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His fingers won’t stop twitching.
Race is sat behind Albert - in his assigned seat, instead of next to him like he usually is. This gives him an unlimited view of the back of Albert’s head, even with his stupid snapback on, which you would think would be really boring, but instead just makes him want to run his hands through Albert’s hair and make it messier than usual. Not the best urge to have in the middle of AP U.S. History, honestly.
He’s ignoring the fact he can see Jack shooting him a look out of the corner of his eye, because he knows if he turns he’s going to get made fun of, but it also means he doesn’t get the silent message he’s trying to send him.
“Higgins!” Mr. Wiesel’s voice makes his eyes snap away from his boyfriend, blood running cold for a second before he covers it with a sarcastic smirk.
“Yes, dear?” There’s a beat of scattered laughter, and he watches Albert shake his head and fight down a laugh, turning his smirk into a much more genuine grin. Wiesel’s eyes tighten imperceptibly, irritated.
“Care to explain who Archduke Ferdinand is, or are you just going to keep staring at Dasilva?” This class has always been like this, even more so when Race blatantly disregards the seating chart, so he handles it well enough. Albert coughs to cover his laugh, and Jack’s shoulders are shaking across the aisle from him, but he ignores the both of them, the assholes.
“He was the successor to the throne that was assassinated - politically murdered - and set off the first world war.” He’s quite satisfied with the way Wiesel’s mouth twitches with irritation when he answers correctly. “Can I go back to staring at my boyfriend now?”
Albert’s literal bark of laughter is completely genuine and uncontrollable, quickly followed by the boy slapping his hand over his mouth as his complexion goes from pale and freckled to washed red with embarrassment. Race snickers quietly behind him, earning a glare that’s anything but frightening to him from a pair of green eyes.
Wiesel just grumbles and walks away, not willing to do the paperwork to give him a detention for something that doesn’t hold a candle to half the shit he does. And he does exactly what he said he would, eyes burning holes into the back of Albert’s head.
When the bell finally rings, he stands impatiently next to his boyfriend’s desk while he puts everything away, purposely ignoring the snarky half smile on his face.
“Hop and a jump?” Their little phrase when one of them wants to skip. Ms. Chelsea used to say everything was ‘a hop, skip, and a jump away’ when they were in Elementary School, and it just… stuck. Albert nods a bit, pausing for half a second to study Race’s expression.
Race grabs his wrist and drags him along behind him once he’s got all his stuff, flipping Jack off over his shoulder when he wolf whistles loudly behind them. He doesn’t stop walking until it’s just their footsteps echoing in the stairwell, deserted after everyone else has already gone to class.
He’s technically meant to be in class, too, but it’s just math - he knows all the material as well as the teacher does, he can pass the class without ever showing up - and Albert’s got a free period.
The same Albert that still has that stupid, smug, snarky smile on his face. Dick.
He drops his backpack against the wall and turns, tugging his wrist and looping his free arm around Albert’s neck. He can’t quite hide his smile, but that doesn’t stop him from trying his best. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t even say anything!” Albert drops his bag too, hands finding Race’s hips on instinct.
Race frowns at him for a second, hand cupping his neck and leaning onto his tiptoes so his face is closer to even with Albert’s. “Yeah, tell that to your face, stronzo.”
He walks him down until his back hits the wall, crowding into Race’s space even more than before. They’re so close he can count the freckles scattered across his cheeks, and smell the mint gum he’s always chewing, but both of them refuse to be the one that gives and closes the gap.
“What did you call me?” Albert’s laughing, tipping his face this way and that, trying to get Race to kiss him.
“You know exactly what I called you, tesoro, you made me teach you all the swear words I knew when we hit sixth grade.”
Moments like these are the ones he holds onto. The teasing, the tension that rises until it’s pulled taut and then shatters when they can’t take another second.
Race’s hands slide down to sit on his chest, and he realizes he’s lost their silly little game the second Albert’s hands hit the wall on either side of his head, boxing him in. His eyes jump down to his lips, soft and warm - bar the metal rings, but he’s not exactly complaining about those - and familiar.
The hand on Albert’s chest curls into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him down and crashing their lips together in a way that so satisfyingly shatters the tension. He throws himself into it now, taking the hat off Albert’s head and throwing it in the general direction of their bags so he can mess up the waves of red.
His fingers weave through his curls, pulling back slightly to giggle against his lips when he hums at the feeling. Albert huffs slightly, breath wafting over his face.
And then footsteps are echoing through the stairwell.
When he pulls back, Albert automatically moves to follow before seeming to process the sound, pale skin visibly tinging pink. Race has to bite his lip so he doesn’t laugh at the expression on his boyfriend’s face, kissing the corner of his jaw shortly.
Even embarrassed, Albert doesn’t move away, so the - slightly terrified - freshman girl that hurries through the stairwell past them still does a double take at how tangled up they are. It’s not necessarily a small school, they’re not the only gay couple by a long shot, but they’d been friends for so long before they got together people that don’t see them very often forget they’re all… couple-y, sometimes.
Race starts laughing the second she’s turned the corner, bright and ringing, unable to contain it anymore. Albert rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop the little chuckle that escapes when Race presses his forehead to his collarbone, trying to collect himself.
“You—“ Race starts, but he dissolves into laughter again before he really even gets started with his sentence. He waves a hand in front of his face like a Victorian woman, running one of his fingers under his eyes. ”Mio dio, I wish you could see your face, rossa.”
Albert tries to scowl, cheeks still burning, but his laughter’s contagious. He drops his head to the other’s shoulder, tilting his head into his hand when he cards through his hair. It’s too easy to lean closer and ghost his lips up the column of Race’s throat, grinning against his skin when his breathing stalls as he kisses along his jaw.
”Cazzo–” Race says when Albert leaves a mark just under his ear, just this side of dazed that he’s still obviously glaring when he postures up again. “You’re lucky I started this and don’t care, y’know that? How bad is it?”
Albert puts his finger under Race’s chin and turns his head, mockingly observing his handy work. “S’not that bad, honestly. You can definitely see it, though.”
“Jack’s gonna bully me.” He’s pouting, being over dramatic over something that’s happened a thousand times before.
“He was gonna bully you anyway, baby,” Albert replies, smiling smugly. “You literally dragged me out of the classroom by my arm after being called out by our teacher for staring. That’s funny and you know it, Toni.”
“Actually, I decided I hate you and I’m never talking to you again.” Race turns his head defiantly, making absolutely zero effort to move away from his warm embrace. “You’re so unnecessarily mean to me.”
Albert plays along, dragging him away from the wall and taking Race’s smaller hands in his. “Antonio, carissimi, how shall you ever forgive me?”
Race’s involuntary laughter echoes through the hall, trying and failing to take his hands back so he can turn and hide his smile. Albert grins widely back, tugging the other to him and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Race effectively melts, losing all his mock anger in a smooth movement.
“I love you,” Albert whispers in his ear, humming when Race squeezes around his middle slightly.
“I love you too, tesoro.” Race whispers back, pulling back slightly to press a light kiss to his lips. “You’re still an asshole though.”
Albert cackles, backing away from the hug and ducking to throw Race over his shoulder and spin in a circle. They kiss again when Race’s feet are back on the ground, just because they can, then he nods down the stairs.
“Food?” It’s barely a question, since he knows the answer, but he waits for Albert’s nod when he stands back up from grabbing his hat and their bags.
“I’m down for food.” Race grabs his backpack and starts down the stairs, lacing his finger’s with Albert’s when he reaches for him. “I wanna finish The Queen’s Gambit tonight, too. You got time?”
“Yeah,” Race says, smiling at the easy way they interact, how casual they can be after words that are his whole world. “I got time.”