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weirdworldofwinnie · 9 months

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Heat of the Moment - One Night Passion

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Reader NSFW 18+ only, One shot

Summary: You, a young psychology student and friend of Jean Tatlock, drink a little too much at a Communist gathering and find yourself falling for the esteemed Dr. Oppenheimer himself.

Word Count: 3,830

Warnings: Age gap, Cheating, Drunkenness, Loss of virginity, Unprotected sex, Smut with little plot

Disclaimer: this is ONLY intended to be based on Cillian Murphy's portrayal of Oppenheimer in the film and takes place before he marries Kitty, moves to Los Alamos, and the development of the Trinity Test bomb. NOT historically or scientifically accurate and not supposed to be in support of the real man's life actions at all. DNI if you are uncomfortable or take issue with this. It is purely for entertainment purposes, and it is fantasy/fiction!

The party was brimming with people, many being prominent due-payers of the Communist party and you met your friend Jean's eye across the room through the warm glow and haze of cigarettes. She was standing with a few men and one woman as you approached, noticing one well dressed man in particular who had his back to you and you felt your heart involuntarily stutter when he turned, his wide strikingly blue eyes on you intensely. You swallowed and then Jean introduced you and he simply nodded with an amicable smile before turning back to the others in their discussion huddle. You were at bit surprised at his dismissiveness, but didn't take it too personally as you drifted over to get a drink from the bar area. Holding a full cocktail glass, you casually observed the room, noticing at once how Dr. Oppenheimer had one of those magnetic personalities, as long as you were an intellectual (although he was a good enough speaker that he could capture the attention of the common man and likely even someone who knew absolutely nothing about physics), yet at the same time he tended to eclipse everyone else around him. They all seemed to orbit around him in a fashion and the longer the night drew on, you too found yourself drawn to his quiet charisma and you now were seeing what Jean saw in him. After an hour of drinking and mingling around in various conversations, you mustered up the nerve to approach his ring again and stood next to your friend with only a couple other people you didn't know chatting to him about his teaching at Berkeley. He glanced at you, his eyes lighting with more interest than the initial impression.

"Hello again, Miss Y/N. Excuse me," he told the others and moved, breaking their circle to focus on you alone.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked politely but without waiting for an answer, he went to personally make a martini himself and then pour it into a crystal glass, topping it with a slice of lime. You were empty handed at the moment, but neglected to tell him you'd already had two glasses of alcohol already. He gave the filled glass to you, his fingers brushing your wrist as he did and you thanked him as he leaned against the counter with his own drink that almost mirrored yours.

"It's my preferential recipe. Do you like it?" he asked curiously as you drank and decided it tasted a bit bitter and tangy, so you just raised your eyebrows and smiled assuredly with what you thought was a convincing nod, however, he must have seen otherwise.

"Too bitter, isn't it? I'm working on it; it would probably be better off with a dash of honey." He raised his glass and suddenly swapped it with yours, taking a sip and giving a satisfied expression.

"Hmm, right. I'll remedy it and I do apologize, I was actually just testing you there for your opinion. I'll have this one, you enjoy mine instead."

Unsure of whether you should be flattered or not, you drank his original and it was more appeasing of your sweet tooth, and then he proceeded to ask you about what you were currently studying and how long you knew Jean.

You gave him simple answers at first, feeling a bit shy and guarded compared to the spotlight he projected. He was far from being a loud, obnoxious man but he wasn't timid in the slightest when it came knowledge and he gave off an air of aloofness and professionalism that slowly broke the more you opened up about psychology and politics while making it clear to him you considered yourself a somewhat free spirit trying to make your way in a predominantly male run world. It was refreshing to you that he actually sincerely listened and wasn't too condescending like other men you had encountered in the field.

"Interesting. Have you considered applying that to a career for the future, I assume you are aiming for a psychology degree? Or is it a base point to advance you into becoming a psychiatrist? I'm sure you would be able use medicine in addition to your Freudian theories to mitigate such deep mental issues."

"Well, to tell you the truth, I'm only my second year in for psychology and I doubt my father will pay for addition schooling on top of that, but theoretically yes, I would love to. It's my passion and I have a prudent desire to assist others, not just study them under a detached microscopic lens, so to speak. I want to help people understand who they are and I myself want to understand why their brains work the way that they do. And if some disorders could be cured with certain drugs when all else fails, I would consider that a great accomplishment for humanitarian progress."

"That certainly is a valuable asset, to understand one's self, and especially in this rapidly complicated changing world and the more we have a stronger grasp of the human mind, the better off we will be I suppose. But remember, to know is to do. Theory will only take you so far."

You nodded, soaking that in and taking an ample sip from the drink, which was spurring you on in confidence, so you began to ramble on about the damaging psychological impacts of war before jumping to the effects of practical versus ideological Communism on modern society... at least until a young man interrupted, joining the two of you for a while and you let Oppenheimer divert his attention to him instead as they delved into more physics, which you honestly only had a basic understanding of. You drained down the rest of the martini, refilling it with a simple gin instead to sip more than you should and you definitely were feeling tipsy as the evening wore on to a close, hovering by Oppenheimer's side constantly and perhaps even unconsciously flirting while ignoring Jean's stares from several feet away. He wasn't paying attention at the moment, so you turned to set down your empty glass, but stumbled into a stool on the way. You spun around, feeling Dr. Oppenheimer place a hand on your shoulder, steadying you.

"Perhaps you should retire for the night," he advised softly, close to your ear.

"No… I'm fine," you insisted, the heat rising to your cheeks as he took your shaky hand and you caught Jean giving you one last glare before she disappeared into a murky corner of the room. You looked back to him staring at you concernedly and you blinked as he spoke quietly.

"There, now where are you staying? Surely it can't be far, I'll take you home."

"N-No, my apartment's the next town over and you don't have to, I-I think I'll be okay..." you stammered absurdly and wavered on your feet, not the least bit sober. He changed direction, pivoting to catch you under your arms, and propping you up straighter.

"I believe there is a spare bedroom upstairs, I'll take you to it." Without another word, he led you out of the room and tottering up creaky stairs that led to an upper floor. A few doors down, he took you into an empty small stuffy room with a single queen bed. As you collapsed onto it, sighing deeply after a hiccup, he brushed aside the beige curtains and opened the window, letting the cool night air flicker through.

"Stay here, I'll be right back with some water," he said and exited for a few minutes, coming back shortly with two glasses of water in his hands, one for himself that he took a careful gulp from and you found yourself wondering if his mouth was dry or if he could be nervous. You accepted your cold glass and drank, washing down the strong mix of cocktails and gin taste from your tongue.

"A bit better?" he asked kindly, getting a nod in return as he took the glass from you and set it down on the bedside table next to his own. You watched as he stepped over and stood in front of the window, rustling the curtains. He stayed still there for a while in a pondering pose, smoking and staring out at the street below, presumably lost in thought as he often was. You made a sort of groaning noise and he turned, hand on his hip with a raise of his eyebrows.

"Are you going to be sick? Should I call for someone?"

"No!" you gasped, sitting up with a swirl of the room as he strode over to the door. You did not need your parents to find out about this, especially your father.

"Wait - Please don't leave," you begged and he hesitantly came over, abandoning his cigarette in the ash tray on the nightstand next to the glasses of water and sitting down, getting a good look at your bloodshot eyes and tousled hair, a few strands obscuring your vision. He gently took his hand and wiped the hairs off to the side of your face, his touch on your flushed cheek sending shivers up your spine. He leaned back, putting his hands on his knees and you let out a shaky breath, trying to reorient.

"Have you ever drank before?" he inquired knowingly and you laughed weakly.

"Of course I have."

"I'm afraid that you overdid it this time or otherwise you must have a low tolerance. I only offered you one drink after all." He held up his right hand, splaying his fingers apart.

"How many do you see?" he asked seriously and you only giggled, pushing his hand down.

"Five, maybe six? I feel finnee."

He shook his head, maybe amused, and you had the impulse to climb onto his lap, so you began to slide over, swinging your legs and scooting halfway onto his lap, making him blink in surprise and gasp slightly.

"What are you…?"

You shushed him and wrapped your arms seductively around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder with your ruby lips inches from his neck. He put his hand on your back uneasily and you whispered in his ear.

"Could you carry me to the bathroom?"

"I can't - What? Why?"

"I might be sick."

He pushed away, letting you slip off his slender body and sitting back onto the sheets with a light laugh.

"I think you should lie down again," he said firmly and you flumped your head onto the pillows, your face burning as he stood up, moving around to tug your feet out of your heels and then his hand caught, wrapping his fingers around your ankle and sending a sensation up your legs. You tilted forward, reading his oddly grim expression.

"What is it?"

"I should leave," he murmured, tossing the shoes to the floor and removing his hand reluctantly.

"You don't have to," you told him earnestly, struggling to grasp for him as he stayed at the end of the bed.

"You aren't in a normal state of mind, I'm afraid."

"Are you?"

"Not as much as I should be," he admitted with a sigh, knowing it would be inappropriate to sleep with Jean's friend that he had just met and it was unknown if you had a boyfriend or not.

"Well, I doon't caaare…" you slurred out and he went to sit on the bed next to you as you shifted, sitting up with your elbows. Dr. Oppenheimer gazed fondly and then you both began to instinctively lean into each other, his nose meeting yours and he tilted his head, giving you the incentive to lock lips and slide your tongue into his mouth, letting him reciprocate slowly until both parties pulled away, you panting excitedly.

This seemed to cause a chain reaction that had him scooting over closely so he was fully on the bed, loping his arms around at your back and you tugged at his black tie, wrestling with undoing it as he let go of you to shrug off his suit jacket and discard it, his breathing quickening. He slipped off his shoes and socks, dropping them over the bed with a clump before his fingers found the zipper on the back of your dress and he fumbled, forcing it down and letting it pool off your body to the sheets, running a hand over your bare skin. Pausing slightly with his hands nearing to unfastening your bra, he murmured urgently.

"Don't tell Jean about this."

"But she's my friend," you protested loudly and he put a finger to your lips with a 'shh' that made your heart palpitate.

"I don't want her to find out the hard way."

"She… She'll figure it out, right?"

"She may, but I don't want it to come from you. This is all my doing, I'll take the responsibility for my own actions, do you understand?"

"Oh yes, I do Mister J. Robert 'Oppie' Oppenheimer… What's the J stand for anyway?"

"Nothing important," he replied shortly and you reached to feel his bottom lip, smiling in curiosity.

"C'mon, tell me. Is it John, James, Joe...?"

He shook his head, closing his eyes and you laughed, tracing his defined cheekbones with your fingers.

"It's Julius," he admitted almost sheepishly and you cocked your head, cupping his chin.

"As in Julius Caesar?"

He wet his lips, the corners of his mouth twitching in annoyed amusement.

"Et tu, Miss Y/N?" He paused for a fraction of a second with a light sigh.

"Just call me Robert," he then told you and leaned in to kiss you again, caressing the sides of your face as he did so and you eagerly wound your tongue with his, passionately pressing into his face. He smelled heady; smoky and of aftershave mixed with some brand of cologne, not overpowering but enough to be noticed and mildly sting your nostrils when you went to mouth his neck.

He moved to hover over you, hands grazing your nearly naked body. You let him take the bra and he flung it over his shoulder to the floor and all that was left was your panties. You unbuttoned his light blue dress shirt and opened it up, stroking the light hairs on his chest as he fingered your panties, the last barrier to whatever was going to come into effect. Robert ran a single finger up along your abdomen and past to one of your breasts, circling the nipple and it hardened substantially at the stimulation, which he transferred over to the other one, teasingly fingering back and forth before he sank his face into your chest, his tongue trailing where his fingers had been and you whined, letting the budding arousal take you higher. Then he retracted his mouth, moving back and going to himself, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, popping them open to reveal boxers concealing his burgeoning, bulging cock with tightening testicles. He wriggled out of his pants, kicking them away to hang off the side of the bed and he leaned over, coming to hover on top of you and you felt the pressing of the underwear fabric hiding his growing penis, and you felt inclined to slide your hands down to grope it, fingers yanking at the band around his waist.

"Go ahead, take it," he encouraged and you pulled the boxers down, seeing he was already dripping with precum and your breath came in pants, anxious to feel him, but the rational part of your alcohol tainted brain was reminding you that you'd never taken it this far with a man before. He shifted, supporting himself by pressing his palms to the cream colored plump pillow behind your head and immediately settling over to align. You felt him trying to enter, your clitoris throbbing with anticipation, but he wasn't successful at first of getting in.

"God, you are too tight," he muttered and you froze, staring up at him as Robert now realized the exact nature of you.

"First time ever?" he asked with trepidation and you nodded somewhat shamefully, embarrassed. It wasn't like you hadn't been with men before, but this was the first for it to get this far with full-on penetration. He closed his eyes for a second, controlling his patience for he wanted so desperately to come inside of you, but he had to ask.

"How old are you?"

"I - Is that important?"

"Just please tell me you're at least 21 and don't lie about it."

"Yes, I'm over 21."

"Alright. Well, there's a first time for everything. I'll go slower."

He shimmied down your naked body until his head was at your vagina and he put his hands up on your stomach, massaging vigorously into your skin, eliciting a tiny happy moan. You never felt this aroused around anyone before and just his hands on any part of your body was pleasurable, so you hoisted your hips up to meet his touch. But then he stopped abruptly, displaying two fingers and you squinted, body aching for more.

"How many I am holding up now?" he asked and a delirious giggle erupted from you.

"T-Two."

"Correct," he praised and promptly slid them up into your moist entry, causing you to cringe painfully and make a noise that made you clamp your own hand over your mouth, afraid the people downstairs might hear.

"How is that? Okay?" he asked in a hushed voice, anxious to go further and you just nodded, taking deep breaths.

You were now getting so wet and he started pumping his fingers in and out, eventually gaining traction with three in and you were whimpering and moaning, so close to orgasming when he pulled them all out and sat back on his haunches, his tongue flicking across his lips in a kind of hunger.

"Don't stop," you pleaded and Robert's eyes were dilated with desire as he came down, burrowing his head in-between your thighs, gripping your legs and kissing your pussy before lifting his head and looking at you squarely.

"Oh, I won't."

Without further ado, he repositioned himself over you and slowly pushed in, his cock breaking at your walls. You moaned, the pleasure outweighing the sharp pain and you clenched around his shaft, letting him penetrate as far as he could go into your core. Within moments, you let the orgasm ripple through you as he kept at it, coming to his own climax that wasn't going to be outside of you.

"Fuck, this feels good..." you breathed, rubbing your palms on Robert's short cut dark hair and he couldn't hold back any longer... exploding with his own euphoria, emitting a primal grunt that became a loud gasp. He pulled out wetly a few moments later, shuddering from the exertion and you reeled in what had just happened. You just had intercourse with this brilliant man… Oh God. And you didn't want it to stop; you weren't done yet.

You rolled over so you were on top of his body now and you carefully settled down so you were sitting on his upright swollen cock and the rubbing of it against your clit was making you close to orgasming for the second time.

"Stop," he gasped suddenly, trying to push you away.

"W-Why?"

"That's how she does it." He frowned, licking his lips and you didn't have to ask to know who he was talking about.

"Do you… like it?"

"Yes, of course, but-"

"Then I'm doing it, it feels good for me too," you told him with no arguments allowed and both of you began to rock back and forth, his still hardened dick pushing up against your vagina. He thrusted in again and you groaned, quivering.

"Oh, good girl," he whispered and you almost lost it at the tone of his slightly husky voice. You certainly never got that from the few men you'd courted briefly that had turned out to be too immature or pigheaded. This man actually felt like a real decent, more experienced man.

"Robert...!" you squealed, letting the boom of climaxing implode inside of you. You leaned back, letting him slide out and you gripped his slick dick mixed with fluids from both you and him, your nails very gently stroking it as he smiled, throwing his head back against the pillow in relaxation and pure joy.

You orgasmed a couple more times after that, each nearly as strong as the last which was new to you. What the hell was it about Robert that made your libido go off the charts?

Finally the two of you collapsed back together, staring up at the ceiling above in ecstasy. His chest was rising and falling in rhythm with yours and gradually your body cooled down, though your face still felt hot and a dull headache was coming on, but the night breeze from the window was making goosebumps pepper up on your skin.

"Cold?" Robert asked softly, noticing.

"Mm-hmm."

He sat up and grabbed his wrinkled boxers before deftly swinging a leg out of bed, getting up to the floor and yanking them back on. He also hastily snatched up his pants and slid back into them, not bothering to zip or buckle as he went over to the window and peered out once more at the street, then firmly shut it, closing the curtains securely and heading back over to the bed, lifting a corner of the sheets up and crawling in next to your bare body.

You scooted under the sheets and cuddled into his slim side, playfully fiddling with a button on his open shirt and letting him wrap an arm around you as you dozed off, listening to the faint ticking of his wristwatch, feeling utterly fucked out and exhausted. He fought his own fatigue, considering getting up and leaving you in case someone found the two of you up here, lest it be Jean, but you felt so cozy and close, he couldn't bear to disconnect and leave you alone for the night.

He wasn't entirely sure what would become of this drunken rendezvous encounter that you may not remember entirely, knowing very well it was likely he may never find himself loving you like this again. He loved Jean, he very much did, but he wondered if you would accept his flowers as easily as you had accepted his sex? Jean was most definitely a complicated, intelligent woman and he wasn't sure if you were in the same vein as her, but it wouldn't surprise him if you were. Was he drawn to any other type, really? Women were fascinating to explore, a close second to the hidden world of quantum physics.

Robert studied your pretty sleeping features in the dim lighting and then closed his eyes, letting the orange aura of the room drift the both of you away far off into nothingness…

(Thanks for reading and if you really liked this, please let me know! I'm rather new to Cillian Murphy and not well versed at all in writing one of his characters with smut, but there was just something I found so attractively compelling about him as Oppenheimer especially, so maybe this is a bit self-indulgent, but he's such a great actor that is also very sexy of course.❤️)

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weirdworldofwinnie · 8 months

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Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part Two: Settling is Subjective

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only

Summary: It's only the second day in Los Alamos and while your husband is trying on being part of the uniformed men, you track down the suspicious phone call and unfortunately end up with a tidbit of information that is upsetting.

Word Count: ~4,608

Warnings: Light smut (fingering), age gap, period stereotypical gender roles, mentions of infidelity, marital angst, and drunkenness

See previous for all disclaimers, this is NOT based completely on real life historical accuracy and is essentially fantasy/fiction with Cillian as Oppenheimer.

Part One here

Tag List: @forgottenpeakywriter, @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple

Thanks to everyone who has liked so far. If you would like to be part of the tag list, drop a comment and I'll add you!

When you awoke from a deep slumber the next morning, the bright sunlight filtering in from the open curtained window was beaming you right in the eyeballs, forcing you to squint and shield your face before sitting up and seeing the empty wrinkled sheet space beside you indicating that Robert had already left early. You sighed, dragging yourself out of bed with a groan from vaginal soreness of last night's escapade and went across the hall to use the bathroom and clean up some, dressing and applying the usual makeup and brushing out your tangled hair, as well as clean out the bathtub. After a light breakfast in the kitchen consisting of two slices of buttered toast with jam and a glass of milk, you went back to the bedroom to pluck up the leftover discarded clothes and shoes still littering the floor. You put Robert's belt into the closet with his shoes and your heels, and took the rest to the bathroom along with the sheets you tugged off the bed, bringing it all into the bathroom sink to thoroughly scrub at the stains in the linens and the memory of last night was making you smile despite your misgivings.

You went out to clip the washed fabrics up onto the clothesline you had established yesterday in the yard and as your fingers fumbled with the wooden clothespins, the warm airy breeze was making the soaking wet fabrics spray a light mist into your face when you suddenly heard a sharp woman's voice behind you, startling your concentration.

"Well, don't you have the easiest job in the whole world."

You whipped around to see one of the scientist's wifes, her hair up in a bun and arms crossed defensively against her chest as she surveyed your laundry.

"May I help you?" you asked her, not pleased that she had just decided to walk right onto the property without permission or invitation. Was that going to be the norm around here, a complete lack of respect for privacy?

The woman shifted, narrowing her eyes briefly before glancing away and back to you.

"You know what I'm talking about," she said knowingly with unnecessary snippiness to her voice and you felt a frown creasing your forehead.

"No, I'm afraid I actually do not. Why are you here?"

She smiled, but it was really a grimace more than anything else with the way she bared her teeth.

"You're married to Dr. Robert fucking Oppenheimer," she stated and you blinked, stunned at her vulgarity.

"Excuse me? I am, indeed, but what is that to you?"

But she had already turned away and began walking out of the yard down the pathway and you shook your head, utterly perplexed and borderline insulted, but you figured it wasn't worth getting into a confrontational fight over when you weren't even sure what exactly her issue was. You hoped that this wasn't a sign that the welcoming nature of the other wives could somehow be diminishing, and you were at risk of bizarrely becoming an outsider among everybody else here in this pop-up town just because of Robert's higher status. You had expected to be respected for being Dr. Oppenheimer's wife at the very least, but you did not want to be seen as pompously prestigious to foster any sort of jealousy or spite, and more to find common ground in general with these other women for they were in the same proverbial ship here. If that lady had a bone to pick because of your husband, then that was her problem, not yours.

The next time you saw Robert was when you went on a self-guided tour of the town, taking in the army's quarters, main mess hall, many outbuildings, offices, and schoolhouse still in construction. You were walking towards the army offices when he came bursting out a door, leading the way of a small pack of men, including friend Isidor Rabi and General Groves himself. You bit back a smile at how dwarfed in size Robert appeared when compared to those taller, bulkier men and your eyebrows bolted upward in surprise upon seeing his own tightly conforming uniform. The other men started to file inside another building and you approached him with a quirked eyebrow.

"You enlisted?" you asked and he gave a vigorous nod.

"They think it would be prudent for all of us civilian men to join the Army efforts and I could be of such importance," he replied sincerely, but you saw through his posturing.

"Do you want to or is the General making you?"

He didn't answer and you guessed the latter as he glanced away and then settled back to you.

"Come here for a minute," he muttered, pulling you aside and whisking you in a quick movement inside the building and into a small empty office, and you started to speak in confusion, but he clapped a hand over your mouth, kicking the door closed behind him. You stared as he slowly lowered his palm and you whispered, feeling as though something were wrong.

"What is this about?"

Wordlessly, he traced a finger along the waistband of your skirt and raised his eyebrows flirtatiously, creasing his forehead with fine age lines.

"What do you think?" he murmured and you knew he meant his attire.

"I kind of find it rather handsome, I suppose," you answered with a smirk and smoothing down his front breast of the stiff dark mossy green fabric, catching your fingertips on the brass buttons and playfully tugging at the buckle around his waist. His eyes widened with a gleam and he yanked your skirt out towards him to thrust an arm down into your panties, anxious to feel you. Gasping, you clutched at his shoulders and went in to kiss him as he pressed a single finger to your slit, squirming past the moist fleshy opening and you gave a light moan of delight as he felt your clit.

"How are you so wet already?" he mumbled into your ear and you gave a breathy laugh, realizing how aroused you were indeed getting.

"Maybe there's just something about a uniformed man," you whispered back to his ear and he gave a fast kiss on your lips while probing in further, expanding his reach with two fingers and letting your fluids naturally lubricate his easy efforts in.

"Sir, we've got a head count of eighteen, nineteen once Dr. Oppenheimer joins us..."

You both froze at a man's voice just outside the door and your heart began to pick up pace in fear, as though what you and Robert were doing was illegally incriminating, even though he was only your husband after all, but if someone discovered you hiding out with the scientific director of the Manhattan Project in the process of giving you a handjob in the middle of a workday, that wouldn't be a good look of professionalism at all, especially if (God forbid) Groves found out about it. But Robert wasn't spooked too easily and he hit that sweet spot inside you, causing you to whimper like a puppy from the breaching orgasm, clinging onto his uniform as though your life depended on it.

"Shh..." He placed his free hand to your lips and your back arched with pleasure, relishing the feel of his fingers up in your walls.

"Rob-"

He cut you off, forcing the back of your head forward to press your face against his shoulder and you lightly bit into the uniform, preventing an embarrassing audible noise from alerting the entire building.

"That didn't take very long," he observed in a whisper as you wound down from the peaking high of the quick orgasm and gasped when close footsteps commenced right outside. Robert pulled his hand slick with your cum out and wiped it clean with a handkerchief from his pocket before quickly detaching from you and swinging the door wide open.

"Wait!" you hissed, snatching his coattails as he began to move out the door and he stopped, spinning around with intensity.

"Duty calls," he told you sternly and you shook your head, wetting your lips.

"No, I know that, but I wanted to ask about that phone call - if the phone call, if you-"

"It was taken care of," he replied crisply, not quite looking at you (giving a flash of skepticism and doubt) but then he put on a yearning glance that flickered darkly downward and that distracted you, triggering another ripple of arousal shooting through your core, proving the fact that your libido was in full force today. You hated to see Robert leave, but men were approaching and he exited to join them. You briskly hitched up your panties and skirt before taking a single calming breath and walking out as though nothing provocative had just occurred. The men were filing out into the road and getting in various militarized vehicles while Groves was barking to Robert about scouting out more acreage. You pretended to ignore them, making distance, but unfortunately there was one person who lagging behind long enough to take notice of you hurrying out the side door and that was Officer Nichols. You nodded politely and told him "good afternoon" but it was perhaps too falsely cheery because his eyes behind his round glasses narrowed and the smile he gave you was stretched in suspicion. You moved fast down the sidewalk, not daring a glance backwards, and made your way back home.

The rest of day passed slowly and you occupied yourself with finishing up organizing the house and shelving Robert's many books while trying not to feel the stifling housewife effect, but more so than that was you couldn't shake a nagging persistence related to that phone call and so, around five o'clock, you marched into the main office where the secretary gave you a look of recognition as she put down the phone.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Oppenheimer. Are you looking for your husband?"

Her tone made you almost want to cringe as you realized the fact that she was older than you, making you feel as though you probably looked less like a marital partner and more like a mistress.

"Actually, I was wondering about a phone call received sometime yesterday for said husband?"

The secretary pursed her lips and that micro action told you she knew about it.

"I'm afraid all phone calls going in and out are classified information that you do not have access to unless you are given override."

"Well, is there someone else I can talk to about this?"

"It would be unwise to involve anyone else besides me," she replied shortly and you felt a bit annoyed that she was taking this job of being "gatekeeper to Los Alamos" seriously, even though it was indeed her job. You bent over the desk, getting closer and clasping your hands calmly together, speaking with a pleading smile as you glanced to her own wedding ring.

"Please, as one wife to another, how about just a little disclosure between you and me? You must have overheard or took the call...?"

She seemed nervous and blinked a few times before shaking her head and you leaned back, disappointed.

"So how are you settling in? Is there anything I can get for you?" she suddenly asked in a change of tone and you sighed, realizing this was getting nowhere.

"I'm doing fine, thank you. I should start thinking about cooking up a meal for dinner in fact."

"Need a recipe? I swear by this brown sugar meatloaf," she said, raising her eyebrows knowingly as if giving you vital information.

"Oh, alright. Sure," you replied in surprise, even though you already knew how to cook meatloaf and did it many times before, but she grabbed a notepad, scribbling down something with a black ballpoint pen on the top slip of paper before handing it to you folded up in a creased square.

"Enjoy," she said dryly and you stepped away, feeling a bit confused, but you accepted it and tucked it into your purse, giving her a forced smile and walking away, wondering if you might have just been handed something that wasn't pertaining to meatloaf.

When you were in the secluded space of the bedroom at home, you took it out and unfolded it, the lined paper crinkling in your grasp as you read a hastily jotted message.

"Jean, I just can't get up and leave right now, you know that. Stay where you are and don't come looking, don't converse and write to anyone about me. I promise this will be only temporary. What? Yes, of course I still love and miss you, I do."

You crunched the note in your hands and without thinking much further about it, promptly burned it up in the bathroom trashcan with the flame from your cigarette lighter, letting it become mere ashes sprinkling the bottom. Kudos to that secretary with attentive ears and a keen memory, but the last you needed was someone finding out about this. God, was anyone else aware of what he said? Teary, you turned away, catching your upset reflection in the mirror and even the light layer of makeup couldn't cover your exhaustion and frustration, making you appear older than you felt.

"It was taken care of."

He had presumably called her this morning to tell her he missed her already. And he still loved her?

You didn't have a problem with him associating with Jean in a platonic sense if you happened to be back in Berkeley, but of course that was not what this was about. Robert was unfortunately turning out to be one of those men who just couldn't settle down and you supposed you shouldn't be too surprised given his pattern of womanizing, but it was much worse and serious in this location where stakes were very high, so like an unwanted wild rose growing out of proportion, this had to be nipped in the bud.

A couple hours later and after you had eaten dinner alone - a sloppy meal of macaroni and cheese with a full glass of red wine was the best you could muster - and you heard Robert walking to front door step outside, you went to aggressively pull it open, about to be utterly interrogative until you saw his oddly hurt expression, also taking in that his military uniform was gone and replaced with his usual suit and tie attire with a K-6 security clearance button pinned smartly to his gray blazer.

"What happened to your uniform?" you asked before anything else, skirting around the real problems.

"I returned it; I failed the physical requirements, and Isidor convinced me that I looked absurd and am better suited as myself," he replied, impatiently dismissive, and you shrugged nonchalantly.

"He's probably right. You are worth your weight as a scientist, not as a soldier."

"You stopped by the office today," he said, abruptly changing topic with an accusatory tone that you yourself had planned on using, and you tightened, clenching the doorknob stressfully.

"Who told you?"

"Nevermind that. Tell me, why did you speak to my secretary?"

You did not like feeling put on the spot, so you deflected and counter questioned him instead.

"You lied to me earlier about claiming it was taken care of, didn't you? I was right last night about who the phone call was from, wasn't I? You contacted her today when you know how risky it is for outside contacts, not to mention that we just arrived here yesterday. Are you out of your right mind?"

He gave a warning look with resignation and stepped into the house, gently pushing you off to the side. You followed him to the kitchen and took up the wine glass, swigging down the rest as he grimaced, glancing off to the dwindling bottle of uncorked wine next to the cheese encrusted mess you had left on the counter in the form of a dirty pot with the plate haphazardly resting in the sink.

"I see you made dinner for one," he observed and you poured out the rest of the wine into your glass, hovering by the table and taking numerous sips.

"Imagine that, I sincerely hope you weren't starving," you told him sarcastically and he scowled, reflexively reaching for a cigarette.

"I don't want to find out secondhand information from others, so I'd like to hear what happened today in the office and why you are acting like this," he said around the cigarette in his mouth and you snorted, almost amused.

"Oh, what does it matter?"

"It's my personal business, so yes, it matters very much."

Maybe it was the alcohol affecting your already soured mood, but you found yourself choking up on tears and angrily whisper-shouting at him, your voice all high pitched and shaky.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! She's not here, she won't ever be, and we are in a state of high security! You have to stop thinking about her, calling her, lying to me and-"

"This isn't as dramatic as you are making it," he interrupted placidly, but this only spurred you on.

"Oh, really?! I'm not the one violating security and calling a Communist ex-girlfriend from another state while on a classified government sanctioned project! You are the sole issue here, Robert!"

"Stop. Let's not fight," he ordered, grasping your arm and leading you away from the counter and the empty wine bottle.

"I have no desire to be unfaithful to you. Jean contacted me first and I just had to reassure her I was alright because she was worried; she has seen men likely from the FBI tailing her outside her apartment and she is justifiably concerned for her own safety and for mine being so far away."

You pushed aside the tiny piece of worry you had for her and bit back at him coldly.

"I see. Well, why don't you call up Katherine while you're at it and tell her you haven't vanished off the face of the earth because these women cannot bear a day not knowing your exact existence?"

Robert glanced down at his shoes, speaking bitterly.

"She would not want to hear from me."

"Because you wouldn't marry her unless she had a child of yours. Would you have a baby with Jean if given the chance?!"

He blinked, taking in your appearance like he'd just seen you for the first time.

"What is the matter with you tonight? This is not about procreation with anyone and why have you become so devoutly anti any political and ideological affiliations?"

You swallowed and licked your lips clean of the wine stains and refused to answer, but he knew you well enough to get an understanding of your silent expressions.

"This is not a matter of my ties to controversy, but about my feminine associations only, isn't it?"

"I, I just don't want any trouble," you admitted as you waved your hand still holding the glass and it slipped right out of your fingers, nosily crashing to the floor.

"Oh, fuck," you swore, stepping away from the splattered glass and sucking a breath in as Robert stood still, staring from the floor up to your flushed face.

"Perhaps I should lock up the liquor cabinet tonight if this is any indicator. How many drinks did you get into?" he asked scoldingly.

"Stop treating me as if I'm a fucking child," you spat out, taking one step back from him.

"I never said you were, but I'm well aware that Kitty has a similar problem when she gets upset; it accelerates already induced negative emotions and even worse so here due to the altitude, I believe it-"

"Don't you dare equate me to HER!" you practically shrieked, backing away into a chair as he came forth, concern and fright sparking in his eyes. You shook your head furiously, shaking up your perception of the slightly blurry kitchen and gulping air before your next verbal assault at him.

"God, you're such a mess, Robert! You just can't stop reminding me and how many more women are going to come out of the woodwork while we're living here?"

"I have cut my ties to all former affairs, you know that. I told you the day we became engaged, but Jean and Kitty are taking longer to rinse out of my personal contacts."

"Speaking of rinsing, I washed the sheets this morning and I need to bring them in, so excuse me," you declared, really needing fresh air more than anything at the moment, so you stumbled out the back door to retrieve such items from the clothesline. You wiped your eyes and took gulping breaths to calm your racing heartbeat and to get ahold of your emotions that were misfiring all at once... Maybe you had drank too much wine, you sure felt terribly psychologically unsteady. You fell down to your knees on the grass and put your aching head to the bundle of dry sheets and few clothes from yesterday, willing this to pass and wishing you had never gone to the office today and left everything as it was. Ignorance wasn't bliss, but at least it made information ignorable unlike knowledge which burned persistently in your brain until you threw water on the emotions stemming from the paining scorch. Maybe you were overreacting and too young, but Christ, being compared to his other women made it feel worse. There was no way to have a symbiotic relationship with him when he had them parasitically clinging on; you couldn't compete with a woman like Katherine, who was closer to Robert's age and unapproachable, while Jean was a known Communist who knew some of your friends. It all felt too... personal.

When you finally stood up once your head stopped pounding enough to come back inside, stepping around the broken glass and spilled bit of wine that you'd end up cleaning later, Robert had moved to the lounge and was smoking a cigarette while lying back on the sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table. He gazed at you carefully and cautiously as you stopped in front of him and spoke businesslike, struggling to retain what was left of your composure.

"A woman came around this morning unannounced and you know what-what she told me?"

He stared through the haze of smoke, wearing soft curiosity as you took another deep breath.

"She... She told me I should consider myself to have the easiest job in the world and that is to be married to - and I quote - 'Dr. Robert fucking Oppenheimer'."

He had little reaction other than raised eyebrows in amusement and he lowered the cigarette, gesturing at you with it.

"Do you feel that way? Am I a good occupation for you?"

You scoffed, striding out of the room with the bundle of sheets and clothing in your arms.

"Not a chance after today," you called back over your shoulder, making your way to the bedroom. You tucked the sheets in, making the bed when the sound of an audible sigh from the doorway made you turn reluctantly.

"We can't go on like this, it hasn't even been a week and already we're fracturing our unity and trust. You aren't taking to Los Alamos very well," he said gently and you deflated in the truth, sinking down on the bed as he walked over to accompany you.

"No more phone calls," you instructed him firmly when he settled next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"No suspicious calls, I promise. You are beginning to sound a lot like Leslie Groves."

You sat up straighter and attempted to imitate the General's gruff voice, glaring at him forebodingly.

"Robert, you'll do what I tell you because this fucking important! Otherwise, I'll have to rip that phone right off its cord and jam it up your ass to stop you from jeopardizing national security."

"Yes, ma'am." He was taken aback by this threatening proclamation, yet smiled in good humor, but you then grew more somber and back to your normal voice.

"I'm just tired of feeling as though I am in a competition even being married. I tell you, if I hear any further word about certain past lovers, I will be confiscating every single cigarette you have."

His eyes widened and another smile tugged at his lips as he took your hand, placing it in his lap and rubbing circles into your faint blue veins.

"I would surely not last a full day if you did that to me."

"Then don't make me."

He leaned in and kissed you swiftly, his tongue brushing past your lips and finding its well worn way in, intertwining with your own still doused in the taste of wine. You pulled away and laid back on the bed with him falling down beside you a second later, body relaxing. The palm of his right hand found your stomach that he gently patted affectionately.

"Forgive the off topic inquiry, but do you think you'll end up bearing fruit one of our years here?" He spoke in equal parts trepidation and hushed anticipation.

"I don't know," you murmured, unhappy he was bringing this up.

"I can arrange for a medical assessment, we have some very best doctors on staff..."

You groaned softly, shutting your eyes to the ceiling.

"No... I don't want to officially find out that I could be rarely infertile in any capacity."

"We don't know that for certain; naturally you are biologically and physically healthy, but out of an abundance of caution, I was only thinking-"

"You are always thinking, too much to a fault in fact. If we are meant to have a baby, then it will happen in its own time. However, I am not racing for it to come into creation here of all places, though, and if that means we have to pump the brakes on our active intercourse, then so be it."

He smiled in some relief, leaning over and kissing you again, his fingers weaving into your hair affectionately.

"I'm in no hurry for such a distraction either and I trust your instincts over my own brain on this one," Robert whispered as he caressed your cheek and leaned back lazily to gaze fondly.

"As you should," you teased with a mutter, but you echoed his unspoken thoughts that were not in favor of becoming a father soon when there was too much on his mind with the work here. Worse, you couldn't help but privately wonder if he would even be adept at being a father... When you tested positive for pregnancy for the first time and disclosed the news to him, you remembered how his face flickered from surprise to guilt to hesitant joy. You had kept it only between him and the doctor, which turned out to be good because you ended losing the fetus anyway in less than three months. Robert hadn't been exactly upset, but you had because it catapulted into existential questions, but he and the physician had assured you were fine and there was still plenty of time. For now though, you decided, it was too early to try out the theory of parenthood.

The bed springs lightly creaked as Robert sat up and left, mentioning he wanted to get a drink and read one of his books quietly by himself for awhile before bed and you were left to lay in the growing darkness, contemplating over what the rest of this interesting first week could bring.

Thanks for reading and I appreciate the patience as I work on this story more ❤️

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