Chapter Text
“Is… is that a banana in your pocket?”
Luvander, absentminded as he dug through his bookbag for one specific paper amidst a forest of highlighted, sticky-noted printouts and handwritten notes, didn’t bother to look up. “No, darling, I’m just happy to see you.” The words were automatic, his attention fully riveted by the history of feminine espionage instead of the rapidly filling classroom around him.
“Oh, Good.” Sudden recognition that his conversational partner was not, in fact, Raphael made Luvander’s head snap up, his eyes almost comically wide. Niall was crouched next to Luvander’s desk, smirking. “See, I was worried that after Friday night you might avoid me for a while, and I’d be all kinds of lonely today.”
The casual maelstrom in Luvander’s head came to a screeching halt. His mouth worked for half a second, but the only sound that emerged was a sort of squeak. The horrible part, of course, was that Luvander realized he was short-circuiting, and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it or to stop Niall’s stupid breathtaking face from looking even more amused. Fortunately, he recovered fast enough to start making words again. Unfortunately, the words that came out completely bypassed his brain-to-mouth filter. “It is. It’s a banana.” Oh dear god why was this happening to him. “It’s my lunch. I mean.” WHY WHY WHY. Niall was raising his eyebrows slowly, and even worse, behind him, Jeannot was making the same unimpressed face as Niall- eyebrows raised, vague pity in his features for Luvander’s terminal case of foot in mouth syndrome. “Ohgod.”
Niall broke first, his chuckle barely more than an exhale, but he reached over and took Luvander’s hand, keeping an intense kind of eye contact. “Text me tonight,” he said quietly, thumb brushing over Luvander’s knuckles. “I’m not free until late, but a message from you will get me through the day.” Helpless, Luvander nodded, feeling his face getting warm. Niall stood up and navigated his way through the jumbled mess of desks, butting shoulders in an unfriendly way against Raphael on his way out. Taken off guard, Raphael watched Niall go, a vaguely hurt and confused look on his face followed by a shrug at Luvander as if asking what the hell that was all about.
Luvander, however, was distracted by the handwritten scoreboard sign held up by Jeannot. “Oh, fuck off, Jeannot. I deserved at least a 4 for effort.”
“Oh honey, no,” Jeannot simpered, malicious sympathy dripping like honey from his words. “We reward results here, not efforts.” He balled up his scrawled 2.3 and tossed it at Luvander, hitting him between the eyes, much to the blonde’s annoyance.
Raphael sat down between them, dropping his bookbag with a thud on the desk and holding in the flap to keep the contents from oozing out. “What was that about?”
“Raph. He talked to me,” Luvander wailed from behind clenched teeth, panic barely subsiding as the professor walked in and began to set up. “He told me to text him-“ his voice subsided entirely as the background cacophony of the class subsided into a quiet facsimile of attentiveness, only his lips kept moving. “Help?” He mouthed at Raphael, who only shook his head with a grin.
“Later,” he mouthed back.
After class, Raphael was treated to a full-on Luvandermergency, complete with theatrical death throes and actual tears. He was good enough to rub Luvander’s back and keep the laughter from showing, which was, on reflection, one of the reasons Luvander kept him around. Raphael might be flighty and easily distracted (enough so to deserve that joke last semester about avoiding Raphael’s temper by waiting five minutes), but he was a good friend where it counted.
“That reminds me,” Raphael said when he finally managed to get a word in edgewise. “Niall was on your phone Friday night.”
Luvander leaned back and reconsidered every moment of kindness he had ever blessed Raphael with. He’d stuck by Raphael’s side for months, and what did he get in return? The absolutely vile traitor, he’d kept this vital piece of information for his own greedy self.
Said traitor threw his hands up as if to ward off an attack. “He gave us a lift home on Friday! I didn’t even realize it was your phone he had until I was already asleep, and I completely forgot until just now.” His eyes were big and brown, damn him, he looked just like a puppy. “I’m telling you as soon as I remembered.”
“You should have remembered sooner,” Luvander sniffed, not so easily mollified. He tore himself away from His Friend, The Traitor and scrolled through his phone to discover what his delicious and dreamy god had done while Luvander was- well. The fact that Niall had been in his bedroom while Luvander was drunk and passed out was something best not dwelled upon. Ever.
When he finally discovered the change, it was like a hollow feeling somewhere in his gut. “He added his number.” Luvander looked up at Raphael, because even a vile traitor was better than nobody just then. Raphael was smiling, the bastard.
“He did say he wants you to text him,” Raphael reminded him. “Now you have a way to do that. And before you ask, because I know you and I already know what you’re going to say, you say something super neutral like hi, maybe thank him for taking you home on Friday. Maybe it will lead to him taking you home some more, hey?” Raphael waggled his eyebrows in a gross parody of Magoughin, and Luvander stared, horrified. It was a really, really good impression.
“I can’t just..” Luvander began.
“You can and you will,” Raphael retorted. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have Technology in History to get to. Text. Your. Guy.” These last commands were accentuated with repeated pokes to Luvander’s slightly-too-long nose. With that, he got up and left Luvander to stare at his phone with despair.
~~
Sushi that night was amazing. Raphael thought, as he played with his chopsticks, that even if neither he nor Ivory actually said a single word to each other that at least he’d remember this place as having a decent spider roll.
They’d exchanged numbers in class yesterday, with lots of blushing and some of Raphael tripping over his own feet and drawing little hearts in all of his notes for the rest of the day. He’d quoted some poetry to Compagnon over dinner- which, in retrospect, had been a rather embarrassing mistake, but at least he recognized that while scrubbing pasta out of his hair instead of laying awake at night thinking about whether he’d been irritating or not. Knowing was a comfort, sometimes.
Friday meant he just had the one morning class and then a five hour shift at the library. He’d spent an hour that morning trying different outfits for the day and trying to tame his hair, and he felt silly about it even without the peanut gallery that was Merritt and Compagnon. They’d been wearing jerseys and had the tiny little TV in the living room turned up as loud as it could go for highlights of a game Raphael might have cared about, with a few drinks in him. They even followed him out on their way to the gym, messing up his hair until it was worse than ever and laughing in his face when he protested.
Despite aggressive brotherly attention, he managed to get through class without anything horrendous happening and he’d floated through his shift at the library, replacing books with his mind a million miles away. The end of it was less floaty and more waiting for the clock to move impossibly slowly, seeming to actually go backwards until he decided to risk clocking out five minutes early. He hadn’t yet gotten down the steps when he saw Ivory leaning against one of the pillars at ground level, in black jeans and a black leather jacket and a smug smile like he knew how weak Raphael’s knees would get.
He had to pause for a minute, because honestly, Ivory was breathtaking and Raphael’s heart seemed to want to leave his chest and fly around the field or maybe just explode. He was long and lean, and those jeans were probably going to be in Raphael’s dreams for a while. The jacket didn’t help. It really, really did not help in all the best ways.
“Hey,” Ivory greeted. He didn’t move.
“Hey,” Raphael managed back, getting down the steps somehow without tripping. It was only when he got close to Ivory that the other man turned and led the way across the plaza and between buildings to one of the school’s smaller carparks. Ivory’s car turned out to be a beat-up little thing with peeling grey paint and what appeared to be a knife scar near the front fender, as if someone had tried to murder it. The inside, though, was so meticulously clean that Raphael felt grubby in comparison. He set his bookbag at his feet and tried not to take up too much room. Ivory didn’t talk as he drove, not so much as looking Raphael’s way but taking off as soon as his seatbelt clicked into place and maneuvering through traffic with only the slightest scowl for particularly obnoxious drivers.
Raphael tried breaking the ice when they parked. “This place looks pretty good,” He offered, smiling up at it and then studying Ivory’s face for a hint of humanity.
“It’s alright,” Ivory replied without inflection. Raphael had read the phrase “cool grey eyes” but this was the first time he really understood just how cold a pair of eyes could be. He had a disturbing mental image of Ivory, face splattered in blood, maintaining that lack of expression. It was the first time he realized that he was not only nervous about going on the date, but was also a little afraid of Ivory himself.
He let the hostess seat them and stared at the menu, desperate for somewhere else to look and hoping he hadn’t done anything to make Ivory angry.
They were served drinks, and their order was taken. Ivory ordered the volcano roll. Their eyes met after, but he said nothing, and Raphael could only think of completely inane things to say so kept quiet.
It was fucking miserable.
It was all Raphael could do not to breathe a sigh of relief when their food arrived, because at least the table was somewhat less awkward now. He was relieved, too, when Ivory handled his chopsticks with proper manners. They ate in a different kind of silence, getting about a third of the way into their food before Ivory exhaled a short sharp sigh.
“You aren’t going to talk to me?”
Raphael jumped, then felt guilty. He set his chopsticks down, trying to make himself small again. “Sorry… um.” He tapped the side of the table. “You, um, you play music, right?” Music was good. Music was safe. Everyone liked music. Music soothed savage beasts.
“I play the piano,” Ivory confirmed. “That’s why I’m called Ivory, actually.”
“Oh,” Raphael breathed out, surprised. “I thought- Sorry, I thought that was your name.”
Ivory finished another bite, in no hurry to answer. “It may as well be now. I won’t answer to anything else.” A moment passed while Raphael tried to think of a reply to that which would make him sound smart. Or, at least, not completely inane.
Ivory beat him to it. “What kind of music to you like?”
“I’ve been really into this Ramanthine punk band, Melinoe, lately,” Raphael admitted, tucking some hair behind his ear and smiling nervously. “They’re all, you know, guttural singing and wailing violins. God, that sounds horrible-”
“I love Melinoe,” Ivory blurted out, chopsticks coming to rest on the table. “I wouldn’t really describe their violins as wailing, except in Persephone’s Lament. They’ve gotten better since they picked up that sitar player.”
All of a sudden, the pieces sort of clicked into place. Raphael grinned in sheer goofy relief as they started talking quickly, sentences overlapping at the ends.
“Right? I mean they were amazing before, but the sitar really-” “Have you heard any Wellwater Mummies? They have a similar feel but they’re more bass guitar and harpsichord than electric and violin-” “Tuesday Street’s guitar player-” “There’s this amazing mandolin solo-”
Somehow, their sushi got demolished and Ivory had managed to take care of the bill before Raphael thought to offer his wallet. He tried anyway, biting his lip anxiously when Ivory waved him away, but then Ivory took his arm and walked him out, their conversation still flowing and overlapping in fresh excitement over each discovery. It didn’t stop as Ivory drove them home. His radio didn’t work, he explained, but Raphael didn’t care. He could have listened to Ivory talk about music- talk about anything that made him come alive like that- for hours.
They were parked what seemed like too soon, but sure enough, the school buildings loomed above them, blotting out the night sky. Raphael faltered in the middle of a story about his first live concert, but rallied when Ivory waited for him and began walking towards the dorms at a leisurely pace. As they walked, Ivory’s hand brushed his- the first time it happened, Raphael paused, his heart doing the thing where it wanted to explode again. It could have been an accident, but then it happened again, they met eyes, and Ivory purposely hooked their pinkies together. By the time they reached the end of the carpark, they were actually holding hands, and Raphael may as well have been floating.
The date had gone remarkably well, Raphael thought as Ivory took his turn in storytelling. His voiced echoed the tiniest bit as they passed between two tall buildings, empty and boxy and industrial but oddly comforting. Raphael enjoyed the aesthetics of college, he enjoyed the old brick buildings and the carefully maintained lawn. Even late on a Tuesday night, they weren’t the only students walking; the library actually stayed open until midnight on weeknights. God, college life was amazing.
They meandered around the courtyard and through buildings towards the tall hill that housed Charlotte. At the base of said hill was the path that would lead to Miranda and Molly, the other two dormitories, and Raphael wondered if it would be creepy to walk Ivory home. As they slowed to a stop, Ivory fell into silence, looking away with a sudden awkwardness.
“Um. This is me,” Raphael shrugged, his free hand sneaking up to tuck his unruly hair behind his ear.
“I know,” Ivory said softly, looking back at him with solemn grey eyes. “You can kiss me, if you want.” He looked guarded, defensive; his hand had gone limp and unresisting in Raphael’s own.
Something in Raphael twisted in gingery hurt. “Only if you want me to.”
“It’s a date, isn’t it?” Ivory looked away again. “That’s what you do in a date. You kiss at the end.”
Either Ivory was being obvious or Raphael was particularly attuned to him, but Ivory looked ready to disassociate. He wanted to kiss Ivory, he wanted that so much, but not while Ivory was only tolerating it. Raphael took Ivory’s hand in both of his own. “Do you want this to be a date?”
It brought Ivory’s eyes to his own again, still defensive, and these may have been dangerous waters but Raphael thought maybe he knew how to navigate them. “Yeah,” Ivory admitted. “I do.”
“Me too.” Raphael pulled Ivory’s hand up and brushed his lips against the knuckles. “And it’ll be one whether we kiss or not.”
Ivory stared at him for a moment, then stepped in closer, guiding Raphael’s hand out of the way with his own. “Cool. Now, are you going to kiss me, or what?”
The touch of their lips together was tentative, a hesitant exploration that Raphael was firmly determined not to lose himself in. He rather liked kissing, even when it wasn’t very good, because it was intimate and thrilling and made his limbs pleasantly weak. When he was kissing, he could forget how much he loathed his own imperfect body. Usually when he kissed, though, it was a stepping stone to a much more intense workout- and that simply wasn’t the case tonight. Ivory, surprisingly, was a very awkward kisser, smooshing his nose against Raphael’s and moving his head in a nervously tense way. It was nice, for once, to be the smooth one. Raphael left one more small kiss on Ivory’s lips as they parted, and the warm smile on his tingling lips was entirely heartfelt.
“Thank you,” He murmured, keeping the tips of their noses touching for just a moment. “For tonight,” He clarified, because Ivory’s eyebrows were pulling together in the middle in concern or curiosity. “Dinner was really good and, um. Maybe if you want there to be a next time, we can listen to some music together.”
“I’d like that,” Ivory agreed, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Do you want there to be a next time?”
There had to be something, some magic power Ivory had, that made Raphael feel like the floor was falling away any time Ivory said something sweet. “Is it too pathetic to say please?” He paused, thinking that was a horribly awkward thing to say and pushing himself to word vomit just a bit more because apparently he really liked the taste of his own foot. “I mean. Shit,” He laughed. “I like you a lot, ok? I have for a while, That’s why I’m so, you know, derpy anytime I see you, because I’m trying so hard not to look like a complete ass but it’s hopeless, really, because I’m a complete dis-” Ivory’s hand settled over his mouth, stifling his mindless monologue. Thankfully he looked amused instead of disgusted.
“I like you too.” Ivory moved closer again, but kept his hand where it was. “Next time we’ll listen to music. It’s a date.”
Raphael smiled under Ivory’s hand, enjoying the tiny flutter of while lashes he caused. Ivory stepped away, wished him goodnight, and took off down the road leading away from the Charlotte dorms. Raphael floated back to his own room, not staying outside to see if he took the meandering path into Molly or the better-lit direct route to Miranda.