Work Text:
"Get him!"
His heart raced. They found his sleeping place for the night - the guard of Trubbish must have fallen asleep, or they didn't understand what he meant when he asked them to "keep watch." He leapt up, then ran - through narrow alleyways, up ladders, over rooftops, and finally on one rooftop, he keeled over and gasped for air.
Strong hands. Grabbing his shoulders.
He screamed. And screamed and screamed. They couldn't take him from his home. He couldn't get a night's sleep. He couldn't escape their grasp. They wouldn't let go -
"Boss!"
Strong hands. Grabbing his shoulders.
Corbeau panicked into consciousness. His massive bed. Purple, silk sheets. Bedside lamp turned on. Glass of water - recently poured. Strong arms, holding him as he shook, shook, shook.
His hands, clammy and shaking, found purchase on Philippe's chest, and he buried himself inside. Some leader of the Rust Syndicate he was, shaking in his subordinate's embrace.
"It's okay, boss. It was just a dream. I'm here." Warm murmurs from the larger bodyguard enveloped him.
"I need you," Corbeau gasped between quick breaths. He felt large hands cover his body, gentle fingers running over his skin.
"I'm here, Beau," Philippe softly whispered into his hair. "I'll keep you safe."
---
Philippe woke up earlier than usual. He was always one to rise before the alarm, but not usually by this large of a margin. But his subconscious was looking after them both, it seemed. If the night was any indication, today would be a hard day for the boss. And as his right hand man, it was up to Philippe to keep his boss in positive spirits.
Well, perhaps today he would shoot for mediocre spirits.
With a kiss on the forehead, he left his lover's side in bed. Then, slipping out into the kitchen, he started the water kettle. He prepared hot coffee, black, for the boss. One cup for himself, one in a thermal cup, to keep warm for the boss's inevitable arrival.
He pocketed Roserade's pokéball before taking the elevator down to their office. He always went to the office first, as a security protocol. After a preliminary survey, he deemed the office safe enough, and called Roserade out.
Roserade, now summoned, turned to give Philippe a confused trill. "Sorry, boy," Philippe murmured, patting his roses soothingly. "The boss had a rough night." Instantly, Roserade's eyes clouded with worry, and impatient stamping told Philippe that he had more explaining to do. "He's still in bed. I need your help to prepare the office for his arrival."
Roserade, thrilled by the responsibility, danced in place and released an aromatic scent from his limbs. Philippe chuckled. "Just like that, Roserade. The boss will love this."
With Roserade on aromatic diffuser duty, Philippe proceeded with other tasks. He set up a heater below Corbeau's desk and turned it on, knowing that Corbeau would never admit to his feet always getting cold in the office. He sent a grunt to obtain the best poffins for poison types and tipped them handsomely upon return. *Happy Pokémon make a happy trainer*, the saying went.
He ordered lunch in advance - and calendared lunch time in Corbeau's schedule - then polished everything in sight. If the boss saw terrible things in his nightmares, he could at least see a pristine office in the daytime.
8 AM. Right on cue, the elevator opened and Corbeau sauntered through it. To an untrained eye, there was nothing amiss. Corbeau looked as handsome as ever, tailored suit and trained locks falling perfectly across his forehead. But Philippe could not shake the frightened, boyish cry in his mind, "I need you." He saw the lines of frustration behind Corbeau's glasses.
"Morning, boss." Nonchalant, as if he did not spend his entire morning waiting for this.
Roserade did not take the memo of remaining nonchalant and ran to Corbeau, messing up Corbeau's pressed suit by ramming into him with tears in his eyes.
At that, Corbeau's facade broke temporarily. He smiled comfortingly at Roserade, and held him in his arms. "It looks like someone made you worry unnecessarily this morning, buddy. I'm okay." He shot Philippe a glare, which Philippe shrugged off. He knew those glares were never more than show when directed at him.
When Roserade was comforted and satisfied with the cuddles, Corbeau straightened his posture, and his masks fell back into place. "Philippe, tell me my schedule today."
The day went surprisingly smoothly. Corbeau only lost his temper at one grunt, and Philippe mentally noted to take them out to brunch later in the week. Clients came and left, satisfied with the Rust Syndicate's work. Corbeau even took time to eat lunch - though only a 10 minute break instead of the hour Philippe scheduled. They could work on taking breaks another day.
Before he knew it, Philippe was locking up the building and closing the main gate. He met Corbeau in the elevator, on the way to their penthouse suite. Once they stepped out, Philippe found himself smothered in a small hug.
"Philippe..." His boss murmured into his suit. Philippe couldn't parse that one. Longing? Frustration? Sadness? Relief? Perhaps it was all of the above. He was not talented in reading tone, like Corbeau. Instead, he did what he excelled at. He tilted Corbeau's face up and kissed him. Not professionally. Passionately.
Corbeau melted into him, sighing into his mouth. Philippe's shoulders relaxed, finally with a sense of accomplishment: his boss's facade was finally down.
"Thank you, Philippe. That was..." Corbeau paused. Leaned in for a kiss. Then tried again. "That was so thoughtful of you."
"Of course, Corbeau," Philippe responded. "Anything for you."