Chapter Text
“So. How many do we still need to read before Wednesday?” Ms Hong asks, sounding bored out of her mind.
Not that Vincenzo can blame her. Going through every financial report related, even remotely, to Babel or Wusang isn’t the most interesting part of their job ; but it’s necessary, if they want to find a weakness to exploit before the next hearing. Those kinds of nights are a stark contrast to the chaotic and action-packed evenings they’ve had lately ; the abrupt changes almost give them an emotional whiplash, though they’re somewhat grateful for the break it gives them.
Yet, he had hoped they’d find something fast, because the migraine he’d gained after a night reading those unending stacks of paper was absolutely excruciating.
Vincenzo rattles his itching throat. “A lot,” he says, answering his partner’s question. “We need to find something that links the prosecution to Babel, or something that could buy us time. Could be anything.”
His partner sighs but nods in understanding, and Vincenzo smiles slightly before coughing. With a grimace, he closes his eyes as he waits for the pain in his temples to subside. Trying to focus back on his work, he attempts to start reading again ; he manages to do so for about half an hour, and those minutes are spent in a comfortable silence. Mr Nam is out today, gone for another blind date, so the office is much quieter than usual ; but the consigliere finds himself enjoying those kinds of moments, surprisingly enough.
To be fair, there are very few moments spent in Ms Hong’s company that he hadn’t enjoyed ; the woman had proved herself excellent at worming her way through his routine and habits, and she was always of good taste when it came to the meals they shared together.
Coughing again, Vincenzo tries to keep his eyes set on the report he’s trying, and failing, to read ; but the lines are getting blurry, and he can barely distinguish the words anymore. In front of him, Cha-Young shifts in her seat, and he feels more than he sees the weight of her gaze on him.
“Are you alright?” she asks in a tone that suggests she already knows the answer.
“Yes, I’m fine,” he tries anyway. There was no point in worrying her for a mere headache.
Apparently, there is no point in trying to fool her either, because she snorts a “Right” before getting up to come closer to him. He fails to come up with an answer ; but to his defense, his brain currently feels like mush and the traitor is clearly intending to let him down today.
“You’re sick, aren’t you,” his partner stated, crossing her arms as she came to a stop right next to him. “You’ve been coughing and sneezing non-stop since this morning.”
Ah. Of course, she’d noticed. He’d tried to be as discreet as possible, trying to cover it up each time he felt the need to cough or sniffle, but it seemed like it hadn’t been enough.
“I’m fine,” he repeats. “It’s probably just allergies.”
Ms Hong blinks. “You have allergies?”
He fumbles for a moment, not having anticipated that she’d persist. In hindsight, he should have expected this, because if the fiery lawyer was known for anything, it was her persistence and stubbornness. But once again, it was hard to think today. “Yes?” He's not sure whether he’d answered that as a statement or a question.
Ms Hong is clearly not convinced, and she insists. “What are you allergic to?”
“Huh. Pollen,” he mumbles, before trying to divert her attention away from himself. “You should get back to your seat. We still have a lot to read before tomorrow.”
Sadly, it doesn't work.
“You’re allergic to pollen,” she repeats, now sounding both incredulous and amused.
Vincenzo nods. “Mhmh.”
“Pollen. In December.”
“Yes,” he sighs, not seeing the problem with that. God, his head felt like it was splitting open.
“You’re having a pollen allergy crisis, in December, with negative temperatures. You’re sitting in an office, surrounded by plants that have never been a problem for you. And I’m supposed to believe you ?”
He barely bits back the groan threatening to creep up his throat, fearing it would just end in another coughing fit.
“Yes”, he says again, throat feeling more and more hoarse. “Ms Hong, the reports. We need to read them.”
“If you expect me to believe this and let you-“ she starts, getting impossibly close and resting a cool hand on his forehead.
Oh, it feels nice. Well, it did, until she takes her hand back with a shriek that almost makes his ears ring.
“What the hell, Vincenzo, you’re burning up !”
In a normal situation, he’d have been startled at her calling his name so informally. But he was way too tired to care.
Vincenzo can’t help back a groan this time. “It’s fine. Reports ?”
“No. No reports for you, Mr Cassano.”
She gently lifts him up by the arm, encouraging him to get up.
“Come on, let’s take a break.” When he tries to resist absent-mindedly, thoughts still set on his reports, she adds, “Just a short break. We’ll go back to reading these later, don’t worry.”
“Alright,” he concedes, because a short break actually sounds quite nice. He allows her to take his arm, and he lets her guide him through the room.
“Ms Hong?” he croaks.
“You need to rest”, she explains. “We’re going to your apartment so you can sleep. It won’t be any good if you’re still sick on Wednesday.”
“I’m not-“
She tuts at him. “Shush. Let’s go.”
They slowly get to his door, though it drains him more than he would have liked to admit. Ms Hong, unusually quiet, says nothing but soft words of encouragement as she supports his weight. Using the spare key she has yet to give back, she opens the door and lead him straight to him bedroom. Helping him to lie down, she makes sure to tuck his blanket up to his chin, which makes him feel like a child.
It's not so displeasing, strangely enough.
“Good thing that pigeon isn’t in today.” He hears his partner mumble as she throws a look at his window.
“It’s Inzaghi,” he reminds her, because it suddenly feels important that she calls the bird by his given name. She turns her head back in his direction, and snorts softly.
“My bad,” she amends, deciding to play along. “Good thing Inzaghi decided to leave you alone for today.”
He hums in approval, and Ms Hong smiles.
“Get comfortable,” she tells him, “I’m going to make you something to drink.”
“You don’t have to-“ he starts, but she's already gone. With a sigh, he shifts in his bed and shivers. He hadn’t realized how cold he feels. Deciding to rest his burning eyes, he closes them.
Just a little break, right ?
When Cha-Young finally enters the bedroom again, armed with a hot drink in one hand and a fresh cloth in the other, it’s to the sight of a sleeping consigliere. His mouth is slightly parted open, and his relaxed face makes Cha-Young feels things that she should definitely not be feeling.
“Aish,” she mutters just for the sake of it. “He didn’t even wait for the drink.”
Nevertheless, she crouches down next to him, and brushes some damp curls from his face with a frown.
His fever seems to be getting worse, and she’s getting worried.
“You don’t need me to take you to the hospital, do you?” she murmurs, although she knows she won’t get an answer. Her mafia lawyer is completely out cold. She tucks the blanket back to his shin before setting the drink on his nightstand. She grabs a chair and sighs softly as she watches the rhythmed rising and falling of Mr Cassano’s chest.
The reports will have to wait, she decides after brushing another strand of hair out of his face.
When he wakes up, it’s to cool, slender fingers combing through his fair and lightly scratching his scalp, and it feels like the most wonderful thing in the world. He cracks an eye open, and his heart does a somersault at the sight of Ms Hong, reading next to him while absent-mindedly repeating the gesture. As he turns his head to have a better look at her, because he likes the expression she has when she’s going through lines and lines of legal nonsense, the lawyer snaps her gaze to him, alerted by his shifting. Her face softens in an expression he can’t quite decipher.
“Ah, you’re awake,” she says as she removes her hand to check his temperature under the damp cloth he just noticed on his forehead. She hums pensively, voice softer and quieter than he’s ever heard her be. “You’re not quite there yet, but it’s already better.” She then lifts her hand, and startled by the sudden loss of contact, he can’t help but raise his own hand to gently trap her wrist between his fingers.
“Don’t stop,” he pleads quietly when she stares at him curiously. “Please. It feels nice.”
Ms Hong freezes and for a few seconds, they just stare at each other amidst the quiet of his room. Vincenzo’s starting to wonder whether he’d said something he shouldn’t have said until she sighs at him ; but it’s not annoyed, and her lips twitch into a smile. She gently tugs her wrist from his grasp, but before he can protest, she places her hand back on his head and starts the soothing gesture once more. He’s tempted to close his eyes and sigh in bliss, but he’s interrupted by the fact that she also moves her other hand, to intertwine her fingers with his own.
It takes him a few seconds to realize that it means they’re holding hands.
“Go back to sleep,” she says. “I’ll stay here with you. Go kick that nasty cold’s butt.”
He manages to chuckle despite how sore his throat feels, and soon the gentle fingers in his hair lull him back to sleep.
This time, when he wakes up and opens his eyes to look at his ceiling, he feels much more refreshed. His throat is still hurting and he’s awfully thirsty, but his head doesn’t feel like it’s being smashed by a hammer anymore. Light filters through his windows, and he realizes that he must have slept through the whole night. Someone breathing softly next to him makes him look down, and his eyes find Ms Hong’s sleeping form. Sitting on the floor in a position that must be extremely uncomfortable for her, she’s resting her head on his mattress, near his hand. Hand that she’s still holding.
As he realizes this, a dozen of emotions goes through him ; and at that exact moment there’s nothing he wishes more than comforting her the same way she did last night. After a few minutes of gazing longingly at her, he finally indulges himself and, with the hand she’s not holding, goes to caress her hair. The position is slightly awkward, and his body is still aching from the subsided fever, but the happy little sigh she gives, as well as the way she unconsciously leans into his touch, are more than worth it. He keeps on doing it until she starts waking up, and even when she blinks groggily at him, he can’t bring himself to stop.
“Good morning,” he whispers, and she groans something unintelligible but doesn’t move her head away from his hand. He gives her a few minutes, having learnt from the nights spent at his apartment that she’s not a morning person. When she’s finally more awake, she props herself on her elbow to look at him properly. She’s still holding his hand, he’s still petting her hair, and neither of them seem to intend on saying anything about it.
“How are you feeling ?” she asks.
“Better. Thank you.”
“Hah, don’t thank me. You did all the hard work there.”
Her face suddenly falls into something more neutral as she seems to realize the extent of their casual touches.
“Well!” She exclaims awkwardly, as brutally as she gets up. Startled, Vincenzo jerks his hand back. “We should get ready. We still have a lot of things to take care of before tomorrow. I’ll take a quick shower, alright ?”
“Use my hair dryer if you’re intending to wash your hair,” the consigliere tells her, feeling like someone just snapped him out of a dream. “You’ll get sick if you go out with damp hair.”
“Hah ! I never get sick. Unlike you, I’m too strong for this !” she laughs exaggeratedly, and he grins at her antics.
Dio mio, è carina. He hums unconvincingly as he gets out of his bed. “Shall we make a bet, then?”
“You’re on, Mr Mafia Lawyer,” she snarks back. “I’ll show you how resistant we are in Korea.”
“Do be aware I’ll show no mercy with my finger flick even if you were to come down with the flu,” he mockingly warns her.
And well, if he conveniently forgets about the bet when she falls so sick she’s unable to get out of bed, it’s no one’s business but his, right?