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2025-04-01
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Employee Benefits Include

Summary:

"I won't bore you with the details," Harmony continued, "but there's been talk of some worker reforms."

She waited. Mark squirmed in his seat. The clock ticked away.

"So…" Mark finally said. "That means—"

"—we'll have to partake in some wearisome formalities together. Yes. Unnecessary, but you and I will just have to stay strong and suffer through some…" Harmony leaned in and grimaced. "…Words of affirmation."

--

Some unexpected perks.

Work Text:

The daily paperwork she was to attend to was inane. Tedious. Meaningless. A children's activity book, Harmony assumed, would be more stimulating than this. Sacrilegious, but at least someone would be around to coo and fawn over the hypothetical child's chicken-scratch. The checklists that Harmony was supposed to fill out were destined for some dusty filing cabinet, where they wouldn't get a second glance. Much less remembered.

Which was all well with her. Glory-seeking was a vice, after all.

So, she didn't look up when the knock came at her door. Instead, she dutifully ticked off the lists, pretending to be enthralled with work. He'd been so adrift lately. Perhaps her example could guide him.

"Hi.” Mark knocked again. "You called, Ms. Cobel?"

She took her time in checking off the last box. Waited a few seconds before looking up.

"Mark S.," Harmony said, unimpressed. Behind him, Milchick shifted his chair towards her office. "Shut the door."

Mark froze. One would think she was about to send him to the slaughterhouse.

But Mark did as he was bid. Then he stared at her, clueless.

Harmony sighed. "You know, you can have a seat."

"Oh. Thank you." Mark didn't move. "It's just usually you want me to wait before…"

Harmony tilted her head. Oh, how he babbled.

"Never mind," Mark muttered, reaching for the seat closest to her desk. His gaze flicked briefly towards the plate of cookies on the desk before looking up at her.

Lumon discouraged fraternizing. Time spent consorting with colleagues was time stolen from work. Departments were allotted a fifteen minute break to mingle amongst themselves. Severed floor managers were encouraged to keep meetings brief, and limited to a certain number per quarter.

Harmony's meetings with Mark S. were neither limited nor brief. Upstairs wouldn't look kindly upon it.

Harmony did not care.

"Am I in trouble?" Mark blurted out.

She raised a brow. "Should you be?"

Mark stayed silent. Wise. Something like pride took root in her.

"No one is in trouble, Mark. " Harmony stood up, circled around to stand in front of him before muttering, "or at the very least you aren't."

"What does that mean?"

Harmony adjusted the plate of cookies before leaning back. "There's been some discussion going on upstairs recently. Happens whenever there's a new upstart coming in." She made a face, a bitter taste in her mouth. A reportable offense, but Mark would never speak of it to anyone else. He couldn't bear the guilt of it. Wouldn't be able to look her in the eye for weeks.

"I won't bore you with the details," Harmony continued, "but there's been talk of some worker reforms."

She waited. Mark squirmed in his seat. The clock ticked away.

"So…" Mark finally said. "That means—"

"—we'll have to partake in some wearisome formalities together. Yes. Unnecessary, but you and I will just have to stay strong and suffer through some…" Harmony leaned in and grimaced. "…Words of affirmation."

"I don't understand what's going on—"

"Where to begin?" Harmony mused. "There's so much to choose from, so much to say…Ah, I know! Mark S.?"

"Uh. Yes?"

"Mark, you are a Lumon employee."

Mark blinked."...And?"

"You exist."

"Thank...you?"

"You're woefully in need of a barber and stink like you stumbled in from a keggar. And your performance this quarter has been strictly…" Harmony glanced back at her screen, "…adequate."

Mark flinched. "I...I'm sorry, it's just been a rough adjustment period, and well, I can't speak for my outie but—"

"No," Harmony said. "No apologies or platitudes needed, Mark. Why, Lumon celebrates your mediocrity. I celebrate your mediocrity. As a matter of fact, here's your reward."

She gestured towards the plate. "Please. Indulge yourself."

As expected, Mark gave the cookies a blank look. Harmony was only slightly disappointed.

When Mark didn't move, she nudged the plate in his direction. "I made them myself."

Tentatively, Mark reached out for a cookie. He didn't eat it right away, looked to her (for permission? for her assent?) and it was such a familiar scene that Harmony forgot herself. For a moment, her office ceased to be, and they were in his kitchen, Mark staring at the cookie with muted resignation, and Harmony bit her lip because she had nearly smiled.

The sharp twinge brought them back to her office, Harmony watching stony-faced as Mark S. bit into the cookie.

Mark chewed. His eyes widened, his lips parted just so and Harmony held her breath, felt her neck prickling, and wondered if, of all things, this was what broke through—

And then Mark stuffed the whole cookie inside his mouth.

"Thwese are swo good," he garbled.

Apparently his best impression of gluttony. He always had that same look whenever he thought he had deceived her. Both Marks were always overcompensating, always so eager to please. But the Mark outside of this building knew restraint. Knew manners. Her Mark did not. "Thanks, Ms.Co—"

He couldn't even stomach the lie. His face turned red, and he gagged and sputtered. Her face flushed, and she watched as he lurched to the right, opened his mouth and—

"No!" Her hand slammed down on her desk and immediately his mouth shut. He bleated pathetically. "Don't be so crude, Mark." Heavens above, was he actually tearing up? "Swallow it, you dolt. Swallow."

Miraculously, his innate reflexes hadn't left him. He swallowed, his throat bobbing from the effort, before he shuddered and leaned back in his seat.

They avoided each other's eyes after that. Mark looked down at the carpet. She stared at the beads of sweat that'd gathered on his neck.

Harmony took a deep breath before speaking up. Somehow, the mortification hadn't robbed her voice.

"It's always theatrics with you, isn't it?" Harmony said. "There was no reason for such boorish behavior."

"Sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I won't do it next time," Already, he was reaching for another one. Knowing him, he'd probably eat them all. Lick up every crumb if it was demanded of him.

Without thinking, her hand reached out and wrapped itself around his wrist. Mark yelped, and Harmony's breath hitched as they both looked down at their hands.

Lumon employees were to avoid skin-to-skin contact unless circumstances demanded it. Protocol dictated that in the event of such an infraction, she was to firmly reprimand and direct the employee to scrub the area clean under her supervision.

The punishments hadn't always been so lax. Harmony remembered much worse. And the soap had been so much harsher back in Harmony's time. At least the soap was scented now.

Harmony couldn't remember if Mark S. had ever gotten a handshake. Sorry excuse of a handshake this was. She certainly couldn't remember when she'd last held another's hand like this.

Were Seth to come across the scene, it'd be an easy promotion for him. For Mark, it'd be at least a week in the break room.

Even so, their hands remain linked. Such a dangerous incentive.

Harmony let go first. Mark's expression was inscrutable.

"Leave the cookies. They’re not meant for the ungrateful," and before Mark could ingratiate himself any further, Harmony shifted away from him, "I think that's enough perks for one day."

Mark shuffled awkwardly out of his seat. He did not look at her as he moved to leave.

"Maybe they'll let me bring milk next time," Harmony said when he'd reached the door. She didn't know why.

None of the Marks knew what to make of her. "Uh."

"Close the door behind you."

She waited till his back had turned to reach for a cookie, waited until the door clicked shut to take a bite. She sighed. Chewing took some effort and Mark was already such a picky eater.

Maybe she'd add chamomile next time.