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dragon-kazansky · 2 years

Text

The equation makes sense

Chris Knight x Reader

Gender neutral reader

Chris comes knocking on your door late at night unable to sleep. There was something on his mind he couldn't shake and need you for the answer.

♡♡♡

Papers scattered across the bed, books open, notebooks left untouched since you fell asleep, face burrowed into your pillow. You had been studying all day and all evening. You remembered to eat once, and then didn’t for the rest of the day. Now you were tired beyond belief.

Despite your uncomfortable position and the fact your bed is covered in stuff, you had managed to fall asleep soundly.

It was late. Or very early depending on you saw it. 2 o’clock in the morning. Not a time for people to be up and about unless absolutely required to be. It’s no wonder you were startled out of your bed when someone loudly knocked on your door downstairs. You see what time it is and curse under your breath.

You hope, reluctantly, that whoever it was would realise what dumb hour it was and leave, but the knocking never stopped. With a groan, you get up and go downstairs.

Unlocking the door and yanking it open, you glare at the blond standing on your doorstep.

“What the hell are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?”

“Yes,” he smiles.

You glare harder.

“Why are you here?” You ask him.

“I have a problem,” he says. “One that only you can fix.”

“Can’t this wait?”

“No. You see, I have been unable to sleep because of it. You have the answer, and I need it. I can’t wait any more.”

“Wait for what? What’s the problem?” You ask, running a hand down your face. You are far too tired for his shit right now.

“I have this equation in my head with a clear answer, but the answer isn’t coming to fruition, and I have to wonder if I’m doing something wrong. Everything adds up except the result and I can’t fix it on my own.”

You stare at him.

“Chris, what’s the problem? I don’t understand. What’s the equation?”

He sighs and gestures between the pair of you.

“You plus me equals us.”

“Huh?”

“The equation is you and me, together. That should result in us. Together.”

You stare at him some more.

Chris lowers his hands.

“I like you a lot. Like, a lot. You’ve been my friend since forever ago and I don’t know what I would do without you most days. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, as I do, and the only thing that doesn’t make sense to me is why I never asked you out. Why we never got together. It just makes sense.”

You find yourself unable to say anything.

Has Chris really been thinking about that? Has he really been kept awake at the thought of you two together.

You never brought it up before. Chris is way out of your league as far as you’re concerned. Yet here he is on your doorstep.

“Put me out of my misery so I can go home and forget about it,” he says, looking at you.

You realise you haven’t said anything in several minutes.

“Chris, I didn’t know you felt that way.”

He smiles. It’s a charming handsome smile.

“Of course, I do. It’s impossible not to.”

You smile softly at him.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask, opening your door wider.

“Is this the answer to my equation?” He asks, smiling brightly.

“We’ll have to find out,” you say.

Neither of you care that’s a stupid hour of the night. All you care about is seeing if this fixes his problem.

After all, it only makes sense.

#chris knight x reader #chris knight #real genius 1985 #real genius #val kilmer

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valmare · 10 months

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I’m very occupied by summer job thoughts, so no in depth Chris thoughts unfortunately but I’d love a fluffy cuddly Chris Knight blurb! He seems like he’d cling to you if given the chance <3

- aviatorobsessed 💚

Awww, my dear! Don't stress. The Man Upstairs has everything under control and I pray you experience peace today and every day after! Here's just a cute snippet of Chris!

Needs More Lasers

You've been watching the clock perpetually since it rolled over to two in the afternoon, hoping that incessant checking will, somehow, defy time and space and actually move the afternoon along a little faster than it had yesterday.

However, only twenty seconds have passed since the last time you eyeballed the clock hanging over your office door. Groaning, you slump back into your desk chair, head kicking back over the back of it. Cheeks puffing in an exasperated breath, your head angles to consider the ceiling tiles above you.

They're suddenly more interesting than the marketing collateral in front of you, which demands attention, but has subsequently been frying your brain for the last three days.

White-knuckling the arms of your chair, your eyes move again to consider the clock. Twenty more seconds. How is that even possible!? Closing your eyes, you try to hone in on the mundane sounds of a normal California office––the ring of phones, the shunk of a printer, the soft mutter of office gossip and camaraderie.

The sound of fingers working computer keys has almost put you to sleep when the light rap of knuckles on the wall of your cube has you jumping upright in your chair. Startled, you exhale deeply and swivel in your chair, finding your coworker peeking into the space, smirking and shaking her head at you.

"Vick, you scared me," your press your hand against your chest, hoping it'll calm the jackhammering heart against your ribs.

"Sorry to wake you," she jibes, nearly snickering.

"I wasn't asleep," the defense is weak and you know it, and the way your gaze cuts to the stack of paper cradled in the crook of her arm tells it. They are familiar collateral, you'd proofed them yesterday. "Those going to Jen?"

"Mhmmmm sure," she ignores the question before her brow pop, "but yeah, I'm headed over there. Have anything you wanna send?" Nodding, you swivel closer to your desk and begin sorting an array of papers, standing to hand them to her.

Snapping them from you, she adds them to her cradle and then her head nods out of the cube, "Thanks, but that's not why I'm here though, honey," she steps into the cube, hand on her hip, "there's an awfully handsome thing in the lobby asking for you. He's got Casey at the desk completely enamored, but I'm not sure how long he's gonna be distracted by the cute doe-eyed look. He seems kinda....all over the place?"

Oh no. Eyes widening, you nearly lunge for the heels you'd slipped off beside your desk, working into the God-awful stilettos you've been trying to break in quickly, your face suddenly all-too flush with heat.

He can't be here.

Chris can't be here.

He's never showed up to your office before. You haven't been ready to introduce him to your work peers. Not that nobody in this office wouldn't like him, because he's CHRIS, but––you're not ready to explain the glaring age difference between you and Pacific Tech's resident egghead.

And this is a conservative office. A stuffy office.

And nothing about your boyfriend is conservative or tempered, quiet. Professional isn't even in his vocabulary, you don't think. Chris Knight is the breathing definition of living color, and he'd be an amazing marketing brain for this firm, but, he's not a marketer––he's a scientist. A genius.

Eyes fluttering closed, you can just imagine him standing at the front desk in one of his adorable t-shirts, playfully flirting with Casey, the college intern.

Worst of all? He knows it.

Biting at the inner wall of your cheek, you straighten your glasses and attempt to brush at the front of your shirt, as if it will dispel the wrinkles acquired from sitting at a desk for eight hours. Grabbing your security badge, you clip it to the front of your shirt and hurried slip by Vick, thanking her for the information and taking your material to Jen, the project manager.

Hustling down the hall, counting your steps and putting all too much effort into not rolling your ankles in the stiletto's, you're suddenly thankful you're not on one of the other floors.

You'd been moved down to the first floor to be closer to your boss, which only meant good things for you, and you try to remember that as you twist and weave your way through the bowels of the building, the lobby your endzone.

Pushing open the thick security doors, the lobby is suddenly awash with sunlight streaming in from the pane glass windows. Blinking to adjust your eyes, your gaze immediately lands to Chris, who's leaned heavily on an elbow against the front desk, foot crossed over the other.

Still wearing his wayfarers, his hair is feathered back like it always is, looking envious and golden in ways that make your fingers nearly ache with want to touch it. Your brow pops as you lean partially through the door––he's in trousers and his stereotypical slip on shoes, but that banana-and-red International Order for Gorillas is somewhat cleverly hidden beneath that cardigan you love. Casually spinning the keys that belong to his dad's shitty little Toyota pickup on his finger, he looks like a full out vision.

Sure he's younger than you, far more gorgeous than you are, but a small flame of pride flickers behind your ribs next to your heart. He's your boyfriend. He's here to see you, despite how beautiful Casey looks behind the desk with her hair ribbon and perfect makeup.

Mouth emptying of any and all moisture, you square your shoulders and step through the doors brightly, heels ticking off the marble floors.

All the nerves of Chris being here, among your work peers, evaporates like a vapor over water. Genuinely glad to see him, you hurry across the floor, ignoring the receptionist's wrinkled look of confusion entirely.

"Chris, honey––what are you doing here? I can't believe you're here!"

Your smile brightens when his attention flicks immediately from Casey to you. Seconds, maybe, and his brows lift into his hairline as he straightens up from the desk, spinning his keys once more before stuffing them into his pocket.

"Gorgeous! Hi! Jeez you look amazing today--I was in the neighborhood and remembered this is where you slave behind a desk all day, so I thought I'd, you know, swing in." For some reason he emphasizes the word "swing" like it is somehow scandalous as he pushes from the desk to hurry up to you.

Rocking back on his heels as you wrap your arms around him in a hug, squeezes you tight for a second before kissing your cheek soundly, with an audible smack. His finger finds your badge and flicks it, studying the portrait of you with a wrinkled brow.

"Your hair was different," he notes. "I kinda like it short, pretty girl." His brow wags, eyes tracking your face, "I think I'd like it even if you didn't have any, y'know, but, short is cute. Hey! You should get your hair just like mine, I can show you how to style it, and....yeah. I think that would look amazing."

You giggle, his arm lingering around your waist as you smooth the gorilla on his shirt with your hand, "Yeah, it's longer now," you confirm, despite the fact that it's pulled back into a braid today, "I'll take the hair advice under consideration. What are you doing here, Chris?"

His head cants to the side. "What about the sentence didn't you understand? I was downtown and thought I'd come see you. I'm morbidly curious about your office and what you do, how you make all that big money, pretty. What constitutes 'marketing', all that. Scientific, of course."

"Of course." You wrinkle your nose. He loves when you do that and mimics you, lowering to rub his against the tip of yours lovingly. Giggling, you can't stop the bright smile on your face as your chin lifts a little, eyes moving to consider him for a second.

You can feel Casey staring, and your eyes cut to consider her. She's slackjaw behind the desk, looking at the two of you like something out of a movie. Your cheeks darken with flush as you smile at her, wiggling your fingers in a hello, since you hadn't even bothered to say hello to her this morning when you'd come in with Vick.

"Hi, Casey," you nod to her. She doesn't move in her chair. Turning to Chris, you ask him if she'd provided a visitor's badge. Proudly plucking it from his pocket, he beams that yes, she did, and you move to take his hand in yours, "You can mark it down that he's with me, I'll walk him back down when we're finished. Thanks, Casey!"

"Thanks, Casey!" He chimes, turning on his heel to face her, "Definitely think on what I told you about UCLA. You really should transfer into more of an Ivy league, there's a way better payout at the end!"

"Chris," you roll your eyes, trying not to snort, "come with me," you tug him along, toward the secure door. Swiping your badge, the door unlocks and you pull it open, Chris coming up behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder, arms lacing in front of you.

"Where you taking me?"

"To my cube," you inform quietly, noting that his octave hasn't changed at all despite the hush settled over the office space, "I'll get my purse and we can go get lunch."

"But but buuuut-– I don't want lunch," he inserts, moving to stand beside you, hands in his pockets, "I want to see what you do, meet all your friends, that kind of thing." His brow pops up as his head cants, hand coming to fold over his chest, "unless this place is absolutely boring and you've just overexaggerated your job?"

There's a beat of silence as you smile at him, then his eyes track to your shoes. "Ah! The heels of death!" He looks thrilled, voice echoing off the walls, "I love when you wear them, but aren't they like super unpractical for this massive office?"

Shaking your head, you slip your arm through his and he bends to press a kiss into your hair, whispering, "They make you look amazing, baby."

"Thanks, Chris," you angle your head to brush your nose against his cheek, his hand moving to interlace your fingers casually, "You wanna see my favorite room in this entire building?"

He pulls back, his face twisting into one of scandal. But his brows wag as his smirk grows, and you can nearly tangibly feel the heat pooling in the depths of your gut as he lifts your hands and presses a kiss to your knuckles. He looks positively wolfish, even if you had been entirely serious about actually showing him your favorite space on campus. He obviously has other ideas.

"Now that sounds interesting," he winks, slipping the sunglasses off and clipping them at the front of his shirt, "though I think any room will serve my purposes just fine,"

"Knight," you half hiss, half giggle, trying to keep your voice down.

He winks again, beaming with pride. "Y'know what this place is lacking, gorgeous?"

You can only imagine as you lead him around the corner. "What's that?"

"Lasers. This place needs more lasers, honestly." Taglist: @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @mayhemmanaged @desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @chicomonks @angstytalesr-us @dakotakazansky @books-are-escapes @sarahsmi13s @cassiemitchell @lovinglyeternal @bobby-r2d2-floyd @that-one-random-writer @horseshoegirl @lavenderbradshaw @bradleybeachbabe @roosters-girl @footprintsinthesxnd @chaoticassidy @roosterisdaddy36 @callsignharper @hisredheadedgoddess28 @ohgodnotagainn @moonchild-cupcake @aviatorobsessed @kmc1989 @imp-number-3

#chris knight #chris knight x reader #real genius #real genius 1985 #real genius imagines #val kilmer #answkered asks #ask a meerkat #top gun roostette

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