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“Psst. Loid.”
Loid takes a silent deep breath, fingers imperceptibly tightening on the book in his hands. He doesn’t glance up from the worn pages, ignoring the lingering presence over his left shoulder.
“Psst. Loid!”
Even while whispering, the annoying voice in his ear disturbs the peaceful silence. Loid’s eyebrow twitches, but he doesn’t respond to the attempts to grab his attention.
“I’m talking to you, asshole.”
Loid’s patience snaps. Gritting his teeth, Loid looks in his peripheral vision at the shorter man next to him. “What, Franky?” he hisses, mindful of his volume, unlike other people. “What is so important?”
A cigarette appears over Loid’s shoulder, and Loid suddenly wants to strangle his informant. “Want a smoke?”
This time, Loid turns around in his chair to look at Franky, only to grow ever more irritated when he sees the indifferent expression on Franky’s face. The informant stares blankly back, holding out the cigarette as if it has any right to make an appearance in this situation.
“Franky, we are in a library,” Loid replies, incredulity lacing his tone.
Franky shrugs. “So?”
Loid pinches the bridge of his nose, doing his best to rub the forming headache away. “You are going to set off a fire alarm. Besides, I quit smoking months ago.”
“Never too late to start again.”
“No, thanks,” Loid drawls, leveling Franky with a deadpan look. “I actually quite like living my life without the looming threat of lung cancer.”
Franky hums, staring at Loid for a moment too long before shrugging again. He puts the cigarette in his mouth and fishes a lighter out of his pocket. “Suit yourself,” he mumbles around the cigarette, flicking open his lighter and starting to click the igniter.
Loid swipes the lighter out of the informant’s hand before Franky can start a flame.
“Hey!” Franky protests, his voice at least three volumes too loud for the library. Loid doesn’t need to turn around to know they have too many people glaring at them.
“Don’t you dare,” Loid growls, and he doesn’t like how the thinly veiled threat only serves to make Franky grin mischievously.
“Or what?” Franky asks, straddling his chair and resting an elbow on the back. He props his head in his hand and eyes Loid with a cheeky expression. Loid wants nothing more than to wipe that smug look off of Franky’s face.
He knows the perfect way to do it.
Loid presses his mouth into a thin line, narrowing his eyes as he mutters, “Don’t make me tell Yor.”
To most, it sounds like two siblings bickering and threatening to tell on each other to mom, but in this relationship, telling Yor is equivalent to spending the night in the doghouse. After almost three months of hitting their stride as a polycule rather than a couple relationship between Loid and Yor, no one wants to spend the night being scolded or in trouble with their partners.
At that, Franky narrows his eyes in return, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and sliding it back into the box. Loid makes a mental note to never take a cigarette from Franky - if he ever does pick up smoking again - if the man is in the habit of putting cigarettes away after they’ve been coated with his saliva.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Franky hisses back.
“Try me,” Loid snaps. “Now pick up your book and go back to reading.”
“Loid, we’ve been at this for hours.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Loid huffs, turning back in his chair and opening his book to where he left off. “We’ve only been here for two hours.”
“It’s still hours. Plural. More than one. Two is more than one. Hours.”
“Your ability to do simple math is astonishing, Franky.”
Behind him, Franky groans obnoxiously, and the sound makes Loid grind his teeth. Anya would have been a quieter partner than Franky in this endeavor, and that’s saying something. Next time, he’ll invite Yor, even if she won’t be much help. Or, rather, he’ll simply come alone next time. Bringing Franky along has reminded Loid how important alone time is these days.
“We don’t need to do research on this.”
“Yes, we do,” Loid retorts without missing a beat.
He can practically hear Franky rolling his eyes. “I’m pretty sure this is a trial-and-error type of deal.” Franky snaps his fingers. “Trial by fire, that’s the term.”
“Less fires, the better.”
“Well, yeah,” Franky snorts, and Loid can hear him balancing precariously on two legs of his chair. The urge to push him over and teach him a lesson is almost too strong to ignore. “Think about it, though. How many people actually read up on relationship advice these days?”
“How would I know?” Loid sighs heavily, closing his eyes as he gathers the remaining dregs of his quickly fading patience. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Well, I have-”
“And how did that work out for you?”
“Terribly, actually. Thanks for asking. Really helps make my point.”
Loid turns in his seat again, giving Franky a blank look. Franky’s eye visibly twitches, and Loid smirks in satisfaction. In his peripheral vision, Loid notices how Franky’s hands tighten on the back of the chair with the barely repressed urge to strangle Loid. Not that he could, but Loid is willing to give Franky a shot.
“Are you sure about that?” Loid asks, and Franky huffs.
“I am. I realized it’s better to wing it.”
“And how did that work out for you?” Loid asks again, raising an eyebrow.
“Landed me a beautiful girlfriend and a decent-looking boyfriend, didn’t it?”
Loid presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, thoroughly unimpressed. “Decent-looking?” he repeats dryly.
Franky grins, all teeth. “Just okay.”
Shaking his head, Loid surrenders himself to the realization he won’t get any more research done with Franky bothering him. The man truly has the patience of a four-year-old child. It’s a miracle the man can collect half the information he does when he can hardly sit still in a library for two hours.
“I have no clue why I said yes to you,” Loid murmurs, closing his book and standing from his chair.
Franky is quick to follow, gathering the rest of their books in his hand and trailing after Loid. They make their way through the aisles, passing the sections of comedy, fantasy, realistic fiction, and cooking before they reach the section dedicated to romance and dating. One by one, they take the time to place the books back where they belong. Even while searching for the books in the beginning, both men had been thoroughly annoyed with unrelated books cluttering up the shelves, placed carelessly by lazy patrons. They certainly didn’t want to be one of those people.
“You said yes because I am dashing and hard to resist,” Franky shoots back, batting his lashes at Loid flirtatiously.
Loid scrunches up his nose and turns away immediately. Franky squawks indignantly next to him.
“Asshole!”
“Keep your voice down,” Loid scolds, his tone too light and easy-going for Franky’s liking. “You’re grabbing everyone’s attention, the exact opposite of what we want.”
“Yor doesn’t treat me like this,” Franky murmurs.
“Yor is too nice to you.”
“And she isn’t with you?”
Loid can feel his face heat up, despite his best efforts. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath, refusing to give Franky a straight answer. Franky cackles, shoving his hands in his pockets and sidling up to Loid. The spy glances at Franky from the corner of his eye, a bit uneasy with the grin on his boyfriend’s face.
“That’s what I thought,” Franky muses, sounding all too proud of himself. “The emotional constipation really suits you, but I’ll tell you what, it’s not always charming.”
“I don’t choose to be emotionally constipated, ” Loid growls, spitting out the last words as if they left a bitter taste in his mouth. Franky tilts his head at that, shoulders dropping as he softens. Loid must have some sort of pitiful look on his face that he can’t quite mask because Franky nudges Loid’s side gently, a weak attempt to get Loid to relax again. It doesn’t work.
“Hey,” Franky whispers, suddenly conscious of their surroundings again. “I know you’re trying your best.”
“The emotional availability suits you,” Loid snipes, a tad bit spiteful, even if the words don’t come off as insulting. Franky detects the self-loathing in Loid’s tone and frowns.
“You need to chill out,” Franky says, brooking no room for argument. “It’s not the end of the world if you make a few mistakes.” Franky gestures to the aisle of books dedicated to romance advice and dating tips. “I’m sure if Yor even knew we were here, she’d break down crying.”
Loid cringes. “Crying isn’t a good thing.”
Franky rolls his eyes. “Crying can be a good thing. You would know that if you let yourself do that every once in a while.”
“What, and you do?” Loid fires back, feeling a little too defensive.
He gets a raised eyebrow in response. “Actually, I have,” Franky replies simply. “I saw a very cute cat the other day, went through a severe episode of cuteness aggression, and then I cried because I was so overwhelmed by the adorableness.”
“Cuteness aggression?” Loid repeats, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. He pauses for a moment, then asks, “You cried over how cute a cat was?”
“The point is,” Franky continues, waving a hand passively, “you’re thinking too hard. You’ve lived with Yor much longer than I have. Hell, I should be the one looking up dating advice just to keep up with the relationship you two already have.”
Loid shifts his weight from one foot to another, idly reading over the titles on the spines of the books. Anything to keep his attention away from Franky’s prying eyes. Franky isn’t a spy, but the man can be too perceptive at times, which is precisely what makes the informant so good at his job.
“You’re doing just fine,” Loid says quietly, voice just above a whisper. “Yor loves you as you are.” Loid hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek. After a beat too long, Loid continues in a softer tone, “So do I.”
Loid hears Franky laugh gently, then a hand slips into one of his. Loid squeezes Franky’s hand almost instantly, doing his best to physically portray what his words fail to. “Don’t hurt yourself there,” Franky teases, but Loid’s heart melts at the warm tone.
Loid merely hums in response.
With a heavy sigh, Franky pulls at Loid’s hand. Loid glances at his boyfriend for a brief second before surrendering and following after Franky. The shorter man guides them through the library, passing shelves upon shelves of books. Neither of them says a word. Loid doesn’t ask where they are going, and Franky doesn’t tell. The answer comes soon enough when they approach a corner of the library. It’s a bit secluded from the rest of the library, covered by bookshelves and far away from the main area. A couple of bean bag chairs sit atop a worn, blue rug. The rug is somewhat softer than the hard, grey flooring, so it’s a welcome change for Loid’s aching feet.
Franky pulls Loid forward, then shoves the taller man onto one of the bean bag chairs. Loid wrinkles his nose, feeling almost disgusted by sitting on public furniture like this. It’s one thing to sit at the wooden desks in the main study area, but on a fabric chair located in a secluded area of the library? Loid can only imagine what horrors these chairs have seen, and he wants no part in it.
As if reading his mind, Franky snorts. “Didn’t take you for a germaphobe, Loidman.”
If Loid wasn’t wrinkling his nose at the chairs, then he was certainly cringing at the nickname. “I’m not usually,” he answers, “and don’t call me that.”
Franky carries on as if he hadn’t heard Loid speak. “Would it be a germaphobe or a spermaphobe?”
“That was awful,” Loid deadpans, glaring at Franky as he watches the shorter man step closer. Against his better judgment, he leans back further into the bean bag chair, making room for Franky as the other man lowers himself onto Loid’s lap. Franky sits perfectly on Loid’s thighs, straddling Loid’s legs like he was made to fit there. Instinctively, Loid places his hands on Franky’s hips to steady the man, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Franky raises an eyebrow.
“Here you were, acting disgusted because of what could have happened on these chairs, yet you’re the one thinking about it.”
“Hard to think about anything else when you’re on me like this, Franky,” Loid retorts, his voice low with a new, sultry tone.
Franky wags his finger. “No. No, sir. We are not doing this here.”
“You’re the one who took me to a secluded spot.”
“We are still in public,” Franky scoffs. “What is wrong with you?”
Loid glares at Franky, not too keen on being denied. “Then why did you bring me here?”
Franky shrugs nonchalantly. “I know you’re still shy about being a man kissing another man in public.”
“You brought me all the way over here to kiss?”
“Would you rather me do it in the middle of the library for everyone to watch and stare?”
“...no.”
“Then stop bitching.”
“Anyone ever told you you’re a romantic?” Loid retorts, but his face heats up when Franky braces his hands on Loid’s shoulders.
“No, not usually,” comes the dry answer.
“Good. Because you’re not.”
“Every passing second, you become less and less deserving of a kiss.”
“Whatever will I do?”
Franky huffs, rolling his eyes and pulling away. He releases Loid’s shoulders and leans back. Against his will, Loid makes a startled sound, his fingers grabbing at Franky’s belt loops to keep the man from going far. Thankfully, Franky stops moving, but he levels Loid with an unimpressed glare.
“Suffer,” Franky deadpans.
“Wait,” Loid murmurs. “Just one.”
A satisfied smirk crosses Franky’s face, and Loid can’t even find it in himself to be upset that Franky’s won. It hardly feels like he lost when Franky’s lips slot against his, warm and welcoming and everything Loid has anticipated since Franky first settled over his lap. Hell, since they first met each other all those years ago, two broken men finding their way in a broken world. As he settles his hands more securely around Franky’s waist, squeezing into the soft flesh of his partner’s love handles. Franky hums contentedly into their kiss, his hands bracing against Loid’s shoulders before slowly sliding their way up Loid’s neck and to cup the sides of Loid’s jaw. There are very few people in the world who can get away with coming even remotely close to Loid’s throat - hell, the number of people doesn’t even cover one hand - but with Franky, the man can get away with it any day. Loid feels safe here, in Franky’s presence, like the world can crumble around them again, but so long as he has Franky by his side, Loid will still be at home.
He’s found peace in Franky’s chaos, in their unlikely romance, in their friendship that kindled their flame.
When Franky pulls away, cold air fills the space between them, and Loid wants that warmth to envelop him again. He tilts his head up, chasing Franky’s kiss again, but Franky covers Loid’s mouth. Gone is the mood, and Loid glares at his boyfriend for destroying a peaceful moment.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Franky tuts, “we agreed on one.”
Loid removes one hand from Franky’s waist to pull away the hand covering his mouth. “I wasn’t serious.”
“I was!”
Franky clambers off Loid’s lap, leaving the blond man with a chill seeping into his skin and a lingering desire for more. He watches Franky saunter away, hands in his pockets as if he’s unaffected by their heated moment. But Loid knows better. He knows the creeping red blush up Franky’s neck is a testament to Franky’s joy. Loid grins to himself, rising from the bean bag chair. It takes only two strides for him to keep up with Franky’s four steps. Before Franky can exit out of their little corner, Loid wraps his arms around Franky and pulls him close enough so Loid can lean down and whisper into the other man’s ear,
“We still have a few hours before Anya and Yor come home.”
Loid can feel the shiver run up Franky’s spine. The shorter man turns his head slightly to the side, eyeing Loid meaningfully from his peripheral vision.
“Then we better get home quickly then. Gotta make the most of our time, yeah?”
Fuck the romance books. Loid doesn’t need them, not when he’s got Franky to distract him. Books can’t tell Loid what he doesn’t already know, like the sound of Yor’s breaths or the cadence of Franky’s footsteps. It can’t tell him how Yor loves seafood, but Franky is allergic to it. It can’t tell him that Franky enjoys a bit of excitement every now and again, while Yor thrives on taking control over her lovers. A book can’t tell him about his partners. He knows them best. So he’ll leave this library with Franky, and he’ll let his heart guide him next.