Work Text:
"Soooo…" Geten says, eager to play the card he'd been holding. "Why do they call you Skeptic?"
Skeptic says nothing, typing away.
Geten fiddles with the pen, clicking it over and over. He sees Skeptic twitch. The grin teasing at the corners of his mouth widens.
"Are you asking because you desire an explanation, or because you already know the answer, and are simply looking for a reaction." Skeptic says dryly, deleting a thread of something on the screen.
Geten smirks. "What do you think?"
Skeptic sighs, still typing. "I think that you're a childish bore. But by all means, continue." He taps the mouse pad with a single crooked finger. "I'm aware any attempt to deter you is an exercise in futility."
Geten clicks the the pen more rapidly, watching Skeptic's jaw set.
"It didn't sound very flattering, that's for sure." He leans in. "Something about you being a stuck-up, self-important, hyper-critical control freak or whatever." He exhales a sardonic laugh. "Who woulda guessed?"
The aloof expression slips from Skeptic's face, just for a fraction of a second. His mouth twists, but it's gone in an instant.
"It merely highlights my thoroughness." He says.
"I guess." Geten scoffs.
"It's a compliment." Skeptic says.
"Didn't sound like it." Geten says, teeth bared in a full-on grin.
"It is."
"I'm pretty sure it's not."
Skeptic's jaw shifts, and Geten swears he can hear his teeth grind. He's silent for a touch too long.
Skeptic is deleting something again. He stabs at the button rapidly, as if in some attempt to eradicate the conversation being had. Eventually his finger settles on the key, motionless.
"Well," he says finally. "I choose to consider it a compliment."
Geten stops clicking the pen, suddenly feeling a little less pleased with himself.
Skeptic returns to typing. "Not that it matters. I'm not here to be liked." He scoffs.
Geten stares, biting his lip. After a beat, he nods. "Yeah," he snorts. "Yeah, fuck that."
"Exactly."
"Yeah, who needs to be liked," Geten drawls, as though insulted at the thought. "Better to be feared than loved, right?"
"Precisely."
"Yeah, what's even the point of nice," Geten sneers. "It doesn't earn you respect, now does it?"
Skeptic exhales through his nose, scrolling through something on his laptop. "No, it does not..." He mutters.
His fingers glide across the keys and Geten fiddles with the pen and kicks his chair with his heel and for a while it's as if the conversation hadn't taken place at all.
"Geten." Skeptic says suddenly.
"Yeah?" Geten says, picking at the clip of the pen.
"You're not universally loathed, is that correct?" Skeptic says, tapping away at his keyboard.
Geten makes a derisive noise. "I guess."
"So," Skeptic says, "It stands to reason that some individuals might have some type of fidelity or even affinity towards you?"
"Yeah, sure," Geten says reflexively, although he's not entirely certain it's true; he's just never thought about it before.
"Then…" Skeptic trails off.
Geten notices he's stopped typing again. Skeptic stares into his laptop screen, motionless.
"What is it like." He says. Skeptic's words are in a tone Geten has never heard before. Not from him.
"What's what like?" Geten asks.
"...being liked." Skeptic says quietly. "What is it like."
Geten's teeth let his lip have it again, and he finds himself suddenly very interested in the far corner of the room.
Then he slouches in his chair, snorting. "It's bullshit, that's all I know. It's not worth it, believe me."
Geten gestures with the pen in his hand. "People are always trying to be friendly when it isn't earned, and asking for favors they've got no business asking for." He flicks the pen. "People act like they know you. Tch." His upper lip twists, and he digs his nail into the end cap too hard. "Like they have any right."
Distantly, Geten hears something in the pen snap. He flicks it one more time before tossing it across the room, watching the pieces bounce over the linoleum.
Geten glances back at Skeptic. He's still gazing blankly into the laptop screen, like it has some answer to something. Some question he's not sure how to ask.
Geten leans back towards the table, his eyes fixed on Skeptic. The library settles into silence, save for the low hum of the vents above them.
Then Skeptic grinds his perfect teeth across each other and straightens himself, and returns to his work, reconstructing whatever he'd discarded. The manic clicking of keys fills the air once more.
"I like you, Tomoyasu." Geten says softly.
Tomoyasu stops typing. He's quiet for a very, very long moment.
"And I...tolerate you, Geten." He says finally.
Geten snorts, rolling his eyes.
But he sees the quiet smile brushing across Tomoyasu's face.
Geten's pretty sure it's the first time he's seen him smile.