Canada x Reader: Secret Admirer Part 1

You sat the vase full of flowers on the table and adjusted the flower stems somewhat until you were content with their overall appearance.  The vase you were working with was very much like yourself: plain, but pretty – and remained in the background in the grand scheme of things.  You moved on to the next vase.

“Good morning.”  You looked up in surprise upon hearing the gentle voice.  You had arrived for work at the embassy early in the morning, to give yourself enough time to replace all the wilting flowers before the first scheduled meeting started.  You hadn't noticed someone was already sitting at the table.  He was dressed in a tidy suit and tie, and had glasses and blond hair.  You knew who he was.  Just last week he had stumbled into the conference room, late for a meeting.  (“I had to shovel my driveway so my truck could get out, and then I had to stop at Tim Horton's for my morning coffee...”)  You'd thought he looked so cute, flustered like that.  He must have left early today to make sure he didn't have another embarrassing scene.

You tucked some (h/c) hair behind an ear.  “Good morning.  Mr Williams, right?”

He smiled, pleased you knew his name.  “Just Matthew is fine.”

“Can I get you something?  Coffee?”

“No, thanks.  But...you could tell me what your name is.”

“_____.”  You fidgeted.  No one had bothered to ask your name before at work, and you suddenly didn't know what to say.  “I don't want to bother you, so I'll replace the other flowers while your meeting is out for lunch.”

“You don't have to leave,” he said quickly.  “I'm not busy right now, anyway.”

You stole a glance at him before you pulled out the wilting flowers from the next vase.  “I've never spoken to anyone while working.  The only other person who so much as looked at me is Mr Bonnefoy.  No one else takes any notice.”

He laughed, and it was such a sweet sound to you.  “I know what that feels like, trust me.  But I noticed you.  You started working here last May, right?  I've just been too nervous to talk to you until now.”  His eyes widened.  “I mean, I've been too busy...”  You had to bite your lip to hold back a smile.  He cleared his throat.  “Can I help you with the flowers?”

You motioned to the pitcher at the end of the table.  “Could you bring me the water?”

He got up and placed the pitcher next to the vase with which you were working.  He stood beside you so his chest was by your shoulder, and he was just close enough for you to catch the scent of pine off his skin.  “What are your favourite flowers?”

“(Fave flowers)!”  He had barely finished asking the question before the name of your favourite flower tumbled from your mouth.  You cleared your throat, your face heating, and said more quietly, “(Fave flowers) are my favourite.”  Why were your hands shaking while you poured water for the flowers?  Matthew's nearness was causing your heart to race.  You were relieved when men began to file into the meeting room, some of them already arguing.  “I have to get back to work, now.”

He rubbed the back of his head.  “Yeah, me too, I guess.”

He sat down at the table, and you set about making sure each seat had a glass and a pitcher of water.  Before you left the room so they could begin their meeting, you stole a quick glance in Matthew's direction.  Your heart fluttered as you thought about how cute he was.

You were busy daydreaming while vacuuming the carpet by the embassy's front doors.  What had made Matthew talk to you, today?  Not that you minded the conversation; it was just such a big change from your usual working routine.

You screamed when you felt a tap on your shoulder, but luckily the sound of the vacuum hid it.  You spun around and saw Matthew standing there with an empty pitcher.

“S-sorry,” he said when you turned off the vacuum.  “Could you bring me some more water?”

“Of course.”  You took the water pitcher from him, gasping when you accidentally grazed his fingers with your own.  You turned away quickly and hurried to the kitchen, hoping he hadn't noticed your reaction.

You quietly walked into the conference room minutes later with the full pitcher.  It was rare that anyone asked for a second helping of water.  The men inside didn't seem to mind your presence; they were too deep in a heated discussion for them to notice you.

You placed the pitcher next to Matthew, and when he thanked you with a sweet smile you were prepared to dash from the room as quickly as possible.

“Oh, maid!”  A muscle in your forehead twitched as Alfred Jones addressed you.  You weren't a maid.  “You might as well stay in the room with us.  Our Canadian here has been drinking water like he's spent the last month in the Sahara Desert.  You know, the one in Asia.”

A man with a British accent stood up.  “The Sahara Desert is in Africa, you dolt!”

Alfred laughed loudly.  “I got the first letter right at least, and that's the important thing!”

A heated argument broke out, in which a man with a Chinese accent complained loudly about how insulted he was.  The frightening Ivan Braginsky simply sat back and watched the whole argument with a smile.  You had always tried to avoid him as much as possible.  Matthew, meanwhile, continued drinking water from his pitcher.  When it was empty once again you left to fill it, and when you returned he immediately filled his glass.

You stood off to the side, worried about how much Matthew was drinking.  Then, somewhere during his fourth pitcher of water he stood up abruptly and said, “I'm going to pee my pants!” before he ran from the room.  Since no one else seemed to take notice of his departure, you walked down the hall to the washrooms to make sure he'd be alright.

When he emerged later from the washroom, he was surprised to see you standing there.  “Oh, sorry.  Were you supposed to be cleaning the bathrooms while I was in there?”

“No; I wanted to make sure you were okay.  Drinking too much water can make you sick.  Why were you drinking so much?”

He laughed nervously.  “Well, it was a stupid idea now that I look back on it.  I just...wanted to see you some more.  Besides,” he added, quickly, “the speeches were getting really boring, and I wanted an excuse to leave the room, so that's why I drank the water so fast, so I could leave and ask for more...”  His cheeks reddened while he ran out of things to say, and you realized you were making him nervous.

You smiled and reached out to squeeze his hand.  “You're very sweet, Matthew.”

“Eh?  Thank you.  I mean – why am I thanking you?  Look at the time, I'd better get back to the meeting.  You don't have to bring me any more water, thanks.”

You watched him walk unsteadily back to the conference room and felt your cheeks grow warm.  You had never had this sort of effect on a guy before.  You didn't care, now, who took notice of you and who didn't...as long as Matthew did.