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If anyone figured out that you had been essentially conditioned to smile upon hearing the booming footsteps of your trainee, you wouldn’t hear the end of it. So that was probably why you leapt to claim an office in a secluded corner of Tracen Academy, where nobody else could see the giddy expression you had to smother as your dear Meno audibly approached your broom closet of an office.
You busied yourself with paperwork, shuffling through training regimens and diet plans, comprehending none of it. You waited for the militant knock while tapping aimlessly on your laptop’s keyboard, and this time you couldn’t stop your smile from breaking through as you heard it rattle the door.
“Come in,” you called, closing the laptop and setting the papers to the side. You adjusted your cup of cold coffee’s position on your desk, frowning at how full it was, before devoting your full attention to him.
Fenomeno had to duck his head as he came inside, turning his body as well so that he could fit through the doorframe. His bulk always made you shiver; it wasn’t as if you were some dainty thing that could blow away in the wind, but he was the equivalent of a brick bunker to your average human frame. The straps of his uniform, the seams at his shoulders, his slacks clinging to his thighs, it was as if his body was one errant movement away from splitting his clothing open.
The thought of him naked sent heat to your cheeks. It wasn’t like it would be the first time, not that you’d done anything with him, but you’d seen him half undressed when a massage was necessary for injury prevention and muscle recovery. Watching the masseuse was like a river moving a mountain; it seemed impossible at first and it was slow going, but the sleepy Meno you got to see when she’d worked out all the kinks was one that occupied your daydreams.
“Boss! I’ve come with today’s report,” he boomed, seemingly unsure of what to do with his hands before he decided on clasping them behind his back. It meant his chest was thrust out, and all you could do was pray he didn’t notice how your eyes settled on it for at least a full three seconds.
“Well, uh, I’m ready to hear it.” His mannerisms had grown familiar to you.
His arm twitched like he wanted to start counting everything out on his fingers, but he refrained. “I awoke at oh six hundred hours and went on a light run. My shower was cold but enjoyable, before I had my morning meal and prepared for the day. I headed to the crosswalk to assist in helping the nearby primary school’s students cross the street before…”
You liked the way he talked, the cadence of his voice like the steps he took in the hallway. Booming and certain, comforting like the rumble of a train on tracks. Set in its path, steady, you could always depend on your Meno. Even though you were his trainer and were often on the sidelines of his races, sometimes it felt like you were chasing him, squinting into the glare of the day as he ran straight and true and disappeared into the brightness where you couldn’t follow.
“Boss? Boss, are you feeling well?” A large hand pressed against your forehead, ungloved and warm, making you start with your eyes fluttering open.
You squeezed your eyes shut again, because you didn’t quite remember when they closed and suddenly the light of your office was too much. You shook your head, letting out a rueful laugh. “Did I fall asleep while you were talking? I’m sorry, Meno, I didn’t mean to-”
“You are quite warm,” Meno said to himself, which essentially meant he told the whole room. “Boss, I must request you to head home for today. I fear that you may be in danger of getting sick.”
His concern was sweet, and not unfounded. There was a pounding behind your eyes that you only just now noticed, and when you reached for your cup of coffee to soothe your parched throat, Meno gently clasped your hand in his to stop you. His large hand enveloped yours, the strength in his fingers obvious even as he held you like spun sugar.
“Boss, I must insist you get some proper hydration.” He puffed out his chest, a determined set to his brow. “‘Water and rest are the most important parts of maintaining a healthy body’.” Then his cheeks reddened and he shrank slightly, smiling down at you. “You told me that once.”
“Ah, then it must be true.” You nodded sagely, moving your chair back from your desk and closing your laptop. “I have been working a while, it wouldn’t be too bad if I called it a day now.”
But when you went to stand, your right knee twinged, a shudder going through your frame as you lowered yourself back in your chair with a sound you had to choke down.
“Boss?” Meno tilted his head to the side like a puppy, moving around the desk to kneel next to your chair. Even then, you still had to tilt your head up a little to meet his worried gaze. “Are you alright? Do you need me to carry-”
You cut him off with a brisk, “I’m fine,” regretting it as soon as his ears pinned back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. Can you- can you get my cane from by the door?”
Meno sprung into action, scrambling to his feet and heading to the small basket that carried your emergency umbrella and your cane. The handle was like a twig in his hand as he returned with it. “Why did you leave it there, Boss? It’s quite far away from your desk.”
“I was having a good day ‘nd thought I’d be fine or something,” you grumbled, attempting to stand once more. It was easier, but only slightly, the residual stiffness still causing you discomfort even as you put most of your weight on your other leg. “But I sat in one place for too long, I suppose.”
“I could make a change to my schedule, Boss!” You were glad for the cane, it gave you an excuse to look down as you clenched your jaw. “I could come around and help-”
“Fenomeno.” You looked up at him, trying for a smile and you just knew it fell flat. “I’m fine. Thank you, really.”
His mouth went tight, a sharp nod that jerked his head like he was a puppet on a string. “Affirmative.”
He hovered around you as you packed up; your laptop going in your little satchel, your papers packed away into a folder and tucked into your bag as well. You didn’t say anything when Meno slung it over his shoulder to carry it for you, it looking like a mini replica on someone of his size.
You tried to be grateful, tried taking his attempts to aid you like medicine, like it would soothe the ache in your bones and the heat in your face that shame was too strong of a word to identify. The years of dealing with your leg and dealing with pity about your leg had quelled that part of you that bucked at overly-saccharine sympathy. It was a mild burn, now, and Meno’s care was too honest for it to really sting. You said a quiet ‘thank you’ and Meno preened, tail swishing adorably.
Walking helped, the pounding in your head easing at the sweet scent of grass, the sound of other students running on the grit of the track. There were a few clouds in the sky that was darkening in the late day, a gentle wind that was cool on your cheeks but made you feel a bit cold. It did make you wish you had brought your jacket to work today, another one on your list of oversights.
“You have a race soon, don’t you?” You murmured, looking up at Meno. He was walking opposite of your cane, hand flexing by his side like he was preparing to catch you if you fell. “You are keeping up with the training plans I sent you?”
“Of- of course, Boss!” His ears perked as he snapped to attention, grateful at you giving reason to move past the awkward air from earlier. “I am diligently holding myself to every letter of your schedule. I truly feel that your planning has aided me in achieving my best performance possible, and I am dedicated to presenting to you a race that you will- you will enjoy watching.” He wilted slightly near the end of his declaration, cheeks reddening as he looked away from you to pierce his determined stare towards the distant horizon. “I want you to- to be proud of me, Boss.”
“Oh Meno,” you said, and a hot, festering guilt made your stomach clench like a cramped fist. You both entered the park that sat on the path to your home, the usual route you took when you walked to Tracen Academy. The trees swayed with the sound of mouths hushing the world to silence. Your voice broke the calm, “I am very proud of you, no matter what. I’m sure you will do very well.”
It felt strange to say that an Uma like Fenomeno, broad and boisterous, could be shy. But his smile was exactly that, his ears twitching rapidly. “I- Thank you very much, Boss. I promise I will- that I will get you a gold medal.”
“Get me a medal?” You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s all for you, Meno. When you win, it will be your gold medal.”
“It will be yours,” he said stubbornly. “And everyone will see what an incredible trainer you are, that it really is your gold medal, because I wouldn’t have gotten it without you.”
You stared at him, mouth slightly open. You wanted to say something. There were no words that you could think of that would be an adequate response. Your cane hit a crack in the path and it caught you off guard. You stumbled slightly, forced to put your weight on your right leg until a strangled cry tore from your throat.
But the pain was fleeting, Meno’s arm already around your waist to pull you back up. His body was practically bent in half to fit his shoulder under your arm, supporting you. He was warm, so warm, even through the layers of your work shirt and his thick uniform, and his hair tickled your cheek.
“Boss, are you alright?” He had the presence of mind to lower his voice with how close he was to your face, but it was still quite loud. He helped you shuffle over to a nearby park bench, his hands fumbling in front of him as he stared down at you with worried eyes.
You waved him off, catching your breath from the sudden scare. The odd feeling of weightlessness when one fell, then the solid, immovable iron bar that was Meno’s arm catching you before you hit the ground. Your stomach kind of hurt from the sudden impact, but it was honestly better than the ground meeting your face. “It was my fault, don’t worry Meno. I usually pay attention to that part of the path-”
“I didn’t mean to distract you-”
“You are not to blame, it is just-” You sighed. “It is not your fault that the upkeep of such things is not a priority. Most are able to just step over such cracks, and usually I am too. My attention was simply elsewhere, but it doesn’t mean it is your fault.”
Meno spluttered, hands waving in front of him before clenching onto the fabric of his pants, the poor material already stretched to its limit around his muscular thighs. “I will get on it immediately! I assure you, Boss, I will try to get it fixed and-”
“Meno.” Your voice was more tender than you meant it to be, but maybe this was just you being honest. “You cannot fix every crack in the world. I will fall at some point. I am grateful you were there to catch me, but please, don’t fuss over me like this.”
He fell silent, jaw flexing handsomely. “I dislike that, Boss,” he finally said. “You fuss over me.”
“That’s different, you’re my trainee.”
“And you’re my trainer,” he said stubbornly.
He sat next to you and gently maneuvered your right leg to rest across his lap. It was a bit of an odd angle, raised high in a way that strained your hip slightly, but his hands brushed over your knee and upper leg, mapping the flesh of your calf. His hands together could wrap around your leg in its entirety, fingers meeting and even overlapping slightly. He could probably crush it too, with little effort. The strength in his hands, his corded forearms. He was a runner, yes, but every part of him was carved out of dedication.
You shivered at Meno’s touch, about to ask him what he was doing before his thumbs pressed into your lower thigh, his face a mask of concentration. “Is this good?” He asked, rubbing light circles on the inside joint of your knee. His fingers splayed over your thigh, goosebumps blooming under your slacks.
A weak noise tore from your throat, not one of pain like earlier. The muscles of your leg tensed at the sudden, focused pressure, before his ministrations eased their tightness. His ears flicked at the noise, red blooming over his cheeks like a sunrise. It wasn’t the first time, but this was a late night thought, when you couldn’t sleep because no matter what you did your leg didn’t sit right on your lumpy mattress, and it was sad to say that there was nothing you could really think about but Meno, but it was also the happiest thought in the lonely dark of your room; that your trainee was beautiful, handsome, and kind to a fault, and sometimes when he touched you, you wanted more, but instead you just glutted yourself on what was offered and asked for nothing else.
“If I could,” Meno murmured, and you couldn’t see his face through the curtain of dark, silky hair, “I’d give you my legs, Boss.”
Your jaw clenched until your teeth hurt. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your fingers knotted in your pants, but he probably did. Your eyes stung, so did your tongue when you bit it hard to stop yourself from saying something stupid and nuclear, what you couldn’t take back. “That’s very kind of you,” you rasped, finally. Did your voice shake? “Very kind of you, Meno,” you repeated.
The pounding in your head was gone, maybe all you needed was some fresh air. Meno’s touch was firm, but his hands had stopped their workings. The stiffness was gone, not entirely, it never was, but enough that you would surely be able to make it home to get to your heating pad and knee brace and ice cream pint.
Meno cleared his throat, drawing his hands back to his own lap. “Are you mission ready, Boss?” His voice was booming again, a bravado that you tried to express too. It was intimate, what just happened, too much so for a trainer and trainee. “Was that- was that acceptable?”
“It was.” You nodded for good measure, but you didn’t move your leg just yet. His thighs were warm under you, surprisingly plush for the density of muscle that you knew was there. “Thank you, my dear Meno.”
The sound of his tail swishing on the bench blended in with the rustle of the trees. You finally moved your leg and stood, Meno’s body curled over you as he stood as well, hand hovering over your stomach, your hip, your shoulder.
“I haven’t taken a single step, Meno,” you said dryly. “I’m not going to trip on the wind.”
He flinched, ducking his gaze and pulling his hands behind his back. “I’m sorry, Boss,” he said, repeated it quieter, “I’m sorry.”
You found your hand on his cheek before you could think. His impulsive massage had given you the courage. “Never change, Meno.” You loved the sharpness of his eyes, the imposing slope of his brow, the cut of his jaw, his fluffy, expressive ears. “When you’re loud, people follow, you know? They can hear you wherever you are and know where to go.” You smiled up at him, his stunned expression. Your thumb ghosted over his bottom lip before you pulled it back like it had been burned, and your hand trembled as you shoved it in your pocket. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”
“I’d rather you stay beside me, Boss,” he blurted out, then tugged the brim of his cap down to cover his eyes. “I want to see you.”
You swallowed hard around the lump in your throat. You were tired. For one day, you had enough of shame. You looped your arm around his, leaning into his side.
“Meno?”
He straightened up at his name before leaning back down again so that it was easier for you to hold onto him. “Yes, Boss?”
“Take me home?”
His eyes widened, throat bobbing. But the next part was your favorite; the righteous shine in his eye and the set to his jaw. His dedication, his obedience, his devotion. Your Meno, nobody else’s. They’d all see him run, but he was only running for you.
“Of course, Boss.”