Work Text:
Despite your request to be left alone today, the glass door to your office flies open with a speed that would’ve smashed it without the backcheck. The rules never did apply to this particular client. He seems to think so, anyway.
“What’s up, hottie!”, Roman Roy greets you happily as he plops down on the couch by the window. You look up at the clock and let out a heavy sigh. The weekend can’t come fast enough.
“What, not happy to see me? I’m your favourite client, here to brighten up your day!” He gestures wildly as he says it, wiggling his eyebrows in a way only he can. On a normal day it might’ve made you laugh, but with the night you had yesterday, you can’t even bring yourself to smile just to humour him.
“Roman, I’m sorry, but I can’t deal with this today. Can we reschedule for Monday?”
“We didn’t have anything scheduled, sweetheart”.
“My point exactly. Now, will you please get out?” You hate yourself for the way your voice breaks on the last word. It was faint though, so you hope he didn’t notice. The last thing you need right now is mockery.
He gets up out of the couch, but instead of leaving like you want him to, he takes a seat across from you at your desk.
“Hey…”, he says softly, hesitating about his next words. Is that… concern in his eyes? Fuck, that’s almost worse than ridicule.
“What’s up with you? You’re always so on top of shit. Normally, you would’ve been bad-mouthing me hard right now”. He leans forward when he sees you avoiding eye contact. You don’t want to talk. You don’t want to share the way your personal life pretty much blew up last night. And yet it’s kind of… nice? Nice that he seems to care, nice that he’s toned down the antics and noticed you’re not okay. You’ve been a sort of sparring partners for years now, so you guess it would make sense that he can pick up on something being off with you so quickly, but it’s another matter entirely that he would show compassion.
“It’s not that dirtbag you’ve been seeing, right? ‘Cause you know I can have him disappeared like that”. He snaps his fingers to emphasise his point at the exact moment you break. A tear rolls down your cheek, and before you can stop yourself you frantically wipe it away. There goes the hardened professional.
“Whoa, hey! What’s going on?” More than anything, Roman looks confused, like he’s not sure how to deal with this situation now that your mask has slipped.
“I’m not gonna murder your boyfriend, alright? Just… please stop crying”. He doesn’t say it in a cruel way like you’d expect. It sounds more like he’s pleading, which is all wrong. Roman Roy doesn’t plead.
You wipe away another tear, trying to calm your breathing. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore. I kicked him out last night”.
“You what? I thought you were doing so well! You were practically getting drool all over me last time you talked about him”. He cringes as he sees your face fall even more. “Okay, wrong thing to say. But seriously, what happened?”
“He fucking cheated on me, okay?” There. Better out than in. Your client and friend looks perplexed, like he can’t even fathom the thought of someone cheating on you. A blush very slightly takes over the anger as the cause for your red face.
“He did fucking what? Alright, fuck that, I’m calling an assassin right now”, he says, pulling out his phone like he’s actually about to make good on his word.
“Don’t even joke about that shit, Rome”.
“You know very well I’m not joking. And should anyone ask, you’re not liable, alright? Client privilege and all that crap”.
“I’m not an attorney, Roman”.
He slams his phone on your desk. “Well fuck, I don’t know! He can’t fucking get away with this!”
“He didn’t. I slapped the shit out of him and threw him out of the house in the middle of the night”.
“Well that’s a start”.
“Well what else do you suggest I do?”
“First off, let’s blow this popsicle stand”, he says, rising out of his seat.
“I can’t do that Roman, I’ve got work. In a few hours I can go home to cry and drown myself in ice cream all weekend”.
“That’s depressing. No no no, I’m taking you out to a nice restaurant and you can order all the most expensive shit for all I care. Just as long as I can get you to stop thinking about that douchebag. And if anyone asks, you just blame it on me. They all know how horrible I can be”.
“Roman, I-”
“Nope, don’t want to hear it”, he says as he closes your laptop and goes to grab your coat for you. You sigh, running a hand through your hair. Fuck it, you think finally, why not?
“Well as long as you’re paying”.
“That’s the spirit!”, he says, offering you your coat. “Can’t let my favourite accountant go hungry”.
“I’m the only accountant you actually know”.
“You don’t know that”.
“I do”.
“Later fuckers!”, he shouts to the entire floor, much to your embarrassment. He drags you along with him, a big smile on his face. What the hell did you say yes to?
~
To be fair, the food was delicious. Not only that, but Roman managed to coax more than a few laughs out of you. He’s admittedly pretty good at helping you take your mind off unpleasant things.
“So,”, he says as the waiter collects your empty plates, “would my favourite accountant care for dessert?”
You have to laugh at the ridiculous way he moves his eyebrows when he asks you that, but you decline the offer. “Thank you Roman, but I’m stuffed”.
He nods, an easy smile on his face. He nods towards the fancy bar as if to ask you if you’d like to have a drink instead.
“Just the one, alright?”, you concede, and his smile somehow gets goofier. He stands and whimsically offers you his hand like the gentleman you know he isn’t.
But you didn’t stick to that one drink, did you? Because God help you, being with Roman was fun, and with every joke he cracked, every softened expression he shot your way, you got less and less miserable.
It was past midnight when last call rang out and Roman put his arm around you, both of you shaking with laughter. “So,”, he asks, wiggling his eyebrows, “your place or mine?” You playfully slap his arm and he bursts into another round of laughter.
“Nice try, Romeo”.
He nods, conceding your point despite the satisfied grin on his face. “Alright, alright, a guy can dream. I’ll call a cab”.
You both stand up from the barstools, and you find yourself missing the subtle weight of his arm on your shoulders. “Actually, I could use some air. Walk me home?”
He looks absolutely delighted, and a gentle warmth settles in your chest as he helps you put on your coat and leads you out of the restaurant. You don’t think you could blame that on the alcohol entirely, even if you wanted to.
It’s not a long walk, and you spend it in a comfortable silence, which is rare for Roman, but you won’t complain. Your hands brush several times, and neither of you makes a move to create more distance. In fact, when you reach the small set of stairs leading up to your place, he reaches out to take your hand in his.
“Just so you know, that assassin offer is still on the table”.
You laugh softly. “I’ll consider it”.
His voice is a low whisper when he stands closer and says: “Good”.
You feel heat creeping up your face as you’re staring into each other’s eyes, and you just hope it’s not too obvious, or you’ll never hear the end of it.
“Roman… Thanks for today. I like this side of you”. You’ve always been one to hold your liquor just fine, and yet you find your lips loosened somewhat by the alcohol. “You’re sweet, really”.
“Did Shiv pay you to say that? Where’s the hidden camera?”, he jokes, and you shake your head.
“I’m serious, Rome. I really enjoyed myself. You make me laugh, and I definitely needed that today. And I’ll tell you another thing”. You’re whispering conspiratorially now, making him lean in closer.
“You’re my favourite client. You may be a pain in the ass sometimes, but whenever you walk into the room I inexplicably get happier”.
The look he’s giving you is so unbelievably soft, you’re almost afraid you’ve made him cry.
Shit, fuck! Tipsy brain, what have you done?!
“I… uh…”. He shakes his head in an attempt to think clearly enough to tell you what’s on his mind. “I get it. Perfectly actually, because- fucking hell”. He releases your hand to rake his own through his hair.
“I get that too. When I see you, when we’re talking, I get - I don’t know - weird. But good weird! And not just ‘cuz you’re smoking hot, which you are, but… I don’t know how to fucking describe it”.
“Do you…” You can’t believe you’re about to ask him this. “Roman Roy, do you like me?”
“Fucking- I’m not ten years old, alright? Don’t say it like that. But… yeah, I guess”.
“You guess?” Oh, you’re confident now. “That’s nice of you to say. I know feelings are hard for you”.
“I’ll fucking show you what’s hard”.
You raise an eyebrow at that, and he slaps a hand across his face, muttering to himself about how much of an idiot he is and why the hell he just said that to you. You chuckle and gently take his hands in yours.
“Relax, I’m just teasing. I happen to like you too, weirdo”.
“You do?” Cue the puppy eyes.
“Yes Roman, I do”.
“Oh, good. Cuz… You know earlier, when I said you’re my favourite accountant?”
“I’m still the only one you know”.
“Well, yeah, but that’s not my point. You’re not”.
“I got downgraded that quickly?”
“No- fuck- I mean… You’re not just my favourite accountant”. His hands squeeze yours softly. “You’re my favourite person”.
“Roman…”
“And now I’m gonna do something really stupid that might make you hate me, but I’m thinking fuck it, because I can’t take this anymore”. He says it all so quickly, it’s hard for you to follow.
And then his hands fly down to your waist as he pulls you in for a kiss. It throws you off guard for a moment, but once you’ve started processing what’s happening, you happily reciprocate.
He pulls back slowly after a while, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your sides.
“So… you’re not gonna slap me?”
You laugh again, taking his tie in one hand. “Oh, shut up”, you say, and pull him in for another kiss.