Chapter Text
It had been a long day. The sun had set long ago, and most all the others had left with it. HQ was void of all the slight clicking of a hundred keyboards pulling together a world, yet Builderman still sat at his desk, restless as always. No matter how long he sat there, till his seat seemed to have indents as deep as wounds, the pile of paperwork at the foot of his desk never seemed to do anything but grow taller. It was almost a comfort because of how often he felt it, the fatigue deep in his bones.
He didn't hear so much as a knock on the door, never mind the mind to say 'come in', before a waft of cool air hit his face. Builderman glanced up, though he already knew who was there. Telamon stood smirking in his doorway, dim light from the outside haloing his figure.
"Telamon." Builderman barely greeted, paused in place at his desk as he watched Telamon kick the door shut behind him and stride forward. He said nothing in return, only tilting his head as he continued to walk forward. Builderman sat down his pen. "You're here late." He stated through a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. Builderman smiled lightly, "Well you know me, I can never get enough of these papers." Builderman let out a laugh, he knew it wouldn't be returned.
"That's nice." Telamon said absently, eyeing the midnight sky outside. Turning his attention back to Builderman, he puts one knee up on his desk and leans down. Builderman feels completely boxed in, the walls of paperwork on either side not helping one bit. Telamon's wings spread silently, almost unnoticeably, as he continues to invade Builderman's space. Hesitantly, Builderman leans aways from Telamon. "You've been working real hard lately, huh?" "Aren't I always?" Builderman gives another light smile.
"Yeah. You are." Telamon's smirk drops.
"You know I'm so, so happy that you enjoy doing paperwork this much." Telamon picks up the one he was in the middle of signing between his claws. "But I think you're forgetting something." He tossed the document across the room, landing on the office wall with a hard slap. Builderman's smile strains. Telamon's gaze feels inescapable.
"Telamon helped you with putting together that building competition." Builderman nods minutely "Telamon helped you a lot." Telamon scoffs "In fact, it really felt like it was my competition by the time we were done. Hah! And building isn't even my 'thing', is it Builderman?"
Ouch. That stings.
"I- Thank you for that really. It would have gone so badly without you." Telamon grabs his arm tightly, he hadn't realized he was gesturing so much, his grip is making him go numb in the hand. "I thought you knew when I do something for you, you do something for me?"
Builderman is hyper aware of the amount of sweat on his palms, and he must look absolutely pathetic because Telamon gently takes both of his hands in his. "Don't look so scared now." Telamon pats the top of Builderman’s head, knocking on his hardhat mockingly. "I've been doing too many favors for you recently."
Telamon never does anything for anyone, notoriously hard to wrangle. The gifts he gives all come with silent price tags, expected returns. It’s not like Telamon isn’t grateful for his position. Just that the way he expresses his gratitude is a little different. Or at least that’s how Builderman would defend him. Honestly the help he does give to Builderman has been few and far between. Builderman is embarrassed to admit to himself that the help he receives from Telamon is far more than Telamon had ever given anyone else.
"Maybe you just need one more gift from me.”
Telamon drags his claws along the hard waxing of Builderman’s desk. Teasingly.
“Maybe this will set you straight. Call it another favor, from your friend Telamon.”
Telamon cackles, his laugh reverberating off the walls, taunting Builderman from all sides. And with that Telamon walks out of his boss’ office. He takes his leave opposite of the way he came in, gently flowing out the door like a spring breeze. Builderman is left alone at his desk, staring at the shut doorway, with a shameful heat coloring his face. He doesn't think he can finish the night as planned now.