Work Text:
Friday, 5:50 PM.
Aydenne and Viago were wrapping up their Weekly Review and Action Planning (WRAP).
Slumped in Viago’s uncomfortable extra chair, Aydenne wondered how late they’d be stuck in the office. His team’s soccer game started at 7. But convincing Viago “High-impact work starts with thorough review” de Riva to let him leave early? That would require an act of Congress. The lecture alone wouldn’t be worth it.
He had just suppressed his third sigh in five minutes when club music echoed down the hall. Viago immediately leaned forward, his annoyance palpable.
Who the hell (else) was still in the office at almost six?
The sound resolved into a song, with someone singing loudly and unabashedly:
"Tonight, I want all of you
Tonight, give me everything
Tonight, for all we know
We might not get tomorrow
Let’s do it tonight!"
Viago’s scowl deepened in perfect synchrony with the approaching music.
A knock on the window. Then, the culprit in the doorway.
Aydenne did a triple take.
Teia Cantori stood in the entrance, wielding a pill-shaped speaker like an artifact of power, a shopping bag dangling from her other hand.
She wore a startlingly tight black suit, a skinny black tie, and a white menswear-style shirt, top button undone.
On her head? A bald cap, pressed snugly over the normally riotous curls.
From the bag protruded two pairs of horns.
The effect was breathtaking, in a way that was both incredibly hot and completely absurd.
“Vi. Don’t tell me you forgot?” Teia said, disappointed.
Viago spluttered, “Turn that down. People are trying to work.”
Teia complied, rolling her eyes. Work would definitely be improved if this song replaced the stifling silence of Viago’s office, Aydenne thought.
Belatedly, Viago frowned. “Forgot about what?”
“The concert?”
Teia dropped her bag to the floor, retrieving a pair of horns and an eyepatch.
“Viago not working hard? Yeah, right, picture that with a Kodak,” she quoted, tossing the props onto his desk. “And I might drink a little more than I should, tonight!”
She winked at Aydenne.
“Dale!” Aydenne shot back instantly.
Teia laughed, shimmying a little. Suddenly the entire office felt more alive. Aydenne’s eyes followed her curves appreciatively.
Viago cleared his throat, far too loudly to be subtle.
“…Should I know the song?” Viago wore the expression of a man steeling himself to identify a loved one in a morgue.
“I sent you the playlist months ago, Vi,” Teia groaned. “We have VIP tickets! I told you to prepare!”
Words burst from Aydenne’s mouth: “Wait. You have VIP tickets to see Ironbull?”
Viago’s jaw fell open. He had clearly, truly, irredeemably forgotten.
Then he snorted. “That idiot with the party songs and the stupid catchphrases?”
“That’s the one,” Teia said, executing a perfect dance step to the (slightly lowered-volume) music.
“I bought all our props and everything.”
She leaned forward over the desk, pouting dramatically in Viago’s direction. Viago eyed the horns and eyepatch like they were a snake preparing to strike. Teia observed him for a long, knowing moment, then turned to Aydenne.
“Do you want to be one of my dates tonight?”
Aydenne gaped. Teia turned heads wherever she went. Who wouldn’t want to go as her date?
Her smile turned mischievous. “Not with Andarateia Cantori, Human Optimization & Talent, Director, but with Teia, Ironbull superfan.”
Before Aydenne could answer, Viago responded in a truly indescribable voice:
“…Teia. Don’t play games.”
Oops. This was no time to get caught between his boss and the HOT Director. Aydenne grit his teeth, suddenly very aware that Teia was the person who hired him.
“I’m not playing, Vi. If you don’t want to go, I want the ticket to go to someone who’ll actually appreciate it.” Her voice held steel.
Aydenne wanted to hide under the desk.
“You’re already going with that fool of a Dellamorte,” Viago whined. “Taking Rook would be an insult on top of injury.”
“Aydenne, please pretend Viago didn’t say that. I’d hate for it to affect your working relationship with him.”
“…Should I give you a minute?” Aydenne managed.
He felt exactly like he was watching his parents argue, and it was excruciating.
“Yes.”
“NO.”
The words collided; Teia’s voice was firmer.
“Andarateia,” a voice called from the hallway.
“Fuck, what next?” Viago muttered.
Illario Dellamorte poked his head into view. He wore an outfit identical to Teia’s, except where her shirt was cloth, his was mesh.
“We’re already late, de Riva.”
Aydenne had a brief moment of confusion before he realized that Illario was talking to Viago, not to him.
Teia winked again. “There you have it, Aydenne de Riva. Let’s go.”
Illario blinked. “…Another de Riva?”
He stared at Aydenne like he was seeing him for the first time, which, given Illario’s shitty disdain toward Viago whenever they were in the same room, might actually be true.
“No relation,” Aydenne said quickly, determined to sound friendly.
Illario studied him, first clinically, then interestedly.
“Charmed,” he said smoothly. “I do have a fourth ticket, in case that one deigns to join us after all.”
He jerked his head toward Viago, who scowled back, impressively.
Teia clapped her hands. “Excellent! Let’s not waste time, then. Vi?”
Viago muttered something that sounded like Shit on my tongue and Aydenne glanced at him in bewilderment. Teia ignored him entirely.
“Aydenne, want the extra horns and eyepatch?” She swept them off the desk, offering them to him. “Superfans only in our seats.”
Aydenne grinned. “Do you have another bald cap?”
Teia’s eyes sparkled with delight.
Illario drove his expensive sportscar like a maniac. By some miracle (or through a folding of spacetime), they arrived at the venue in record time.
Aydenne had never used valet parking before, but judging by the way Illario slipped a crisp $50 into the valet’s hand like a practiced magician, he assumed it cost more than his entire week’s worth of lunches.
“Thanks,” Illario said, shocking Aydenne.
At the office, Illario had given no indication of possessing basic human courtesy, let alone the ability to say thank you.
Illario caught the look on Aydenne’s face and smirked.
“Why the look of surprise? I’m only rude to de Riva - Viago - since it’s what he deserves. Uptight jackass. Guess I can’t call him just de Riva anymore, though. That’s your name too.”
Aydenne smiled, distracted. Illario’s muscular chest was visible through the gaps in his mesh shirt, and Aydenne wasn’t exactly complaining.
“Viago is a little weird, but he’s nice in his own way,” Aydenne found himself saying. He wasn’t sure why he was defending him. Viago didn’t care what people thought of him. “He works too much, eats like a cryptid, but overall? Not the worst boss. He calls me Rook. Short for The Rookie.”
“Rook,” Illario snorted. “That assistant of Viago’s give you that? He's good with stupid nicknames.”
Aydenne revised his opinion of Illario upward again.
“For being the boss’s lazy grandson, you sure know a lot about the people who work at the company,” he said, and immediately regretted it.
Illario winked; another shock. “Maybe I like being the boss’s lazy grandson.”
Teia appeared, grabbed them both by the arms, and yanked them forward at high speed.
“We are not standing around,” she announced, expertly navigating the sea of concertgoers. “Move.”
Inside the venue, the chaos of the stadium hit Aydenne like a wall of noise and neon lights.
“So crowded,” Viago grumbled behind them.
Teia smiled indulgently. “You’ll like the VIP lounge better. Limited capacity. You can hide there if you want.”
“Just give me a drink,” Illario laughed. “Or four.”
They trekked up three sets of escalators, followed by a private elevator. When they entered the VIP lounge, Aydenne stared. He had no idea what to expect, but whatever this was, it exceeded all his expectations.
An enormous crystal chandelier dominated the center of the room. Beneath it, a well-stocked bar with two bartenders poured drinks for a thankfully short line of patrons.The furniture was modern, all squiggly bubblegum-colored shapes glowing from within via softly glowing LED lights. The whole place felt like the inside of a fever dream; packed with fellow Ironbull VIP fans, drinking, laughing, and dancing in elaborate themed outfits.
“Illario, I could kiss you! How did you manage all of this?” Teia crowed, slipping on her eyepatch and horns.
Illario smirked. “Called in a favor from—” he glanced at Aydenne, “—an old friend.”
“Well then, send them a kiss from me!” Teia declared.
Illario grinned. “Hmm. I don’t think I will.”
He turned to Aydenne.
“Would you like a drink, Rook?”
Aydenne hesitated. Drinks here were likely wildly expensive; a price tag he did not want to know.
“Oh, no, I’m fine.”
Viago snarked from a nearby bench, “Rook. Let the rich boy show you a good time.”
Teia arched an eyebrow. “Vi, you’re oddly permissive tonight.”
Viago folded his arms. “Out of shame. I have to be here with you while you’re dressed like this.”
Teia planted her hands on her hips. “You don’t have to be anywhere with me. We’ve been over this.”
Illario leaned toward Aydenne. “Let’s go before she calls him an Uber and sends him home with his tail between his legs.”
At the bar, Illario received a few compliments and even more appreciative looks, but he ignored the latter and politely thanked anyone who gave him the former. Aydenne was intrigued. He watched the crowd while Illario ordered.
Illario returned, the plastic cups in his hands glowing thanks to small lights in their bases, strobing colors through the sparkling liquid.
“Didn’t know what you liked, so I got one spicy and one sweet.” Illario held out both drinks. “Pineapple with tequila and tajin rim, or mojito with salt?”
“Pineapple. I like sweet and spicy.”
They clacked their cups together in a toast.
Teia materialized again, radiant in her horns and eyepatch. “You two! It’s time!”
She had a drink; Viago had one too. Aydenne doubted Viago would drink it, but Teia deserved two drinks.
“Let’s go!” Aydenne linked arms with Teia, determined to have an amazing evening.
The concert was a gloriously unhinged dance party. Ironbull commanded the stage, his reggaeton-heavy beats pulsed through the stadium like lightning in sound form.
The crowd screamed, jumped, and shook their asses in perfect obedience.
We makin’ it hot, we makin’ it hot
Dinero, dinero y no vamo’ a parar
We makin’ it hot, we makin’ it hot
Dinero, dinero y no vamo’ a parar
Teia, fully possessed by the moment, slid her arms around Viago and dropped low.
Viago looked like a man actively experiencing death, not like a man on whom the hottest woman in the stadium was currently grinding.
”Can you believe him?” Illario shouted in Aydenne’s ear. “I’d pay money to have Andarateia Cantori anywhere near my dick, and Viago looks like he’s about to faint from disinterest.”
“She hired me!” Aydenne objected, blushing and trying not to watch.
Teia was a very good dancer. Aydenne could easily imagine taking her in his arms and...
Illario stepped in front of Aydenne and shook his ass, per The Ironbull’s instructions, giving Aydenne his third shock of the evening, but he had no time to think about it. Suddenly, they were dancing, caught up in the moment, the bass and the mood drawing them together like magnets. Aydenne put his hand on Illario’s back, pulling him close, and they moved together like they were cut from the same cloth.
When a slower song started, Aydenne lost track of everything except Illario. Dancing. Neon. Illario throwing himself into the crowd’s movements with unrepentant confidence.
At one point, Aydenne found himself completely transfixed; Illario’s body glitter catching the light, the bass resonating in his chest.
They danced in a way that Aydenne was positive Viago would find a way to include in his quarterly review.
He didn’t care. Not even slightly. Illario was just that hot.
The moment was too good to ruin with reality.
“I hate to break this up,” Viago bawled at the end of the song. “Teia needs a bathroom break and asked me if either of you wanted anything.”
The man’s lips were pressed thinner than Aydenne had ever seen them. There were so many reasons he could be making that face, but Aydenne chose to believe it was the horns and eyepatches everywhere, not his current life choices.
llario casually flipped his wallet toward Viago. “Whatever you want. On me.” His gaze toward Aydenne was pure heat. “We could probably use some water, too.”
Viago’s glare was cold enough to freeze molten steel, but he took the wallet and trailed Teia back to the lounge.
Aydenne exhaled. Monday was going to be bad.
“He’s my boss,” Aydenne said as Illario’s arms wound around his neck.
“And my grandmother owns the company!”
Illario limited their kisses to the span of time Teia and Viago were in the restroom.