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The evening air was pleasantly cool. The lightning bugs had already begun their nightly display, little lights twinkling gently on and off nearby. The smell of smoke and soap hung in the air.
Gossan blinked, rubbed their eyes, and blinked again. Some debris had gotten inside their goggles and made it into one of their primary eyes, causing an awful scratching sensation that left them tearing up.
Next to them sat Slate. The two of them were in their undershorts, hunched over a pair of washbasins while sitting on tree stumps at the back of the hatchling cabin, scrubbing dust and grime (and in Slate’s case, grease) from their arms, faces, nostrils, ears…
The two young adults had been working together in the mine for a couple of years now. They’d both initially started out learning the same ins-and-outs of mine work as a duo, then after two years or so Slate had moved on to maintaining the equipment as the resident engineer-in-training, while Gossan and Tuff seemed to be settling in as the up-and-coming Miners of the village.
As always, a day in the mines meant a thorough washing-up before dinner (no one wanted sand and grit falling off their sleeves into the communal stew pot). Today had been a particularly long one thanks to a series of technical issues with the mining rig. Tektite, Gossan, and Slate had spent a good three or more hours trying to repair the damn thing before any work could really begin. It didn’t help that Tuff had taken ill after too much exposure to the lower gravity in the deeper areas of the cave in their attempts to help with repairs, meaning they were down one set of capable hands…
So, tired, hungry, and more than a little cranky, Gossan made a frustrated noise as they splashed water onto their face and rubbed their eyes vigorously with the heels of their palms.
“What’s your problem?” Slate asked beside them.
Gossan frowned, rubbing away tears.
“Nothing… got somethin’ in my eye,” they grunted back.
“Try splashing some water on.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Gossan growled, covering their now aching eyes with their fingertips. They heard Slate click their tongue.
“Let me see.” Their friend said. Gossan heard them shuffle over. When they moved their hands and looked again, Slate was knelt in front of them.
At 18-years-old, Slate was ridiculously tall. Even with Gossan sitting elevated relative to Slate’s kneeling form, the young engineer towered over them, and Gossan had to look up to meet their gaze.
“Don’t worry about it-“ Gossan started half-heartedly.
“Shut up and hold still.” Slate interrupted. They leaned forward until their faces were centimetres apart, eyes set into a concentrated frown. A bit shocked by the sudden invasion of their space, Gossan tried to lean back - only to feel Slate’s rough hands clamp down on either side of their face.
“Don’t move.” Slate said, voice low and gravelly... probably from inhaling all that dust, Gossan thought.
“…’kay,” Gossan barely managed to reply.
“Look up…. now left… no, my left…”
Gossan followed Slate’s instructions, trying not to blink too much, grateful that they didn’t have to make eye contact. They swallowed awkwardly, hoping the sound didn’t reach their friend’s ears. After a few seconds, they felt their hands starting to twitch. Something about the sensation of Slate’s breath ghosting over their nose and cheeks made them… antsy. Self-conscious of the feeling, the young miner found themself holding their own breath.
They were becoming increasingly aware of the warmth radiating from Slate's hands- a sharp contrast to the cool air. A strange nervous energy was building up in their chest, and it was getting increasingly difficult to stay still…
“See anything?” they asked, barely above a whisper, although for the stars they didn’t know why their voice was so soft.
“Not yet,” Slate said… had they moved even closer than before?
Gossan swallowed again, breathing in shakily through their nose.
Their ears were ringing now.
Faintly, Gossan heard a noise from what seemed like far away, but was really only from a few meters off. Then came the sound of boots running up wooden stairs, followed by an excited voice inside the cabin… that was definitely Feldspar, probably here to look for them since they hadn’t made it to the campfire yet…
They flinched, shoulders jumping when Slate’s thumbs suddenly settled below their bottom eyelids, pulling down slightly. An involuntary shiver jolted their body when one of their friend’s fingers slipped below their jaw to hold their face steady. Wait, did Slate just chuckle at them?!
Embarrassed, Gossan met Slate’s gaze, ready to make an annoyed remark. Slate smirked, which made the outer corners of the young engineer’s eyes crinkle.
Gossan felt like they were about to burst out of their scales any second. A moment before they could voice their impatience again, there was a rustle as several pairs of small feet dashed through the grass behind them.
“What’s taking you two so lo-” Feldspar’s voice stopped abruptly.
Slate let go and pulled back so quickly that Gossan almost fell over - they hadn’t realized they’d been leaning back as hard as they were. But Slate’s hand shot out, grabbed their bicep and steadied them before they overbalanced.
Gossan took a moment to shake off the… whatever they were feeling, and turned to look behind them.
Feldspar was watching them with glittering mischievous eyes, lips curled inward on a smile they were biting back. On either side of them stood Hornfels and Chert, eyes wide and mouths agape.
Feeling flustered, and like they should say something, Gossan opened their mouth to tell Feldspar off for letting Hornfels and Chert leave the cabin when they were supposed to be in bed, but before they could –
“Gossan and Slate are kissing!!” Chert shrieked.
Gossan felt their face flush purple instantly. They sputtered, heart suddenly pounding in their ears as they watched Feldspar’s cheeks puff out, their younger friend trying and failing to hold in a laugh.
Beside them, Slate stood up and stomped toward the hatchlings.
“Oi, what do you tadpoles think you’re doing?!” their friend shouted sternly in their best big-sibling voice, zeroing-in on the three. Feldspar burst into laughter, an impish cackle that always featured when they thought a game of tag with Slate was on the cards. The hatchlings turned and ran, and Slate chased after them.
Gossan watched in silence, glued to their seat, listening to the excited shouts and laughs that trailed the group, gradually getting further and further away. They idly wondered how far their friend would get before they realized they were still only dressed in their shorts, or until one of the adults scolded them for chasing the hatchlings around the village so late in the day – practically naked, no less.
In the sudden whirlwind of shenanigans, Gossan had completely forgotten about the irritation in their eye. They touched their cheek absentmindedly. Then quickly flung their hand away as if they’d been burned.
What on hearth was that about-?! They thought. Their inner voice sounded hysterical.
Outwardly, Gossan groaned.
Fully aware how eager the hatchlings undoubtedly were to share what they’d seen - thought they’d seen -, Gossan just knew they would have to do damage control tomorrow.
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