When He Breathes

A little drabble I've been thinking about for a few days 

***

You arrived early, like you usually do. There aren't many people in the office yet, the boss is here and she greets you with a friendly but tired smile on her face. She tells you that there are donuts in the break room, Anton brought them, two dozen. Her face quirks in a way that is less friendly as she remarks that one box was already half empty when he'd deposited them on the counter by the coffee maker.  

You force yourself to laugh; in spite of the little flash of anger you feel, with its whisper of another emotion. Unloading your briefcase and papers at your desk, you head to the break room at a bit of a sprint. You pound past empty cubicles and reach the break room, no one's here but there are two large boxes of donuts by the coffee maker as the boss had said.  

Feeling a little disappointed you take a paper plate, make your coffee, and select a donut before heading back to your cubicle at a more leisurely pace. You're back at your desk a few moments later, booting up your computer and organizing your in-tray and out-tray when some other workers begin trickling in.  

You glance at the clock ruefully as the soft chatter of a full office begins to fill the air. Then, before the ambient noise reaches it's normal level with keystrokes, the sound of office chairs rolling slightly, and murmured conversation...you hear it.  

Rhythmic clattering and creaking issues from somewhere behind you. And you know where that somewhere is. You only wish you'd noticed it a little earlier, but you suppose beggers...or perhaps it's more accurate to say voyeurs...can't be choosers. As surreptitiously as you can manage you turn your chair and look over your shoulders.  

Anton's desk is nearby, a couple cubicles over, and you could see his broad back and wide rear past the edge of the dividers. He was settling his headset on, his plump pillowy arms drooping and wobbling as he adjusted it. You swallowed silently, feeling guilty and a little perverted as you took in the gentle curves of his white colored shirt. It clung to his sides, hugging every fold and roll. He looked bigger today, maybe that's why you couldn't stop staring.

You track the subtle motion of his body as he inhales (creak-a creak-creak) and exhales (creeaak creak-creak).  

'Today...' You think, 'Today I'll ask him to lunch with me.' Your cheeks very pink as you listen to the soft melody of his desk and high capacity chair creaking and shaking.  

The creaking takes on a more active sound and you realize he's turning in his chair. 'Crap!' You think, panic gripping you, he'll catch you staring! What if he thinks you're being judgmental?!

But when your massive coworker completes his turn a sunny smile spreads over his plump face. "Good morning!" He says, "I see you found the donuts I brought."

You feel like your words have left you completely and you stammer a second before finding them. "I-I...uh...I...yeah! Thanks so much! I had errands to run before work...and I didn't have time for breakfast. You're a real lifesaver, Anton!" The words tumble out in a bit of a rush and you feel a little foolish. But the sunny smile on Anton's face doesn't change.  

"You're very welcome! Here's to a good day for both of us, right?" Anton flashes a peace sign and winks at you. You can't help tracking how his arm wobbles and shakes from the motion.  

Still blushing deeply, you return the gesture and Anton turns back to his own cubicle. And once more you feel a little guilty for staring raptly at his wide rump, and how it nearly droops over the sides of his chair.  

'Today...today I'm gonna ask you to lunch.' You think again, steeling your resolve as you force yourself to turn back to your own work station.