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Sal never pouts.
In fact, Sal never shows any kind of mild inconvenience. Rarely does shey ever so much as murmur an "ouch" for a nonfatal injury.
Travis learned a long time ago that shey struggle to find the courage to show any negative emotion, choosing instead to push it down and smile to avoid a conflict. Shey’ll do other things to show shems discontent: politely tell Travis shey isn’t feeling well, quietly care for others as a form of self-care, occasionally grow clingy as if in the hopes of soaking up someone else’s good feelings.
When it gets really bad, though, Sal goes quiet. Very quiet. Shey just shuts down, face growing blank and voice nearly silent in its miniscule little whisper.
This reaction is usually the first domino of a chain of reactions Travis finds himself trying to keep under control. The silence scares Travis, who thinks his partner is angry with him, even though Sal rarely is (and it wouldn’t be a big deal even if shey was). When Travis is scared, he grows panicky and begins to fawn, going out of his way to do things for Sal even though he knows it only upsets Sal more. Then Travis and Sal sit there all night, both of them miserable in their shared bed, trying to ignore how miserable they are and the guilt they feel over how miserable their partner is, until waking in the morning with clearer heads. Travis talks to shem about his feelings, Sal opens up about shems, and it’s all okay.
It’s a long process though - one Travis is hoping desperately to avoid this time.
He scuffs his feet against the kitchen floor to let Sal know he’s there, walking up behind shem from the side so he can wrap his arms around shems waist.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, pressing a kiss against shems bright blue hair.
He knows the answer, but he asks anyways. All day, Sal has been quiet. Not angry quiet or miserable quiet; there seems to be a gentler kind of sadness that clings to Sal sometimes, like a dreary drizzle instead of a downpour. Today, it’s drizzly.
Sal sighs in response, leaning shems head back against Travis’ chest. Shey pauses in stirring the pot, but only for a moment before tilting shems head back down again to continue.
“I hear you,” Travis says. He was hoping for a more verbal answer, something to help Sal get better at opening up, but there's a lot to be said for a sigh. He kisses Sal again, this time bending down to press a smooch against shems ear. “What you makin’?”
This results in a much grumpier sigh. Almost… pouty . “Hot chocolate," shey murmurs.
Travis hums. Hot chocolate is Sal’s go-to comfort drink, second only to Diet Beepis. “Did it do something to you to make you mad?” he jokes.
“‘m not mad.” Shey grumbles, sounding definitely just a little mad. “Perfectly happy today. Feel great. So frickin' great."
“It definitely sounds like that's true.”
Shey sighs again, probably scowling cutely under shems prosthetic. Travis can imagine the thin, scarred lines that remain of Sal's lips pushed out into a tiny pout. The image makes him smile.
“There was no milk left," Sal says in a rush.
“Then how are you-” Stopping suddenly, Travis looks into the slightly bubbling pot of chocolate and swallows. “No.”
“Yes."
"No!"
"Yes, Travis. I used water. Sue me, okay?”
“Ew. Ew! God, Sal, why?”
Sal huffs, the air blowing out of shems mask and against Travis’ arms. “I need hot chocolate, alright? I’ve been…” Travis hears shem swallow. Then, shey sighs. “I’ve been sad today.”
“I know, angel.”
Trusting him with more weight this time, Sal leans against him again. “I know you know. It’s just hard to share.” Shey leans shems head back, staring up at Travis with wide eyes. “Thanks for being so great today.”
“You don’t have to thank me for being nice to you…”
“I know. But I’m doing it anyways.”
Another kiss, this time to the edge of Sal’s prosthetic, then to shems ceramic cheek, then to the warm, bare skin of shems neck. “I love you. Thank you for telling me you’re sad.” Sal snorts, seemingly about to interrupt, but Travis hastily continues, “Do you want me to go to the store? You can sit with Gizmo and watch TV with your hot chocky while I go get milk.”
“...Okay," shey says uncertainly. "But only because you said ‘hot chocky’.”
“Meaning it was cute or that you want me out of your sight?”
“Both.”
Travis can't help but laugh. He forces himself to let go of his partner, smiling when Sal turns around and tilts shems head up for a proper kiss. He loves shem so much. He gently kisses Sal’s prosthetic lips, pulling back to promise, “I’ll kiss you under the mask when I get back.”
“Pick up marshmallows too and we can do tongue stuff.”
That makes Travis laugh even harder. “You’re very persuasive. I’ll get the pink ones.”
“I love you so damn much.”
“I know you do, Fisher.”
With another kiss, he’s out the door, keys in hand and a smile on his face. Another crisis averted through the power of healthy communication! And, he's happy to realize, the bravery of Sal opening up and not just telling him shems emotions, but showing them too.
When he gets home, they're definitely doing 'tongue stuff'.