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Harmony being in the Bleu District wasn’t technically out of the ordinary, for any citizen of Lumiose could find themselves here: the library, the cafes, and even the nearby mall, all offered great amenities.
But for a supermarket? There were plenty located closer to the neighboring sections of Hotel Z.
“I’m looking for something specific,” Harmony claimed as she bid farewell to Lida earlier–long gone were the days of strategy meetings, now instead replaced with casual loitering in the lobby to converse with one another.
“This late at night?” A question she had hoped to avoid. Lida didn’t look suspicious of her in any way– she wouldn’t have a reason to, given how hard Harmony had been trying to keep personal matters personal.
“You know how it is, late night cravings,” a feeling she knew Lida of all people understood. The dancer needed just as much fuel as she needed practice. Harmony resists the nervous laugh bubbling in her chest, “You know what Lids, I’ll get you some! But I gotta go before they close bye!” rushing out the door before the girl could question her any farther.
So now she was here, at the random store that was conveniently nearby the Rust Syndicate building. She absentmindedly went through the aisles–she didn’t actually need to get anything, but now she had to play the part.
What she didn’t expect was to see Corbeau, the very person she had actual intentions of visiting, menacingly lurking around the snack aisle.
The sight of him amidst the casual environment tickles her. Nothing is casual at all about his three piece suit, coiffed hair and intimidating aura that envelops him with the same intensity of his musky cologne (cologne that she loves clinging to her clothing, if she's honest). He hums and haws as he stares at the contents in front of him. Did Corbeau ever do his own shopping? The imagery amused her.
“Are you following me, Mr. Corbeau?” She asks. Her feet carry her in his direction like a Combee to honey.
“I should be asking you that question, Miss Harmony,” there’s a glint in his eye, “you are on my side of town, quite late at night too, if I might add.”
The smile that etches its way onto her features escapes before she knows it, watching as his own forms.
“You didn’t message me,” he coughs, “but one of my people told me you were heading in this direction. Figured I’d make your surprise journey a little shorter.”
He took her non occupied hand, brought it up to his lips to place a gentle kiss. Her heart skipped, a girlish giggle escaped her.
“The eyes and ears of Lumiose, hmm?”
He smirked. “Glad you’re coming around to how the Rust Syndicate works.”
It had been exactly 3 weeks of going behind everyone’s back.
Held hands slipping apart to an appropriate distance, hugs that initiated after checking behind both shoulders–twice, the cutest pet names at a full stop when out in public.
But shopping with Corbeau was comfortably domestic; far more than they had let themselves be recently. Oh the woes of dating secretly – or what Corbeau unfortunately dubbed as being each other's “dirty little secret.”
Sure, they would joke and tease about it for days, go on and on about what they would like to do as a couple, but they knew that currently it wasn’t optimal for either of them.
Team MZ would be an uphill battle. Regardless of the Rust Syndicate's role in aiding her in the Ange crisis, Harmony knew Corbeau’s very presence would send all of them into a downward spiral.
...then there was the possibility of really really long talks about whether she was in her right mind. The team would act like they had a say in her love life, and Arceus knows she did not have the patience for that. And with the loss of AZ, a pain that still weighed heavily upon her? It was best Harmony tried to keep the team together instead of tearing it apart.
Corbeau respected her not wanting to shake the foundation too much among her friends.
(But oh, did he hold the idea over her of letting the Espurr out of the bag in front of them.)
He also had his own concerns about whether she was fully ready for the weight of being associated with him and his organization.
Granted, Harmony had her own change of heart once she saw what they were really up to, allowing herself to understand the Rust Syndicate better than most. To the point where they were more like teddy bears masquerading as threats in her mind. Dorky vigilantes that acted like the most scandalous people in the region. Corbeau at the helm with a heart for Lumiose bigger than anyone would expect.
Still, Rust’s intimidation tactics and their unconventional means of accomplishing objectives definitely did toe the line of “lawful”. And while she still had some feelings about holding bounties over heads in exchange for good deeds–it did work.
Rust did way more than the bonehead mayor Harmony’s never stopped hearing about.
Still, good intentions in questionable wrapping made for colorful interpretations. For better or worse, his reputation would always precede him. They both knew it well: once an opinion was formed, it was difficult to change.
If the common person saw Harmony with him, there was a decent chance they’d assume she was being forced into being by his side. A debt repayment at best and a sleazy exchange at worst. Despite her protests that she could ignore it, he was adamant he didn’t want any extra talk dragging her down. Not with everything else she had on her plate. Not after she’d protected them all.
He said he probably would end up behind bars if someone said the wrong words.
Sure, she laughed it off, but part of her knew he meant it.
So for now they’d be patient.
Hence their current situation: sneaking out, secret visits and late night calls. Among these moments came the matter of teaching Corbeau when to text instead of call–a lesson in progress that amused her more often than not and reminded her of their five year age difference.
She watches as he bags all her treats. Some local and some, in Kalosian standards, foreign. She hasn’t seen some of the candies in years so to stumble across them here—she had to grab a few to get Lida to try. Harmony swerves rushing to grab the bag before he could. His response immediate: a disapproving tch, a narrowed glare.
“I’m a gentleman, mon coeur,” outstretched hand waiting for her to give in. He wasn’t wrong in his claims, his gentlemanly demeanor was a trait that made her swoon on the daily. But her tongue juts out playfully as she snatches the bag even closer to her torso like it’s a prized possession.
“I’ve got it.” She proclaims through a grin.
He rolls his eyes, “you’re the only person I let get away with going against me.”
“And that’s why you like me, “ she says cheekily, taking the moment to slip her arm into his.
The walk back to the hotel was a pretty long one between districts, but it made for a good excuse to extend their meet up. Slowly walking alongside each other, enjoying the ambiance of night, the cool breeze letting her nuzzle up to him more.
Usually Harmony didn’t get to enjoy the nightlife–the battle royale taking up her evenings more often than not. Whilst regular folks hid at home–to not become victims of the holo tech zones – she got to live in the rush, in the adrenaline of battle, feeling the heat of moves and the cries of both Pokemon and trainer.
It was a very different atmosphere than the one she shared with Corbeau right now.
Harmony could get lost in Corbeau’s voice, his velvety cadence adding life to his stories about Lumiose. What he said tickled her imagination. Streets bustling at night, galette vendors sprinkled on every corner, Gogoats carrying passengers around, the overzealous rollerskaters zooming past bystanders on roads… that were now overturned by wild zones..
He remarks how he wishes that was the Lumiose she could’ve seen and experienced, but at the same time this Lumiose felt right for her.
“Maybe it’s different, but we could still go on a romantic rollerskating adventure,” she snickers, “if your old bones could handle it.”
“I’ll skate circles around you. I’m in peak fitness.”
She snorts, “says the guy who told me to stop making him do physical labor.”
They were in their own little world and and everything was nearly perfect.
Nearly.
The anxiety of being found never truly went away, but being in his presence brought a comforting reassurance too. She was enamored with how the lights of Lumiose bounced off his golden eyes, how the warm breeze tousled his hair, how the soft scuffle of their shoes against the cobblestone streets…until a small flame appeared.
She could see his shoulders relax the second he took a long drag of the cigarette that dangled in his mouth.
She pouts, it’s a habit she’s been wanting him to quit, but Arceus was he attractive doing it.
And when she catches his gaze from the corner of his eye she knew he knew it too.
“Really?” Her grievances were loud, furrowed brow, emphasizing her displeasure, before he exhales opposite of her. While he’s entertained her attempts to stop him she understands how it’d be a difficult habit to break— not only in physical need but in societal circles he partakes in.
“You’re the one who came to Kalos, mon Papillon,” he once chided—but she’s noticed he hasn’t been reaching as often for his pack around her. An effort she appreciates all the same. And from their days together it’s only been once compared to the multiple of before.
"I was on my best behavior for a while, Miss Harmony."
Corbeau wasn’t subtle, his attempt to butter her up with her favorite pet name falling on deaf ears.
She already had her ultimatum--an incredibly weak one when she let her eyes linger too long--that she wouldn't kiss him when he smoked.
Which meant she wouldn’t get a goodnight kiss tonight. Great. A small sigh escapes her. Harmony knew it was her own doing, but why does she have to miss out?
She steals another glance. Watching the way his jaw tenses and relaxes, his eyes closing contently as he takes another slow drag. Tendrils of smoke blew downwind, as the low spark danced across his cheek bones.
She hates how attractive he is in the moment.
Deep down she knows it’s something she could let slide, offer a bit more grace and leniency but–
“Cut me some slack. I'm trying to quit. Philippe can vouch for that,” he says, “but we all have our vices, just like you and your sweet tooth,” gesturing to her latest haul.
“These” she reaches into the bag, “are indispensable proof for Lida that I wasn’t running off to do something unsavory." Her mouth fails to resist quirking upward at the chuckle beside. Of course he would find that wording funny, given his reputation. And if Lida found out where she was, she’d probably use worse words. Rolling her eyes with affection, she continues to plead her case.
"Besides, sugar won't kill me.”
“Hmm, both statements are debatable.” There’s a curious gaze in Corbeau’s eyes as she rips into the packaging. Sometimes Rust workers tell her he hangs onto every word she says, but Harmony swears it’s every motion as well; butterfree flutter in her stomach at the revelation.
(Truthfully his whole presence does that.)
“I had this once over on a trip to Johto, you can hold it like you do your cigarettes,” placing it between her index and middle finger as an example, “though I don’t know this flavor.”
She glances at the Kantonian label, “I think this one is hazelnut?”
Corbeau plucks the package out of her hands, eyes scanning over the wording with ease.
“It’s dark chocolate.”
Harmony stops, mouth ajar as tidbits of information about him try to come together. “You can read Kantonian?” squeaked in awe. At this point in time she knew there was no way to know everything about him–their time had been too short and most of it was split with the near-city ending events that unfolded—but Corbeau had granted her insights to his life in more ways than one. His upbringing, his loyalty to Lysandre, his commitment to Rust, the city, his team.
She felt lucky to get just a glimpse into his life, to be trusted by a man full of secrets.
“It’s not a big deal, “ he states flippantly, waving his hand as if trying to get her to move on. As if it wasn’t information Harmony wanted to linger on.
He smiles wistfully.
“I promise I’ll give you more of my tragic backstory on our next date.” Harmony fidgets at the prospective outing, “but I’m still here waiting for you to tell me why you want me to snack on this cookie.”
“Well, I wanted your lips to be occupied by eating a yummy treat instead.”
Corbeaus hums in consideration, dropping the offending item before leather soles stamped on the butt.
“If you’re actually looking for distractions to keep me away,” his hand, warm and steady, slithers up to hold her jaw. “I can think of one better way for my lips to be occupied, my Harmony,” he whispers, eyes falling to her parting lips. “Something yummy, and oh so sweet.” His thumb caressing her bottom lip–Harmony gulps under his hungry gaze.
“But alas you have your stipulations.”
Harmony feels every bit of her resolve crumble. Her cheeks burn, her heart pounds in her chest. Oh how badly she wanted moments like this with Corbeau. Moments not in hiding where they could just be lovers.
Her eyes flicker past his shoulder. Empty streets. MZ? Lida was at the hotel blocks away, Naveen with his grandma, Urbain at Quasartico. That solves her “not in front of others” requirement.
But the smoking?
“You know there’s usually a game involved,” It’s but a whisper. A weak attempt to keep the upper hand.
“Oh? Pray tell.”
There’s a different type of anxiousness that makes its way into her body. It wasn’t fear of being caught this time, but anticipation and desire. Harmony figures there's less than an inch between them in that moment, slowly stilling herself to buy time. To try to not give into his seductive wiles.
“Not that I ever partook, but people will place one pocky stick between them,” she carefully inserts the pocky stick into Corbeau’s mouth. Her own lips finding respite on the other end.
“and bite towards center,” he finishes. Warm brown eyes meet molten gold, the mirth in them that tells her he already knew what she was getting at.
“This isn’t a challenge I’d lose–” his words ever so obstructed by the stick between them. With no warning his lips inch their way towards her, chewing their way down the biscuit, barely giving her a moment to react before she could feel the pocky snap and the tip of his nose brush against hers.
“But I also don’t need a juvenile excuse to kiss you,” a pause, a breath, a centimeter away. “...If you let me.”
And who was she kidding—it was always him that gained the advantage. Damn him.
“Just this once,” she breathes, “you can kiss me as a chimney.”
He hums, silently accepting her terms as he tilts her head for a better angle. She can taste his smile and chocolate all the same as his lips slide against hers. Her hands find their way towards his shoulders, melting into the feeling of his kiss.
Maybe, just maybe she could consider dropping her rules.
At least until he quit for good.