Work Text:
Alastor stopped himself from drumming his fingers against the wooden arm of the chair and casually glanced at his watch instead. He didn’t want to give the receptionist he sat across from the impression that he was annoyed.
Forced waiting was a common enough negotiation technique, but this deal had practically been sealed days earlier. If securing this contract wasn’t a somewhat necessary stepping stone for wider nationwide expansion of his radio program Alastor would hardly hesitate to do something about such brash rudeness.
He eased himself into a more relaxed posture, aiming for calmly unbothered, while he pictured himself questioning this behavior, or even just leaving. Which would lead to being labeled “difficult”, amongst other choice terms. No, he’d worked too hard to fuck this up over a paltry half hour wait.
It’s the cold he’d been battling the last three days, Alastor decided, that was making his already threadbare patience even thinner. Not the fault of the studio manager at all. He sniffed lightly and ignored the heaviness in his sinuses that warned of how unwell he was, regardless of his appearance. Alastor prided himself on being able to smooth over the roughness of any illness, keep his voice clear of congestion, glow with the flush of fever rather than appear wane. No reason to offer one's weaknesses up on a plate if one could help it.
Still, he longed to be back in bed, bundled under a pile of blankets and sipping a hot toddy. Alastor drifted in that thought, a pleasant, patient smile easily resting on his lips. He was so lost in the future calm that he nearly startled when Richard Langdon, the station’s manager, appeared.
The older man visibly relaxed when he saw that Alastor was still waiting and, apparently, unconcerned with his tardiness. “Good, you’re still here.” His eyes flicked momentarily to a younger man behind him.
‘Annoyed’, Alastor’s mind supplied as he stood and smoothed down his suit jacket. A third man with a briefcase, a lawyer who didn’t bother to introduce himself, nodded curtly at him as he bustled past into the meeting room.
”I’m afraid a meeting went over time,” Richard explained tightly.
“Of course,” Alastor soothed, nary a hint of annoyance seeping into his voice and then waved it all off with a congenial laugh. “I hardly even noticed the wait.”
The younger man stepped closer, knocking against Richard’s shoulder. “We were discussing the future of the station.” He grinned sharply, mismatched eyes glinting with a slightly manic sparkle behind his glasses. “Incorporating your, heh, well-loved medium into our programming.”
Alastor sharpened his own grin at the poorly concealed slight.
The man thrust his hand out. “Vincent Whittman.” Said with a self important raise of his head, as though Alastor should know who he was.
Alastor took the man’s hand. Clammy. He didn’t even flinch.
Vincent tightened his grip and Alstor’s smile tightened as well. Attempted dominance. Alastor matched the tightness and increased it, smile unwavering as the haughtiness in Vincent's grin faltered.
He turned to Richard. “Junior manager?” Dismissive and slightly amused. Vincent’s hand went slack in his.
“No, no, nothing like that,” Richard chuckled and roughly slapped Vincent on the back, making him stumble. “Vinny here’s our newest full time weatherman.” He lowered his voice, as though he was divulging a secret to Alastor. “Got a lot of ideas about the future of the station.”
”Ah,” Alastor nodded sympathetically, finally dropping Vincent’s hand and only barely resisting the urge to wipe his hand on his pant leg. “Well, I'm afraid I'm usually too busy to watch television.” He focused all his attention back on Richard, effectively dismissing Vincent entirely. He didn’t miss how the man deflated though.
Richard grinned at him. “Come on, let’s get this thing done.” He guided Alastor into the meeting room.
Alastor scanned over the contract, gratefully sipping from a cup of room temperature coffee. It was the only thing saving his throat at the moment and he wanted to make sure his voice was smooth when he eventually spoke.
The contract itself was fairly standard, most of it reflecting the discussion he’d had with Richard a few weeks ago. The lawyer had questioned Alastor not having representation, but Alastor assured him that he preferred to do all his business dealings himself. So they left him to look it over while they chatted amongst themselves.
Alastor noticed that although Vincent had followed them into the room he was not included in any discussion. He also noticed that what he had assumed to be twitchy boredom over being excluded was slowly revealing itself to be a man barely keeping a lid on what was probably the same cold Alastor himself was currently suffering through.
And Vincent’s attempted concealment of his illness was far more interesting than a perfectly fine, run of the mill contract.
Alastor made a few minor adjustments anyway, asked for an increase in one aspect in exchange for a reduction elsewhere, reworded a few sections. It was good practice to show that he wouldn’t be a pushover and to gauge how serious they were at acquiring his show. Make them think that perhaps he could go elsewhere.
“Give us a moment?” Richard nodded at him and Alstor nodded back, going back to sipping at his coffee.
”Take all the time you need, my good fellows.”
Now Alastor could occupy himself with covertly studying Vincent under the guise of enjoying terrible coffee.
He fixed his gaze to the wall on the other side of the room, where he could watch without appearing to stare. Vincent, however, seemed unaware of anything going on around him.
He finger combed through his hair in a futile attempt to keep it from falling across his forehead. Alastor could see the fever sweat dotting the man’s hairline, being dragged through the fine strands with each pass of Vincent’s hand, making it impossible to keep any sort of style.
Then his nostrils twitched and Vincent moved from his hair to pressing a finger under his nose. He carefully rubbed back and forth, trying to quell a growing itch that Alastor was more than familiar with. As Vincent’s finger continued to scrub, Alastor caught a glint of moisture smearing under his nose. He watched as the edges of Vincent’s nostrils gradually reddened.
At first, Alastor thought it was simple irritation building, but when Vincent stopped to pinch and rub the sides of his nose instead, Alastor realized that the man was wearing makeup. Not unusual for an on air personality, but Alastor’s lips still quirked up at the thought of Vincent coming into work early to desperately attempt to cover up the worst of the damage of fever flushed cheeks, waxy pale skin, and deep smudges under his eyes. And he was near to destroying all his hard work by pawing at his face. Alastor could hardly pull his eyes away.
It also explained why Alastor hadn’t clocked the man being sick as soon as they met. Not that he thought Vincent could be that competent, Alastor’s own cold must have been throwing him off.
Alastor checked on Richard and the lawyer and, almost disappointed, saw that they seemed to be finishing up.
Richard slapped the desk. “I think we’re good to go. You sure do drive a hard bargain, Alastor.” He nudged the lawyer, who grunted in agreement and assured Alastor that he’d have a new contract with all the changes drafted up and delivered by the end of the day.
Sensing that the meeting was almost over, Vincent perked up, sipping from his coffee before clearing his throat in such a grating manner that Alastor actually pulled back from the table a bit.
"Excuse me." Vincent plastered a casual smile over his grimace. "We still need to discuss coordinating-"
"Our respective mediums to cover the largest spread of demographics?" Alastor cut him off sharply.
Vincent blinked at him stupidly, like he was sure Alastor didn’t actually understand what he was proposing. He sniffed sharply. “We still need-“
Alastor turned to Richard with a laugh. "The dedication to cooperative work your employees have is quite impressive." Like a joke between the two of them, dismissing Vincent once again. "But we'll have time for all that after the contract is finalized." Wouldn’t want to risk a good deal because of an overly enthusiastic and oddly pushy weatherman.
"Plenty of time to figure out what's best for everyone." Richard agreed as he stood, effectively ending the meeting.
Alastor busied himself with shaking Richard’s hand and ignoring the way Vincent slumped back and scrubbed roughly under his nose. But he eventually dragged himself up to follow Alastor and Richard and Alastor simply couldn’t help himself when he noticed the slightly unfocused look in Vincent’s eyes.
"I look forward to working with your station," he easily lied. This studio is nothing more than a step to bigger things, but appearing to be a team player has some benefits. "And Vincent," he added, like they were already close coworkers, "I certainly hope you feel better."
Vincent's face slackened. "W-what?"
"I'd hate for your cold to prevent you from doing your show, right when I was planning on tuning in," he said lightly. “It would probably be quite difficult giving an accurate forecast while trying to hold back a sneeze.”
Vincent shook his head. "N-no, I'm no.. not..." But the accusation threw him off. The idea of having to hold back a sneeze made him suddenly hyper aware of the prickling in his nose, the incessant itch, the building pressure. “I’m f-“ The sneeze rushed out, unable to be controlled any longer. Vincent only just managed to duck into his elbow and catch the wet spray.
Alastor stepped back. "Oh, that does sound nasty. Word on the street is that something quite unpleasant is going around." He tutted sympathetically as Vincent sneezed again and fumbled around his pockets with one hand, searching for a handkerchief.
Alastor wondered if he was laying it on a bit thick, but there was something so deliciously pathetic about the display that spurred him on.
As Vincent geared up for another sneeze, Alastor pulled a spare handkerchief out of his pocket and graciously pressed into Vincent’s still wandering hand. "Please, take mine." The makeup did nothing to cover the blush that was quickly spreading up to the tips of Vincent's ears.
Alastor glanced at Richard, giving him a look meant to convey his deepest condolences that he had to deal with such a mess. And then he took his leave.
Behind him he heard Vincent mumbling congested apologies while Richard grumbled about him being an embarrassment and wondered if he’d need to find a replacement for that evening’s show and warned him about not spreading it around the office.
It put a real smile on Alastor’s face.
As he waited in the empty hallway for the elevator doors to open, Alastor’s nose twitched. He’d gone far too long without attending to it and watching Vincent’s little display had only sparked a tingle of his own.
He pulled another handkerchief out and pressed under his nose, teasing lightly until his breath hitched. His head snapped down as he sharply and quietly sneezed three times, one right after the other.
Alastor raised his head, curls bouncing effortlessly back into place, and sighed in relief. As he moved to lightly dab his nose he heard a noise down the hall.
Vincent had slunk out to blow his nose into the borrowed handkerchief and was now gaping at Alastor, looking not unlike the catfish Alastor used to pull from the river as a child.
Alastor swiped daintily under his nose and grinned at him, all teeth, before stepping into the elevator and out of sight.