Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“There is an innocence in admiration: such innocence belongs to the man who does not yet have any idea that he, too, could at some point be admired.”

― Friedrich Nietzsche

Work was all of Richard's life.

Day in and day out, the same routine.

He was a high-powered professional now, but it was no different from when he was in school, or when he was fresh out of school, starting off with a minimum wage job to pay for living alone in the big city:

He woke up, prepared for work, went to work, worked, came home, washed up, and slept. The next day, the cycle repeated.

When reminded, he ate and breathed at certain points in between.

The work varied, but the routine did not. He knew it made him different. He knew some people even wondered how someone so repressed and shy somehow managed to climb up the ranks and make it as a senior account executive. Of an advertising firm, no less.

He could tell them that it was sheer industry, keeping his head down, doing the tasks he was put to, and not complaining... but he feared it would make him sound like a prat. It was only too easy to argue that his good looks got him to where he was, or his university degree, or his ability to impress the bosses - who, in fact, said to his face that his diligence was what they valued most about him.

So he said nothing.

He just wasn't like the rest. He was steady and reliable. It was how he was raised.

No time for the self.

No room for sweetness.

The work was its own reward.




But it made him lonely.

It made him a stranger among the other senior account executives, who were all naturally suspicious - every one of them was jockeying for the position of Account Supervisor. As soon as the slot opened up, they wanted to be in the running. And Richard would rather stay away from the games they played among themselves, as they formed alliances and strategized against each other.

And it made him a stranger to his subordinates, the junior execs, who were intimidated by him. Their mental image of him was shaped by his deep, serious voice, and the way he demanded punctuality and excellence at all times. Some of them even imagined that during the rare times he looked them in the eye, he was glaring.

He socialized only when he had to. Otherwise, he kept to himself.

His only friend - if he could call him that - was Graham, the art director. Graham was older, and had been employed in the advertising firm longer. He was already working as a senior artist when he took a shine to the tall, young, socially hopeless mail boy and recommended him for a copywriting position.

Now that they were older and more accomplished, Graham still did not shy away from telling Richard what was in his mind.

One of the things he tended to say was that Richard's own shyness was strangling him.

"You need to go easy on yourself," Graham advised him, a few times a month. "Go out to drinks if you're invited! Smile at the next pretty thing to cross your path! It's not a sin to loosen up some!"

But "loosening up" was a skill Richard had to admit he was not born with, and had not had time to cultivate.

He was different. His difference made him efficient. It made him outstanding.

Worst of all, it made him come back to an empty loft at the end of the day - no one with whom he could speak of his fears and achievements, and no one to let him know there was an end in sight.




And along came Lee.

The company took interns, but mainly for community points. Interns were a status symbol, which told the rest of the industry that the firm was successful and eager to help young people get a leg up in the ruthless advertising business - when the truth was they just pretty much let the kids in, then forgot all about them.

At Richard's company, no one really mentored the interns, which meant that most of them sat quietly at their assigned cubicles, doing nothing, and then, at the end of their terms, happily left with the passing grades they were given. They were mostly regarded as annoyances, and ignored for the duration of their stay.

But not Lee.

Richard spotted Lee instantly. He was going down to Accounting when he noticed the tall, young, chatty newcomer who was following Mr. Weaving around, carrying paper files for him and plying him with questions... and the frown on Mr. Weaving's already permanently frowny face clearly showed he hated that.

The newcomer had smiled and nodded at Richard in greeting, and Richard had been too busy thinking about what he was going to say to Ms. Blanchett, head of Accounting, that he wasn't able to smile and nod back.

When he got to Ms. Blanchett's office, the first thing he asked was who the new face was.

"Oh that's Lee," she said nonchalantly, in her naturally regal manner. Richard had always been a little afraid of the lovely Ms. Blanchett, but part of his job was showing that he wasn't afraid of anyone. That was why he had needed to compose himself before entering her domain. "He's very sweet," Ms. Blanchett continued, "but a pain, as far as interns go. Hates being idle. He goes around asking how he can be of help, and then does anything you ask of him. Anything." She recalled with some amusement, "Told him to shine my boots the other day. He dropped to his knees with a smile on his face. He was so cheerful I didn't have the heart to make him go through with it. Sent him out for coffee, instead."

Richard had a sudden unpleasant flashback of his months as a mail boy in the company. Those were the dark times before email and the internship program. There was no Ms. Blanchett then, and they were meaner to new guys.

"People around here keep pulling pranks on him," Ms. Blanchett pointed out. "He takes it in stride, but he really should just learn how to stay put and wait for his passing grade. What was it you came down here for?"

Richard asked if the funds for his upcoming presentation out of town were in place. He would rather not micromanage if he could, he said (which was a lie, he micromanaged all the time), but this was a new client he was handling, and he really couldn't take any chances.

Thus the subject of Lee was dropped, but not forgotten.




There was really no way to ignore him.

Besides his extraordinary height, which he seemed completely comfortable with, he brightened up a room just by walking into it.

And he seldom paid attention to where he was going, which meant he walked into things all the time.

They bumped into each other in the hallway to the art department, and the folios Lee was carrying in his arms fell to the ground.

Lee said "Oh" and stood stiffly, like a startled scarecrow. Without a second thought, Richard crouched down to help him pick up the fallen papers.

The folios contained concept sketches for print ads. Some were Graham's. Richard could see Graham's desk from where he stood, and saw Graham was watching them lazily from his chair.

"Sorry, it's my fault, I'm so clumsy," the intern started to sputter.

"It's nothing," Richard said, without meeting his gaze.

Lee bent down to help, but Richard had already finished putting the folios together. He handed them back to Lee and felt a moment's discomfort when their fingers touched.

"Thanks, sorry, um..." the intern started to say in his low, quiet voice.

Richard looked up at him. The intern was studying his face.

"I don't think we've met." He held out his hand for Richard to shake. "I'm the new intern. Lee."

"Richard." Lee's grip was strong, but not overly strong, which Richard's history of handshakes told him meant that he was ambitious, but not cutthroat.

Up close, his smile was even more disarming.

"Which department are you from?"

Richard's answer caught in his throat.

"A-advertising," he found himself saying.

Lee looked incredulous, then started to laugh. Over his broad, shaking shoulders, Richard saw Graham's eyebrows shoot up.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked, but Richard only looked at the ground and laughed quietly along, unable to even think of a follow-up.

A second of awkward silence later, Lee got the hint.

"...I'll see you around, Richard."

Richard looked up at him again, but he was already walking past.

So Richard headed into the art department, straight to Graham's desk. Graham greeted him with "Yes...?"

Richard stood there blinking. He had completely forgotten why he was there in the first place.

Chapter Text

For some reason, the art department chose to make Lee their runner - a job that took him frequently to the Accounts floor.

This meant Richard had a good eyeful of him almost every day.

Some of the senior account executives' offices had darkly tinted glass windows - Richard's among them. This was how he could observe the goings-on outside his office without being observed, in turn.

And it took a bit of looking for Richard to notice that Lee was actually a quiet person, much like Richard himself was. It just so happened that Lee's disposition was much sunnier than his, and his tall, lanky frame drew attention like a magnet. When attention was on him, he put on a smile and made the best of it.

It must have helped that Lee sincerely liked people. He took a genuine interest in what other people had for dinner or what their children's names were or how they got certain scars and if they still hurt.

Richard also noticed that Lee was a bit uncoordinated, which was somehow charming. Somehow he made walking into walls and hitting his head on the top part of doorframes adorable. And trying to shrink to fit behind the tiny office desk that was stuck inside his cubicle as a prank (oh those funny guys over at Research) was somehow cute, when he was the one doing it.

The sight of him made Richard smile. Even his name amounted to a smile: Lee.

In all likelihood, Lee still had no idea that the name "Richard Armitage" embossed on one of the senior executives' doors belonged to the same Richard he had bumped into just a few days ago. There were a number of facts that would support this theory:

For one thing, Richard was always one of the first people in the building, and one of the last to leave. Lee, on the other hand, was only an intern, who had to strictly keep to regular hours.

For another, Lee never spent more than thirty minutes a day total in the Accounts department, even with all his errands and propensity for chit-chat, so he would have too few chances to catch Richard walking in and out of his office.

And lastly, Richard actually waited for Lee to leave, before stepping into or out of his office. He didn't want to risk another awkward encounter. On his own floor, at least, he wanted to keep his dignity intact.




What Richard appreciated the most about Lee, he believed, was his work ethic.

As an intern, Lee just needed to fill a certain number of hours in "training"... but at the rate he was going, he was probably fast approaching that limit already. He wasn't watching the clock, or the calendar; he came into work because he wanted to be useful, because he enjoyed doing errands.

He was eager to learn, and paid close attention whenever anyone actually took the trouble to teach him anything. Richard saw this when he came across Lee being taught how to use the copy machine, down at Purchasing. The controls were basic, the tasks he was learning simple enough, and yet - there was such a look of concentration on his face.

And as Ms. Blanchett had pointed out - he really did do anything. Jed from Personnel once asked Lee to park his car for him... and he did so, gladly. Aidan and Dean, the dynamic but dastardly duo of the Marketing department, once made him do a grocery run that stocked up the office pantry for weeks in advance... even if none of them had clearance from Accounting to spend so much.

(That particular incident caused an uproar and almost cost Lee his internship, by the way. Thankfully, Lee was able to talk his way out of anything worse than a reprimand, and the inimitable Ms. Blanchett was able to quiet things down by leaving the groceries in the pantry, and deducting the expenses from the duo's salaries.)

As a hard worker himself, Richard appreciated Lee's steadiness.

But Lee's talents would not be apparent to many others until his third week on the job. That was the week Richard spent away, as he needed to oversee the launch of a new multimedia ad campaign for a client. When he came back, he was immediately regaled with tales of Lee's heroics.

What happened was, a senior executive suffered a panic attack because a top-secret concept art folder was missing from her briefcase, and she was due to fly out to Paris to present it to clients the next day. The next day. It caused a stir, with everyone running around pointing fingers, until Lee got his head together, rallied the other interns and went on an organized search for it.

After a great deal of questioning and legwork, Lee and his pals were able to trace the whereabouts of the folder: the executive had stopped for coffee at the break room, chatted with Jimmy from Warehousing, lost track of time, and rushed off when she realized she was running late. Jimmy had not in fact noticed the folder lying around; it was picked up instead by Stephen, also from Warehousing, who had popped in for a snack. He'd stored the folder in his locker in the Warehouse, intending to bring it up to Accounts as soon as he could... then he'd forgotten all about it.

Stephen surrendered it to the executive who'd lost it, safe and unopened - but with a tiny spot of mayonnaise on the lower right corner of the back cover.

Lee was not the one who had located the folder, but people had no qualms praising him for his quick and methodical thinking.

If Richard was in the habit of praising people, he would have done the same thing.

The truth was, he was generous with praise, when he thought it was deserved. The problem was that he did not relish the prospect of facing Lee again. He did not think he would survive saying another stupid thing in front of the younger man.

But good work needed acknowledgement. Richard's moral code demanded it. Lee had done well, for someone who wasn't even part of the company (yet?).

After all, "Instruction does much, but encouragement everything." Richard firmly believed this.

So that night, when almost else everyone had left, Richard stole down to Research.

And he left a small card with the words "Good job" printed on it, on top of the tiny desk in the cubicle at the corner.



Richard didn't know when it became a habit.

It was just that almost every day, Lee did something new to impress him.

It wasn't very easy to get a pat on the shoulder from fellow senior executive Andy, for example, who had a reputation for being even more gruff and exacting than Richard was.

And it certainly wasn't very easy to befriend Martin, Richard's sharp-tongued, sarcastic but efficient personal assistant, who had come to expect Lee dropping by to trade office gossip whenever he had to pass by Accounts.

There were stories about his efficiency, too - word spread about how Lee had casually proposed a new filing system that was going to make Research's archiving tasks a great deal easier. He had also pitched in some ideas about social media utilization, which had apparently made their way to Accounts, and caught the attention of the younger junior account execs.

Certainly no small feats, for someone who had been serving as unpaid labor for only a little over a month.

So every day, Richard found himself putting thought into what he was going to print on the card he was going to leave on Lee's desk later. It had to be something encouraging, something unique. 

And somehow, he never ran out of things to print.

"Keep up the good work."

"You're doing great. Hang in there."

"Little by little, one travels far."

Richard thought about signing the cards, sometimes... but his shyness always won. He simply convinced himself that he wasn't doing this for his own benefit, and therefore Lee didn't need know about him; the messages were vital here, not the messenger.

He was never sure, however, if Lee even got to read the notes. The previous note was always gone by the time Richard left a new one, but Lee carried on as usual.

Maybe the custodian did early rounds and took them, before Lee could even read them. Maybe one of the pranksters in Research hid them from Lee. These fears made Richard reluctant, but they were not powerful enough to stop him.

And he didn't know when the habit started turning creepy.

He guessed it was the day when he started leaving flowers with the notes.

That was the day when Lee looked a little down. Richard overheard that it was because Ian from Administration was taking a lengthy sick leave. 

Ian was one of the people Lee looked up to and looked forward to chatting with every day, and hearing that he'd had to go to hospital to deal with a chronic ailment worried him greatly.

Ian was no stranger to hospitals. But he hated being fussed over. Richard, like many other people in the company, only sent their best regards, expecting Ian to return chipper and ready for another day at work soon.

Richard was sure Ian was going to pull through again this time. It was just that Lee's concern was infectious. The normally upbeat intern's somber mood mystically permeated Richard's tinted glass window, and affected his entire day.

On that day, Richard spotted a flower by the roadside, as he was walking back to the firm after lunch. It looked out of place to him, growing alone in the cracks between the concrete. He picked it up and placed it in his lapel, where it wouldn't be crushed and wouldn't seem too strange.

That night, the card he left on Lee's desk said "It'll be all right."

And he laid down his flower - a single, small daisy - beside the note.

The next morning, Richard happened to pass by Research; Fran, head of Research, had summoned him to discuss the sales data for one of his accounts.

On the way, he spotted Lee sitting on a table in the middle of the department, surrounded by a few people.

Lee held the daisy in his fingers and was idly twirling it, close to his face. It was already slightly wilted, but he didn't seem to care.

Richard had, in fact, forgotten that he had left the daisy with the previous night's note, and was surprised to see it now.

He stopped walking just before he could come into view, and where he could just overhear the ongoing conversation.

"So last night was the first time your secret admirer left you flowers?" someone asked.

The words made Richard think.

Secret admirer...?

Was that what he was?

"C'mon, it's harmless," someone else said. "And I think it's sweet."

"Sweet? I dunno, seems a bit stalkerish to me..."

"Secret admirer," Richard could probably stomach - "stalker" was too much. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

He was aware that he was already testing the boundaries by leaving notes - he saw now that a flower was probably over the top.

But he couldn't deny it finally pleased him to learn that Lee was, in fact, receiving his cards.

"Now it's flowers, next it's jewelry, and before you know it, the notes are getting scary," said the cynical person who had just spoken. "I've seen it on the telly, it does happen!"

"Oh I think Lee can take care of himself, in case of that. Right, Lee?"

Lee said something that Richard didn't quite catch, but it sent the people gathered around him snickering. Whatever it was, it sounded joking and a little coy.

"But you don't think it's creepy?"

"Me?" Lee's voice was a little louder this time. "Nope. Not in the least. I like flowers, actually."

He said something about taking flowers to Ian at the hospital later, and his blithe tone of voice told Richard that the melancholy of the previous day had completely dissipated.

Richard felt something inside his chest unknot. He breathed out a sigh, and realized that he was smiling.

His smile kept up all the way to his meeting with Fran.

Secret admirer.

In the end, he decided that the term really didn't sit well with him.

"Is that a new vest?"

Graham was just passing by Richard's office, on his way back from someone else's. He decided to pop in and point out the most noticeable thing in the room that day.

Richard looked at him, then attempted to ignore him. He supposed he was thankful to Graham for snapping him out of his daydreams, but he had press release drafts to edit.

"That's a new vest," Graham persisted. "And a new tie to go with it. I do believe you've bought yourself new clothes, Mr. Armitage."

Now Richard could've lied, and said they had been in his closet for some time - he just hadn't gotten to taking them out.

But the visually observant Graham would know if he was lying, and the effort wasn't worth the potential trouble of pissing the art director off.

What he said was, "It's not against the law, is it, Mr. McTavish?"

"Indeed it is not." Graham nodded. "Although it toes the line of breaking the laws of you. You haven't bought new clothes since the day you were made a senior account executive. Dare I surmise that another world-changing event recently occurred?"

Richard didn't answer him.

"That blush says yes," Graham remarked, pointing.

Richard sat up stiffly. "What blush?"

Graham sneered, and then Richard felt himself blushing. He ducked his head, hoping he would seem more annoyed than embarrassed.

"If you ask me," said his tormentor, "you can stand to lose the tie. Or the vest. One or the other, mate, honestly. Just because they're new, doesn't mean they go together."

Richard considered this briefly, and chose to sacrifice the tie. Richard trusted Graham's keener fashion sense - which would have been strange to someone who didn't know either of them well, as the older man could rarely be found in anything but form-fitting black T-shirts.

"Loosen the top two buttons, while you're at it. There, that's better." Graham's voice was kind, this time. "Now get out there and show yourself off, or else what's the point."

It took a while for a suitable retort to form in Richard's mind. By that time, Graham had already left his office, leaving him to stew in that last piece of advice.



Later that day, Richard came across him in the corridor.

He summoned the courage to look Lee in the eye and smile first.

Lee beamed at him.

"How's it going?" he greeted. "Richard, isn't it? From Advertising."

It had been two months since they first met. They had found themselves in each other's presence a few times since, but had not found another chance to exchange more than two words.

Richard was touched that Lee remembered him. Though not the part where he had messed up his department name... technically, everyone in the building was "from Advertising."

"I like your tie," Lee commented.

Richard blinked. The fingers of one hand flew up to his collarbone. "I'm not wearing -"

Lee flashed a grin. "Exactly."

And Lee strode by without another word.

The spell broke only when Lee turned a corner; only then was Richard free to take a breath, and go on his way again.

It wasn't anything, he was sure. Lee was friendly to everyone, and as polite as he was, Richard was certain he let a flirtatious comment or two slip, to get on someone's good side.

Still...

It did not escape his attention that Lee wore a white rose, pinned over the heart of the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing - no doubt the same white rose he had left on Lee's desk the night before.

And he did not fail to notice that Lee seemed a little sunnier, a little more self-possessed, with that rose in place.

Chapter Text

At the start it was just white roses.

Then it progressed to yellow.

That was when Richard decided he had to stop.

If his notes had been able to avoid detection, the flowers, on the other hand, drew attention.

And speculation.

Lee had taken to pinning the roses on his clothes, or leaving them in a vase on his cubicle, then staring at them with a thoughtful smile on his face.

People were starting to whisper. It's probably Tami from Art, they said, you know how creative she is. Or Mr. Bloom up in Accounts. You've seen how he looks at Lee sometimes.

It's probably not even a secret to our handsome young intern - maybe he and his admirer are already meeting, he's just pretending he doesn't have a clue.

It could be anyone. It could even be one of the senior execs. Who in the entire company could be so romantic?

Romantic - a word Richard had never before associated with himself.

The next step to yellow was pink.

Then red.

It wasn't like him.

That girl from Research was right: if he didn't reel himself in, he was going to turn into a genuine stalker. Even worse - he was going to be found out, and public opinion was going to turn him into a stalker, no matter the circumstances.

That was it. That was enough. He didn't need this complication, and neither did Lee.

He'd only meant to encourage. He hadn't meant to cause a stir.

Focus on work, now.

No time for the self.

No room for sweetness. 




The change was gradual. At first Lee was his usual cheerful self, sans the ridiculous flowers pinned on his shirts.

Then his smiles started looking sad.

Richard watched it all safely from behind his tinted glass window. It made him feel far away - like he was watching a tragedy unfold on the television screen.

Lee still did the work he was assigned, every bit, without complaint - but his trademark enthusiasm, the spring in his step, was beginning to taper off.

He still exchanged banter with the usual people - with Martin at his desk outside of Richard's office, for example - but he seemed a bit more reserved now, like he had no energy to spare for jokes or anything louder than a snicker.

And he avoided crowds. He hung back whenever people gathered, managing to disappear in the midst of lively chatter.

It was mortifying - like watching the sun go out, and realizing how dark it had used to be.

But surely, Richard said to himself, this was not his fault. Mere lack of contact from a "secret admirer" could not have been enough.

Surely Lee was made of hardier stuff.

One day, he heard that Lee was starting to say his goodbyes - he was done with his internship, and gotten a favorable evaluation from Fran. He had no reason to stay any longer, though Fran generously allowed him clearance to stay and socialize until the end of the month.

Richard forced himself to ignore this bit of news and keep his head down.

It had nothing to do with him.




But it started having everything to do with him when he started losing sleep.

Lee was leaving.

What troubled Richard the most, he believed, was the breakdown of routine. Richard was a creature of habit. Day in and day out, he did things the same way, steadily.

And he had to admit to himself that leaving messages and little gifts on Lee's desk had become part of his routine.

Along with seeing Lee at work.

Was he expected to accept that it was all over? As with any change in routine, he had no doubt that he could adjust to a Lee-less life over again, given time.

And yet...

It wasn't just about routine. Or losing sleep.

It was about Lee not being his upbeat self since Richard decided to pull away.

Lee was leaving - and he was leaving unhappy.

Richard had to do something.

But what?




Talk to him.

It was, at first, only a persistent little whisper in his head while he and Lee shared the elevator going down from Accounts. It did not dare get any louder, lest Lee, who stood nearby, would somehow hear.

The closeness was stifling. Richard asked himself, why did someone so young have to take up so much room? Two tall, broad-shouldered grown men standing together seemed to suck up all the oxygen in that little space.

When the elevator doors opened, and Lee stepped out, the whisper in Richard's head suddenly turned into a shout.

Talk to him.

"Lee," Richard called.

Surprised, Lee turned around.

...Okay, Richard asked himself, what now?

First, he had to step off the elevator.

Then he had to keep Lee from walking away.

"Can I walk with you?"

Lee pulled himself up. "Of course," he answered, with customary politeness. He crossed his arms over his chest almost protectively as he waited for Richard to approach.

Lee was tense. Richard even moreso.

Relax, Richard told himself. You're a superior. Remember your status.

Remember you're older.

He let out a breath and flashed a smile at Lee - the power smile. A significantly toned-down version of the "I will sell this idea to you and you will waste no time in buying it" smile. Richard had mastered a number of facial expressions over the years, to help him through difficult social/official situations, and this one had not yet been known to fail.

It was designed to put Lee at ease, but it didn't. The younger, taller man kept his arms crossed over his chest as they began to walk together slowly.

Richard found an appropriate topic of conversation five steps on.

"I hear you're done with your internship."

Lee nodded thoughtfully.

"You'll be graduating soon, then?"

"If all goes well," Lee answered, trying to sound like he looked forward to it.

"Do you already know what you'll do after that?"

Lee showed an expression that looked like it wanted to be a smile, but a few facial muscles refused to cooperate. It ended up looking appropriately uncertain.

"Well then, have you given a thought to applying for a regular position here?" Richard was ready to launch into a speech about how the firm could use an energetic, resourceful young person such as Lee, but he was cut short.

"I'm not... sure I'm a good fit for this company."

Richard paused, more taken aback by how quickly Lee was able to answer, than by what he actually said.

"But... don't you want to be?" The executive's manufactured confidence faltered. "This is one of the most stable firms in the country. In this economy, you'd be hard pressed to find another that offers greater job security."

"I understand," Lee said meekly. "It's just... I don't think I was able to find what I was looking for here."

This time, it was Richard's turn to try and catch his gaze, as Lee kept his face turned away. "What were you looking for?" he asked, his voice turning kind.

That seemed to get results. Lee hesitated, but in the end he said: "Somewhere to belong." He caught himself, thought of his next words more carefully. "Funny thing to say, isn't it? I know that sounds weird. But for a while, I thought..."

Lee clammed up. He seemed to realize at that moment that this wasn't proper workplace talk - especially not with someone he barely knew.

Tell me, Richard wanted to beg.

"Never mind," Lee chuckled. "It's all just work, I know. I have a long way to go before I can be as professional as everyone else here." Lee snuck a glance over the low walls of the cubicles they were passing by, and Richard thought he looked sad, almost wistful.

He decided it wasn't a good time to point out that quite a few of the ones whom Lee called "professionals" played tricks on him and made his life as an intern more difficult than it could've been... and also spent most of their office time gossiping or going on Facebook.

"You've been pretty accessible... I'm sure you've made some friends." There was a fine line between "reassuring" and "condescending," and Richard took great care not to cross it. "And I'm sure they'll make a place for you in this company."

"But that's not it," Lee argued, finally meeting his gaze. "I don't want anyone to make a place for me." 

Richard held his searching stare, and being subjected to the full force of the younger man's distress stunned him into silence.

Lee had, in fact, expected an answer - or a remark, at least. But since Richard said nothing, he took it to mean he had said something that no one within earshot could possibly relate to. At least, he could read that much off the blank look on Richard's face.

"I don't know," Lee sighed. "I think it might have been my fault. I wanted to fit in too badly. I tried too hard. That would turn anyone off, right?"

He sounded so forlorn. Richard almost patted him on the head or on the shoulder. He wondered why he stopped himself from doing it. It might have helped.

Instead, he said, "It seems a shame that you'd base your career decisions on other people's perception of you."

And it was the wrong thing to say.

The beginning of a frown touched Lee's brow. But in a split-second it seemed he denied himself the luxury of getting offended. He smiled instead, and it came out as a genuinely apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry I'm so insecure," he answered.

That wasn't what Richard meant. That wasn't what he meant at all.

But the words he could use to try and salvage the situation didn't come together in his head.

"I don't mean to sound rude, or ungrateful," Lee continued in a slightly louder voice, which seemed a little strained, "but I actually don't trust how I perceive things. I never did. If even one person in this company truly wants me to stay... well, I would appreciate it if that person just came right out and said so."

He stopped in front of a closed door - an office, one he was apparently scheduled to visit. Before putting his hand on the knob, he turned to Richard again with a lukewarm smile.

"Thank you," he said quietly, "for treating me kindly while I was here."

Lee graciously waited a few seconds for Richard's reply. But there was none, so he excused himself with a nod, and opened the door.

He shut the door behind him, unaware that Richard lingered outside.

Completely oblivious to the look of distress on Richard's face as he left his line of sight.





That was it, wasn't it?

Lee was insecure. He was young, after all, and desperate to fit in.

He would excel anywhere, because he was born with the ability to excel, but it would be important to him to be accepted.

A part of Richard connected with that need. He had been Lee's age once, too - so eager to belong, and so painfully out of place.

Different.

And all those notes, those flowers, assured Lee he was valued, even if he didn't know by whom - or maybe it was even better that he didn't know.

After all, not knowing meant it could have been anyone. It could have been Tami from Art, or Evangeline from Purchasing, or Luke from Personnel... or even Mr. Armitage from Accounts.

And because of that, Lee would smile, and work hard, and be his best for every one of them.

On the eve of Lee's last day at the company, Richard found himself standing outside Lee's cubicle.

No cards this time - only a red rose.

He didn't know if it was enough, but he didn't know what else would help.

It had haunted him all day. Should he have printed out one last message, something simple like "Good work," that could try to take Lee back to when things were less complicated? Or should it have been something more encouraging, to make up for all those silent days? "Carry on the way you have, and you'll get far"?

A mess of other words came to him. "Thank you." "Best of luck." "I'm sorry."

"Stay."

But none of those words felt right.

It was probably too late to say anything now.

He didn't even know if the flower would work. But it wasn't as if he could "just come right out and say so," as Lee wanted.

There were no remaining routes open. This was it. His one last try at bringing Lee's smile back.

One last time.




He was just about to lay the rose down on the desk, when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

Chapter Text

The lights in the department had been shut off, but the light from the corridor outside gave all the illumination Richard needed.

There was no mistaking that long-limbed shadow taking slow, unhurried steps toward him.

Richard was unable to move, or breathe.

It was too late in the evening; all the interns should have clocked out several hours ago. Interns only had the same clearance status as guests, and if they didn't have permission to stay over, they faced administrative sanctions - or perhaps worse, if they were suspected of messing about with confidential files.

Richard was quite sure Lee wasn't here with evil intentions. If he had been out to sabotage anything, it wouldn't have been anywhere near his cubicle at Research.

The idea of acting tough, of chewing Lee out, occurred to Richard, he was a superior in the company after all.

But Lee stepped up close and Richard saw the look on his face, and all thoughts of a reprimand fled him.

Lee looked nervous.

More nervous than Richard was, if that was at all possible.

"Was it you?" Lee asked softly. "All that time?"

Richard fumbled for an answer.

For a second he thought about denying it, saying a friend had asked him to leave it there - because Richard was, after all, one of the first to enter and one of the last to leave the building. No one would see him leave the gifts... and no one would dare question a senior account executive, even if anyone did.

And from there he could evade or else ignore Lee's questioning; no, he couldn't say which friend. No, he couldn't speak of the friend's intentions. All Lee needed to know was that the friend was very fond of him, and perhaps if he stayed longer in the company he would get to meet this friend himself!

But Richard was too tired from the day's regular dose of office work, too flustered to draw up such a complicated scheme... and sadly, too smitten to lie effectively.

It was much, much easier to smile sadly and ask in return: "Are you disappointed?"

Their whispers carried in the absolute silence of the empty workspace. Almost instantly, the expression on Lee's face melted into something else - from anxiety to a sort of compassion. 

Richard was grateful for it. He already felt small and humiliated - he didn't need to see the lovely young man in the prime of his life sneer at the lonely older man in the new and expensive suit standing with a stupid rose in his hands.

"No," Lee answered. "Not in the least."

There was something in that answer that reached out to Richard unexpectedly.

It was only then he realized he had not at all been prepared to not be laughed out, if ever he was discovered.

Richard held out the rose to Lee. "No sense in leaving it here now, is there?" he asked, without really expecting an answer.

There was a thoughtful look on Lee's face as he accepted the flower. Richard rubbed the back of his neck. He was dead sure he was blushing, but fortunately the room was dark.

"Well." Richard cleared his throat. "I should, er. Get going. It's late. Did you bring a car, or can I drop you off somewhere? I'm thinking that if we're both leaving maybe we should leave together, otherwise the guards won't let you..."

"Is there somewhere we can talk?"

Richard looked up at Lee. The younger man had broken off much of the rose's long stem, had found a safety pin, and was securing the blossom to the front of his shirt, just over the heart.

Did he actually keep a stash of safety pins on his person now, Richard wondered with some amusement.

"There." He drew himself up, locked his hands behind his back. "That feels better."

As it happened, Lee did not yet have a car. So "somewhere we can talk" turned out to be the inside of Richard's BMW, as Richard was driving Lee back to his apartment, close to his campus.

Richard would have preferred a nice, cozy restaurant uptown that was open at these late hours, but that might have given anyone the impression this was a date. It was not. It was a clarification. One that had been months in coming, and hopefully wouldn't take long.

So there was this beautiful boy in the passenger seat, nervous but determined not to look it, chattering away perhaps in the hope that acting like this was an everyday conversation was going to lighten the mood in the car. So far, Richard had to admit, it seemed to be working.

Lee was telling him that he didn't really stake out his cubicle every night... he did it once, twice a week tops, and only when he had a hunch. "It's going to be tonight," he would tell himself, and he would sneak in after dinner to stay in one of the other cubicles, one that was within sight of his own.

But no one would come, and disappointed, Lee would slink home - with the kind assistance of the night guard Stephen, who knew all about the roses, sympathized with his sorry plight, and let him sneak in and out of the building outside regular hours without giving him trouble.

They stopped at a red light in an empty intersection, and Lee said, "I had my suspicions." This was in response to what Richard had asked: if he'd had any idea it was he who was leaving the cards and the flowers on his desk. "I thought it would be someone older, who would think that leaving cards was better than sending emails or texts. Someone kind, who liked to encourage people. Someone who liked to read, because some of the messages had quotes from books in them. And someone shy, who couldn't just come up to me and give me a pat on the back or ask me out for drinks."

Richard did not know if he was going to be flattered or slightly scared that Lee knew that much about him.

"All that could easily have been Ian," he tried to argue.

"I said 'shy.'" A wry smile. "Ian has asked me out for drinks. A few times. For the record, I never accepted."

Richard was silently relieved. Ian could get a bit... forward. And the man was not without his charms.

"Besides, all the clues fit you. I've heard quite a few things about you. Mostly from Martin and Mr. McTavish from Art." Lee's eyes widened, as he realized what he had just said. "You probably don't know that. I hope I didn't just get them into trouble..."

"You didn't, don't worry," Richard assured him. Although he did wonder what Martin and Graham might have told Lee. Graham might have been a bit more reserved... but knowing his chatterbox personal assistant, it was a bit too much and a bit too personal.

But wait - so it meant Lee knew who he was all along?

And flirted with him that one time in the corridor, regardless??

...Then again, what did it matter? Even if Lee knew his name and status, perhaps in his head he was always "Richard the Awkward from Advertising." Never "Mr. Armitage the Big-Shot from Accounts."

"Whenever I passed by your office, I hoped I could run into you. But there was never a good time, was there?"

"No," Richard admitted, with some regret. Between actual work and avoiding any sort of contact with Lee, he hardly had time for anything. He now wished he had been braver, or else less busy. "Are you saying I was the only suspect?"

"Nope. My lineup was fluid," Lee admitted. "Mr. Serkis and Ms. Boyles from Accounts were especially friendly... but then they did or said things that made me think 'It can't be them.' You did, too, sometimes." But Lee didn't elaborate on what Richard had done 'sometimes'. "And Ms. Blanchett from Accounting... I had fun thinking it was her. She kind of scares me."

Richard chuckled.

"The firm is such a huge place," Lee mused aloud. "It's so easy to get lost in it. At the start I didn't see how I could fit in, I didn't know what I could offer. And I wanted to fit in, so badly." He hung his head. "I was ready to give up. Then everything changed. I felt like someone in that huge place had finally noticed me."

Lee's melancholy affected Richard so thoroughly he almost pulled the car over. He wanted to comfort the younger man, tell him he had not needed to feel that way.

How could anyone not notice you.

"The messages on my desk." Lee smiled without looking up at him. "You don't know how much they meant."

"I know." Richard answered without looking at Lee. "That's why I left them."

The light turned green, and the car moved forward, and the time they had to talk grew steadily shorter.

So Lee continued, "When I stopped getting the notes, I thought... maybe it was just another joke. Just something that someone did to the new guy. Make him feel special, make him feel wanted... then let him down just when he's starting to believe it." The bitterness in his tone did not escape Richard. "I was fine with all the other stuff, but with those notes..."

Guilt started to eat away at Richard.

It wasn't just the insecurity, as he'd first thought. Lee had been plagued with pranks since he'd come to the company. He'd dealt with all of them well.

But he hadn't thought of the notes and the flowers as pranks, until they stopped coming.

Richard should've thought of that. He should've realized that Lee wouldn't get so upset over something so simple as a "secret admirer" disappearing without a trace.

Or would he?

Lee leaned toward him.

"Will you tell me?" he asked with some reluctance. "What it was that I did."

Richard had to shut his eyes for a second.

"You didn't do anything. It wasn't you." He had said this too strongly. He made a serious effort to soften his voice. "I... I couldn't hear back from you, so I had to imagine where the lines should be drawn. I was worried you didn't like the flowers..."

"There was no way I wouldn't like the flowers," Lee interrupted. Immediately he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry. I just... this sort of should have been enough of a hint." He gestured to the red rose pinned on his shirt.

Richard smiled in spite of himself. He noted that the shade of red brought out the color of Lee's lips.

"That's not all," Richard quietly continued. "I might have started leaving them for you. But in the end I was doing it for myself. And it scared me.

"I was hearing the rumors. I had the choice to keep going, and make the rumors worse, or to stop, and put an end to the talk altogether. I also knew that if I kept going, I would be found out eventually. Like this, maybe, or some other way. And the thought of that paralyzed me." 

This was not easy for Richard to admit to anyone else. The last time he had been this open to anyone, he recalled, was when Graham had pressured him to admit aloud (with a great deal of alcohol and persistence) that he was lonely. And that had been a lifetime ago.

"It's not something I do, you understand," Richard continued, "I don't seek attention. I don't like to be looked at, if it isn't part of my work..."

"Why not?"

Why not. What a guileless question.

"There's not much to see." The only way to answer something so innocent was to state the facts exactly. "There's not much to know about me. I'm boring, I'm predictable, I'm not even all that handsome. The best I can offer is that I work hard and don't give up easily. This... isn't something people usually want."

Mysteriously, Lee was silent.

Richard wondered: Have I offended him?

He was silent until they got to Lee's apartment, which was not much further off.

The BMW pulled over in front of the building, and Lee stepped out of the passenger's side unceremoniously.

So. He was angry.

Well, Richard thought, that was that.

He swallowed his pride, thankful that the night didn't end any worse than it did, and got ready to go home. It had been a long day for him.

But then Lee bent down to peer at him through the car window.

"Mr. Armitage," he said, quite formally. "will you come up to my room?"

...What?

"Why?" It was Richard's turn at a guileless question.

This wasn't a date... was it?

"Why," Lee repeated as if it was a Very Good Question. He pulled himself up, drew in a deep breath before letting out the Very Long Answer: "Because my flatmates are out for the night, and I have the place to myself, and I can do whatever I want. Because I want more time to know you better. Because I am sure you aren't boring, or predictable, or 'not all that handsome,' whatever that means in Accounts, and I want to prove it to you." In a softer voice, he continued, "And also because, like you, I work hard, and don't give up easily. And sir, I am sorry, but for someone so accomplished in your line of work, I don't think you have a clue what people usually want."

Lee smiled brightly at Richard, the smile he had not seen in days. Seeing it again made Richard feel like he had finally gotten a reward he had worked hard for.

Even if he did just insult Richard's professional skills.

"So," Lee asked, "please?"

Richard didn't even have to pretend there was a choice.

Lee was smiling.

There was no way to say no.

Chapter Text

Richard was summoned to the partners' meeting at the penthouse, which was always one of two things to a senior executive: very good news, or very bad news.

If he was going to make a tally, having to make an appearance at a partners' meeting was usually a good thing for him. Those were the times when he was bumped up from junior executive, or when the partners wanted to personally thank him for a job well done with a large account.

And then there were the times when he was called in for his opinion on difficult things - like corporate downsizing and cost-cutting measures.

So he couldn't be too optimistic. He braced himself for anything.

He took his seat at the conference table, smiling formally at all the familiar, mostly elderly faces in the room. He was treated to a stream of praise for his performance in the past year, and he survived this by smiling and nodding at appropriate times, while keeping his gaze mostly on the tabletop.

Attention always made him uncomfortable. But he recognized the good kind of attention when it came his way.

Then the partners got down to business:

"As you might have heard on the grapevine, Peter is leaving the country next year, to take on the mantle of VP for our Paris office."

"That will leave the onshore Account Supervisor position empty. And Peter has personally handpicked you as his replacement, Richard."

Richard had indeed known that Peter, the kindly but perpetually stressed Account Supervisor, was all set to accept a higher position overseas - it was why the senior execs were badmouthing each other among themselves and to Peter.

But Peter had not yet formally announced that he was leaving. As soon as he did, the race to take his place was on at the Accounts floor.

Richard definitely had not known that he was in the race. He hadn't even heard his name mentioned on the "grapevine," as the partners called it; mostly he stayed away from the "grapevine" because of all the dirty politics involved, though the ever-trustworthy Martin fed him the information he needed.

"Peter thinks it would be a good idea to start training his replacement this early. But we'd like to ask, would you be all right staying on top of your accounts while you're in training?"

Richard answered Of course, it was no trouble. Besides, he thought but didn't say aloud: it was good to have a position to fall back to in case Peter changed his mind. There were other senior execs, after all, who were more vocal about wanting the position - one of them might yet make a grab for it.

"By the way, Richard, we noticed a sharp spike in your productivity this past year," one of the partners pointed out, with a disturbingly dry smile. "You’ve been extra creative, and as a result our clients, new and old, have been extra generous to us. If you'll permit us to ask... has anything changed with you?"

He knew what they meant: was he attached? Was there was a special someone? A new source of inspiration in his life?

A while back, Graham had noticed and asked the same thing. And so had Martin. Richard supposed the answer was obvious enough to show on his face.

He told the partners the same lie he had told to Graham and Martin:

"No, nothing's changed."

"All right... we'll take your word for it." The partners exchanged amused looks, which Richard dutifully ignored. "We presume this means you'll have the time to handle a few new recruits, on top of training and your regular duties?"

Richard confirmed it readily. He'd mentored junior executives before. It was no major imposition.

"Good. Now would be a good time to meet them, don’t you think?"

One partner gestured for an attendant to open the door to the conference room. In marched three newly-hired junior account executives: smartly-dressed, fresh-faced, and brimming with excitement.

Richard smiled at each of them, as was their due. They had all just graduated from university, he could tell, but that they were accepted into the firm meant they had the skills and credentials to see them through.

Just as the door was closing after them, the sound of urgent strides snuck into the room. There was a loud BANG, and the door swung open again, with a fourth new hire stumbling in rubbing his nose - apparently unable to brake before his face hit the door. 

Everyone turned to the newcomer.

"Sorry I'm late," the fourth hire sputtered, pinching the bridge of his nose to make sure the nasal septum was still in place. "I was filing my paperwork with Jed from Personnel and we got to chatting and I..." His gaze swept the room, and zeroed in on Richard. "Lost track of... time."

He flashed Richard a brilliant grin.

Richard almost said his name aloud.

But he caught himself, and thankfully, one of the partners spoke up.

"Being tardy is not a good way to make a first impression, Mr. Pace," she admonished. But her tone of voice changed quickly. "Fortunately, this isn't the first time for us to meet, is it? I believe Mr. Pace was here as an intern a year ago."

"Yes," Lee admitted bashfully. He addressed everyone in the room. "I was under Ms. Walsh, in Research. But I felt being in Accounts would be more in line with the skills I acquired during my internship."

"Indeed!" Richard could sense that this particular partner were smitten with Lee. In fact, everyone in the room was. "You had these ideas for increasing our social media presence, yes? Mr. Armitage is overseeing an important multimedia project right now, he should be very interested in hearing them out."

It was Richard's cue to stand. He faced Lee squarely, and Lee strode toward him.

They shook each other's hand with utmost formality.

"I certainly should," Richard said to him. "Welcome to the company."

"Thank you, sir," Lee answered, holding his gaze.

Lee held Richard's hand a second longer than was professional.





The rest of the meeting proceeded without incident. Richard was introduced to the new recruits as the next Account Supervisor, they were introduced to him, and then the new faces were dismissed. Richard sat through a number of instructions and reminders, before he himself was dismissed.

Then he went down to Accounts. The new recruits were already in their assigned cubicles, and they each greeted him with an endearing (at least to Richard) mix of nervousness and eagerness.

He chatted them up one by one, to let them know the basics and to put them at ease, as was his routine every time he was charged with a new hire to train. They would soon find out that Mr. Armitage wasn’t nearly as fuzzy-friendly on the job as he was on their first day, but there was plenty of time for that.

And lastly, he came to Lee.

Lee displayed none of the trepidation that the other recruits did, but the walls of his cubicle prevented anyone else from noticing it. He greeted Richard with a playful grin, as if he had just played a trick on him and was expecting him to laugh along.

Lee wasn't using a tiny desk now. It was standard issue, which was a comfortable fit for his long legs. He also wore an impressive suit, which Richard could swear he had seen in Lee's closet recently and should have made a big deal about.

Even without a flower on his shirt Lee looked calm, charismatic, and very, very confident.

"You never said anything about this," Richard opened quietly, pulling up a chair for himself.

Lee ducked his head discreetly. "I mentioned last week that I'd gotten a job," he answered in a sideways whisper.

"I presumed it was a job in campus!" Lee had, in fact, mentioned to him a number of job prospects, including an entry-level teaching position at his university... but never an Accounts position at Richard's company.

Lee sensed that Richard was not as enthusiastic as he was about the entire situation. His face fell. "I wanted it to be a surprise," he said feebly. "I thought you’d be happy."

"I am," Richard quickly assured him. "I am! This has always been one of your better options. I’m happy for you."

But… what exactly was he going to say? Something lame just to diffuse the situation, like he was too old for surprises?

Or the truth – that they were both in trouble if it was found out that they were in a relationship prior to Lee’s hire? And that they were not in any way inclined to put an end to it, even now that Lee was working directly under Richard?

Because at this point, ending it with Lee just to "keep things professional" was just not an option Richard was willing to consider.

"I just," Richard began carefully, "didn’t know this was what you wanted."

The anxiety in Lee’s face drained away quickly.

"What I wanted," he repeated in a very soft voice. "I’ve told you it just wasn’t enough. I barely got to see you. I had my studies, you had your work, and sometimes we both got too tired to email or to even talk on the phone. I knew that if I chose any other line of work, we’d have even less time to spend together." He sounded so definite – Richard felt that he must have given this much thought. He just wasn’t sure that even after all the thinking, Lee truly understood the risks they were both going into. "This way, I get to see you every day. And make sure you’re not working too hard. And make sure no one else is looking at you the way I want to look at you."

Richard's hands rested on his own thighs. Lee reached for one of them.

Richard stiffened.

He found his fingers curling around Lee's hand, anyway.

Lee leaned in, close enough for his breath to tickle the side of Richard's neck.

"It'll be just like old times," Lee whispered into his ear. "Except this time, I’ll be getting paid to impress you."

That wicked tone had been used in far less formal situations. A pleasant shudder crept up Richard's spine.

Footsteps approached the cubicle, and Richard felt his heart jump to his throat.

Lee broke his hold abruptly. Richard let him. In a heartbeat they were superior and new hire again, with an appropriate distance between them.

It was another senior executive on his way to his office. He threw both Lee and Richard an undeserved glare before heading off.

Must've heard what had happened at the partners' meeting, Richard thought.

"You better not be expecting preferential treatment," Richard warned him, affecting seriousness.

He was kidding, of course: Lee wasn't the manipulative sort. And Lee already knew that much about himself.

"Of course not!" Lee acted shocked. "You don't even have to watch me too closely, Mr. Armitage. I know my way around. But you should really pay more attention to the other new hires," he said, with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"And why should I do that?" Richard asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Because," Lee patiently began, "if you're going to be promoted as Account Supervisor next year, there will probably be a senior account position open. And when that happens it's free for all, for us junior execs. New hires are no exception. The others will need all the help they can get."

Richard almost couldn't believe the audacity of what he was hearing.

But then he'd had a year to get used to Lee's can-do attitude. He'd come to accept that it bordered on arrogance, but never quite crossed the line.

Ambitious, but not cutthroat.

"Don't presume too much, Mr. Pace," he laughingly reminded. "Around here, people don't usually get promoted right out of their first year." Richard himself had spent five years as a junior exec before being promoted - and that was considered fast, by the company's standards.

Lee answered with an impish grin, "'Usually' isn't 'ever,' Mr. Armitage. So we'll see."

He made it sound like a promise.




Richard returned to his office, and spotted something on his desk.

A card.

He hadn't locked his door before going up to the partners' meeting, so anyone could have left it. He wondered if Martin had noticed.

It was plain, the size of a business card, with a handwritten message:

"To good things."

There was also a doodle of a rose done in red ink, on the lower right corner.

A smile touched Richard's face. He glanced over at his "secret admirer's" cubicle.

Though he was quite sure Lee couldn't see him through the tinted glass window, the warmth in Lee's gaze permeated through the glass.

A moment later, Lee turned to his desk, and Richard did the same.

Before focusing on the rest of the day’s tasks, Richard allowed himself to marvel at how much had changed in a mere year’s time.

There used to be no room or time in his life for anything outside of work.

Now there were only good things to look forward to.