Chapter Text
Chapter One
“What the fuck!?” Timothee tries to still his cup in his hand, but dark, warm globs of coffee are already seeping out of the lid, burning the skin of his palm and the skin of his fingers; the trajectory of the liquid reaching his white button down shirt.
“Shit!” Tim eyes the car that is still blaring its horn to his right. He looks ahead to make sure. The walk icon stark white, giving him confirmation that it is, in fact, his right of way. Pedestrians first.
The driver window slides down and a diamond Rolex watch gleams on the wrist of a man who was now giving him the finger. A slurry of Russian words are propelled his way. He’s not one hundred percent sure they’re curse words, but the man spoke them like he’d have shot bullets, and Timmy doesn’t know why but he feels wounded.
“Fucking great,” he’s still on an adrenaline high before he decides to break into a sprint as he was now five minutes late to a meeting with his first client that day.
“Timothée, you’re here!” Ilaria is already gesturing toward the client at Tims desk and before the client even turns around Tim recalls that familiar diamond glint on a blonde hairy wrist and he already feels his spirit leaving him, bolting down 30 flights of stairs, and headed into oncoming traffic.
“Fuuuuuck me,” Tim says in the lowest of whispers.
“Armand Hammer,” Armand extends his wrist, the watch, glaring, catching sunlight.
Tim accepts the handshake, but doesn’t meet his eyes. His gaze fixated at the watch and the moment in time where life flashed right before his eyes.
“My eyes are up here.” Armand demands and Tim’s body betrays him and he immediately obeys and meets Armands gaze.
“Timothee Chalamet. Im Ilaria’s leading stylist-and you almost fucking killed me out there!” Tim’s plan of keeping it cool, calm and collected flying straight of of the window just then.
“Hey there. I apologize. Punctuality is of great importance to me.” The dig at Tims late arrival did not go unnoticed by Tim.
“You know you should really work on your professionalism. You were late for one and then you come in looking like this.” Armand waves his hands over Tim’s disheveled hair and pokes his finger at the coffee stain on Tim’s chest.
On the off chance that Tim loses control and tackles Armand off his desk and runs him through the glass windows of his office, Tim doesn’t move an inch. He doesn’t speak either. But the tips of his ears are molten hot lava, and he swears he could breathe steam just now.
Armand observes the state of Tims distress and decides its a good time to make an exit.
“You can call me Armie. Schedules on the desk. Ill see you tomorrow, Todd.” Armie leaves Tim with a double pat to his chest.
“Oh and don’t be late.”
“Its Timothée! Tim.” His words follow Armies tail-end, immediately lost in the air.
The sillage of Armie’s cologne lingers in Tims office for his entire work day.
******************
Tim makes his way towards Armie’s apartment complex. He keys in the security code and is frisked by the doorman upon entrance.
Tim knocks twice. Once inside he sees: Granite table tops. State of the art stainless steel appliances. Every surface shines. His apartment looks un-lived in. The ambience a cold blue minimalistic aesthetic. Tidy, empty, and a dash of OCD.
Tim chances a glance to the sliver of an open bedroom door. He sees a woman with espresso colored tresses perched beside the bed. Soft breaths of a child, snug soundly beneath the sheets.
Tim first smells the top notes of rustic wood and the musk of vanilla before he sees Armie materialize before him.
“Thats your wife?”
Armie follows his gaze to the women besides his child’s bed. A woman of stoic beauty and grace. Shes bent, gently tapping the corners over the bed. She sings “Harper, doll, wake up.”
Armie steadies his gaze, looks Tim straight in the eyes.
“No,”
“Girlfriend, then?”
Armie dismisses the question and Tim makes of that what he will. Tim imagines the woman to be one of the many play-things in Armie’s life. A rotation of beautiful women entering, exiting, existing just at Armie’s quip- his beck and call.
Tim nods knowingly and Armie mirrors. Armie squints his eyes, takes a step forward and slowly circles Tim, much like a vulture. Armie’s eyes run over the full expanse of Tim’s skin. No stone left unturned. Armie sips his coffee in contemplation.
“Hmmmmm.”
“You’re passible you know that.” Armie indulges the next sip. The rim of the cup masking the lower part of his face. He gives Tim time to ruminate over that statement.
It takes time for Tim to recognize the insinuation.
Armie lowers his gaze to Tim’s inseam.
“You’re too pretty to be born a male,” States that. Matter-of-factly.
Then, “Did they give you a dick too?”
There is a flashback to yesterday’s conversation with Ilaria.
“He’s insufferable, Ilaria! I cant do it! Seriously, can’t he find someone else!?” Tim is seen pacing about. His hands in a manic flurry.
“Im sorry, Timothée. He specifically requested you-“ Ilaria holds tim by the shoulders now.
“Listen, Timothée, he has a reputation with his employees. Yes. He can be a bit...much. The turn around for his stylists...” She doesn’t finish that sentence.
Adds: “If he sees weakness in you...he will eat you alive. Just give him as good as you’ve got.” Then, with more bass to her voice: “Tim. Just eat him first. That usually works with his type.”
Just
Eat
Him
First.
Just eat him first.
“A dick?” Tim enunciates, far past incredulous.
Just eat him first-a voice beckons in his head.
So Tim does. His hands are undoing his belt. He slides the belt through each loop, drops his belt, waist-side.
“W-hat are you doing?”
“Giving you proof-“ Tim undoes his pant button. Hes on his zipper. Stops when Armie spits out his coffee. Ironically, and much to Tim’s pleasure, Armie spills some on his dress shirt. Tim thinks: Karma.
“Okay-okay. Jeeeez. Point proven.”
Tim is besides himself when he sees the flush red of Armie’s cheeks. Mentally he gives himself a point for this. Mentally pats himself on the back. He’d have to tell Ilaria this story, later.
But before Tim can bask on this win, Armie is undoing his shirt. Button by button. His chest hair bids Tim a hello. His one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight pack of abs welcomes him with a smile. The V muscle to his groin tightens. Armie tosses the shirt to the side and Tim is now met face to back. Armie’s shoulder blade’s contract and constricts. Golden, sun kissed skin.
Armie’s gone from Tim peripheries-off to his bedroom to pull a new shirt on.
The woman is now in the living room watching them both, a soft smile plays at the corner of her lips. Before Tim or Armie can acknowledge her there- another woman walks in.
This woman: all legs, plush red lips.
Both women greet each other and exchange kisses to the cheek.
Tim thinks: Sister wives? What the fuck is this? Are they a part of Armie’s Harem?
Tim thinks: Is beauty a pre-requisite to be in Armie’s life because thats what it seems.
Woman #1 leaves.
Woman #2 sets her briefcase down. “Harper, dear, im ready for you.” The little girl shuffles her way to the living room floor.
Harper sits. Moves her hands in some type of ordered fashion.
Armie reemerges from the living room. Nods at the woman. Places a featherweight kiss atop the little girls forehead.
“Daddy will be back in a few.” Armie tells her. His whole demeanor softened.
The girl looks up sweetly, blinks her eyes and waves a goodbye.
Tim is sitting shotgun to Armie, making their way onto Rodeo Drive.