I was flustered becuase he was looking at me (how unusual for me) and I swore. I may have said the F-word. I’ve been trying to curb my swearing, and I just went “Oh! I need to stop swearing!” and he went “Yes you do.”

Note to self - he doesn’t like swearing. And now that I think about it, I have never heard him swear. So in an effort to make myself more attractive to him, I shall try to not swear. That’s a lie - I’ve been swearing like an inmate in Oz since I was 18. I shall try to curb my need to swear like a pirate on heat.

Later on that day I went passed the balance room, and he was in there - by himself - using the engraver. So I walked in, took a breath and .... asked if he could engrave my spatula and measuring spoon for me.

Seriously - if any of you want to beat me over the head, feel free. The tuna is in the freezer.

But he said he would, so I handed over my spoon and spatula, and he went to town on them. “Can I put your name anywhere on them?” He asked.

“Sure! You can write whatever you want even!” (Aren’t I the cheeky one?)

And then I went home.

The second day I was more prepared. Due to the underwear of courage, of course. It’s amazing how much underwear can play on your psyche. I'm serious here - knowing that my underwear matches makes me feel so good. Nothing can bring me down - not even the prison gear we wear.

I walked into my lab, and there on the table in the middle of the room were my spoon and spatula. And may I say what lovely penmanship the boy has. Stunning really. I was most impressed with the job he did on my spatula. Now the spoon is another story. There, in black and white (well, that should be in scratched metal) was “!Lady mucK!” With a Big L and Big K.


So I go next door to the balance room, open the door and lean against the wall.

“Lady Muck!?!”

He was weighing up a sample at the time, so he finished that, and then turned around, grinning. “Well, you said I could write anything. And I thought of a lot worse I could write.”

“But Lady Muck? You’ve hurt me IG2. And to think I was going to help you get the geology samples done today.”

“Oh. Oh! Tell you what; give me your spoon, and I’ll get some steel wool, and fix it up.”

I put my hand up dramatically. “It’s too late. You’re dead to me.” And I flounce out of the room like it’s a scene from the Bold And The Beautiful. He just laughed.

Two hours later he walks into my lab. “Can I have your spoon?”


“I’m going to fix it.”

And he did. While he was doing that his noon samples came in. I had had no work at all on Sunday, so I was feeling a bit bored. I grabbed his samples and got them started for him, and I had just gotten the samples into the electric muffle when he gave me back my spoon.

“What timing! You have ten minutes until you need to take this out.”

And the look he gave me. :Sigh:

To take us out of the moment, it sometimes feel as though my ovaries have a mind of their own. And indentities of their own. The left one is like a 12 year old at an N*SYNC concert. The right one is a retired porn star.

So when he looks at me, part of me is thinking “He’s sooooooooooo dreamy.”

And part of me is thinking “I would love to get him in an enclosed space, rip the buttons from his overralls and do things until he was senseless.” I thought in more detail than that, but you don’t need every porny detail

Left ovary: “That’s crass.”

Right Ovary: “He’s 20 - I bet he’d go off like a rocket.”

But anyway - while my body parts were having this argument, I was chatting to IG2. And he was looking in my eyes, and was so grateful for my help. And about 2 mintues into this my right knee sort of buckled.

Left Ovary: “What was that??”

Right Ovary: “She’s swooning! But what would you expect - she's been having eye-to-eye contact for ages. It’s like looking at the sun! He’s fantastic!!”

Can’t disagree with that.

And the day continued - I did end up helping with the geology samples, which meant spending time in the balance room while he was weighing up as well (how fortuitous :g:) and we had a long conversation on his sleep patterns. Hey! Don’t look at me like that! He bought them up! And then he mocked my early bird ways (My idea of a sleep-in these days is waking up a 0730.) and then we found an enclosed space and tore off his buttons Opps, wrong parallel universe. It was a lovely moment, one of those little moments you have in life when its perfect for no other reason than it’s happening.

We had a few more little conversations during the day. Enough conversations that by the end of it my stomach and uterus had calmed down and I felt normal around him. Almost :g:

We were talking about something - I can't remember what and doesn't that say something? We talked so often I can't remember every detail. :pause: I'm sounding 12 again, aren't I? and I said "Come on, tell me how you really feel?" and he said "I can't, there's a lady present." Which was me. Both ovaries and Brave!Erika squeed. It wasn't pretty. (But it was)

The last conversation that happened only between the two of us was towards the end of the day. He mentioned that he was getting sick of weighing crucibles, and I went “Well, what you could do is just throw some flux in them and make up the weights. No one will know, and if anyone does think the weights are hinky, tell them you didn’t weigh them, I did, and I’ll just tell them its been so long since I’ve weighed crucibles I didn’t know what I was doing.”

He stopped weighing and turned to look at me. “That’s rather elaborate.Do you normally have such schemes?”

“All the time. You should hear some of them.”

“I can only guess.”

I told him some of my other ridiculous plans, and he grinned and said he wanted in on one of them one day.

And you can imagine where my mind went then. I wonder what he'd say if he got a telephone call from me one day that went "IG2! I need you to get 100 yards of bubble wrap, 5 helium balloons and a goat!"? Hmmm.

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