Chapter Text
I adjusted the knot on my tie for the third time, staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The shorter than average man gazing back was the image of professionalism. Wearing a perfectly ironed navy suit, wavy brown hair neatly styled. With just enough confidence to look capable of handling anything thrown at him. To everyone else he was just Elliott Calloway, one of the only submissive team leaders at Wexler Concepts. Which is one of the most demanding and competitive firms in the city. An impressive feat for a single submissive to achieve without any contacts in said company. It was the exact life he'd dreamed about since he was a kid. If only half of it wasn't a lie.
The truth was I wasn't a submissive at all, instead I'm a Little. The problem with being classified as a Little was no one took you seriously. With the need to drop into a childlike mental state to keep healthy and sane, it wasn't all perks. The possibility of falling into this headspace in high-stakes and stressful situations, kept the government from giving them full independence. Having a high-stress and competitive job like this one was out of the question. They especially didn't believe you were competent enough to safely live alone. It was mandatory for them to have a full-time guardian, whether this was a parent or caregiver, in case the Little ended up in a dangerous situation. Yet here I was successfully managing both.
If anyone discovered I was a little then my life would crumble in hands. The company would fire me in a heartbeat. My apartment lease would be terminated before I could blink. Then I'd be taken by the government's LPS, Little Protective Services. I didn't even want to think about them putting me with a complete stranger for a caregiver. Someone who would treat me as nothing more than an incompetent child, a burden. It all sounded like my worst nightmares put together. I couldn't let that happen, I wouldn't. Everything would be fine as long as I kept the act up. Appeared like a normal submissive capable of caring for himself, with no little tendencies once so ever. It was fine, I was fine. I've been doing this since I was fourteen, what was the rest of my life hiding?
Checking over my appearance one more time, before I take a deep breath. Steadying myself for the very important day ahead of me. With a presentation in a few hours that would decide the fate of my career. Everything has to be perfect, I have to be perfect. I'll just focus on finishing some other projects in the meantime. Can't have it looking like the meeting was impacting my productivity. No, it didn't affect him at all and that's what they would see. The normal coolheaded submissive, never half-assing any of his projects, even when the rest of the office was a bundle of nerves.
I worked through the morning sipping the same cup of coffee until it turned lukewarm. Since I skipped breakfast earlier that morning, my stomach too full of nerves to keep anything down. So by noon my stomach felt like it was eating itself, so for the first time in a few hours I left my cubicle.
I rummaged through the cabinet in the break room and luckily found a protein bar. Definitely something that someone had left behind. It was chocolate and peanut butter, slightly smushed, but it looked like a saving grace right now. I was just peeling the wrapper when a voice chimed in from the doorway behind me.
"Hey Elliott, glad I caught you. We kinda have a big problem."
Becky Hale, a submissive who often was on the same team as me for projects. We were very familiar with working with each other. She sighed, already shaking her head like she hated what she was about to say.
"It's the vendor compliance packet for the Rossman proposal. I—" she faltered, wringing her hands, "I was going through the shared folder and noticed it wasn't marked ready. I think Daniel was supposed to take it, but he thought Nina was doing it, and—well, you know how it goes. And I was going to do it last night, but my dog got sick and I had to take her to the emergency vet, and now it's just—"
I blinked at her, the words taking an extra second to register through the hunger fog. Then my stomach sank. The Rossman project was mandatory. It was supposed to be finished already.
"You're saying it's not done?" I asked, my voice mixed with shock and confusion. As I slowly set the bar down on the counter. The guilt in her expression weighed on my chest.
"I hate to even bring it to you," she said quickly, "but you're so good with formatting and data logs, and if anyone can get it done on time, it's you. I just don't know what else to do."
She gave me a sheepish, nervous smile, while tucking a loose lock behind her ear. "I feel terrible for only catching it now. It's due in two days, right?"
Two days.
My throat felt tight, like I'd tried to swallow something dry. My stomach dropped, further than hunger could manage. Dread slowly rising through my body. I snapped back into my normal persona. Collected. Capable.
"Wow, aren't we lucky you caught this? We would've been in serious trouble if this slipped through the cracks." I muttered, forcing a small smile, feeling tired already.
"Don't worry I'll handle it. It'll be easier than passing it back and forth in a hurry."
Becky's expression softened like, I'd just confirmed what she hoped to hear.
"I knew I could count on you." She reached out and touched my arm. "You're a lifesaver, Elliott. Seriously." She smiled and vanished down the hall. The door clicked shut behind her.
I stood alone in the break room, already calculating how many hours I'd need just to pull this off. The draft stages, edits, submission process, and not to mention I still have to get the rest of my prep work done. That was fine. This was fine. It's why I was here. I couldn't afford to let the team down. This was important. We were on a deadline, everyone was just as stressed as me.
I looked at the granola bar on the counter, untouched and slightly melted. Now feeling like a luxury I hadn't earned. Not when there was still so much to be done. I couldn't afford a break. I couldn't afford to fall behind.
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By the time the meeting rolled around, it felt like I was running on fumes. I stood by the water cooler, a cup of water in one hand and my notes in the other. Not that I drank any of the water, I was too busy trying to calm my nerves and collect myself. My coworkers filled into the glass-walled conference room, idle chatter filling the air alongside the hum of the air conditioning. Complimentary snacks like granola bars and an assortment of pastries sat on the long table, Interns were busy by the door handing out people's usual orders, The array was much more impressive than normal, most likely because the CEO himself was coming. The office and managers definitely wanted to look good, hell who didn't?
"Big day, huh?" Marie, a sub from marketing commented as she passed. A small smile on her face.
I quickly finished the remaining water in the small paper cup and tossed it away.
"Always" I replied with a collected smile, following her into the room.
Taking my seat at the end of the table. Setting my things neatly down as I briefly flipped through my notes. I had it mostly memorized from the late night practice presentations the night before. Refusing to sleep until it was ingrained. Which didn't go as planned since I ended up passing out sometime in the early morning. I vaguely remember seeing the sun peak through the blinds, before I lost consciousness. It's fine you've got this. I'm composed. I'm capable. I'm in control. I mentally repeated to myself over and over, forcing the nerves and doubts away.
The door opened again, and the energy in the room shifts immediately. The idle chatter stopping in a hush, as all eyes and attention is drawn to one man walking through the door. Damien Wexler, the Ceo of Wexler Concepts and grandson to the company's founder. Tall, confident and with the air of effortless authority. My stomach tightened, not from hunger this time but also not from fear exactly. Mr. Wexler just had a way of making you feel as if you were under a microscope. He wasn't unkind, the exact opposite. He was known for being pretty fair, accommodating and even protective over his employees. However, he was a caregiver, which just added to my nerves. All caregivers did, the fear of being found out always looming in their presence. If anyone was to discover my true identity it was a caregiver like Mr. Wexler, observant and inquisitive.
"Good Afternoon everyone" Mr Wexler's deep and call movie cut through the silence. The room quickly filled with an amalgamation of courteous replies.
"Let's have a nice productive meeting today. Now I know you'd all rather be somewhere else instead of this stuffy conference room. So let's get straight into it, shall we?" He said sitting down at the head of the table, then looking directly at me. He slightly tilted his head at his question, awaiting my approval.
My stance straightened as I quickly nodded and took my spot at the end of the table, in front of everyone. All eyes on me as they settled into their seats. Taking a steadying breath, I'm composed. I'm capable. I'm in control. Releasing the unsteady breath.
"Good evening. Our recent numbers—"
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I was an hour into the meeting when the edges of my vision began to blur. A few minutes later my legs felt weak and unsteady. I gripped the table and continued to push through my presentation. Refusing to look weak or unsuited for my position or the promotion. However, it wasn't five minutes later, on my last slide when the room began to tilt.
"... and with that concludes—"
The words on the screen blurred together, a wave of nausea hit me. Then was the sudden wake of chills and the tingly numbness of my fingers. The ringing in my ears being the only sound, loud and overwhelming. I didn't even know I fell until I was eye level with the carpet.
Then everything went black.
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When I came to the first thing I noticed was the horrible throbbing in my head. Not to mention my mouth felt like it was filled with sand. The only thing grounding me was something cool and damp resting on my forehead. It offered a small relief, enough to gather my bearings and open my eyes. Looking around I found that I was in a dark room, the only light being a lamp in the corner. I was also lying on a couch, one that was much better than the one back at my apartment. It was rather nice actually, but where and how did I get here?
"Good, you're awake. It's alright you're safe in the wellness room"
Turning towards the familiar voice, I see Mr. Wrexler. Sitting in the plush armchair across from me. His arms crossed and a frown deeply etched on his face. His suit coat was off and hanging across the back of the chair. How long has he sat there?
"Mr. Wexler—" The words scraping against my throat as I tried to sit up. Which was in vain as Mr. Wexler easily but gently pushed me back down.
"Stay put" He reprimanded me firmly "You fainted during the meeting and hit your head."
"I'm sorry, I'm fine." I insisted, my voice betraying me sounding exactly how I felt. Weak, strained, and exhausted.
"No, you're not. You're overworked, dehydrated, and clearly not taking care of yourself. You're pushing yourself too hard and it's showing." He released a tired sigh as he looked me over. "I'm ordering you to take the rest of the week off. Non-negotiable."
I quickly jumped in to protest. "No really, Mr. Wexler I'm fine. I skipped breakfast this morning, it was probably just low blood sugar." the words flying out my mouth, as I halfway sat up on the sofa.
"I can eat something and be good as new" I practically pleaded, I couldn't let him see me as weak or worse, useless to the company.
He just held up his hand in a silencing gesture. "Don't argue Calloway. You're no good to anyone in this state. I'm not going to let one of my employees work themselves to death. So if I see you back in the office before you're fully recovered, there will be consequences" His voice deepened and dripped with authority.
"Understood?" His sharp gaze left no room to argue or bargain. It also sent a shiver down my spine and I felt my ears warm, only slightly I swear.
I nodded reluctantly, the warmth spreading to my cheeks burning with embarrassment. It wasn't often I was scolded in such a gentle but firm manner.
"Good" he nodded to himself, the hard edge melting away and replaced with a gentle smile.
"Now finish this fruit and water, too. When you're done a driver will be waiting to take you home. I don't want you driving so soon after a spell. Did you drive a car here or something else?" He questioned while handing me a cold water bottle and a banana.
"No, I take the bus and subways." Slightly shaking my head and feeling embarrassed for not even owning a car. Especially in front of a man who definitely owned more than one. Hell, he had enough money to own a whole dealership.
"Alright, if any of your symptoms get worse then call a hospital immediately. It didn't seem like you had any serious injuries but the head is hard to tell from the outside." He started before grabbing his coat and leaving. However, not before making sure I took a bite of the fruit. Nodding approvingly and then gently shutting the door behind him. Leaving me alone in the dark room with nothing but my thoughts.
I watched the door for a few moments before slumping fully against the cushions. Covering my face and frowning in embarrassment. Could that have gone any worse? Not only had I made a fool of myself in front of a room full of coworkers but my boss too. The one who was going to decide who got the promotion I've been working towards for the past half year! All that hard work down the drain, all because you couldn't hold it together. God, you're so stupid Elliott, now you're going to have to work even harder! Not to mention, how was I supposed to prove myself competent and reliable to Mr. Wexler, again? How were you supposed to run a department if your boss thought you couldn't care for myself? I let out a loud exasperated sigh and angrily took another bite of banana. Well, I guess I have the rest of the week to figure that out.
After a much needed nap and drop to clear my head.