Work Text:
3:15 PM
"Everyone's been working so hard lately," Teia said to Viago during their afternoon coffee break.
Viago wasn't one for post-lunch peregrinations, but Teia occasionally pried him away from his desk for a sanctioned twenty-minute morale outing. She pitched it to him this way: it was good for the team to witness leadership visibly away from their desks, displaying an air of sanctioned leisure. Viago no longer argued (he’d learned the hazards of outright refusing Teia), but he grumbled about the productivity hemorrhage while she finessed the office espresso machine, an appliance he regarded with deep suspicion.
“You look tired. Can I make you a cup?” Teia asked, eyeing the red hollows under his eyes.
“That thing hasn’t been properly sterilized in months. If I catch something from it, I might have to come in late tomorrow,” Viago muttered, sounding personally affronted by its presence.
Teia laughed. “It’s deep-cleaned monthly. Nightly mop-downs by the maintenance crew. You know that.”
He scowled. “Shared equipment is a microbial playground. That’s why I lock my office at night and disinfect my desk like it’s trying to unionize.”
Teia said nothing. Viago let the silence settle and glanced around the unusually crowded break room. He suppressed a full-body shudder at the thought of casual conversation obligations.
As if summoned by his dread, Viago felt a tap on his arm and heard the cheerful knife-twist of a greeting: "Heeyyyyy, boss man!"
Argos Pohl reached across him to nab a coffee creamer with the ease of someone unbothered by social hierarchies.
“Hello, Argos,” Viago said, with the stiff formality he reserved for polite intruders.
He stood perfectly still until the shorter man departed, then hissed to Teia, “This is why I hate coffee breaks.”
“Because you might be required to speak to people who report to you?” Teia blinked.
“I’m not here to socialize. The ideal greeting is a completed report, filed on time, with minimal pleasantries.”
“It’s a break room, Vi. They’re here to socialize. Sit down.”
“It’s a misuse of company resources,” Viago muttered.
Teia steered him toward their usual booth in the far back. The high-backed seats provided nominal privacy, and Viago positioned himself to watch the door like a toddler gleefully waiting to report their siblings’ every misdemeanor.
“Tell me truthfully,” Teia said, “If you could work from home and never interact with anyone here, would you?”
Viago opened his mouth to answer, but Teia added, “You wouldn’t see me, either.”
His mouth closed again. He wrestled with the challenge of complimenting Teia while scorning the rest of humanity.
He failed. Mouth open, mouth closed, until Teia chuckled and said, “Careful. You’ll let in the bacteria you fear so much.”
“That’s… not how bacteria work,” Viago snapped.
“If you won’t drink coffee with me, why do you come along when I ask?”
She’s in a mood, Viago thought. He mentally rewound their recent interactions, searching for the catalyst.
Wait.
“Is this about the email I sent?” he asked, hesitantly.
“Merciful Maker, yes! Who sends a full PowerPoint titled ‘Reasons Andarateia and Viago Are Emotionally Incompatible’ as an explanation for five years of stalemate?”
“Well—”
“If you’re going to dissect our relationship, maybe don’t do it on the company network. I don’t need the GRAI Wardens pinging me for romantic noncompliance.”
Viago made a face of distaste. GRAI Wardens. The team responsible for Governance & Review of A.N.T.I.V.A.n Internet usage. Official motto: It's War, We're Headhunting. In Peace, You Shouldn't Open That Email. In Death, Your Browser History Lives On. Unofficial motto: We disapprove.
“I thought you had dated someone on that team,” Viago said weakly. “That idiot Dante, right?”
“Balazar. You put his picture on slide 8. Don’t play dumb.”
“You said he had a small—”
“Not here! And I said that he was obsessed with the idea that he did, not that it was actually small.”
“I don’t want to hear about your former lovers.”
“Viago!”
He ran a hand through his hair, deeply regretting his life choices.
“Hi, Teia!”
Viago buried his face in his hands. Aydenne’s chirpy voice always sounded like it came with emojis.
“Aydé! Come sit with us,” Teia said warmly.
After bonding at the Ironbull concert, Teia and Aydenne had become fast friends, much to Viago’s everlasting horror. They spent their downtime discussing vacation plans and party destinations. Meanwhile, Viago’s bucket list contained one item: receive the fifty-year service award and disappear in a legally airtight retirement notice.
“Am I interrupting? It feels like you’re hosting a post-mortem,” Aydenne said, sliding into the booth without hesitation.
“Post-mortem, planning meeting… depends on your perspective,” Teia replied breezily.
Viago glared. The phrase planning meeting watered the fragile seed of hope he harbored obsessively.
Aydenne grinned. “So wait — does the espresso machine pull shots with a tense emotional undercurrent now? Or is that a feature of this particular table?”
Viago pivoted to full glacier mode. “Bold words from someone who mistook a venue balcony for a romantic hideaway and the owner’s grandson for a casual hookup. I’m shocked you’re not in a corner with his tongue halfway to your colon right now.”
“Inappropriate,” Teia said quellingly. “Illario really likes you, Aydé. That’s rare.”
“Can we please not discuss Illario? He gives me indigestion,” Viago groaned.
“We can chat about this later, Aydenne.” Teia said. “How’s the audit coming?”
“I finished the graphics. Waiting on Brad’s report. Is he always...”
“Particular?” Teia offered.
“A know-it-all with a stick up his ass?” Viago countered.
Aydenne laughed. “Yes.”
“He’s the best we’ve got,” Teia said. “Quick, detailed, impossible, but he can pull the most complex datasets. He and Viago are cut from similar cloth. They both Excel at their work.”
Viago approved of the joke but wisely remained silent on the topic of Brad from Reporting. He prayed Aydenne would follow suit.
Aydenne did not. “Maybe Brad needs a shadow intern.”
Viago narrowed his eyes. “Would you like me to arrange that?”
Teia rolled her eyes. “Don’t threaten him with job security, Vi. Aydé’s thriving in his current role.”
“Really?” Aydenne’s whole face lit up. He glanced between them like a puppy promised a treat.
Viago was never escaping this...child, was he? This total idiot who brought competence and sunshine into his office every morning, who even showed up on time (as Viago reckoned it), sometimes?
“Speaking of thriving,” Teia said, “we’re considering opening a new junior CROW position — project managing our Corporate Recruitment & Overseas Workforce. The headhunting team’s growing. It's an open secret that if you keep impressing Caterina with your work, you're on the shortlist.”
“A weekend trip to celebrate? We can discuss tactics. For Viago's comfort.” Aydenne suggested, eyes wide.
“We could. And since you two don’t technically report to each other, you’re free to socialize outside of work.”
Viago grumbled something indistinct that sounded like “I’d rather let a venomous snake bite me.”
“I didn’t catch that, Vi, but I’m sure that could be arranged,” Teia said sweetly.
“I said I was planning to work this weekend.”
“Fine. Then we’ll go in two weeks, Aydé. It will be fun!”
Viago stared into the middle distance, trying not to let celebrate and it will be fun! ruin his digestion for the rest of the day.
“Don’t worry, Viago. I can make a quick presentation on Acceptable Boundaries for Weekend Trips with your Situationship for you,” Aydenne teased.
“Include at least one slide about you and Dellamorte. I don’t need a front row seat at the next public exhibition.”