Chapter Text
“Hey Jo, you are aware that I’m your boss, right?”
“Of course I am.” Jo said, pretending to spot something interesting outside the window.
“Please face my general direction when I’m talking to you.”
Jo turned on her heel, ponytail swinging, but she’s surprised to see when she turns around that Brad’s eyes look scared.
“Christ, I said general direction, not eye contact.” Brad scoffed, putting his head in his hands.
Jo adjusted her collar and looked down at the ground. “Sorry.”
“Whatever.” Brad sighed. “Are you behind me getting appointments out to lunch every goddamn day this week?”
“No, there were just a lot of people who wanted to see you over lunch.” Jo said. “I never even suggested it. Told them all lunch was for losers, actually.”
“You really believe that’s gonna work on me, Jo?” Brad replied, his face nearly frozen in place.
“Uh, not really, Mr. Bakshi.” Jo stuttered.
“Well in that case I’m happy you don’t think I’m that stupid. Also, don’t call me that.”
“Sorry, Brad.” Jo whispered.
“If you pull any shit like that again, you’re fired.” Brad got up and started pacing, looking out at the windows like he was expecting someone to walk in on them. “I’m not kidding, that seriously wasn’t fucking cool.”
“Please don’t fire me Brad, I promise I’ll totally stay out of your business about everything forever, it’s just the kind of thing where if you know you know, and—"
Brad’s demeanor seems to soften the slightest bit at that, and he’s the one who always tells her to keep pushing when you know you’ve hit a nerve, so she looks at his eyes even though he never meets hers and keeps going before he can interrupt, barging past her own discomfort.
“—this wasn’t the right way to do it, and I’m really sorry, but I don’t want you to think you’re alone.”
“I don’t know what the hell you think I am, Jo, but you’re wrong.” Brad snapped.
“You don’t think I’m that stupid, do you Brad?” Jo said, trying to force the wavering out of her voice. “I said I know.”
She doesn’t have anything else to add, and ends up trailing off awkwardly, shoving her hands in the pockets of her skirt and waiting for him to say something back that hopefully isn’t pack your shit and leave, but with each passing second that looks more and more unlikely.
“Okay.” Brad finally exhaled. “Are you going to lay off of this if I don’t fire you?”
“Yes. Probably. A little.” Jo admitted.
“Great honesty there.” Brad rolled his eyes. “What if we…” He said the words so slowly it sounded like each syllable was physically paining him. “eat lunch in here. Just us.”
Jo nodded immediately.
“I’m not done yet.” Brad continued. “We close the blinds, and sit on opposite sides of the room, and you never tell anyone, or I won’t just fire you, I’ll make it my only mission to ruin your entire fucking life.”
“Uh, yeah, that’s okay. I won’t.” Jo said quietly.
“Alright, great. We now have a lunch appointment from now to… whenever.” Brad shrugged. “Now go do something to piss David off. And cancel all those fucking meetings.”
“Got it Brad, I’ll leave you alone now.” Jo said, turning to walk out the door.
“And Jo?” Brad added, just as she was about to turn the knob.
“Yeah?”
“I want you to know I’m never going to forgive you for this.”
“Wouldn’t expect you to.” Jo said back, throwing the door closed behind her.
…
The next day Brad seemed flighty the entire morning, only stopping to talk to her for a few minutes at a time and direct her towards meaningless tasks before running off to talk to someone else. But sure enough, just as everyone else started to get lunch, most of them sitting around the break room, she stepped into Brad’s office and he was waiting there, hands folded on top of his desk.
“Okay, so we’re actually doing this.” Jo said, mostly to herself, Brad not seeming to respond.
She took the seat at the desk across the room, pulling out a sandwich that was probably the only lunch she’d packed since her first week working here. Brad stood up from his desk suddenly, wordlessly going around to close all of the blinds and flicking off one of the light switches, dimming the space.
He grabbed a remote and clicked on the television on the wall, playing an episode of Ducktales. “Another rule of this is I always pick what we watch.”
“Is it always gonna be Ducktales?” Jo asked.
“Most definitely.” Brad replied, propping his feet up on his desk and putting a hand up to quiet any further conversation as the theme song started.
She couldn’t even really tell if Brad was eating or not, between the distance and the darkness and the TV drowning out any ambient chewing noises, but she also wasn’t trying to tell, keeping her gaze off Brad’s half of the room entirely. Clearly he didn’t want to be seen, and this show was sort of entertaining. The moment the credits started rolling on the second episode Brad clicked the TV off, turning the light back on in the room with no evidence at all to whether he’d actually had lunch.
“So, that was torture.” Brad acknowledged.
“Great.” Jo said back, Brad raising his eyebrows. “Same time tomorrow?”
“Alright. Same time tomorrow.” Brad repeated.
…
They saw each other dozens of times before lunch the next day, and Jo tried to shove whatever the hell their little lunch appointment was out of the back of her mind where it had taken up residence. Brad seemed to do so easily, acting the exact same as he always did, bending everyone in the office to his will without them even realizing and then explaining it to Jo with a lot of hand motions.
Things start to go south the next morning when they’re all standing around the conference room, scrolling through slides of new monsters Poppy wants to add to the game.
“Well if we need a model for these undead skeleton things we can just use Brad, right?” Ian teased, gesturing between the image on the screen and Brad standing next to him. “I mean he’s practically all bones.”
“Lay off, Ian.” Poppy sighed, trying to bring focus back to her presentation.
“I’m just kidding, Pops.” Ian whined. “I mean, I’m just saying, look at him.” He wraps a hand around Brad’s upper arm for emphasis. “Guy looks like he’s a hundred pounds soaking wet.”
“You’re projecting your own toxic ideas about masculinity onto Brad.” Rachel pointed out from the corner.
“Just because I could kick Brad’s ass doesn’t mean I’m projecting anything. It’s not like he cares, right?”
“I don’t care.” Brad echoed, his voice hollow.
“The tester’s sort of got a point, honestly.” Poppy agreed. “Because it really feels like you’re overcompensating for something right now, and I’m not sure if it’s your sword-fighting skills or your actual dick, but either way—"
The conversation turned quickly to overlapping debate around Ian’s insecurities, with Brad taking the moment to escape with a half-assed excuse. He paced out with Jo behind him, practically jogging to keep up with his long legs. He seemed equal parts surprised and pissed off when he turned around to see her still next to him as he got into the elevator.
“God, I’m disgusting.” He breathed, brushing nonexistent lint off the front of his sweater. “And fat, Ian has no fucking clue what he’s talking about.”
“Brad, you do realize you’re not fat though, right?” Jo said hesitantly.
“Shut the hell up, Jo, seriously.” Brad said, hitting the door close button as fast as he could. “We aren’t having this conversation. Not now, not ever.”
“But you really aren’t, and the fact that you actually think you are is a little scary.” Jo protested. “I mean Ian was being super weird about it but you are really skinny. Like, objectively.”
“Jo, how many times am I going to have to tell you that I’m not stupid? I know what size pants I buy, and it doesn’t matter, and that’s—that’s his whole point.”
“Ian’s point?”
Brad stares down at his shoes. “No, not Ian. My brother. It doesn’t matter what I actually look like because I have no way of knowing what’s real and what isn’t.”
Jo took half a step back from Brad, frozen in place in the center of the elevator. “I’m… not sure what you mean.”
“He twists everything around, what’s real and what’s fake until I have no clue what I even look like, and I cannot believe I’m telling you this, it’s so unprofessional, and personal, and—”
“It’s okay.” Jo interrupted. “Is there anything you want me to do?”
“No, there’s not. Do not do anything. But… thank you or whatever. For asking.” He mumbled.
“Yeah, Brad.” Jo said softly, walking off as the doors slid open. He doesn’t get off, just clicks another number and rides it back up.
…
“You, Jo, come here.” Poppy waved from the window of her office, taking a bite out of a candy bar. “Where the hell’s Brad? He was supposed to be in here ten minutes ago.”
“I don’t know.” Jo shrugged.
Poppy sighed and tossed her crumpled wrapper at the trash can, muttering fireball under her breath triumphantly when it makes it in. “Can you just go find him?”
“Sure, whatever.”
Jo started towards Brad’s office, but didn’t quite make it there before seeing Brad in a dead-end hallway, staring at his reflection in the glass. Jo took a step back before he could see her, watching as he pulled his sweater up just enough to adjust the waistband of his dress pants, then tugged it back down and shifted the hem by miniscule inches. He just kept looking, turning himself sideways, watching the person in the mirror with a blank stare like he was trying to tell where he knew them from but couldn’t quite place it. She wondered if going up to Brad right now would count as doing something, which she had been explicitly instructed not to do, but she walks up to him anyway, does her best to make it look like she’s just passing by.
“You look fine, promise.” She said under her breath. “And Poppy’s looking for you.”
Brad was absolutely glaring when he turned to look at her, and if looks could kill she’d probably be dead where they stood, but after a long pause he nodded twice, a short, controlled motion, and walked off in the direction of Poppy’s office.
…
“Listen, because I’m definitely not going to repeat this, ever.” Brad said, Jo turning to him in attention. It had to be their tenth lunch like this, the television still playing an episode of Ducktales in the background.
“What is it?”
“This—” He waved his coffee cup around in his hand. “is a weakness of mine. A big one. And it’s just so wonderfully easy to exploit, I know it is. I’m sure you do too, because you aren’t stupid. You’re actually a really smart kid. I guess what I’m saying is that if you wanted to push with this, you could break me, and you aren’t, and I’m starting to feel like you won’t.”
“I won’t.” Jo confirmed, and she meant it, surprising herself a tiny bit after she’d spent this whole time with a voice in the back of her head reminding her that she needed to be looking for a leg up, to be ready to take Brad down at the earliest opportunity. But this wasn’t Everlight or Grouchy Goat or some other stupid shit that ended when they went home for the weekend. It was just Brad, and when he looked at her and seemed grateful she couldn’t find it in herself to use it against him. Maybe that did make her as weak as everyone always told her she was, maybe she was a pussy for not jumping at the opportunity to take Brad down when it would be this simple, but maybe she didn’t care.
“Okay.” Brad faltered. “I don’t really believe you, but okay.”