Work Text:
Haze dissipated from the horizon just in time for the seven o’clock evening sun to kiss the western mountains. The marmalade sky was dappled by scarlet wisps that caught the light, resembling the scales of a breaching Magikarp. The serenity of the moment was a striking antonym for Corbeau. He couldn’t possibly feel more nervous.
Why? It had been a perfectly normal day. Business as usual, no abnormal happenings. Typical day of looking over contracts with debtors, a business meeting here and there. Corbeau had even made it a point to not schedule a single meeting after four because he had insisted that he and Philippe were long overdue for a date. A little get-together outside of office hours and something a bit more special than a usual night of Philippe’s home cooked meals.
Little did Philippe know, this very moment amongst the creamsicle clouds would be the moment his beloved boss was soon to become his beloved fiance.
A shaky inhale escaped Corbeau’s fragile frame. He attempted to stifle his anxiety with a subtle cross of his legs as the two sat amongst the bamboo stalks on the office roof-top.
“Beautiful…” Philippe remarked, his voice low and soft.
Corbeau nodded. It was the only response he could muster.
“Y’know? Every time I look at this view, it reminds me of your eyes.”
Oh brother… Corbeau loved Philippe’s sudden poeticism from time to time, but at this point, as Corbeau’s hand held against the pocket of his jacket to feel the ring box, it felt almost cliche for Philippe to get this way. Almost as if the bastard just knew.
But then again, Philippe, though the most hypervigilant man in all of Lumiose, wasn’t immune to missing a social cue here and there.
Corbeau swallowed hard upon hearing Philippe’s gentle compliment. “You’ve seen plenty of sunsets, Philippe…”
“They’ll never be as breathtaking or as awe-inspiring as you, though.”
Corbeau was practically beating himself up from the inside. Grabbing the manifestation of his psyche, shaking it by the collar, maybe even bopping it with a mallet until little Wingulls circled its head. He felt like this couldn’t be more obvious. He could drop a goddamn Wailord from the sky wearing a massive banner that said “Philippe, Marry Me,” and he still wouldn’t get the hint.
In the moment of silence, dodging Philippe’s compliments and ignoring his stanzas of sweetness, Corbeau couldn’t help but remember a few moments of Philippe’s obliviousness.
There was that one time a few summers back where Corbeau purposefully showed up to work in a short-sleeved purple button-down in hopes Philippe would spend the entire day staring at the tattoos swirling up and down his arms. He had intentionally tortured himself by setting the air-conditioner on a higher temperature so he would have the excuse to loose his tie no matter how painful it was to work in the growing humidity. When he turned his head around, Philippe stared straight ahead, eyes transfixed on the door and not his boss. Even much later when Corbeau had tossed the silken fabric aside, popped open a button or two, and fanned himself with a manila folder, Philippe kept his steel eyes transfixed on the documents in his hands. Corbeau knew it was a lost cause and set the air-conditioner back to normal. Philippe didn’t even once make a remark on the change in humidity. He must’ve been baking in that thick, three-piece suit! But he remained stoic and stolid as ever.
Even in this exact moment was Philippe still unaware of the sweat forming on Corbeau’s brow as he continued to palm the box in his pocket. Philippe was always so in-tune, how could he not tell? Was he bluffing? He had to be.
“Philippe…” He began, voice a bit more cracked than expected.
Philippe’s brow perked in curiosity. “Yes, Boss?”
“Tonight was lovely.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. Cliche AND stupid. You’ve rehearsed this a million times!
“Sure was.”
Corbeau tried everything in his power to not facepalm. Another memory struck him as he wracked his brain to find the words again.
A few weeks before they had even shared their first kiss had Corbeau been trying his damndest to hint to Philippe his intentions. A moment of walking side by side, accidentally-on-purpose brushing their hands together. Then to quickly glance up at Philippe to see his reaction. Face stone still, focused on reaching their destination in one piece. Alright, maybe the public would be a bad place to flirt, considering he’s in Mabosstiff mode…
Then of course, another moment a few days later where Corbeau pretended to fall asleep on Philippe while they sat side by side on the couches reviewing a mountain of documents. Maybe if he pretended to talk in his sleep, maybe lazily mumbling Philippe’s name. Maybe if he’d let his mouth hang open and his neck go slack so his head would slide not-so-subtly onto Philippe’s chest. Of course, polite as always, Philippe stayed perfectly still so as to not disturb his “weary” boss. Though Corbeau had hoped and prayed Philippe would jostle slightly, remove his suit coat, drape it over the smaller man’s body like a blanket. Maybe if he was lucky, Philippe would ruffle his hair. Nope. Didn’t happen. As still as a rock-face and completely unaware the soft snores from Corbeau’s throat was just a bout of mediocre acting.
Hell, Corbeau had even been at the point where even he had mistaken Philippe’s intentions in days past. On one such occasion, the larger man leaned in to whisper a remark in Corbeau’s ear only for him to turn in Philippe’s direction with lips pursed. Philippe didn’t notice, just delivering his cautious statement about an unfolding scene ahead of them. Corbeau, of course, responded with tightly knit eyebrows and slightly puffed cheeks in exasperation.
“You okay, Boss?” Philippe broke Corbeau from his ruminations.
“Y-yeah… I’m fine.” Yeah, right… He can see right through you… He HAS to know by now.
“What did you think of dinner?”
How was he supposed to answer that question? He had nearly blacked out the last few hours. Every single second since they left the office courtyard, his mind was a swirling mass of anxiety.
When would be the opportune moment to pop the question?
In the restaurant? Absolutely not! He would die from sheer embarrassment at the thought of strangers clapping and cheering for him as he would kneel on the floor a sweating, stuttering mess. What if, in his haste, he knelt from his chair as a waitress was passing by? To be full of swelling bravado on the precipice of a life changing question only for it to be ruined by a collision of toppled food trays. The image of leftover food bits and half drank beverages soaking into his hair and suit… The cursory apologies to a stunned waitress... The heckling laughter and gasps of on-lookers… It made him wince at the thought.
On their walk through the canal? Still too public for his tastes. He might have even stopped to tie his shoe only to remember by the time he was kneeling down that he was wearing loafers. He felt like shriveling inside himself for that one. Looking up at Philippe whose palm had been outstretched to help him up. Some scrambled remark while accepting the assistance.
At the sweet little gazebo in the park? He had been so dangerously close. Just as he felt the courage to gaze into Philippe’s eyes and form the words, Philippe’s phone began to ring. The larger man politely excused himself, rose from the bench, and chatted away as he leaned against a pillar. Corbeau felt the veins of his temples near to bursting. He was surely tapping into the ether to beg whomever his ancestors were to spite this person’s soul for a thousand years.
He was such a nervous wreck that he didn’t even remember their walk back to the office. It really all caught up to him the moment they sat on the stone bench on the roof and the sunset’s saffron beams glistened off Philippe’s placid face.
Not to mention he had entirely forgotten that Philippe had just asked him a question.
“Hm?”
“I asked you what you thought of dinner.” Philippe was so, so patient…
“Oh…” Corbeau searched his mind, desperate to even fathom a memory of whatever it was he had ordered. No avail, “It was delicious. Incredible mouthfeel. Impeccably umami, even.” He can tell you’re bullshitting!
“Yeah, that sashimi was exquisite. That spot’s going to give Sushi High Roller a run for their money, I just know it. I don’t care how pricey it was, we should go again next weekend.”
“That’s a great idea.” Corbeau sighed, knowing full well it would be nice to actually experience that restaurant without an overbearing hazy cloud of anxiety encircling his mind.
Philippe continued on his review of the restaurant, Corbeau unintentionally tuning out as the sound of his heart pounded in his ears.
The clock was ticking. The gorgeous sunset likely had five more minutes of radiance and if he didn’t propose right this instant, the beautiful backdrop would be lost. The way the sunbeams stretched across the sky. Shadows from the buildings were creeping up Wild Zone 16’s numerous hedges. Come on, Corbeau! You don’t have much longer!
But he couldn’t help it. As he stared at the rambling Philippe with his stupidly handsome face, he couldn’t help but think about how much he loved his darling, oblivious boyfriend and bodyguard.
Boyfriend… Arceus, not for much longer. Bodyguard, for life, if the fates would allow. Husband? Gulp!
Why did that word of all things have to freeze him in his tracks. Transitioning to using the word partner or boyfriend felt so easy, perhaps because of Philippe’s obliviousness once again.
Corbeau almost audibly chuckled at the memory that plucked him half from his anxiety. Like any other moment of the two enraptured by the heat of passion, Corbeau’s dirty talk had gotten him a bit carried away. He gripped Philippe’s stomach as a climax rumbled through his body, eyes firmly fixated on those gorgeous grays. Just as the peak was neared, he remembered Philippe’s oddly meek question:
“Boss, what are we?”
“What kind of question is that!?” a dazed reply, still recovering from shockwaves.
“Uhh… Well we never really formalized it, have we? Normally you make a contract for just about everythin–”
“Philippe, for Arceus’s sake! We live together!! You’re balls deep inside me, what do you fucking think!!!” His veins popping out from his forehead, eyebrows cinched tight together irately.
“So… I can call you my boyfriend?”
“YES, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!!”
Corbeau of the present released a rupturing laugh as he recalled the memory. His somewhat nasally tenor echoed out across the precipice of the rooftop garden to mingle with the sounds of the city street below.
Philippe was frozen, speechless at Corbeau’s sudden outburst. In turn, Corbeau’s face turned redder than Philippe’s very own Scizor.
A beat. Philippe’s eyebrows softened, his voice as meek as the one from Corbeau’s memory.
“I didn’t think my review of the restaurant was that funny…” Philippe almost looked like a pitiful Granbull begging for treats. Corbeau almost released another giggle, but choked it back.
“Philippe, I’m so sorry…”
“For what, Boss?” Concern captured Philippe’s face. Corbeau had to act quickly, not just because of the setting sun, but he could tell Philippe was the anxious one now. He needed to spare Philippe from feeling any ounce of anxiety for as long as they so lived.
“I– um…” Spit it out, you moron! Just like you rehearsed!
That was the problem… His little prepared speech was too much. There was no way he was going to be able to remember all the words. There was no way he was going to be able to execute it all now. It didn’t fit the mood. He might as well just fucking wing it!
A shaky sigh escaped Corbeau. He rose from the bench, eye contact never straying away from Philippe’s.
“I’ve wanted to ask you this all afternoon. I mean… I’ve been wanting to ask this for months now, actually. But today in particular. Since today’s the anniversary of when you relinquished the title of boss to me…”
“I knew I was forgetting something!” Philippe interjected, throwing Corbeau out of pace.
“Yes, Philippe... Now, if you’d let me continue…” He tapped his foot, impulsively.
“Sorry, Boss…”
“Now…” Another wavering exhale. The sun was half obscured by the mountain at this point, and if he didn’t ask in one more minute, the golden hour would be gone. He looked once more at Philippe’s face, soaking in every single feature. The concerned brows knit together, his steely irises reflecting the sun, his gorgeous mouth resting in a tight line as he sat forward to listen to his boss’s words attentively. He was always so attentive… What a darling, that Philippe.
Just say it, you fool!
“Philippe… my love…” Come on! For the love of all things good and pure in this world, Corbeau, just fucking say it!
Corbeau knelt to the ground, shaky hand reaching into his pocket and fumbling to open a gray velvet box. A silver and gold helixed band with a diamond shaped citrine stone sat pretty in the center of the box’s display. Corbeau swallowed his apprehension.
“Philippe, I want to marry you. I want to be with you until the very day I’m stolen from this wretched mortal coil. Because for the first time in my life, I’ve found my home. I’ve found my joy. I want to marry you, Philippe!” He was practically shouting at this point. “Please, Philippe! Please, marry me!”
Corbeau was kicking himself for how fucking desperate he sounded. His chest was heaving up and down like he just performed some elaborate dance number. His bangs stuck to his sweaty brow.
Philippe, on the other hand, had been arrested by Corbeau’s words. A broad smile exploded across his face, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He nearly burst the stone bench with how fast he rocketed from his spot, arms flung out broadly. He wrapped himself around Corbeau’s torso, lifting him from the ground, the ring box wedged between their chests. He couldn’t help but fill the space with his boisterous laughter, tears forming at the corner of his eyes from joy as he spun Corbeau around in circles. The two couldn’t help but laugh together as the sun grew to just a sliver at the mountainous horizon and the purple of evening began to steal away the orange glory.
“Of course, Boss! Of course, I’ll marry you!” Philippe’s jovial laughter continued in between planting sloppy little kisses all over Corbeau’s face. Each delivered kiss melted away every morsel of anxiety he had carried the entire day. All that pent up emotion didn’t matter anymore. He said yes… He said yes! HE SAID YES!!
“Philippe, the ring…” Corbeau muffled from his placement of being buried in Philippe’s tight embrace, nearly crushing his skull.
“Oh, right.” Philippe ceased his twirling and gently placed Corbeau back on his feet. He couldn’t figure out what he wanted to look at more, Corbeau’s handsome face or the intricately gorgeous ring in his hands.
“P-p-put it on! Put it on!” Corbeau stammered and shouted, a slight crack in his throat. He shoved the ring box closer to Philippe and turned his head a bit to hide his blush. Not that it mattered at this point. Philippe had seen his blush all too many times before, this one time was definitely warranted.
A trembling, large hand reached forward for the ring nestled safely on its velvety cushion. Those hands, always so exacting, so precise, so easy to extort an obstinate debtor the second those knuckles would crack. Oh, how they uncharacteristically shook. He grasped the ring delicately between his thumb and forefinger. Corbeau winced, fearing Philippe’s trembling would cause him to drop the ring and send it bouncing off the rooftop. If Skarmory were here, he would certainly catch it mid-descent and swoop back en scéne, delivering the expensive jewelry unscathed. But Philippe held firm and slipped on the ring without a hitch. He held out his hand, knuckles facing the sky, fingers outstretched and admired how the stone sat against his meaty, scarred hands.
“Beau, I– I’m speechless.” Philippe swallowed. Corbeau turned his head back in Philippe’s direction, blush still very apparent. He was speechless too. Of course he was! He had spent an obscene amount of money on the perfect ring and it looked gorgeous on his beloved’s hand. Though he could have slipped a chintzy candy ring on Philippe and it would have still brought them both to tears by the sentiment alone. The monetary value didn’t matter. It was the value of their love and devotion.
Philippe, through burgeoning tears, stared deeply at Corbeau, taking in every feature of his face, refracting the purple of the twilight sky.
“You’re not going to believe this…” He swallowed, silence broken.
Philippe shuffled in place, his hands patting his pockets. Corbeau couldn’t fucking believe it. He couldn’t believe the sight ahead of him of Philippe reaching into his pants pocket and producing a small, velvet box of his own, dwarfed in those massive hands of his–still shaking, of course.
“I can’t believe you beat me to the punch, Boss…” Philippe chuckled, sheepishly scratching the edge of his mutton chops with his thumb. He slowly opened the box and revealed a deep purple Iolite gem, joined on either side by smaller, pale zircons, and set on an intricate silver band with a diamond shaped patterning etched into the metal. Corbeau was stunned by the sight. Did his very own right hand man really outdo him on an engagement ring? Sure, it wasn’t a competition, but he couldn’t help but toss the thought around for a few seconds.
“Boss… Corbeau…”
Instead of allowing Philippe to even commence some sort of engagement speech from his stirring heart, Corbeau immediately plucked the ring from the box, hastily shoved it onto his finger just as he would hastily scarf down some charity meal from days long gone, and enveloped Philippe in a long, impassioned kiss. As he pulled away, the sight of his hands cupping both of Philippe’s cheeks looked even more special with the addition of the gorgeous ring living on his left hand. He could almost see his own loving reflection in the stone.
Through teary eyes and a bright chuckle, Corbeau broke the silence once more. “You mean to tell me… that you also spent the entire evening in shambles over proposing? You have no idea how anxious I’ve been all day, Philippe… I’ve spent months preparing some grandiloquent speech only to forget it all the minute I got here.”
“Oh, I’ve been terrified since I got the ring.” Philippe admitted.
“And how long has that been?”
“Two years ago…”
“TWO YEARS!?” Corbeau sputtered. Philippe rubbed his back to help assist Corbeau’s sudden coughing fit. Once he regained his breath, he looked back up at his love in shock. “How on Earth have you remained so calm!?”
“I must be really good at hidin’ it. I feel like I’ve just been a sweaty, stuttering mess every single time we have some alone time.” Philippe scratched his head in his characteristic way and let out a hearty little laugh.
“You should get into acting!” a jovial laugh burst from Corbeau as he curled back into Philippe, sharing a few more kisses in between their giddy giggles.
Relief settled into the two men as they sat together on the rooftop garden’s stone bench, wrapped in one another’s gentle embrace. The atmosphere of pale pebbles and elegantly towering bamboo stalks made the two feel like they were in some far off oasis, easily forgetting the city setting around them. It wasn’t often they had the chance to be alone like this, especially one where stress and worry were long gone. The silence between the two recited a poem of comfort, of bliss.
It was pretty easy to get so caught up in such a busy and dangerous life. Like a clockwork habit, Corbeau’s mind began to wander, though not on matters of Syndicate business, deadlines, or if he had been keeping up with his team’s training regimen enough lately. Instead, his mind travelled to thoughts much more apt to current events.
“I guess we have to start planning a wedding, don’t we?”
“That we do, Beau, that we do…” Philippe laid a gentle kiss atop Corbeau’s head. “But let’s just stay like this for now. That’s tomorrow’s work.”
“You’re telling me to relax? As if!” Corbeau retorted.
“Hey now, I think my fiance deserves a moment of peace for once in his life!” A sharp riposte from Philippe that left Corbeau stunned the minute the word “fiance” left his lips.
No more words spoken. Corbeau snuggled into Philippe’s chest and soaked in the sounds of serenity as they watched the lights of Lumiose twinkle across the urban expanse, illuminating the city where they found love–the city that they called home.