Work Text:
The alarm started beeping in the darkness of the bedroom. It lasted maybe a few seconds before an arm emerged from underneath thick blankets, effectively swiping the screen and cutting it off.
Boil sighed and rolled back on his left side. He knew the snooze would go off in five minutes but he wasn’t quite ready to leave the warm bed and the blissfully sleeping Waxer. Sighing, Boil pressed himself against Waxer’s back, nosing the collar of the threadbare T-shirt the other man wore. He caught the faint smell of the body lotion Waxer had had Boil spread on his back after the shower, and a small smile tugged at his lips when Boil recalled how Waxer had squirmed when Boil had let his fingers tease the sensitive skin of his sides.
Before the five minutes were up, Boil pressed a kiss on the back of Waxer’s head and got up. He paused to turn the alarm completely off (there was no reason for Waxer to wake up this early) before tugging off the pajama pants and dropping them carelessly on top of the pile of half-used clothes on The Designated Clothes Chair (the capital letters were absolutely needed, thank you very much, Waxer). He absentmindedly made a mental note to sort through them since the pile was getting rather high, knowing that it would make Waxer happy.
Scratching his chin, Boil padded down the hall to the bathroom, keeping the lights off as he went. There really was no reason not to turn them on but Boil liked the idea of making sure nothing would disturb Waxer’s sleep, not even an accidental beam of light. Besides, the streetlight that was nearly on the same level as their living room window glowed through the closed shades, illuminating Boil’s steps enough for him to reach his destination without stumbling on anything.
Only when the bathroom door closed behind him did Boil turn on the lights, squinting at the brightness. Staring at himself from the mirror, Boil tilted his chin to decide whether he should shave or not. Deciding everything looked OK, Boil opened the cabinet to take out his toothbrush.
His reaching hand came to a stop when he realised there was something bright, almost obnoxiously orange sticking on the toothpaste.
Curious and a little confused, Boil plucked the folded-up post-it note, opening it. He read the two lines written on it, blinking slowly before snorting loudly.
Good morning, honey bunbun!
Don’t you look handsome this morning. ^_^
Boil shook his head but he couldn’t stop smiling as he went through the rest of his morning routine.
Right as Boil was leaving, he glanced at the clearly handmade shelf they had on the wall next to the front door.
The bottom of the two shelves was a bit crooked and the bright teal color it had been painted with always put a smile on Boil’s face as it reminded him of Numa’s Teal Phase as he and Waxer fondly called it. They used the shelf to hold a shallow bowl for the keys, some reflector bands, and a chipped mug with pens and pencils.
And a stack of bright orange post-it notes.
Staring at the post-it notes, Boil grabbed one of the pencils and the stack. He scribbled a few words on the orange piece of paper before placing it on the closed door.
Satisfied with himself, Boil put the pencil and the stack away, and let himself out.
Have a nice run.
Don’t forget the keys this time.
Love, B
Smiling wide enough that his cheeks hurt, Waxer carefully unpeeled it from the door. He made a quick detour back to the kitchen where he secured the post-it note on the fridge with a small magnet.
Once the note was secured, Waxer stepped outside and texted Boil while he took the stairs down.
Waxed_out: Thanks for the message!
Waxed_out: I’ll be out for a run for the next hour or so.
Boo_Bear: Same. If you take the route by that bakery, can you get a few bagels on your way home?
Waxed_out: The sourdough or cheese ones?
Waxer sidestepped a neighbour on their way up and a quick look revealed them to be Mr Windu, who lived right below his and Boil’s apartment. He gave a quick nod to the tall, always so calm-looking man, who nodded back.
The nod turned into a smile when Waxer realised Windu was holding hands with his grandson. Waving a hand at the adorable boy, Waxer was delighted to see him (Caleb, Waxer mused) wave back, the wide grin revealing a missing tooth.
Chuckling, Waxer reached the foyer of their building and checked Boil’s reply before tucking his phone away. He stepped into the street, taking in the pale glow of the morning sun before turning left, and slowly jogged towards the park.
A gentle rapping against his desk had Boil lifting his gaze from the screen and revealed Wooley standing next to his desk.
“You’ve got a visitor,” the younger man informed with a grin and tilted his head towards the reception desk on the other side of the closed glass doors.
Glancing at the clock, Boil knew there was only one person who’d come to see him this close to lunch hour.
“Thanks,” Boil said with a nod as he stood up.
“No trouble but you better hurry before the rest of the team gets jealous of your cute lunch date,” Wooley teased, and Boil had to roll his eyes.
Considering more than half of their team had been working with Boil for years, they were well aware of his relationship with Waxer, so Wooley’s words were nothing but a teasing remark. Although, Boil mused as he watched Wooley’s cheeky grin, two could play this came.
“If you are jealous because I’ve got a cute lunch date, you should finally make a move on that guy on the fifth floor,” Boil drawled and glanced at Wooley meaningfully from the corner of his eye, “I heard he likes to eat his lunch at the cafeteria on the ground floor.”
Enjoying the way the younger man’s jaw dropped, Boil sauntered toward the door that separated the office from the reception.
There, just like Wooley had said, was Waxer leaning against the waist-high reception desk with one arm as he chatted with Obi-Wan. Boil watched fondly when he watched Waxer laugh at something the receptionist had said, the sound of Waxer’s laughter never failing to make Boil’s heart flutter inside his chest. He let his eyes trail quickly over Waxer’s form, snorting in amusement, when he realised that Waxer was wearing his aviator jacket with the thick, dark-brown beanie he favored tucked in one of the pockets.
“Hi, Boil,” Waxer greeted cheerfully when he finally noticed Boil’s approach, eyes bright from happiness as he straightened himself. “I’ve come to steal you away for the next 30 minutes,” he informed while holding out a paper bag from the café they liked to go to on weekends.
“You should’ve messaged me, I would’ve met you down at the lobby,” Boil replied but accepted the quick kiss Waxer pressed on his cheek, all too happy to return the favor.
Boil paid no attention to the fond expression on Obi-Wan’s face, the man having witnessed this particular scene so many times in the past.
“And miss the latest gossip?” Waxer declared, the feigned shock only making Obi-Wan chuckle while Boil rolled his eyes.
“Gimme a minute, I’ll go grab my coat,” Boil said, and even as he let his fingers trace Waxer’s side quickly.
“Take your time, Obi-Wan was just telling me about the feud between you and the guys from the fifth floor,” Waxer informed, to which the receptionist had the grace to look a bit embarrassed.
“A feud, you say? Well, that’s the first time I’ve heard it being called that,” Boil drawled as he gave Obi-Wan a wry look, “but considering the hooligans Rex calls his team stole our coffee maker, a feud it might just be.”
Leaving the pair, Boil quickly made his way to his desk to grab his wool coat.
Interestingly, he saw hide nor hair of Wooley and the younger man’s desk was also empty.
Perhaps Wooley had taken his advice Boil mused, pleased.
“Where do you want to go this weekend?” Waxer asked as they walked through the park later that afternoon.
After visiting Boil for lunch, Waxer returned home to do some chores as well as catch the latest episodes of his favorite series. When Boil had texted that he was on his way home, Waxer had put the laptop down and walked to the light rail station to meet him there. It was a customary thing for Waxer to do that when he had a day off, knowing that both he and Boil enjoyed the chance to walk home together.
Sometimes, like today, they took the long way through the nearby park. It wasn’t the biggest one in the city or even in their neighbourhood but the trees were tall and thick with age, and currently crowned with glorious shades of orange, yellow, and red. The packed dirt path crunched beneath their shoes as the scent of loam filled the air.
Boil hummed, and Waxer smiled when he felt the other man squeeze his fingers in thought. “I saw an ad for this art exhibit at the contemporary art museum while I was on the light rail,” Boil said after a moment. “Thought that might interest you.”
Waxer felt his eyebrows raise, surprised. “What kind of art exhibit?” he asked since Boil wasn’t really that into contemporary art.
They stepped to the side of the path when a bell from a bike rang from behind, Waxer enjoying the way Boil’s shoulder pressed against his as they waited for the bike to pass. Once the cyclist had passed them, they moved back to the path again, and Waxer fixed the hold he had on Boil’s hand, slotting their fingers.
“It’s an exhibit about this artist and his highly masculinized homoerotic art,” Boil replied after a moment, and when Waxer looked at him, he was yet again surprised when he saw the flash of shyness pass over Boil’s face. “I checked some of their art online and thought it would be something you’d like.”
Waxer was quiet for a second as he processed the reply before grinning cheekily. “Are you saying you want to take me out to see pornographic gay art?” he asked, teasing.
Boil huffed, looking at him from the corner of his eye. “Maybe I want to see it as well,” he pointed out and nudged Waxer with an elbow. “Besides, the article I found said something about the artist’s point to create art of men enjoying themselves in a world where there’s no shame in being a homosexual. Like drawing them in the sun and being happy with their sexuality.”
Waxer paused at that, pondering on the information Boil had just given him. “When did this guy publish his art?” he asked, now genuinely curious.
“Sometime in the late 50’s, I don’t remember accurately. But we could find out if we go to the museum.”
Waxer thought about it, not really noticing how Boil started to sway their linked hands as they kept walking.
“What time do you want to go there?” Waxer asked eventually. “If we leave before noon, we would still have enough time to go grocery shopping afterward.”
Even if they had been together nearly a decade, seeing Boil smile like the way he did just now, wide and eager, always hit Waxer right at the centre of his chest.
“Sounds good to me,” Boil agreed and the way he lifted their joined hands to press a kiss on the back of Waxer’s knuckles made Waxer feel like the luckiest man alive.
Boil lifted his head from his phone when he heard Waxer make a loud, disgusted sound in the bathroom. “You okay there?” he called loudly.
“Blergh, fine! It’s just that there’s something stuck in the washing machine’s lint filter and I need to get it out,” Waxer replied, sounding just about as eager as a Numa when it came to her biology homework.
Putting his phone away, Boil stood up from the couch and walked to the open bathroom door.
“I can do it if you want,” he suggested when he found Waxer on his knees on the tiled floor with half of their dirty laundry in separate piles around him and the little hatch that protected the lint filer in his hand.
Boil bit his lip to keep himself from laughing at the speed Waxer turned to look at him, those brown eyes shining with such gratefulness that it seemed almost exaggerated. Too bad Boil knew it wasn’t because if there was one thing Waxer disliked above anything else when it came to cleaning, it was dealing with anything that involved cold, mushy gunk.
“I love you so much right now,” Waxer announced so sincerely that this time Boil did laugh.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Now get out of the way.”
The soft groan announced Boil’s arrival, and Waxer lifted the book he’d been reading. “All done now?” he asked as Boil circled the bed to grab the checkered pajama pants off Waxer’s Mortal Enemy.
(Waxer knew relationships were about making compromises but no matter how long he lived, he’d be giving the stink eye to that particular chair.)
“Mmmm, in a minute,” Boil replied, sounding tired and half-asleep already. He removed the towel wrapped around his hips, dropping it on the back of the Mortal Enemy before he pulled the pajama pants on.
Waxer smiled at the damp curls, fingers itching to run through them until Boil’s hair would be a fluffy mess. He might not enjoy having hair himself but Waxer loved playing with Boil’s.
Waiting patiently, Waxer continued to watch Boil as the man set the alarm in his phone before placing it on the nightstand. Only then did he climb into the bed, pulling the thick blanket over him.
Smiling, Waxer lifted his arm so that Boil could press into his side, resting his head on Waxer’s chest. When Waxer lowered his arm again, he could feel a shower-warm foot slide beneath his covers, tangling with his sock-wearing ones.
“You ready?” Waxer asked, hearing Boil hum softly. He pressed a soft kiss on Boil’s head and turned his attention back to the book, clearing his throat before he started reading:
“’With a terrible cry the Balrog fell forward, and its shadow plunged down and vanished. But even as it fell it swung its whip, and the thongs lashed and curled about the wizard’s knees, dragging him to the brink. He staggered – ‘“
Ten minutes later Waxer paused to glance at Boil, not surprised to find him sound asleep.
Smiling, Waxer placed the bookmark in place and put the book on his nightstand. He turned the reading light off, the movement making Boil snuffle but he didn’t wake up. Shifting to lay on his side, Waxer was now face to face with Boil, his head now pillowed by Waxer’s arm. He fixed Boil’s blanket that had fallen down to bare his shoulders, tucking it in place before closing his eyes.
Soon, the only sound in the dark bedroom was the soft, even breathing.