i expected a raise not dinner and a movie

When Vito woke up that morning, his first concern was that he was late for work. Not the fact that he permanently lost an eye, not even being unable to cover medical expenses after last month's expenditures, but the fact that it was too late to clock in. He buzzed the nurse in about half an hour later when he wasn't loopy with morphine to tell her he needed out of the hospital because he was late for work. She wouldn't let him. She said he needed to rest for the day because the doctor needed to do more tests to see if he'd lost anything vital. He certainly did. He lost his damn dignity. He called Francesca, ordering her to tell their cousin to tell Klaus' people that he wouldn't be able to go to work that day. He figured he'd profusely apologize about it the day after.

He wasn't used to this sitting and waiting nonsense. There were people coming in and out of his room with needles, pills, equipment and paperwork aplenty. He wasn't in much of a state to give them a read over, so fuck it, he signed his name anywhere they wanted. The last visit was at eight. They didn't find anything with the numbers they ran.

Some roses came for him around that afternoon. They didn't have a name, but he knew well enough where they came from. He smelled them from time to time, mostly because they smelled like him, and fell asleep with a rose close to his heart. It was pathetic, but he didn't have any dignity to think about then. He lost an eye for him, and he'd damn well lose another one for him.

He fell asleep early that night, and was discharged at six in the morning.

**

Oh... Disgusting.

He never realized how bad it was. Vito inspected his face again in front of his apartment mirror, and this was... He was already pretty fucking ugly. That was logical fact. He'd grown up with it. This was just grotesque. The part where his eye should be was caved in, and the skin healing around it looked like dried prunes. He couldn't imagine anyone being able to eat around this. It would ruin most people's appetite.

Sighing, he wrapped clean bandages around the wound again. Let it be known that Vito Russo was an enemy of eyepatches. Ever since he'd been forced to watch pirate movies in his youth because of dear old Francesca, Vito cursed the skull designs, the peg legs and eyepatches because of their overwhelming tackiness. But it looked like he'd have to start wearing one, because an eyepatch was a lot less alarming than having half of his face covered in fucking bandages.

He'd have to worry about that later. He already missed a day of work. Vito dressed a little nicer than usual, pulling out one of his grey suits from his closet and dusting it off. He didn't get to wear suits as much as he liked to, pulling them out only during class reports and school meetings, but he figured he should at least dress nice since he expected the big man would want to talk after what happened.

The thought, ah, made Vito uneasy. Klaus would want to talk about that, right? Vito wished he wouldn't, or, at the very least, give him a pat on the shoulder and raise his salary for the month, maybe offer to pay medical expenses. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stomach a scolding of some sort, or worse, gratitude. He didn't do it for praise or a promotion. He did it because he — He didn't want him to get hurt. End of story. He succeeded, so...

He needed to stop being so fidgety and go to fucking work.

He got in his care and headed to HQ without much fanfare. Hopefully, the day was going to go on like normal.

After a day in the hospital, Vito was back to work without a hitch. This surprised many people, considering there wasn't a soul privy to what happened the other day. It wasn't exactly a private affair. Klaus' old lover and secret would-be usurper made an attempt at Klaus' life, and Vito snuffed that out at the cost of his eye. People gawked at his bandages, and Vito had to snap at them for their lack of manners. Youth these days.

Noticing that their cohort was apparently in a mood, they stayed out of his way. Vito might not have been one of the guys working closely with Klaus, but getting to his position was already impressive, and his no-nonsense attitude had the effect of making weaker personalities shrink. Aside from a well-intentioned comment about morphine impairing his cognitive abilities (he was fine), that was the last he'd heard of annoying chattering of the issue.

Drama aside, Vito inspected the pile of papers on his tables, tables, lists, warnings, requisition forms and possible contracts. All unsigned. Why? All they needed was Klaus' fucking signature. They couldn't even do that. Rubbing his head, he eventually ordered the others to sort them in categories and order of priorities. Vito was more than certain that Klaus was going to invite him into his office, so he might as well hand the paperwork over then.

It was happening sooner rather than later, it seemed. Vito caught a whiff of the roses as soon as Klaus was within proximity. The aura usually drew people in, but at the time, Vito was greatly repelled. It was easier to think of Klaus' presence in the theoretical sense. Having him around him, facing him, acknowledging him — his heart was racing. He couldn't — couldn't handle this at all. Was it too late to escape through the back window?

It was a nice thought, but he wouldn't. He was facing this head on like a man. In the most objective sense, it was just his boss, even if that boss happened to be someone he obsessively crushed on in the sidelines. He could talk to him face to face.

When Klaus entered... God, he was gorgeous as ever, and that aura was intoxicating whenever he was near enough to smell it. It was overwhelming, how much he loved, wanted, and obsessed over this man day after day, helping and protecting him in the sidelines. Having him this close, the pining was, aha, intense, enough to destroy lesser men. Unlike them, he shoved his erupting feelings down and put on his most amicable face.

"I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"No, not at all. The timing is perfect. We were discussing some documents here that needed signatures, but if you don't agree with them, I'd like to facilitate a discussion." There were pleasantries exchanged here and there, and Vito got drowned out, so he busied himself by preparing the priority papers. Before he knew it, everyone was leaving the office. Vito wasn't sure what to do here. Should he leave too? He was a heartbeat too late when Klaus was over him.

Vito was — not holding up well. His heart leaped. His heartbeat was deafening in his ears. It was hard to focus on anything when his head was swimming and he felt oh so weak. He was caught in a weird state, wanting to ravish Klaus while simultaneously wanting to escape. It took a few heavy moments to process what he'd been saying, and it didn't make it any better.

Think. Fuck, he was going to force his blood back to his brain instead of his dick if it was the last thing he did. Klaus was delusional. Of course. He'd read about this in his Psychology class, about people falling for their saviors even if they had nothing in common, and they had nothing in common. Klaus was gorgeous, and his lovers were always on another level of attractive — models, singers, actors, people more like himself. Even the guy Vito used to crush, Klaus' old lover, the one he'd killed, he was a piece of shit but he was one of those pretty boy types. Not one working brain cell in his fucking head, but he was charming enough to draw him in.

Now he was making moves on him. Him. He hadn't even noticed his existence before, but now he was all over him. The bitterness was intense. Vito had so many urges, but he didn't want to get it like this, idealized at the moment because he saved his life once. He was going to get bored of him after a week. Vito was fine with unrequited, but abandoned was a whole different ball game.

Klaus just needed some time to process things. He was convinced of that.

"Vito Russo," he said, dry and mechanic. "I got the roses you sent me. They were very lovely. I took them home and put them in a vase.

"I'm glad you're up and about too. The experience must've been traumatizing. I'm sorry I had to kill poor old Esteban. I know he meant a lot to you, but there was no time to convince him to back down."

A pause. A dinner offer, and an opportunity to fuck. Vito felt... profoundly sad about the concept. He couldn't accept something like that just because he saved him. He didn't do it for thanks. He gently removed Klaus' hands from his chest, looking at anything other than him. "That's... very kind of you. Thank you for the offer, but I'll have to decline. I didn't save you to get your attention, so I'm sorry if you thought otherwise."

Why did he come back to work?

There were plenty of reasons. He could say he did it for the money, or because he felt threatened, or maybe he really was just married to his work. Except, none of those things rung true. He knew why. It always came back to Klaus. He'd decided a while back that he was a man worth following. He didn't have money, beauty or even a charming personality to offer him. All he had was his service. That was what he was good at, so that was what he gave him. He wanted to be acknowledged just this once. He'd be satisfied then, finally shake off his intense, obsessive fantasies. He thought he was expecting too much, but this was...

"I have unfinished work," he lied, but it was a good lie. It wasn't like his expressions changed when he was lying or telling the truth. He gestured to the paperwork in front of him. "As you can see, I was gone a day and these idiots literally stopped working right. I don't know how they function without me." Taken care of? Did he mean the hospital bills? He'd have to check with the hospital if that was true.

It broke his heart that he had to be the one to reject him. Really, it was for his own good. Had Vito been a stupider man, he would've taken the offer right off the bat. Maybe there were people that rejected Klaus because they didn't like him, but he sure as hell wasn't one of them.

"That's not it," he replied to... everything. He wanted to reassure him but he didn't wish to elaborate, not wanting to talk over him or explain the complicated nature of his feelings. Klaus came on too strong, but he sure as hell was going to beat him on that front if he kept talking. How do you tell a man you've loved him for years and the very thought of him not being into you as you are him would literally devastate you? He didn't have a lot to offer him when he was way out of his league. He didn't dare hope.

"I don't think badly of you," was all he wanted to clarify. "You're a good guy. I respect you, and the fact that you're going after something you think you want. You don't have to worry about my opinion of you changing."

Why was he so disappointed that Klaus backed off? This whole thing was everything he hoped for. He wished he could be more selfish, take what he fucking wanted. He couldn't. His damn pride wouldn't let him.

Friends, friends was a lot more palatable. He had to admit, he liked the idea of spending more time with Klaus. There wasn't any pressure of bigger things or intense focus with friends. Going out in groups and getting a few beers where he could be around him and listen to him talk. That was the ideal. He smiled, barely noticeable. "All right, boss. A get-together sounds nice. I'm free after work."

This was a lot more comfortable set-up than earlier. If there was anything he was good at, it was work. It was easier to distance himself from Klaus, maybe not literally, but definitely emotionally and professionally. There was that wall between boss and employee again, so he resume pining in safety. He visibly relaxed, moving the priority papers to Klaus. "I put the requisition forms on top and a couple of contracts that have already been agreed upon. I think having these out as soon as possible would help certain sections be prepared by the end of the month."

Klaus' magic was acting up in a way he hadn't experienced before. It was... something he'd only experienced in the periphery, when he was around Klaus wanting something, or when he smelled it dripping off Esteban. It was an intense current, flaring up on occasion, and he did the magical equivalent of leaning into the touches, as needy as he could be. It was rather shameless, he knew, and he wished he could reign it in, but auras never lied, at least not on matters like these. It was Vito's most honest form, and that form was fucking desperate.

"That's a first," he said, conveniently detached but with softer feelings bubbling in his chest still. "I never really hear 'cute' when it comes to me."

It wasn't a bad observation, merely a strange one. It was ridiculous to him that Klaus would take a liking to him without this whole affair. What was cute now was going to be dry and boring later. Vito was going to keep shutting him down and be purposely distant so later abandonment would at least be deserving. Jesus, this was why he didn't even try to pursue the people he liked. Rejection shook him up at a deeply personal level.

"It's not weird. You're not weird," he replied, again, with the intent to dissuade Klaus from any notions that he was in any way being a burden to him. He was the light of his life. He couldn't conceive any time that would ever be true. He tapped his nails on the table, considering what was being offered. "You're not dragging me along. I'm happy to spend time with you. What do you say about the Blue Irish Pub? It's not that far from work, and I hear the drinks are cheap so you can serve seconds and it won't even make the slightest dent to your salary this month." He'd know, because he scrunched the numbers.

Vito looked at him, and for an intimidating snake man with literal face scars, his expression was hopeful and honest. He wasn't well-versed in these sort of things, so Vito followed his feelings that felt the most authentic, which were the ones that were too soft towards this man.

Vito considered the question. "No," was the brief answer, and the one he initially gave, but for him, he cared to elaborate, "We're the heads of several sections in the Upper East district. I'm not the one in charge, but I might as well be. If you ask me, the current roster are good, hardworking men, but they lack initiative and responsibility." That was his two cents on it. They were good men but supremely unqualified. It was out with the old and in with a new, and he hoped the new would have more efficiency.

It was hard to concentrate with what Klaus' magic was doing to him. He was thankful he was sitting then, because his knees were trembling. It was so easy to flop on Klaus in a boneless heap and kiss and worship every crevice of his body. His aura tugged at Klaus', needy, wrapping it around him like a blanket. He wanted nothing less than to envelope his existence around him.

He was clingy, he said, as if it was a bad thing, as if he would ever complain about his love's presence in his life. He'd watched him and Esteban a little too closely — the way Klaus looked at him, the way he would beckon him to his room — and he envied what they had. He'd never dare take it, but he thought about those things in his most guilty daydreams, so this was... This was already beyond everything he'd ever hoped. "Yes, I know what you're like. I'm saying I don't mind it at all. Stop trying to warn me because I know what I'm getting into."

He... Ah. He felt his face heat up, heartbeat loud in his ears. It seemed unavoidable then. That was what he feared when he came back to work, really. He didn't want a party in his honor. He couldn't stand the thought of his co-workers partying in his honor without even knowing what he was like. He did what he had to to protect Klaus, and the fact that he was out and about was enough for him. This seemed excessive. "That's all right, boss. A couple of beers is fine. You don't need to go overboard with celebrations."

I'm nothing was left unsaid. He was nothing but a speck of dust besides a beam of pure light. There was nothing he wouldn't do for him. That didn't need to be put under the spotlight, especially if that spotlight wasn't something he'd be able to hold onto. It just needed to be understood.

He was shrinking before, weak in the knees, dry in the throat. He wasn't now. He found his posture and presence again. It broke into the air and filled the room, forcing Klaus to pay all his attention to him. He sat in a way that was directly facing Klaus. He met him eye to eye.

"Listen. There were no ulterior motives to what I did. When I signed up to be one of your leading men, I did it fully acknowledging that you'll be the man I'm serving. You've earned my respect and loyalty with your actions.What I did was everything you deserved. There's nothing I won't do for you. I don't need fanfare, I don't need raises or roses, and I especially don't need sex." The intensity shut out again. He turned his seat back to the table, organizing the stacks of paper. "Let's grab a few beers and put the matter to rest."