fic: You Took My Time (And You Took My Money) (1/?), Briere/Giroux, PG-13, 2577 words
Title: You Took My Time (And You Took My Money), 1/?
Pairing: Danny Briere/Claude Giroux
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2577
Summary: There are three things professional translator Danny Briere isn't looking for: a coworker, a relationship, and a reason to owe Chris Pronger a favour. So why is he so captivated by the only person in the world who could be all three?
Notes: Written for the cliché challenge over at home_ice. More to come soon, I just wanted to get the first part up while the challenge was still open. Read it here, at the home_ice comm, or on AO3.
~
Danny Briere hates Chris Pronger. As the official liaison between the Holmgren & Snider law firm and Danny's one-man legal translation business, he's in Danny's office at least once a week to bother him about some project or other that Danny would probably finish much quicker if he could only be left alone to work on it. Sometimes Danny suspects that the only reason Holmgren & Snider has so many Quebecois clients is because Pronger told his bosses to expand the firm in that direction just to have an excuse to spend more time annoying him. The torture even extends beyond the workplace, because they live only a few blocks away from each other and they always seem to end up in the same line at Whole Foods or bump into each other at the gas station.
Today, Danny has an actual meeting with him, at Starbucks of all places. Danny gets there twenty minutes early and spreads his papers out all over the table just because he knows not being the first one there and not immediately having space to throw unnecessarily thick manila folders around will put Chris off his game.
Chris is fifteen minutes early. He looks visibly perturbed when he sees that Danny got there before him, but he quickly wipes the displeased expression off his face and replaces it with a professional-looking smile that Danny is sure everyone except him finds quite charming, offering his hand for Danny to shake. Danny reaches across the table and takes it even though having his small hand practically enveloped by Chris's gets more uncomfortable every time it happens. "Have a seat," he says, gesturing to the chair next to Chris.
"Thanks, but…" Chris trails off, looking around the cafe, and grabs a second chair from the table of a tired-looking college student who barely glances up from her textbook when he takes it. "That's better," Chris says, and only then does he sit down in the chair Danny had saved for him and open up his briefcase.
"Expecting someone else?" Danny adjusts his glasses and shuffles his papers around to make room for Chris's folders.
Chris grins. That's never a good sign. "I brought you a present."
"What?"
"After the fiasco with the Simmonds case," Chris says. "I thought you deserved a bonus for all the work you put in with our publicity team, but Pete said no to putting it in the budget, so I got you something even better than money."
Danny rolls his eyes. He can't believe Chris actually took time out of his work week to play some childish prank on him when he could've just shown up at his house on the weekend. "I can rent my own hookers, thanks," Danny says. He's going to finish his bagel and then he's going to leave whether Chris has legitimate business for him or not.
"This is way better than that," Chris insists. "Besides, have you ever looked in a mirror? Hookers should pay you."
Danny politely ignores the insinuation that he would be better off as a sex worker than as a respectable businessman and chooses to interpret the comment as a compliment, regardless of how underhanded and lewd it is. "I don't think it works like that," he says.
Chris just scoffs at him. "Whatever," he says.
Someone clears their throat right next to the table. When Danny looks up, there's a redhead in a pink shirt standing there precariously balancing two cups of coffee and a plate of crumble cake in his hands, looking about as awkward and confused as Danny has ever seen anyone over the age of twelve look in public.
"Claude!" Chris says happily, taking one of the coffee cups from him. "Thank you. Sit down."
Claude sits and Danny picks up a few more stray papers to make room for him to set his food down. "Claude Giroux," he introduces himself. His accent makes Danny feel at home.
"Daniel Briere." Danny shakes his hand and it feels nice; his palm is warm from the coffee cup and his grip is firm but not painfully tight.
"C'est un plaisir de vous recontrer," Claude says.
Danny smiles at him, feeling oddly charmed. "De meme."
Claude smiles back before taking a sip of his drink. His teeth are kind of crooked, which Danny would usually be annoyed by, but somehow it works for him.
"Danny here was just telling me he thought you were a hooker," Chris says.
It takes every ounce of professionalism in Danny's body not to kick Chris in the ankle. "I wasn't," he protests. Claude seems like a nice kid (although if he's friends with Chris, Danny has to wonder how safe it is to make that assumption) and Danny really doesn't want Claude to hate him because he believes some shit that Chris makes up. (Even if it's technically true.)
Chris laughs. "Just joking," he says. "He's too much of a prude for that." Danny exhales. One crisis averted, infinitely many to go.
Claude is blushing bright red and trying to pick up a piece of his cake by stabbing it with a plastic knife. "You said this was a job interview," he mumbles in Chris's direction.
"It is," Chris says.
Danny cocks his head inquisitively. He definitely never asked Chris to act as his personal recruitment agency.
"Danny is having some trouble finding a good candidate for a spot that just opened up with his company."
Danny doesn't even have a company. It's just him. He used to have an accountant, but she left two years ago to have a baby and never came back. "Chris…" he protests, suddenly very aware of the fact that Claude is watching him even though Chris is the one who's been talking.
"He's not looking to hire someone full-time right now, but it's a position with a lot of educational potential, so I thought it would be right up your alley. And it pays well," Chris says with a cocky grin.
Danny is going to kill him in his sleep. "Chris," he says, more forcefully this time. "Give us a moment, please."
Chris considers it for a moment, and then pushes his chair out and stands up. "I'll go get some food," he says.
"Thank you," Danny says pointedly, glaring at him until he walks away. Once he's out of earshot and apparently fascinated by something in the pastry case, Danny closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts before putting his hands on the table and turning to Claude with what he hopes is a serious, apologetic expression. "There's no job," he says. "Chris didn't tell me he was bringing anyone with him today. We were supposed to be meeting about a new case he's working on. I'm sorry."
Claude blinks at him. "Uh, okay."
"Sorry," Danny says again. "What did he tell you I was offering?" he asks, mostly out of curiosity but also maybe so he can hold it over Chris's head later.
"A personal assistant kind of thing," Claude says. "He said, uh, 'following the best translator in Philadelphia around like a puppy'."
Danny freezes with his drink halfway to his lips. "He said that?"
"Yeah, I guess he thinks pretty highly of you."
"Huh." That's not what Danny would've guessed Chris thought of him from the way he treats him, but then again, Chris has been pretty much singlehandedly keeping him in business for two years, so maybe he really does think he's that good. Honestly, the more Danny learns about this whole situation, the more trouble he has making sense of it.
Claude pushes the crumbs on his plate around for a few seconds before putting his knife down and resting his chin in his hands. He tries to stifle a yawn, but he doesn't quite succeed. "Sorry," he says. "Had an early flight."
"From where?" Danny doesn't really mean to ask a personal question like that, but without Chris sitting with them, Claude could easily be any friend of a friend, and Danny would feel weird if he didn't at least try to make small talk with him.
"Hearst. Visiting family."
"What's it like?" Danny asks. He's heard of it, but never actually visited.
"Uh, there's nothing there and it's in the middle of nowhere." Claude laughs, and something about the way his smile lights up his whole face makes Danny laugh along with him and decide that his crooked teeth, far from looking bad, are actually just right for him. He's not picture-perfect, and Danny thinks he likes that. (He makes his living working with lawyers, for fuck's sake; he's totally entitled to be sick and tired of people who look and talk like they stepped out of a TV set.)
"Getting along alright without me?" Chris asks, appearing by their table with a sandwich.
"Yeah, actually," Claude says. There's no nastiness behind it, just a straight answer, but it still sounds a little bit sassy and Chris looks startled for a moment.
Danny doesn't know what's worse: how much he likes Claude after only knowing him for a few minutes, or how big a debt he's going to owe Chris for introducing them if they actually become good friends. "We straightened things out," he tells Chris.
"Well, good. Listen, I have a meeting at 3, so I'm going to head back to my office," Chris says, gathering his papers back up and turning to Claude, "but I trust Danny to drive you home without major incident, if that's okay with both of you."
"That sounds fine," Danny says. "Claude?"
"Works for me." Claude finishes his drink and uses a napkin to clean a few crumbs off the table.
Chris snaps his briefcase shut. "Fantastic," he says. "Danny, I'll be in touch with you some other time about the Leino thing, probably tomorrow. Sorry about… this." He waves his free hand around to indicate pretty much the entire 'meeting'.
"Oh, it's fine," Danny says sweetly. He puts a touch of sarcasm in his voice on purpose, but really, it's not that bad; meeting Claude will probably turn out to be the highlight of his week, regardless of how pissed he is about the way Chris set it up.
"Okay! Bye, then." Chris gives them both a little wave and heads for the exit.
Danny puts all his papers into a neat stack and shoves them into his bag while Claude throws out his empty cup and returns his plate to the counter. "I'm really sorry about him," Danny says, holding the door for Claude on their way out.
"Don't worry about it," Claude says, stepping around an old fast food bag stuck to the sidewalk. "Like, it's weird and disappointing and I'm mad at him, but whatever."
"Okay," Danny says as they turn a corner. "This is my car." He fishes his keys out of his bag and presses the button to unlock it.
"Cool," Claude says. There's no traffic in the right lane, so Danny doesn't have to wait to walk around to the driver's side. Claude hauls himself up into the passenger side seat and settles in with a satisfied sigh. "This thing is huge," he says, looking around like he's never been in a SUV before. Danny is suddenly really glad he got the car cleaned over the weekend, even though Claude doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would judge him too harshly for having a bit of dirt in the mats.
"Oh, yeah." Danny doesn't know why he assumed Claude would know he had a family, given that Chris introduced him as a potential employer and that's not the kind of information you give someone to prepare for a job interview, but there hadn't really been a convenient time to mention it. "I have three boys and they all play hockey, so I needed the space."
"Wow," Claude says.
"They're a handful," Danny says with a laugh. He starts the car. "Where am I taking you?"
"Uh, just drop me off at Rittenhouse Square." Claude slumps against the door and closes his eyes. "Thanks," he mumbles, "s'really nice of you."
"No problem," Danny says quietly, putting his blinker on and pulling out into the street.
He tries to make it a smooth drive for Claude's sake, avoiding potholes where he can and stopping for yellow lights so he doesn't have to slam on the brakes if the light changes sooner than he expects, but a few blocks away from their destination he has to stop fast to avoid hitting a bunch of jaywalking teenagers and Claude jerks awake, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "We there yet?" Claude asks.
Danny peeks out of the window to check the street sign. "Three more blocks."
"Okay."
Claude starts fixing his hair in the side mirror, so Danny figures he's awake enough for a little conversation. "Rent is high around here, non?"
"A bit," Claude says. "Mine is like a thousand, but my parents are covering some of it."
Danny nods. "That's nice of them."
"Yeah." Claude stares off into space for a few seconds, and then he asks, "Hey, Danny?"
"Yes?"
"Want to get dinner? I'm probably gonna sleep until like 7, but we could do something late."
Danny thinks about it, and then eloquently answers, "Um."
"Like, if you don't, it's fine, I just thought we could, if you wanted to," Claude backtracks. "Because you, uh, seem cool."
"I want to," Danny answers quickly. "Let me just see if I can get someone to watch my boys."
Claude nods. "Okay."
Danny stops the car. "We're here," he says, and Claude unbuckles his seatbelt but Danny says, "Wait," because there's one practical concern that hasn't been addressed. "How are we going to get in touch?"
"You have your business cards with you, right?"
Danny shakes his head. "Yeah, but they only have my work number. Here," he says, getting a pen out of the center console. He grabs Claude's hand and writes his cell phone number on his palm, holding his fingers down against the warm leather when they twitch from the tickle of the ink on his skin. It's a stupid thing to do, but when he finishes, Claude is grinning at him again and that not only makes it worth it regardless of its level of stupidity, it gives him a little flicker of hope in the pit of his stomach that lasts long enough to give him the courage to reach across Claude's body and open the door for him. This close, Danny can smell the shampoo and the aftershave on him, and he only barely manages to sit back and get out of Claude's personal space before he does something monumentally stupid instead of just strongly inadvisable. "I'll see you tonight," he says. With a respectable distance between them, he can't see the gold flecks in Claude's eyes any more, but knowing that they're there gives him a weird thrill.
"Yeah, see you," Claude says happily, and hops out of the car. He has an enthusiastic light in his eyes when he shuts the door and waves goodbye, and even though he shoves his hands in his pockets because it's windy, Danny thinks he has a little bit of an extra spring in his step.
Danny feels light and warm the whole drive home and he's still smiling when he pulls into his driveway.
Pairing: Danny Briere/Claude Giroux
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2577
Summary: There are three things professional translator Danny Briere isn't looking for: a coworker, a relationship, and a reason to owe Chris Pronger a favour. So why is he so captivated by the only person in the world who could be all three?
Notes: Written for the cliché challenge over at home_ice. More to come soon, I just wanted to get the first part up while the challenge was still open. Read it here, at the home_ice comm, or on AO3.
~
Danny Briere hates Chris Pronger. As the official liaison between the Holmgren & Snider law firm and Danny's one-man legal translation business, he's in Danny's office at least once a week to bother him about some project or other that Danny would probably finish much quicker if he could only be left alone to work on it. Sometimes Danny suspects that the only reason Holmgren & Snider has so many Quebecois clients is because Pronger told his bosses to expand the firm in that direction just to have an excuse to spend more time annoying him. The torture even extends beyond the workplace, because they live only a few blocks away from each other and they always seem to end up in the same line at Whole Foods or bump into each other at the gas station.
Today, Danny has an actual meeting with him, at Starbucks of all places. Danny gets there twenty minutes early and spreads his papers out all over the table just because he knows not being the first one there and not immediately having space to throw unnecessarily thick manila folders around will put Chris off his game.
Chris is fifteen minutes early. He looks visibly perturbed when he sees that Danny got there before him, but he quickly wipes the displeased expression off his face and replaces it with a professional-looking smile that Danny is sure everyone except him finds quite charming, offering his hand for Danny to shake. Danny reaches across the table and takes it even though having his small hand practically enveloped by Chris's gets more uncomfortable every time it happens. "Have a seat," he says, gesturing to the chair next to Chris.
"Thanks, but…" Chris trails off, looking around the cafe, and grabs a second chair from the table of a tired-looking college student who barely glances up from her textbook when he takes it. "That's better," Chris says, and only then does he sit down in the chair Danny had saved for him and open up his briefcase.
"Expecting someone else?" Danny adjusts his glasses and shuffles his papers around to make room for Chris's folders.
Chris grins. That's never a good sign. "I brought you a present."
"What?"
"After the fiasco with the Simmonds case," Chris says. "I thought you deserved a bonus for all the work you put in with our publicity team, but Pete said no to putting it in the budget, so I got you something even better than money."
Danny rolls his eyes. He can't believe Chris actually took time out of his work week to play some childish prank on him when he could've just shown up at his house on the weekend. "I can rent my own hookers, thanks," Danny says. He's going to finish his bagel and then he's going to leave whether Chris has legitimate business for him or not.
"This is way better than that," Chris insists. "Besides, have you ever looked in a mirror? Hookers should pay you."
Danny politely ignores the insinuation that he would be better off as a sex worker than as a respectable businessman and chooses to interpret the comment as a compliment, regardless of how underhanded and lewd it is. "I don't think it works like that," he says.
Chris just scoffs at him. "Whatever," he says.
Someone clears their throat right next to the table. When Danny looks up, there's a redhead in a pink shirt standing there precariously balancing two cups of coffee and a plate of crumble cake in his hands, looking about as awkward and confused as Danny has ever seen anyone over the age of twelve look in public.
"Claude!" Chris says happily, taking one of the coffee cups from him. "Thank you. Sit down."
Claude sits and Danny picks up a few more stray papers to make room for him to set his food down. "Claude Giroux," he introduces himself. His accent makes Danny feel at home.
"Daniel Briere." Danny shakes his hand and it feels nice; his palm is warm from the coffee cup and his grip is firm but not painfully tight.
"C'est un plaisir de vous recontrer," Claude says.
Danny smiles at him, feeling oddly charmed. "De meme."
Claude smiles back before taking a sip of his drink. His teeth are kind of crooked, which Danny would usually be annoyed by, but somehow it works for him.
"Danny here was just telling me he thought you were a hooker," Chris says.
It takes every ounce of professionalism in Danny's body not to kick Chris in the ankle. "I wasn't," he protests. Claude seems like a nice kid (although if he's friends with Chris, Danny has to wonder how safe it is to make that assumption) and Danny really doesn't want Claude to hate him because he believes some shit that Chris makes up. (Even if it's technically true.)
Chris laughs. "Just joking," he says. "He's too much of a prude for that." Danny exhales. One crisis averted, infinitely many to go.
Claude is blushing bright red and trying to pick up a piece of his cake by stabbing it with a plastic knife. "You said this was a job interview," he mumbles in Chris's direction.
"It is," Chris says.
Danny cocks his head inquisitively. He definitely never asked Chris to act as his personal recruitment agency.
"Danny is having some trouble finding a good candidate for a spot that just opened up with his company."
Danny doesn't even have a company. It's just him. He used to have an accountant, but she left two years ago to have a baby and never came back. "Chris…" he protests, suddenly very aware of the fact that Claude is watching him even though Chris is the one who's been talking.
"He's not looking to hire someone full-time right now, but it's a position with a lot of educational potential, so I thought it would be right up your alley. And it pays well," Chris says with a cocky grin.
Danny is going to kill him in his sleep. "Chris," he says, more forcefully this time. "Give us a moment, please."
Chris considers it for a moment, and then pushes his chair out and stands up. "I'll go get some food," he says.
"Thank you," Danny says pointedly, glaring at him until he walks away. Once he's out of earshot and apparently fascinated by something in the pastry case, Danny closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts before putting his hands on the table and turning to Claude with what he hopes is a serious, apologetic expression. "There's no job," he says. "Chris didn't tell me he was bringing anyone with him today. We were supposed to be meeting about a new case he's working on. I'm sorry."
Claude blinks at him. "Uh, okay."
"Sorry," Danny says again. "What did he tell you I was offering?" he asks, mostly out of curiosity but also maybe so he can hold it over Chris's head later.
"A personal assistant kind of thing," Claude says. "He said, uh, 'following the best translator in Philadelphia around like a puppy'."
Danny freezes with his drink halfway to his lips. "He said that?"
"Yeah, I guess he thinks pretty highly of you."
"Huh." That's not what Danny would've guessed Chris thought of him from the way he treats him, but then again, Chris has been pretty much singlehandedly keeping him in business for two years, so maybe he really does think he's that good. Honestly, the more Danny learns about this whole situation, the more trouble he has making sense of it.
Claude pushes the crumbs on his plate around for a few seconds before putting his knife down and resting his chin in his hands. He tries to stifle a yawn, but he doesn't quite succeed. "Sorry," he says. "Had an early flight."
"From where?" Danny doesn't really mean to ask a personal question like that, but without Chris sitting with them, Claude could easily be any friend of a friend, and Danny would feel weird if he didn't at least try to make small talk with him.
"Hearst. Visiting family."
"What's it like?" Danny asks. He's heard of it, but never actually visited.
"Uh, there's nothing there and it's in the middle of nowhere." Claude laughs, and something about the way his smile lights up his whole face makes Danny laugh along with him and decide that his crooked teeth, far from looking bad, are actually just right for him. He's not picture-perfect, and Danny thinks he likes that. (He makes his living working with lawyers, for fuck's sake; he's totally entitled to be sick and tired of people who look and talk like they stepped out of a TV set.)
"Getting along alright without me?" Chris asks, appearing by their table with a sandwich.
"Yeah, actually," Claude says. There's no nastiness behind it, just a straight answer, but it still sounds a little bit sassy and Chris looks startled for a moment.
Danny doesn't know what's worse: how much he likes Claude after only knowing him for a few minutes, or how big a debt he's going to owe Chris for introducing them if they actually become good friends. "We straightened things out," he tells Chris.
"Well, good. Listen, I have a meeting at 3, so I'm going to head back to my office," Chris says, gathering his papers back up and turning to Claude, "but I trust Danny to drive you home without major incident, if that's okay with both of you."
"That sounds fine," Danny says. "Claude?"
"Works for me." Claude finishes his drink and uses a napkin to clean a few crumbs off the table.
Chris snaps his briefcase shut. "Fantastic," he says. "Danny, I'll be in touch with you some other time about the Leino thing, probably tomorrow. Sorry about… this." He waves his free hand around to indicate pretty much the entire 'meeting'.
"Oh, it's fine," Danny says sweetly. He puts a touch of sarcasm in his voice on purpose, but really, it's not that bad; meeting Claude will probably turn out to be the highlight of his week, regardless of how pissed he is about the way Chris set it up.
"Okay! Bye, then." Chris gives them both a little wave and heads for the exit.
Danny puts all his papers into a neat stack and shoves them into his bag while Claude throws out his empty cup and returns his plate to the counter. "I'm really sorry about him," Danny says, holding the door for Claude on their way out.
"Don't worry about it," Claude says, stepping around an old fast food bag stuck to the sidewalk. "Like, it's weird and disappointing and I'm mad at him, but whatever."
"Okay," Danny says as they turn a corner. "This is my car." He fishes his keys out of his bag and presses the button to unlock it.
"Cool," Claude says. There's no traffic in the right lane, so Danny doesn't have to wait to walk around to the driver's side. Claude hauls himself up into the passenger side seat and settles in with a satisfied sigh. "This thing is huge," he says, looking around like he's never been in a SUV before. Danny is suddenly really glad he got the car cleaned over the weekend, even though Claude doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would judge him too harshly for having a bit of dirt in the mats.
"Oh, yeah." Danny doesn't know why he assumed Claude would know he had a family, given that Chris introduced him as a potential employer and that's not the kind of information you give someone to prepare for a job interview, but there hadn't really been a convenient time to mention it. "I have three boys and they all play hockey, so I needed the space."
"Wow," Claude says.
"They're a handful," Danny says with a laugh. He starts the car. "Where am I taking you?"
"Uh, just drop me off at Rittenhouse Square." Claude slumps against the door and closes his eyes. "Thanks," he mumbles, "s'really nice of you."
"No problem," Danny says quietly, putting his blinker on and pulling out into the street.
He tries to make it a smooth drive for Claude's sake, avoiding potholes where he can and stopping for yellow lights so he doesn't have to slam on the brakes if the light changes sooner than he expects, but a few blocks away from their destination he has to stop fast to avoid hitting a bunch of jaywalking teenagers and Claude jerks awake, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "We there yet?" Claude asks.
Danny peeks out of the window to check the street sign. "Three more blocks."
"Okay."
Claude starts fixing his hair in the side mirror, so Danny figures he's awake enough for a little conversation. "Rent is high around here, non?"
"A bit," Claude says. "Mine is like a thousand, but my parents are covering some of it."
Danny nods. "That's nice of them."
"Yeah." Claude stares off into space for a few seconds, and then he asks, "Hey, Danny?"
"Yes?"
"Want to get dinner? I'm probably gonna sleep until like 7, but we could do something late."
Danny thinks about it, and then eloquently answers, "Um."
"Like, if you don't, it's fine, I just thought we could, if you wanted to," Claude backtracks. "Because you, uh, seem cool."
"I want to," Danny answers quickly. "Let me just see if I can get someone to watch my boys."
Claude nods. "Okay."
Danny stops the car. "We're here," he says, and Claude unbuckles his seatbelt but Danny says, "Wait," because there's one practical concern that hasn't been addressed. "How are we going to get in touch?"
"You have your business cards with you, right?"
Danny shakes his head. "Yeah, but they only have my work number. Here," he says, getting a pen out of the center console. He grabs Claude's hand and writes his cell phone number on his palm, holding his fingers down against the warm leather when they twitch from the tickle of the ink on his skin. It's a stupid thing to do, but when he finishes, Claude is grinning at him again and that not only makes it worth it regardless of its level of stupidity, it gives him a little flicker of hope in the pit of his stomach that lasts long enough to give him the courage to reach across Claude's body and open the door for him. This close, Danny can smell the shampoo and the aftershave on him, and he only barely manages to sit back and get out of Claude's personal space before he does something monumentally stupid instead of just strongly inadvisable. "I'll see you tonight," he says. With a respectable distance between them, he can't see the gold flecks in Claude's eyes any more, but knowing that they're there gives him a weird thrill.
"Yeah, see you," Claude says happily, and hops out of the car. He has an enthusiastic light in his eyes when he shuts the door and waves goodbye, and even though he shoves his hands in his pockets because it's windy, Danny thinks he has a little bit of an extra spring in his step.
Danny feels light and warm the whole drive home and he's still smiling when he pulls into his driveway.