3. Dean

Dean

Art spent most of the morning hiding in the back of the lab. Not that I blame him, because Frank was kind of an asshole, and I'm sure that whole meeting was embarrassing. I get it that lab techs keep quitting and transferring out, but really, maybe Frank could warn them or do a better job of hiring people with thick skin.

Not that I'm going to complain about his scheme to make Art more people-friendly, because it's the perfect excuse to get to know the cutie better.

Not that I want to force myself on the guy, but I don't think he really minds my company. Sure, he said he didn't want to work with me and that he'd "put up with me," but sometimes I think avoidance is Art's love language. I know I make him uncomfortable. Then again, I think everyone makes him uncomfortable. Maybe I'm delusional, but I think his discomfort with me is quite a bit more friendly than it is with anyone else.

I pick up my phone and shoot off a message to James that I won't be able to make it to lunch today. After all, I think it's best to start on our little project right away. Art is going to be awkward until I let him know what's going on, anyway. He hates not having a plan.

"Hey, Art," I call out, looking toward the back of the lab. I could go find him, but I don't want to startle him again.

A tentacle creeps out from behind one of the tall shelves, gently undulating in the air as if sensing what's out here. I try not to think about how sexy that tentacle would feel undulating against my skin. Poor Art would probably be mortified if he knew what I was thinking about. Eventually his head peeks around the shelf as well.

"It's almost lunchtime," I say. Then, because I know Art doesn't get hints, I add, "We're going to go to lunch together and talk about Frank's plan. We'll make our own plan and schedule to follow so you know exactly what to expect."

Art nods his head, but he doesn't come out from behind the shelf.

"Do you have a preference for lunch?" I ask.

"Food. At around 12:30," Art replies.

I stifle my urge to laugh. Ok then, I guess I'll be picking. I know he enjoys seafood, particularly shrimp, because he's eaten it for lunch quite a few times.

"Ok. It's noon now, so we're going to leave and walk to the local seafood place up the street. They have some really good dishes, and I know you've ordered from there before," I respond, smiling at Art.

He nods his head, takes a deep breath, and finally comes out from behind the shelving unit.

We make our way in silence to the elevators, and the walk to the restaurant is quiet as well. It isn't until we're seated and have placed our orders that I figure if I don't start the conversation, we'll never say a word before we go back to the lab.

"I'm sorry about this morning," I say once the waitress has dropped off our waters.

Art's tentacles are fiddling with his napkin and cup, and his head is down.

"Frank is kind of an asshole," I add.

Art looks up at that. "He's right about my social skills. I don't know how to interact with people."

"Yes, well, we're going to fix that," I reassure him.

Instead of looking happy, his tentacles only droop. Shit. Maybe I've misread this whole thing. I don't want Art to do anything he doesn't want to do.

"Unless you have a problem working with me. If you really don't want to spend any time with me, I'm sure we can find someone else who can do this. I certainly don't want to force myself on you, Art. No one should be made uncomfortable in their workplace," I say, resting my hands on the table.

One of his tentacles reaches up and encircles my wrist again, and Art looks momentarily mortified. I only reach my other hand over and pat the tentacle, which circles my wrist more tightly.

Art stares at my hand resting over his tentacle and swallows hard. "You don't have to… I'm sorry. They have a mind of their own."

I hold back a smile. I'd guessed as much. "It's okay, Art."

"I'm afraid that this is doomed to fail, Dean Miller. I've tried learning how to interact with other people before, but it doesn't help. I'm hopeless."

Ah, so Art's not necessarily uncomfortable with me; he just thinks Frank's plan won't work.

"Well, you've never had me," I wink. The tentacle around my wrist pulses and wraps around it a second time, and Art blushes. Oops. Maybe that sounded a little more suggestive than I meant it to.

"I think we need a plan. Me telling you what to say and what not to say won't be enough. I think you need to get out there and practice being around others, both humans and cryptids. I bet you don't go out much, do you?" I ask.

Since Art is usually the last to leave the lab and the first one there, and since this is the first time I think he's ever actually left for lunch, I'm betting I'm right on this.

"Why would I go out?" he asks. "Food and grocery delivery takes care of all my needs, and I can shop online. Those options save me a lot of time. I'd rather spend that time working at the lab on our important research."

"What about for fun?" I ask.

"Fun?" Art repeats, and I can tell he's utterly confused by the notion.

"Listen, I have an idea," I tell him. "I think we should take a bunch of outings to do different things that require interaction with others, and you'll learn from the experiences. You learn best by doing, anyway. Like with that latest piece of lab equipment. Everyone else watched the video, but you needed to tinker with it until you understood it. So we'll get out and experience people, and you'll learn how to interact."

"Go out to interact with people?" Art asks, looking slightly panicked.

"Yeah, but I'll be with you the entire time to make sure it goes smoothly. And we'll do fun things. It's the holiday season, so there's tons of activities we can try," I tell him. "And no saying no before you try it," I add, because I can already see Art coming up with reasons why he can't do certain stuff. "And no asking what the point of it is, either. The point will be to learn how to interact. Maybe you'll even find something you enjoy doing for fun along the way."

Art doesn't look convinced, but he nods his head anyway.

Our waitress brings our food over, and Art's tentacle slowly unwinds from around my wrist. As we eat, I start listing activities to see Art's responses to them. I do want him to try new things, but I don't want him to be miserable.

If this whole scheme seems a lot like dating, well, I figure that's another activity Art probably hasn't tried before. I'd be very happy to show him what he's been missing.