Work Text:
The faucet was dripping. Had been for weeks. Dan had put in multiple calls to the maintenance department, but he’d gotten nothing but a confirmation that they’d been added to the queue. There was no way of knowing how deep that queue was. Eventually Dan had gotten annoyed enough to try his hand at repairing the sink himself, but he was a chemist, not a plumber. All he’d manage to do was change the dripping from steady to intermittent, which was somehow even more annoying.
Especially this morning. Dan had rebelled against his better judgment and gone out for drinks the night before, on the off-chance that the cute co-worker he’d been flirting with would be there. And he had. But had Dan worked up the courage to go talk to him about anything but work? No. Instead, feeling insecure and sorry for himself, he’d indulged in a few too many margaritas, taken the tube home alone, and then collapsed on his bed, fully clothed.
Now here he was, running on not-nearly-enough sleep, and with a headache pounding incessantly at his temples. And that damn faucet.
Drip. Drip drip drip. Drip. Drip drip.
Every time he thought it was going to stop, it started back up again. He was going to go insane. He needed to concentrate on the screen in front of him but the numbers kept blurring together, and squinting only made his head hurt more.
Meanwhile, Phil sat across from him, looking cool, collected, and efficient as always. His black hair was swept back in a slightly messy quiff (it had been awhile since his last haircut -- just the way Dan liked it) and his black-framed glasses contrasted sharply with his blue eyes and white lab coat.
It’s possible Dan lost track of time for a few minutes as he gazed at his lab partner. As if sensing the attention, Phil looked up and caught Dan’s eye. He smiled, raising his eyebrows slightly. Blushing furiously, Dan immediately looked back at the data swimming around unhelpfully on his monitor. He needed to finalize this formula and send it to Phil before lunch time in order to not fall any further behind schedule than he already was.
He looked back at Phil again. “Coffee?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” said Phil.
Dan actually managed to concentrate fairly well for the next few hours with the help of the caffeine flowing through his system. Still, as the lunch hour approached, he was struggling to finish his half of the formula. He knew that Phil had finished an hour ago and was waiting for Dan to catch up so that they could run the test and then go to lunch.
Drip drip. Drip.
Dan’s head was throbbing again.
“Okay,” he said, typing frantically, “Okay, I’m ready, let’s do this.”
“Are you sure? Do you want me to look it over first?” Phil asked, already standing up.
“No, no need, we’re good to go.”
“Okay, just send it over, then. I’ll upload.”
Once their formulas were combined and uploaded to the secure intranet, Dan followed Phil over to the giant “mixer,” which would combine the ordinary materials (mostly iron and nickel) with a proprietary chemical solution that was supposed to flash freeze and shatter the metal mixture without compromising its magnetic properties. The chemical also had adhesives in it, so theoretically, the resulting powder would stick wherever it was applied. Why anyone would want sticky magnetic powder, Dan had no idea, but that was apparently the goal. Maybe there was a cosmetic company out there just waiting to patent magnetic body glitter. Who knows.
“Dan. Hey, Dan.” Phil reached out and lightly gripped Dan’s forearm, immediately snapping him out of another reverie. His heart rate was suddenly elevated for reasons completely unrelated to the three cups of coffee he’d had that morning. “I asked if you’re ready?”
“Yeah,” Dan said, mentally shaking himself. “Sorry.”
Phil smirked but made no further comment. He removed his hand from Dan’s arm (Dan told himself he was just imagining the way Phil’s fingers slightly dragged against his coat, as if they were reluctant to let go), and pressed a few buttons on the console. Then, they waited.
As soon as the mixer whirred to life, Dan’s stomach sank with the utter certainty that he’d fucked up. He bit down on his thumbnail nervously and prayed that they weren’t about to be blown up. Beside him, Phil hummed cheerfully under his breath, oblivious.
Okay, they probably weren’t going to get blown up. That would be ridiculous. This test run would only produce about thirty grams of material. And it shouldn’t be volatile. Unless …
The mixer completed its cycle with a ding.
There was a split second of silence and then a loud whoosh and a then the next thing Dan knew, he and Phil were attached at the hips. Literally.
Phil staggered backwards as they slammed into each other, and Dan reached out to grab his shoulders for balance. He then tried to use his grip as leverage to push himself away from Phil, but it was no use; they’d somehow ended up fused together.
“Wha -- what just happened?” Phil coughed.
Fine powder clogged the air, as well as some pungent exhaust from the mixer, which was now making a clicking noise as it cooled down. Oh -- the powder. The sample that should have collected neatly in the tray on the front of the machine had spewed all over Dan and Phil instead, with the highest concentration at waste level. That would account for the fact that their personal space had been reduced to -100 without their consent.
Not that Dan was complaining, exactly. Even through the haze of shock and his persistent headache, he felt warmth rise in his cheeks as Phil’s hands sought out purchase on his waist, also attempting (with just as little success) to separate their bodies.
“I, um. I may have fucked up some of the calculations,” Dan said finally.
Phil stared at him for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Then he started laughing. Uncontrolled, borderline unhinged laughter. His tongue poke out from between his teeth. He couldn’t seem to stop.
“Phil --” Dan tried to interrupt. Phil just patted him on the hip and rested his forehead on Dan’s shoulder. Dan was surprised the fire alarm wasn’t going off yet, considering the amount of heat his face was giving off.
What felt to Dan like several hours passed.
“Okay -- okay,” Phil gasped, trying to catch his breath. “It’s fine, no big deal. Let’s just … try to get to a phone and call the cleanup crew.”
Dan nodded and tried to take a step backwards at the same time that Phil tried to step to the left. They managed to separate by about a millimeter before the magnetic powder covering both of their clothes slammed them back together again. Phil lost his footing and Dan found himself with his arms around Phil’s back, holding him up and bringing them even closer together.
This time, through his own awkwardness, Dan thought he could detect a bit of pinkness on Phil’s cheeks as well.
“Maybe if we --” Dan held out his left arm vaguely, indicating that they should try to move in the same direction. Phil nodded. After several minutes of clumsy staggering, they made it back to Phil’s desk. He pressed the intercom button and dialed the service department, where a friendly receptionist assured them that an emergency crew would be up to their lab in 5-10 minutes to sort everything out.
Dan let out a sigh of relief and raised a hand to rub at his left temple.
“So,” Phil said. “Rough morning, huh?”
“Shut up,” Dan groaned.
The sink picked that moment to start dripping again. Dan almost screamed.
Phil seemed to notice the turmoil on his face. “Hey,” he said, “don’t worry about it, it’s fine.”
“You said that already,” Dan pointed out.
“I know. Because it is. Everyone makes mistakes.”
“Yeah, but this?” Dan gestured in the space between them. He had to lean back to create any space between their chests at all, even as their hips remained glued together. For the first time that day, Dan was grateful for his exhaustion; otherwise he was sure his body would be having a very inconvenient reaction to this prolonged contact. “This is ridiculous, even for me. I should’ve let you check the calculations.”
“Oh, well. Think of how boring our day would have been otherwise. And now we have all of this interesting … data.”
Phil closed both of his eyes and then opened them again.
Dan frowned. “Did you get powder in your eyes?”
“No, no --”
“Let me look. If you got anything in your eyes, that could be bad, we need to get you to an eyewash station -- we both should have been wearing goggles, your glasses aren’t wide enough --”
“No! Dan, there’s nothing in my eyes. I was … I was trying to wink at you.”
Dan stared. “What?”
“You know, like a flirty wink.”
“What?”
Phil laughed, but nervously this time. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised.”
“I am! You’re messing with me.”
“I’m not. I like you!”
This time Phil’s cheeks were definitely pink. Dan could feel a grin threatening to form on his face, but he tried to contain it. This could still be a mistake. “Shut up, no you don’t.”
“I really do. I’ve been meaning to do something about it, but I keep chickening out.”
“I went to the party last night because I wanted to talk to you,” Dan blurted out. So much for containing it.
“Really?” Now Phil looked surprised.
Before Dan could answer, the lab doors opened and a group of ten people in hazmat suits stormed in with various plastic tubs of safety equipment carried between them. The next half hour was a flurry of activity, mishaps and generally invasive poking and prodding until the lead technician finally called off her crew and sighed.
“I’m sorry, guys. It looks like we’re going to have to isolate the affected garments.”
Dan and Phil just stared at her.
“I mean, you’re going to have to take off your clothes.”
Of fucking course.
Ten agonizing minutes later, Dan and Phil were both wearing nothing but their pants and spare lab coats that someone had brought from the supplies closet, but they were finally able to step away from each other. Someone had been sent to find them trousers, but Dan wasn’t optimistic that they would find anything long enough to reach his or Phil’s ankles. Oh well, as long as he could get on the tube and get home without getting arrested, he supposed anything would do.
“So,” Phil said, once things had quieted down. The cleanup crew was still in the room, but they’d moved on to inspecting the site of the explosion now, leaving Dan and Phil mostly alone again. “Any plans for after we get out of here?”
“Home. Shower. Sleep,” Dan said.
Phil hummed in agreement. “I was thinking, though, before the sleep bit. Maybe we could go get a drink?”
“Phil. I am literally never going to have another drink again.”
“Okay, okay. Coffee, then?”
Dan didn’t know what to say. He’d been crushing on Phil for months, and now, after one of the most disastrous and mortifying mornings of his life, Phil was actually asking him out.
“Are you messing with me?” Dan asked weakly.
“What? No. I should ask you the same question.”
“How could I be messing with you?”
Phil shrugged. “You could have staged this whole thing. Changed the calculations on purpose.”
“Phil, I couldn’t get up the nerve to talk to you at a party, but you think I’d engineer a scenario where our genitals end up mashed together?” Dan’s voice was inching up into territory usually reserved for the rare occasions that he lost at MarioKart.
“Not the words I would’ve chosen. But yeah. I think you should have coffee with me and explain yourself.”
Dan wanted to protest further, he wanted to defend himself, but Phil was grinning and he realized it was completely useless. “Okay, fine, we’ll get coffee. But you’re buying.”
Phil giggled.
The faucet dripped once, and then stopped.
Maybe today wasn’t such a disaster after all.