Chapter Text
Upon arriving to the workshop, Jacket kicks a spare chair over to Wolf’s desk and plops himself down in it. Wolf looks at him quizzically and wipes his oil-covered hands on a rag before turning a bit more to face Jacket.
“What’s up?”
Jacket frowns and sighs, gesturing to the workshop door. He clenches his fists for a moment when a wave of anger returns, then subsides. He pats his pockets and frowns. Shit. He forgot his tapes. He slams himself against the back of the chair, throwing his head back and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. He roughly plants his feet to the floor in a fit of frustration, letting out a heavy breath. He stays like that for a minute. Wolf doesn't comment on it, understanding what can be called “autistic rage”. He gets it, he’s had plenty of similar moments. The poor emotional regulation shared between the two has formed a bond neither of them were fully expecting.
When Jacket calms down once again, he uncovers his eyes, and sits normally in the chair. He points at the notepad and pen on Wolf’s desk, silently asking if he may use it. Wolf nods and waves a hand toward the items in a “please, go ahead” type fashion.
Jacket takes the notepad and pen, writing one word on it in large, messy script: ‘Sokol’ . He turns it around to show Wolf, who then looks slightly exasperated.
“Did you guys fight again? I didn't hear anything…”
Jacket shakes his head no.
“Then what is it?”
Jacket frowns, and writes on the notepad more.
‘Interrupted sorting’
Wolf nods, “Ah, I see. How so?”
‘Looking at me’
Wolf squints a bit, confused, “How did that interrupt you?”
‘Felt him watching
looked
his eyes’
Jacket pauses, feeling angry again. His frown deepens and he jams the tip of the pen down onto the notepad.
Wolf places one hand on Jacket’s hand that was holding the pen, and gently takes the items from him with the other.
“Calm down.”
Jacket nods, taking a breath. Wolf takes the time to look at what he wrote and tilts his head, confused.
“What do you mean ‘his eyes’?”
Jacket huffs and gestures, frustrated because he didn't know, himself. Wolf hands the notepad back to him.
“Take your time.”
Jacket quickly jots down two words:
‘Pretty
distracting’
Then hands the notepad back to Wolf.
Wolf frowns a bit, confused, “Do you mean, like… ‘pretty’ as a, ah… modifier? Like very? Or they’re distracting because they’re pretty?”
Jacket’s cheeks redden slightly, as he holds up two fingers.
“Right. So, you think his eyes are pretty and this… bothers you?”
Jacket nods.
“Why?”
Jacket huffs, again, and glares at the floor. He shrugs.
“Jacket have you… forgive me for saying this, but… have you maybe considered you are… attracted to Sokol?”
Jacket looks back at Wolf, shocked. Like Sokol? No way. They’re constantly at each other’s throats, there’s no chance. And even if, hypothetically , he did, Sokol absolutely would never feel the same way.
For some reason, that final thought made Jacket’s stomach sink.
No.
Stop.
Why would that make him sad?
It shouldn't.
Because he doesn't like Sokol.
…Right?