Work Text:
Philippe knows the boss well.
Which is why he could tell immediately when Corbeau warmed up to Paxton.
A few jobs later, it was obvious that the boss had taken a real shine to him. A rare thing. Corbeau didn't particularly like many people.
I gotta admit. I liked the kid pretty fast too.
It was yesterday, in their office, when he noticed a new development. Corbeau was reading over the newspaper, an article about Paxton's latest deeds prominently on the page, when the corners of his mouth marginally ticked up, and he subtly rolled the pages between his fingers.
...The boss likes-likes Paxton.
He took the time to give it some thought. Slept on it. Rolled over what it would mean in his mind as he stepped in his morning shower.
An idiot could see that the boss is happier around Paxton. Even talking about the little ball of sunshine lights up his face.
He cricks his neck as the water pours over him.
The boss has been nothing but a live wire of stress ever since I've known him. As a kid on the streets, as a businessman, as the manager of so many people, as the syndicate boss. All this under and over board stuff. He's driven, and always has been.
Philippe scrubs his beard, moving down to the hair on his chest.
Most people don't have any idea. But it's obvious how stress radiates off of the boss's entire frame. His whole body's tense like a live wire, even when his posture loosens.
He rinses the suds off his body.
I've never really seen him loose himself in a good time. There's always that tension. Never seems to have a good time. He barely seems to really like much of anything. But this guy...
The shower's handle lets out a metal squeak as he closes the water.
He takes a deep breath. Grabbing the towel, he starts drying his head off.
When he gets to his face, he stops, and drags the fabric too hard over his face.
I want him to have this relationship. I want him to be happy.
Philippe knows the boss well.
Which is why he can tell clear as day when Corbeau's menstruating.
He excuses himself to take a leak. Corbeau barely acknolwedges it.
Once he's in the bathroom, he pulls out his phone.
[Kid. This is Philippe. Don't ask questions. Go here—] He pops in the address [—and bring the chocolates in the gold box at the back of the store to the Syndicate.]
He pauses.
[It's for the boss.]
"..."
I want the boss to have this relationship. I want him to be happy.
[The boss is having a hard day. TOP SECRET. This was YOUR idea, okay?]
He hits send, and in SECONDS the kid responds. Nice. Quick. I like that.
[Poor guy. You got it. Anything for "the boss" ;D ]
"..."
He's a good kid.
He heads back out. Corbeau's too irritated with his email exchanges to notice anything's off. Which is for the best, because he's feeling unusually nervous.
It's less than 15 minutes and already Paxton walks in.
Corbeau looks up from his laptop. Philippe can't see the boss's face, but he doesn't need line of sight to know that the boss is pleasantly surprised.
"Oh? And what brings our special guest here? Decided to join us the Syndicate after all?"
Teasing? He's in a good mood. What a quick shift. Philippe looks over at Paxton. I want this to work. Don't blow it, kid.
Paxton tilts his head and smiles. "Maybe some other day. I brought you something."
Corbeau sits up, gaze trained on Paxton as he walks up to the desk and places down the flat box. It's wrapped. Not with the shop's wrapping either. The kid did it himself?
Philippe steps forward. Gotta play my part too. "Want me to check it for you, boss?"
Corbeau's eyelids drop in annoyance. "It's fine. I doubt our little do-gooder would have brought a bomb through the syndicate doors."
He opens the wrapping, and Philippe watches closely over the boss's shoulder as the gold box is revealed.
Great— it's the right kind.
But Corbeau's voice is suspicious: "And what do we have here? Chocolates?" He looks over his shoulder at Philippe, squinting before he turns his attention back to Paxton. "Interesting. Tell me. What made you get this specific box of chocolate from this specific store?"
Philippe mentally cusses.
But Paxton smiles. There's a bit of chocolate on his face, right by his mouth. "Actually, I just went there, and tried some. It was amazing! I think it's my new favorite. I had to be sure you'd tried some too."
Philippe relaxes. Plausible. And sweet. Nice work, kid. He gives a subtle nod.
Corbeau looks down at the chocolates, voice softening. "I see. Pardon my questions. That was rather rude. You see, these are actually my favorite too." Corbeau's voice rises with the smile on his face. "Nice choice. You're a man of taste." He leans back in his chair, and his voice carries the smirk on his face: "So what's that mean then that you're always scampering around my office, hm?"
Paxton's eyes widen.
Philippe tilts his head. Come on, kid. You got anything smooth?
Paxton's mouth parts and nothing comes out.
...Apparently not.
He cusses in his mind again.
But before the kid can stumble out some awkward answer, Corbeau's eyes close, still smiling, and he shakes his head. "Just teasing. Besides. I think you have bigger things to take care of than sharing your favorite chocolate with a guy who isn't even your boss. Go on. Get out of here. Let me do my work."
Paxton's eyes can't hide the slip of disappointment, but he obediently gets up and heads out. "See ya later."
And Corbeau nods. "See ya later."
The exact repeat slows Paxton's steps a bit. He turns back and waves adorably, a smile breaks over his face. "Yeah. Later!" He then walks to the elevator with a bit more pep in his step.
As the elevator doors close, Corbeau pops one of the chocolates in his mouth. "Mm. Looks like I won't have to send you on an errand for these, Philippe."
"...I'm heartbroken, boss."