Chapter Text
ROSERADE
The rattle of the chain of the punching bag was sweet music to Corbeau's ears.
They spent their downtime differently: Philippe liked to stay in tip-top shape out of necessity for his duties as enforcer and protector; Corbeau, conversely, really really really liked to supervise.
It was only practical to keep tabs on what his greatest source of muscle was capable of. The fact that Philippe looked smoking sizzling hot as hell working up a sweat in his gym clothes was merely a pleasant side bonus. No shirt, no shoes, no problem.
By his side, Roserade had let himself out of his ball, always keen for action. Corbeau was always happy for the extra company. A show like this deserved plenty of admirers. ...Not that he'd complain about getting to hoard this sight all to himself.
Both their attentions were held raptly by the hulking man striking the bag in a rhythm to a song nobody else could hear.
Strike, strike, hook—the chain rang just shy of too loud in the open acoustics of the gym. Fucking beautiful how those muscles shone under the bright white lights. How Philippe's thick body wasn't exempt from rules of impact and momentum. He would love a frontal view of that big hairy chest jiggling to the tune of the chain—
A sharp blur of motion caught Corbeau's peripherals. Red and blue in alternation, timed perfectly to the punches pummeling the bag. He tore his eyes off the sheen of sweat covering Philippe's broad tattooed back and checked his side.
Rarely was taking his eyes off Philippe worth it, but oh was he glad to see this.
He grinned at the sight of Roserade copying Philippe's practiced jabs, light on his little feet and strong with his bouquets. A dazzling fire filled those intelligent eyes, the kind Corbeau saw when they stood disguised before the gates of an Infinite Royale battle zone, or when a strong opponent finally set foot in their office in the hopes of setting a debt the old-fashioned way.
Roserade had always been the keenest in his team for a fight. It was only natural this one's favorite human to watch would be an old bare-knuckle pit champ who hadn't lost any of his shine despite his years.
Roserade hopped in place, knees bent low, bouquets lifted to guard his masked face the same way Philippe did between punches. Corbeau swore sometimes that this one wouldn't just be a grass- or poison-type if discovered all on its own. Little guy loved to throw down with a dedication only matched by those trained by the Fist of Justice.
Philippe stepped back from the bag, leaving it to swing to an eventual stop while he caught his heavy breath. Gorgeous, gleaming, head to toe.
"At this rate, Roserade'll invent a new move just from watching you," Corbeau teased. "Mind showing off for him just a little more?"
Philippe scrubbed a towel over his exertion-flushed face, his neck and hairy shoulders, robbing them of their potent, glistening shine. Boo.
"You asking for a show just for his sake?" Philippe asked with a knowing tilt to his mouth.
"I take my team's training very seriously, Philippe." Corbeau needlessly adjusted his glasses. "Any side benefits of me getting to watch are purely incidental."
Philippe's long sigh was a loving one, and hardly an offense. There was an anticipation strung through every one of his exertion-pumped muscles that only made Corbeau's heart accelerate. Any sharp eye could tell this guy was used to having an audience, and that he adored showing off when he was fond of the crowd.
"Alright. One more round, just for you. C'mere, Roserade, let's get you watching up close. Maybe this'll convince him to let you give Poison Jab a try sometime."
"Don't corrupt the one 'mon I have that relies on special moves, Philippe," he half-heartedly protested.
In spite of his performative reservations, Roserade dashed forth, leaving a fresh floral scent behind that belied all the rubber and steel of the gym, all too happy to receive Philippe's undivided attention. A feeling Corbeau well understood.
He really should let Philippe take Roserade out on patrol more as a treat for them both. The people around the block shouldn't bat an eye at this point, seeing either of them with each other's pokémon.
Corbeau lounged on the padded bench with a smile on his face as one partner eagerly learned from another—and more importantly, in one partner's case, worked up another glorious sweat.
Time for a little more supervising.
ARBOK
"Arbok, leave him alone."
"It's alright, boss, I don't mind. Winter's harsh on him."
It wasn't a bother at all to stand there and let the giant snake press and sleepily lean on him, greedy for his body heat after a stint outside. The cold temperatures and dry air made Corbeau reluctant to release Arbok outdoors in the first place, but all his pokémon got restless when cooped up indoors for too long. A brisk outing always fixed that, but it came at a cost for one beast in particular.
Philippe stood sturdy as an oak while the single-minded serpent insisted its way closer, one stiff coil at a time. The chill of smooth scales seeped through his suit, and a long forked tongue flickered cold near his neck, beseeching.
They were in the office. On the clock. He shouldn't. But those sharp eyes that reminded him so much of Corbeau's kept begging him. Fierce, yet adorable, and openly needy. Just like with their trainer, Philippe had a hard time resisting these creatures' wishes whenever they set their sights on him like this. They knew he was a sucker through and through.
"Do him the favor, Philippe," Corbeau sighed, pulling his laptop closer to signify the relinquishment of all authority regarding this issue. "You get ten minutes."
Philippe broke into a smile and released his arms from behind his back. He stepped neatly over the large coil that'd slugged its way around his calves and paced towards the least-used couch, shedding his jacket along the way. Arbok followed eagerly, a slow, meandering heat-seeking missile at his heels.
Philippe tossed his jacket over the back of the couch and plopped straight down.
"Alright, come here. Let's get you warmed up, sweet thing."
He accepted Arbok's grateful crawl with open arms and a chuckle slow-pressed out of him by weight alone. Arbok's hood was huge; that faux scary face blocked out the dim light of the office while the rest of his length crept onto the couch and worked into every available gap around Philippe's body. Freezing cold—poor baby must've really wanted that fresh air.
Philippe was patient, allowing the pokémon as much time as needed to optimize how much surface area it wanted to smother at once. Heavy, but not crushing. Cold, but not unpleasantly so.
There weren't many creatures in Lumiose capable of 'hugging' Philippe this thoroughly. He'd be a big fat liar if he said he didn't like it.
Well... just a liar. There were benefits to being a big guy that he was plenty happy to share.
"There you go," he praised, shifting his weight on the couch so the pokémon could pile more efficiently on and around and between and beneath him. "Doing me a favor, too."
The heat of the building during wintertime got to Philippe sometimes. Made him hot under the collar, and made it more burdensome to speak with flawless civility to clients who completely lacked it.
He closed his eyes and listened to Corbeau's rapid typing as his body heat was gladly stolen.
Philippe measured the passing of time in the warming of the giant serpent's body and the blessed cooling of his own. He lightly dozed, and so did Arbok, all tangled up with him on the couch.
Felt like just yesterday this guy was only a little Ekans. Rescued from injury, having been cornered by kids who didn't know when to stop—even when their 'opponent' was clearly defeated. Corbeau had brought the little thing to the office along with a startling wound from his knee-jerk intervention to save a weak pokémon from such childish sadism.
(Boss hadn't intended on keeping Ekans for good, but that big soft heart just couldn't let the poor thing go when it clearly loved him so much and wanted to stick around. Scolipede had to learn to share from that point on, and Corbeau had discovered his talent for training and formal battling now that he had a basis for a real team.)
A blast of light startled the shit out of him. Philippe's body jolted around nothing—it felt disarming to have such a heavy pokémon vanish from around his limbs like that, leaving blank holes in his awareness where there used to be solid, scaly consistency.
"Already?" he asked, definitely not pouting about it like the grown man he was. He hadn't noticed Corbeau sneaking up.
"I said ten minutes. I gave you fourteen. At that point, he was taking advantage of your kindness, which is meant to be my job."
Philippe lost all interest in arguing when Corbeau crawled right on top of him, chest to chest, flexible limbs reaching and clinging to everything that he could. A spot of coolness pressed into his neck—boss's nose.
"I was cold outside too, you know... Where's my ten minutes of getting warmed up?"
Philippe would never say out loud that he found Corbeau's occasional jealousy of his own pokémon adorable. He wrapped his arms snug around his lover and made sure Corbeau was situated nice and warmly against him.
"Right here, boss. Got plenty to spare, all for you."
This time, it was his turn to track the minutes passing by. His clever little lover had the most accurate internal clock Philippe had ever seen, but somehow it shut right off whenever it was time to cuddle.
Corbeau was an order of magnitude lighter than Arbok. His short arms couldn't reach around him all the way, and he was too light to really press Philippe into the cushions in that reassuring manner a large pokémon could, but Philippe still felt encompassed from head to toe, with something as precious as the love of his life draped over him, enjoying his warmth and willingness to be a soft, watchful bed.
Benefits of being a big guy.
Philippe cupped and stroked the back of his partner's head, mouth twitching when Corbeau sighed happily and tucked into his neck just to be closer.
...They could afford more than a measly ten minutes like this. Corbeau would scold him if he let them get too carried away, but his current defense was one of fairness: he couldn't let Arbok and Corbeau receive different treatment when they were out there in the cold side by side. It was only right to pay equal dues to both of his favorite little snakes.