Chapter Text
The first time Philippe could remember finding Corbeau attractive was shortly after they’d met. It caught him off guard completely, especially since he had never found himself interested in men. He was barely interested in dating at all.
He’d attributed it to some stray hormonal changes as he approached his mid-twenties, his body reaching its developmental peak. He was a man, after all, and he may have prioritized other things in his life, but he still had his needs. Needs that just happened to be thrust into the forefront of his mind the first time he and Corbeau had gotten caught in the rain.
They’d spent a summer afternoon getting into all sorts of trouble around the city and the sudden cloudburst was as startling as it was refreshing, breathing life back into their muscles as the temperature cooled.
Automatically, Philippe had opened the front of his jacket and reached an arm out to pull his friend in close, shielding him beneath the fabric. He got a whiff of sweat and shampoo as Corbeau tucked himself into his side, raindrops running down the lenses of his glasses and off the ends of his hair, and all of the sudden Philippe felt his face heating up and his heart hammering in his chest.
Corbeau smiled so fondly at him, so appreciative of the simple gesture, the first of countless acts of service. In many ways, it made sense: Philippe had never made such a close friend so quickly, and a strong bond was bound to bring about new feelings.
He quickly discovered, however, it was simply that he’d never had a friend quite like Corbeau.
Throughout their storied history, it had been relatively easy to push his feelings down. They spent years working themselves to the bone building rapport with the powerful and influential people of Lumiose. Of course, Corbeau had become his boss rather quickly, the scope of their work growing exponentially under his passionate leadership.
From early on, it was clear that he was the perfect person to take on the role despite his lack of experience. It was remarkable how quickly he’d taken to it, and a little scary at times how natural it felt for Philippe to submit.
Sure, it gave him a welcomed opportunity to take a step back and handle things more suited for his skillset, but there was more to it than that. Corbeau captivated him from the very beginning. At first, he thought it was simply admiration and envy, but his feelings quickly deepened into uncharted territory.
As months turned into years, he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he could cope with it all. Though his physical strength was his most defining characteristic, Philippe took immense pride in his unwavering resolve, navigating a myriad of challenges with effortless patience and nerves of steel.
The dawning realization that Corbeau himself might pose the biggest threat to his sanity out of everything he’d been through, one he wasn’t sure he could overcome, made him feel ashamed and guilty.
How could he have let himself get so carried away? What was once a fleeting crush had blossomed into something much deeper and more detrimental to their professional lives. Daydreams of stealing kisses and holding hands had devolved into fantasies that felt utterly blasphemous.
The last thing he would want is for his emotions to influence the way he conducts his business and risk tarnishing the reputations they’d worked so hard to build.
The more he dwelled on it, the more Philippe realized they very well already could have. A chill runs down his spine as he considers that maybe Corbeau has picked up on something but has chosen to ignore it.
Or perhaps, he simply didn’t mind. That was easier to stomach than if the notion made him uncomfortable. As close as they were, there had been plenty of jokes and comments made at their expense, some around them finding the depth of his devotion hard to understand.
Though their arrangement was mutually beneficial, it seemed to many that Philippe was merely letting himself get walked all over by someone half his size. That he was just an attack dog on a leash, brainless muscle to be dispatched whenever the boss couldn’t be bothered to get his hands dirty.
At the end of the day, he only cared about how Corbeau saw him, the mutual respect they shared, and that Corbeau knew he would remain loyal no matter what. Philippe craved his approval more than anything, and at this point it was hard to imagine a life without each other. He desperately hoped that his boss felt that way too, even if he would never be more than his subordinate. Being someone Corbeau could rely upon without fail was a core part of his identity, for better or worse.
Certainly he would have addressed any concerning behavior, right? He’s extremely intuitive, frighteningly so. What if he had him all figured out? Philippe tried in vain to stifle the giddy rush of excitement as he let himself, for the millionth time despite his best efforts, to imagine a world in which Corbeau had not only picked up on his feelings, but shared them.
He knew from years of experience that this type of thought experiment could only ultimately make him feel worse, but it was so easy to indulge, even though it hurt like hell. There’s no way Corbeau would ever feel that way about someone like him, and even if he did somehow, there’s definitely no way he would risk ruining what they had going.
That didn’t mean he hadn’t spent way too much time and energy pondering over what he would do if something ever happened between them. They’d spent the majority of their days together for years straight, at times blurring the lines between business and otherwise. So many sidelong glances, lingering touches, moments where the world seemed to shrink around them. Despite his arrogant demeanor, Corbeau treated Philippe like he was the reason the sun came up, the only one he could ever trust to take care of him.
It’d become increasingly difficult to know whether he was reading too much into their interactions. After all, he supposed Corbeau’s kindness may come from a sense of obligation to pay him back for the opportunity he’d been awarded. He may like to pretend that he never wanted the authority, that it was forced onto him, but it’s obvious that he enjoys being so powerful. He’s always commanded attention, always had those around him in the palm of his hand.
Philippe was hardly the first person to fawn over the man, but it did fill him with pride to know that Corbeau was far closer to him than anyone else in his life. At least, as far as he could tell. It would be almost impossible to hide some secret affair from him, and even so, why would he?
He figured Corbeau would pursue some sort of romantic endeavors over the course of their friendship - he’d been bracing himself for it - especially as his influence grew. There were plenty of reasons to get involved with him, whether for professional gain or simply because he was gorgeous.
As his appointed eyes and ears, Philippe had endured an endless barrage of advances toward his boss. Some were subtle, while others had practically thrown themselves at him, but Corbeau had never shown any interest, and Philippe was more than happy to run interference. It was a marvel that he remained single, never going out of his way to reciprocate any of the attention he was showered with. He was completely indifferent.
Sometimes, Philippe wondered if Corbeau had ever been curious about his love life.
At least he could take comfort in knowing that there was currently no one else his boss would rather spend his Saturday night with.
Tonight, he really should be focusing on the fact that he was lucky enough to be sitting across from his boss at Sushi High Roller, chatting over a lavish spread.
The Syndicate had recently helped the restaurant investigate the whereabouts of some missing ingredients, discovering a hungry family of Dedenne had been helping themselves. Within just a couple days, they were able to work together to find homes for all of the Pokémon, ensuring a lifetime of full bellies.
As thanks, the owner had graciously encouraged them to return for a meal on the house. Corbeau had invited the grunts to come along, but they all evidently had better plans than getting fed for free. Not that Philippe was upset about it by any means. Though they spent a lot of time together, it’d become increasingly rare to have the chance to do so in a non-work setting.
The battle court remained unoccupied, the only sounds around them that of other folks talking and eating. Obviously, their presence didn’t go unnoticed in such a popular place. They were never truly “off the clock,” but being able to relax a bit was always welcome.
Corbeau didn’t drink often, especially not in public, but the chef had insisted on providing a generous selection of sakes imported from all over the world, and each one went down smoother than the last.
Philippe felt pleasantly buzzed and figured his boss, who was much more sensitive to the effects of alcohol, must be feeling it too. He was talking just a bit faster than usual, his face was flushed, eyes glassy. A persistent smirk betrayed his typical dry stoicism, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that made Philippe’s heart throb.
After a long pause, an airy laugh left Corbeau as he set down an empty glass and started to trace the rim with his finger. Philippe snapped to attention, pulled from his perpetual emotional turmoil back to reality. Corbeau was making a face that was hard to read, eyeing him suspiciously, and Philippe couldn’t help but feel apprehensive as he started to speak.
“Tell me…” he said, soft enough that the other man had to lean in. He seemed uncharacteristically shy, which really threw Philippe for a loop. He almost looked vulnerable, his eyes cast down toward the table.
“Yes, sir?” Philippe answered, eager to hear what was on his mind.
A pause. Corbeau’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, his golden irises catching the light as he looked back up, just in time to catch Philippe staring.
A knowing glance. Philippe went to take a swig as Corbeau started again.
“When’s the last time you got laid?”
It was like something out of a sitcom the way Philippe practically choked on his water, barely regaining control of his faculties before he subjected Corbeau to an impromptu shower.
The guy couldn’t even wait until he was finished drinking to ask him something like that?! It took a while to quit coughing his lungs out before he could finally reply.
“Excuse me?” he squeaked, feeling his face burning red as a Cherubi, eyes blown wide.
“You heard me.”
Philippe could only gawk at him, still struggling to clear his throat, trying to decide how in the world to respond. This wasn’t exactly a topic they’d really broached in the past. Was there an answer he was looking for? What could he possibly be getting at?
A wave of nausea washed over him as he considered that his boss might be about to ask for advice regarding a new relationship. He definitely wasn’t ready to hear about Corbeau getting into bed with someone else.
“W-what…” he stammered, “uh, where is this comin’ from?”
Corbeau seemed irritated that Philippe dodged the question, sighing, sweeping a hand through his hair dramatically. Still with that unusually coy expression.
“Well…” his gaze met Philippe’s again and he could tell that the man was really enjoying watching him squirm.
He leaned in, his voice soft as he continued,
“Since you felt it necessary to relieve yourself on our premises, I figured it must’ve been a pretty long time.”
Philippe’s body went rigid. He cycled between bewilderment and panic, wracking his brain helplessly, desperately trying to figure out what the hell Corbeau could be referring to…before it finally dawned on him.
Oh.
He was so fucked.