Work Text:
The only thing Khaslana misses from his days at Adlivun Inc. are the chocolates.
The first he heard of it was in that second week of February, an offbeat, unironic comment from Asat that “Valentine’s is the best”, which received unanimous assent from Phantylia and Celenova. It struck him as weird, but Khaslana didn’t have the energy to spare for it, busy being run into the ground by his devil of a boss. He was Nanook’s protégé, chosen by the man himself after a mostly accidental display of his abilities when he was still a bottom level associate. It was an envious position, but Khaslana just felt like a corporate slave with unmentionable, read: illegal, overtime hours, and the most demanding and tyrannical Lord Overseer constantly breathing down his neck.
Valentine’s was the farthest thing from Khaslana’s mind when he was called to the directors’ exclusive break room where the six top executives were already present, lounging about on the black leather sofas.
The reason for this gathering of elites: chocolate distribution.
Specifically, homemade chocolates from Nanook. Valentine’s chocolates. Made by Nanook—that giant inhuman unfeeling machine of a man—this couldn’t be emphasized enough. The heavens and earth reversed, Khaslana’s world view tottering dangerously on its axis, in impending collapse. Was he dreaming with his eyes open?
There was no ceremony to it. Nanook just spoke two words, succinct as always: “Good work.”
Zephyro was first, his low, “Thanks, boss,” acknowledged with a nod. The remaining expressions of gratitude were taken in stride, Nanook not even blinking when Asat promptly tore open his box, popping a chocolate truffle into his mouth. Asat’s eyes closed, an expression on his face as if he had seen the face of God. When he slowly opened his eyes again, there was even a slight shimmer to them.
The man was prone to dramatics. Surely that must be an exaggeration, Khaslana thought.
Having handed out the last box to a dumbfounded Khaslana, Nanook departed with as little fanfare as when he arrived.
“It’s tradition,” Phantylia explained. She was the gossip of the group with an unfortunate penchant for teasing their newcomer. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” she offered wickedly. Black painted fingernails delicately plucked apart the gold bow, lifting the lid of the matte black box. The contents were the exact same as Asat Pramad’s, nine truffles.
“Let’s see it, kid,” Luxbane said. “I’ve got money riding on this.”
With six beady gazes fixed on him, Khaslana had no choice but to show them his box. Containing twelve truffles.
Luxbane smirked, slapping Archforger’s arm. “Pay up.”
“He’s not even trying to hide the favoritism,” Phantylia scoffed, but her eyes were filled with greed, black claws twitching as if she wanted to snatch.
She wasn’t the only one.
“Are they really that good?” Khaslana asked doubtfully, feeling off kilter.
Celenova gestured, the motion flowing with grace. “Why don’t you try one?”
Khaslana did, and for the second time that day, his world was upended. The truffle melted in his mouth, the bright effervescence of champagne unfolding on his palate. Even when the bite is gone, the dark chocolate ganache lingered on his tongue like a lover reluctant to part, smooth as silk and soft as velvet. The chocolate was divine, the experience orgasmic, possibly better than sex. He would swear he saw the gates of heaven, the angels singing.
He later learned that every employee received a box of chocolates on Valentine’s Day, a small splurge from a luxury boutique. It was a gesture of appreciation, weirdly nice for a vicious, throat-slitting enterprise like Adlivun. One rumor opined that Nanook, who hailed from a country without this romantic tradition, had misunderstood the holiday and, after inevitably discovering his error, continued with it. This wasn’t very convincing, but neither was the terrifying alternative—that Nanook had a sense of humor.
The most likely explanation was still strange, just because it was Nanook doing this. There was a similar tradition in Edo, where courtesy chocolates were given on this day out of appreciation or respect. However, in the workplace setting, this custom was for employees to gift these obligation chocolates to their co-workers, bosses, or other acquaintances. Nanook had directly inverted this system.
Whichever the case, it was all fine and dandy, but Nanook personally making the dainty chocolates blew Khaslana’s mind. It was the most bizarre thing he had encountered in Adlivun and that was saying something, considering how eccentric Nanook’s inner circle was.
The end of the day bought another trial.
“I have a reservation at The Arbor,” Nanook said casually, standing by Khaslana’s desk. “Will you join me?”
Up until that point, Nanook had never expressed any amorous intention. Scratch that, Khaslana didn’t think he was capable of romance or, well, whatever this was. Mind blank, Khaslana’s mouth spoke the first thing that comes to mind: “This is harassment.”
Nanook didn’t deny it, nor did he retract the invitation, waiting.
This was still at the start of their relationship, before it deteriorated, so Khaslana was cautious in his reply. “I already have plans,” he declined politely. He had many qualms, all too aware of Nanook’s aggressive, domineering style in handling business and not knowing whether this translated to personal affairs.
Fortunately, this didn’t seem to be the case. There were no repercussions. Nanook accepted the rejection without fuss and left. The following day, it was as if nothing had happened.
His second year at Adlivun, Khaslana wasn’t so blasé. He had come to hate this place and this job. He hated the callous cutthroat tactics they used, the inhumane treatment. Most of all, he hated Nanook, the man who helmed this destructive machine, the man who oppressed him daily with intolerable restrictions and excessive expectations that he could never meet.
Nanook’s invitation that fourteenth of February came with a lavish bouquet of lavender roses, their scent heavenly.
Khaslana all but threw the bouquet back in Nanook’s face with a venomous, unvarnished, “I. Don’t. Want. To.”
As for the chocolates, they didn’t do anything wrong, Khaslana justified to himself, savoring them at home that day. Blaming the chocolates was just guilt by association fallacy. Besides, someone still needed to eat them. May as well be him.
Also, he fucking deserved them, meager as they were as compensation for the torment he endured.
The following year was much the same, except that the roses he tossed in the trash were luxurious, velvety burgundy.
And then Khaslana did what he should’ve done after those initial months: he quit. He was done with Adlivun, not wanting to hear that name again. He joined a new startup company called Chrysos where the work was hard, but equally rewarding, a breath of fresh air compared to Adlivun’s oppressive style.
With Chrysos still in its nascent phase, he was too busy for personal affairs. As a certain date approached, there was a sense of spiteful anticipation in his heart. Would that unsolicited gift come? He hoped it would, hoped that he left scars as deep on Nanook, as Nanook had on him.
On the 14th of February, a black box wrapped with gold ribbon was delivered to his desk with a bouquet of nineteen peach roses. The intoxicating fragrance, soft and sweet, made him want to puke. With a feeling of malicious glee, he tossed both into the dumpster out back.
The work conditions settled as Chrysos gained a firm foothold. Khaslana met a brilliant, cheerful young man named Iason, casual dating turning into so much more. As the date of the fourteenth approached once again, Khaslana’s former boss still lingered in his thoughts, a strange mix of dread and anticipation that Nanook didn’t deserve. He decisively put it out of his mind, focusing his attention on planning a romantic outing with his beloved.
No chocolates arrived. It wasn’t exactly comforting because it meant Nanook was keeping tabs on him. The strange sense of loss he felt was ignored and buried.
Khaslana spent a beautiful two years with Iason, pleasant and easy. But something about their relationship was not quite enough, eventually drifting apart. Their parting was rueful and amicable, wishing each other well with a lingering last kiss.
By then it was three years out, and it would still have been a lie to say he had forgotten Nanook. It was impossible, if only because the man was frequently plastered across the news, Adlivun’s capitalistic conquest marching ever onwards.
With much reluctance, Khaslana also had to admit that, while he suffered much for it, he gained a great deal of knowledge and experience from those years at Adlivun, the very skills that now made him an indispensable member of Chrysos.
Much of that had been learned under Nanook’s heavy guiding hand. Nanook had pushed and pushed and pushed, pressing Khaslana to the absolute limit of his ability. He brought out the best in Khaslana… and also nearly drove him to the brink of collapse.
There was uneasiness this time as spring bloomed with gentle flowers, rolling into February. Amiable as it was, his breakup with Iason still left fresh wounds. The person Valentine’s should remind him of was his former lover, but the indelible impression Nanook left on him was even deeper.
Nanook, who surely must have forgotten him by now. Yet Khaslana found himself reminiscing on the taste of the sweets made by that man’s hands, unsure whether he wanted to receive them or to not receive them more. Whichever it was, he didn’t want to know. He signed himself up for a blind date, publicizing it briefly on his social media without mentioning names. If the little black box didn’t come, he could tell himself this was why.
There were no chocolates that Valentine’s, but Khaslana barely noticed it. He hit it off spectacularly with his blind date, a vivacious designer with an infectious love for life named Sofia. Without intending for it to happen, they had fallen into bed the very night they met. Thus began a tempestuous relationship that swung wildly between wondrous romance and raging rows. At times he soared with radiant love, at times he drowned beneath bitter resentment.
It was three years of passionate wind and waves. The breakup was messy, ugly, and heartbreaking.
The turbulent history brings Khaslana to the here and now. He is six years out from Adlivun, and very aware that it says much about that place’s influence on him that it serves as a defining moment. The space of several months has given his heart time to heal from his parting with Sofia, but he is not yet ready to seek another relationship.
As for Valentine’s Day… having reached this age, the date no longer matters. Spearheading an ambitious project keeps him busy, virtually drowning in work. Today is the fourteenth of February, and it’s just another day at work. He lets his team members off early for the holiday; he doesn’t mind staying late.
Afternoon light fades into evening dusk, employees trickling out the doors until he is the only one who remains.
It’s then that Nanook shows up in his life again. Absorbed in a difficult problem, Khaslana doesn’t even realize someone has entered the office until a black box with a gold ribbon is set down in front of him.
Khaslana looks up in confusion, astonished by the person standing there. “Nanook.” He looks the same as the day Khaslana left, sharply dressed in an immaculate three-piece suit, long white braids framing his face. That is to say: abominably handsome.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Nanook’s voice carries a deep calm, as if they aren’t practically strangers now; as if Khaslana hadn’t left six years ago and never looked back.
Unable to hold that gaze, Khaslana’s eyes drop to the box, the same elegant matte black, the same black-gold silk ribbon. “No flowers?” he asks, just for something to say, an indescribable emotion rising.
“You didn’t like them.”
“I didn’t like you.”
“I’ll bring them next time,” Nanook says, apologetic.
“There won’t be a next time,” is what Khaslana’s mouth says, but it’s not very believable when his mouth is also nearly dripping with water, his fingers sneaking over to the box.
There’s a glint of amusement in Nanooks’ ever-impassive eyes. “Go on.”
“This doesn’t mean I’m accepting you.” Giving into temptation, Khaslana pulls the box to him, drawing off the gold bow. “It’s just that the chocolates didn’t do anything wrong.” Khaslana righteously delivers the judgment that preceded every box opening. The low chuckle that gets out of Nanook doesn’t make him feel anything. It definitely doesn’t make him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Needing to distract himself, he lifts the lid. Nestled in black pleated paper cups are twelve confections. Confections, because they’re not all truffles this time.
“You changed it up.”
“Mm.”
The fondness that wells up is entirely misplaced. “Well, what are they then, chef?”
Nanook points to the new additions as he names them. “Rose marshmallow, passion fruit and mulled wine pates de fruit, and spiced expresso meringue.”
Khaslana’s fingers are already moving, plucking up the marshmallow to take a bite. It’s delicious, soft and fluffy as a cloud, the delicate, velvety aroma of rose gliding over his palate. The sound it pulls out of Khaslana is positively obscene. “Why are you a businessman?” he moan-complains, the marshmallow gone in another bite. Heavens above, it’s like an orgasm in his mouth. “It’s a waste of your talents. You should just make these all the time.”
“There’s more where that came from,” Nanook says, his tone almost teasing.
“Quit your day job and we can talk.”
“Leaving my work… will you keep me busy, Khaslana?”
Khaslana scoffs. Was it always this easy to talk to Nanook, or is it because he’s no longer his employee? He doesn’t linger on the question, having a more important matter to attend to. He tries a chocolate truffle next, eager to see whether his memories exaggerated their exquisite taste.
The deliciousness wasn’t a single bit overblown. The champagne truffle is divine, the chocolate melting silkily, rich and decadent on his tongue. More pornographic sounds are possibly made.
It’s the greatest test of his willpower to close the box and return his attention to Nanook, waiting for the inevitable invitation.
He doesn’t receive one. Nanook just nods at him, seeming a little disappointed the pornographic chocolate tasting exhibition has ended. “Enjoy.” His weight shifts back, about to leave.
“Aren’t you going to ask me out?” Khaslana says suspiciously. Is this some reverse psychology ploy? “With you, there’s always a price.”
If the words come out bitter, Nanook doesn’t mention it. His regard is heavy, studying Khaslana’s expression. When he speaks, his words are unhurried. “I’ve already received it.” Lifting a hand, he moves slowly, giving Khaslana a chance to avoid it.
He should. Instead, he holds very still as Nanook touches his face, thumb stroking slowly over his bottom lip, plushness depressing beneath the pressure.
“Your smile.” When Nanook withdraws his hand, Khaslana sees that there’s a spot of chocolate on it, wiped from his lips. The following action is very natural, but it seems to happen in slow motion for the person held captive by slow-burning gold. Nanook brings his hand to his mouth, a slip of pink coming out to lick the chocolate from his thumb, the glisten of spit catching the light. His demeanor is placid, but Khaslana knows what lurks beneath.
“I won’t ask for your accompaniment,” Nanook says, “because it’s not worth losing what I have gained.”
All I wanted was to see you smile.
Fuck this goddamn bastard, Khaslana thinks, and grabs Nanook’s stupid tie, dragging him down into a kiss. The lips against his part in surprise, and Khaslana presses the advantage, hungry for him. The response is immediate, passionate and aggressive. One hand plants on the desk, Nanook leaning in to cup Khaslana’s face and tilt him for a deeper plunder.
When Nanook finally lets him up, Khaslana is more than a little breathless. “So where’s the reservation?” he asks, trying to get a hold of the mess of his emotions.
Nanook blinks. “There’s no reservation.”
There isn’t? It wasn’t a scheme. Nanook really just wanted to give him chocolates… just wanted him to smile today.
A true capitalist, Nanook improvises on the spot. “I can make dinner.” He adds an enticement, an irresistible bait. “I’m good in the kitchen.”
If Nanook is as good at cooking as he is at making chocolates, Khaslana is doomed. “Nanook,” Khaslana says flatly, trying to drag the conversation back to familiar ground, “when it comes to romantic relationships, you are the most pathetic man I know.” Pining six years long without making a move; there’s no other way to describe it.
The recipient is as difficult as always; the insult failing to evoke the desired offense from Nanook. “Respecting and waiting for the only person my heart has ever desired,” Nanook says with steady equanimity, “if this is pathetic, I’m willing to be pathetic.”
He’s still leaning over Khaslana, their faces close, Khaslana’s heart trembling. “Then why didn’t you treat me better?” he demands, voice rising. How can Nanook say these things when he was so cruel to him.
“Because I wouldn’t compromise your development for my personal sentiments,” Nanook says, implacable as steel. “Because I wanted you to be the best.”
Khaslana stares. What kind of lunatic treats someone ill because they love them? The one in front of him, apparently. “And if I kept you waiting forever?”
“Then…” Nanook’s voice turns soft, deep with emotion, “I… will wait.”
What can Khaslana do but haul him down for another kiss. “You’re a fool,” he says hoarsely against Nanook’s lips. “An arrogant fool.”
“Mm,” Nanook agrees. His fingers drift through Khaslana’s hair. “Come home with me, anyways.”
Khaslana laughs, the sound a little ragged. “I suppose I have to. I just can’t leave you alone.”
Extra
“I can’t leave yet,” Khaslana admits reluctantly. “I need to solve this issue first.”
“Hm. Let me see?”
“…Sure.” There’s no problem showing Nanook; this isn’t a sector he has interest in.
Nanook comes around the desk. He listens to Khaslana’s explanation, one hand resting on the back of his chair, the other flipping through the papers. At the end of the narration, Khaslana can tell that Nanook already has a solution. The most beneficial and convenient course of action for Nanook would be to directly tell Khaslana how to solve this problem, but Nanook has never done that. Instead, Nanook asks him questions, guiding him to his own answer, the most difficult and patient teacher Khaslana has ever had.
“Thank you,” Khaslana says sincerely.
“You often come up with unique solutions; action plans I wouldn’t have considered. It’s a pleasure to watch.”
Feeling the back of his neck go hot, Khaslana shuffles the papers. “I already said I’d go back with you,” he mutters.
Nanook puts his other hand on the desk, partly caging Khaslana between his arms. “I especially enjoy watching how you retaliate against those that attack Chrysos.” His lips are curved in a smirk, the slightest bit smug.
Of course he would. It doesn’t happen often, but Khaslana shows no mercy to those who employ underhanded or nefarious tactics. It’s then that he takes a page out of Nanook’s book.
“At those times, your fierce and vicious maneuvers have a distinctly… Adlivunian flavor.” There’s heat in Nanook’s tone, a dangerous possessiveness that shouldn’t be attractive.
Swallowing, Khaslana lifts his gaze to meet Nanook’s. “I learned from the best.”
“You did,” Nanook says, approving, and takes another kiss.