Work Text:
“How long will this go on for?”
Roier’s voice snapped Cellbit from where his attention had been dedicated to the blue light of the computer monitor. They had set up camp in an apartment in Paris, and it had been a week since they had hunkered down, laying low so they wouldn’t rouse any suspicions. The buyer they had lined up was supposed to be blowing through town any day now, and after the stolen art was out of their hands and the money was safely tucked into their pockets, they could go back home.
Cellbit sighed, his fingers halting their tapping on his keyboard. He knew that Roier was getting antsy, that he never liked to sit still for this long, and Cellbit couldn’t blame him. If the buyer didn’t get into contact with them soon, then Cellbit was going to look at the other ten people lined up and willing to pay extraordinary prices and see which one of them would be willing to meet them in Paris.
“I wish I could give you a definite answer.” Cellbit glanced at Roier, his eyes reflecting the weariness that had settled in over the past couple of days. “But you know how these things go. Art deals like this can be unpredictable. It’s all about waiting for the right moment, and that moment should be any time now.”
Roier nodded, his frustration blanketed by his understanding as he took a seat on the edge of the bed and worried a lip between his teeth. “I get it, Cellbo. It’s just… I miss home, man. I miss our routine. I miss simplicity if you can believe that.”
“I’m having trouble,” Cellbit answered playfully, but he was also honest. Roier had been nothing but eager for chaos since Cellbit had known him. He was all fast cars and loud laughter and wind through his hair. He was late nights and bright lights and pounding pulses. It was the thing that Cellbit had fallen in love with all those years ago, but now that he’d worked with Roier as his partner, he had also fallen in love with the calmer side to him, the side that only Cellbit got to see.
Roier might be bustling city evenings and happy hour, but he was also a fireplace crackle. He was the puff of smoke that a candle produces after it’s blown out. He’s a quiet watcher of peaceful mornings, and he was Cellbit’s best friend.
Cellbit’s best friend who could not figure out about the feelings he was harboring in his chest. They had come this far with Roier being none the wiser, but Cellbit didn’t know how much longer he could keep this secret. He didn’t know how much willpower he had left to keep his mouth shut. Every day was a new struggle not to confess everything he saw when he looked at Roier.
Warm eyes that welcomed him without judgment or accusation. A smile that stole Cellbit’s breath from his lungs and made it feel like he was drowning whenever that grin was pointed in his direction. Freckles and moles that he wanted to trace with the pads of his fingers. Slender fingers that he wanted to wrap up in his hands and never let go. A laugh that could rival the most heartbreaking symphonies.
Cellbit had never felt this way about anyone before, and now that it was his best friend, he was at a loss for what to do with himself. He could try to drown himself in his work, in the illegal trade that was the black market for stolen art pieces, but he was well aware that the other shoe was bound to drop eventually. He wouldn’t be able to keep this a secret for much longer, and he could only hope that whenever Roier inevitably finds out about it, he won’t look at Cellbit any differently.
He was snapped from these thoughts when Roier stood up from the bed and began pacing around the room with an anxiousness that Cellbit wasn’t used to. Most of the time, Roier was easygoing, a roll-with-the-punches type of guy. Now, however, he was creating a draft in their small hotel room.
“How much longer is this guy going to take?” He asked, and Cellbit shut his laptop, accepting the fact that he wasn’t about to get any work done. Not anytime soon, at least. “If we haven’t heard from him by tomorrow morning, I’ve already planned on getting into contact with some of the other buyers interested in this piece.”
Roier’s pacing halted right in front of the stolen painting that they had snuck into their hotel room after swiping it from the gallery earlier this week. His head tilted to the side, and his eyebrows furrowed as he examined the painting. “I don’t even know what is so special about this piece. It wasn’t even that hard to steal.”
Cellbit couldn’t deny that Roier was absolutely correct in that sentiment. The painting had been ridiculously easy to swipe. For something so expensive, it certainly wasn’t guarded very well. Standing up from the desk, Cellbit made his way over to his partner, staring down at the painting that was leaning against the wall.
It was a rather tiny painting compared to what they were used to stealing, but this one was embellished and detailed and more intricate than Cellbit was used to seeing. Whoever the artist was, they somehow managed to capture the very essence of surreal romance on such a small canvas. Two silhouettes stood against a backdrop of a dramatic mountain range that occupies the majority of the frame, cloaked in hues of violet and deep blue, with the faintest hints of pink and orange on the horizon.
The couple stands in the middle, simple black shapes with no detail. They stand at the summit, their heads tilted upward at the sky and their hands linked. Nothing else can be discerned from the two silhouettes, but Cellbit believed that it’s what moved him so much.
These people could be anybody.
These people could be them.
Clearing his throat, he managed to form a coherent reply. “I think it’s quite stunning. I mean, it’s small, for sure, but there’s just something about the colors in it, and the way the couple is posed on the mountain. I’m not an artist so I can’t really explain the technique behind it, but the painting—It’s breathtaking, don’t you think?”
Roier hummed, his eyes seeming to focus more on the canvas, trying to see the same thing that Cellbit saw. He must’ve found something because, after a second, he said, “It’s beautiful. Comó tú.”
Cellbit sputtered, his eyes widening without his permission as he half-yelled, “¿Comó yo?” Surely, there had to be some mistake. Surely, Roier didn’t mean what Cellbit thought he meant. He couldn’t be calling Cellbit beautiful, right? Cellbit didn’t think that he’d be able to handle the tightness in his chest if that was the case.
But sure enough, Roier nodded once. “Sí, sí, sí.”
“Eres el único uno guapo aquí,” Cellbit muttered, mostly playfully, accent stilted. It wasn’t unlike them to lightheartedly flirt with one another. It just so happened that Cellbit wasn’t joking, but there was no reason for Roier to know all of that.
The man in question only laughed, a grin breaking his concentrated expression as he turned to face Cellbit. If he was a more delusional man, he could’ve sworn that Roier’s cheeks flushed red. “Ahh, Cellbo, you always have a way with words, you know?”
Cellbit doubled down, looked Roier right in the eyes, and said, “Guapito.”
And maybe he had said it a little too earnestly to be brushed off as harmless flirting. Maybe he hadn’t done as good of a job hiding the fond inflection as he thought.
Cellbit saw something flash in Roier’s eyes, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. “No, no, no.”
Smiling, he repeated Roier’s tone from earlier. “Sí, sí, sí.”
“Hey, what the fuck, man? You are mocking me now?” Roier held out his arms as if he were legitimately offended by the mimicry.
Cellbit tipped his head back and laughed at his partner’s playful tone and his poorly hidden, infectiously wide smile. “Never, guapito. Nunca. Nunca jamás.”
And then it was unconventionally quiet.
Roier didn’t fire back with a quip like he might’ve once done. He didn’t laugh or call Cellbit an idiot or break the moment like they would normally do. He just dropped his arms and tilted his head, looking at Cellbit the same way he looked at the painting on the floor behind him. There was a wrinkle in between his brows, and Cellbit was hit with a sudden longing to reach out and smooth the skin there, to run his fingers across tanned, smooth skin, to breathe in the same time Roier breathed out.
It wasn’t the first time that he’d been hit with such feelings, and they had been so easy to ignore before today. But right now, it felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. Right now, these feelings felt overwhelming, like they could drown him, like they could stop his heart if he didn’t do something.
And it was all because Roier was looking at him like that. He’d never seen that look before on Roier. At least, it had never been pointed in his direction before. Now that it was, Cellbit wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” Roier asked, taking a step closer, a knowing look sparkling behind those gorgeous eyes of his.
“Like—Like—” Cellbit sputtered before giving up. “I don’t even know.”
Roier hummed as he took another step toward Cellbit, the art completely forgotten. “Maybe like—like una obra de arte—How do you say it?—Like a masterpiece.”
He was right in front of him now, barely a foot of space between them. Cellbit could feel his face burning with the flush that spread across his cheeks, and his heart was thundering in his chest at how close they had become in such a short time. Just another step and they would be chest to chest. “Roier…?”
“Cellbo.” Roier’s voice was warm, fond just as Cellbit’s had been earlier.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he managed to ask, “What are you doing?”
“Appreciating the art.”
Shaking his head, Cellbit replied in a shaking voice. “I’m hardly worth looking at like that.”
“Well, I disagree with you.” Roier sounded so sure, so confident, and fuck, why was he allowed to do that? Why was he allowed to be so sure of himself when Cellbit had been walking on eggshells around him for the past couple of years that they’d been working together? Why did Roier get to say these things without any idea of how they would affect him? It was fair, but Cellbit wouldn’t trade this moment for the entire world. If his whole life had led to tonight, to Roier calling him a masterpiece, then all of it was worth it in the end.
Roier took that last step, and Cellbit breathed in the same time Roier breathed out, their faces so close that all he had to do was lean forward and—
“Roier…?”
He had to know what was going through Cellbit’s head. He had to know what he was doing to him. He must know the feelings tearing through him all at once, the rush of falling, the wind in his hair, the city lights, the enjoyment of a quiet morning.
Roier had to know. He had to, and that was only proven to Cellbit when he asked, “Is this OK?”
Cellbit’s breath hitched. Roier was far more breathtaking than any piece of art Cellbit had ever stolen. “Yes, of course, guapito.”
The nickname caused Roier to laugh, and he pulled away slightly. Cellbit followed him unwilling to let him go completely. “Man, you are such a—”
Cellbit leaned the rest of the way forward and captured Roier’s lips with his own. Everything that he’d ever felt toward the other, everything that he could’ve hoped for was now right under his fingertips. Lifting his hands from his side, Cellbit laid them on each side of Roier’s face, pulling him closer like he would never get the chance to kiss him again.
He could feel Roier’s hands settle on his waist, tugging him further into him with just as much urgency as Cellbit.
The two of them moved against each other like they had always done this, like this wasn’t something new, like this wasn’t something that Cellbit had thought impossible for the entire duration that they had known each other.
Kissing Roier felt like flying, like he’d taken a leap from the summit of the painting’s mountains. It was everything he could’ve wished for and more, and suddenly, Cellbit understood Roier’s need to be back home. Suddenly, Cellbit couldn’t wait to join him, to figure all of this out in the safety of their shared apartment, to navigate what the future might look like now that the impossible had been done.
Eventually, they had to break apart, had to suck in air, had to gasp and clutch each other like there was nothing else to hang onto, and they were in freefall.
Cellbit let out a laugh of joy, unable to hide it any longer. “‘Obra de arte,’ huh?”
Roier laughed. “Man, shut the fuck up.”
“No, no, no, I like it.”
I love it, Guapito.