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Bunny’s lungs were on fire.
And his muscles ached with a dull limpness, and he felt hot and clammy, and there was a wetness in the gold coils of his hair. Above him, also panting but with less dramatics, was perhaps the best and most devoted scholar in all of Hampden– hell, probably in all of Vermont, if we’re being serious .
“I think I’ve found the primary sources accurate,” Henry said, and his voice was hoarse and gravelly, and Bunny didn’t want to think about how nice it sounded so he instead focused on the sharp feeling on his shoulder, where Henry’s chin was digging in like a blunt, bony blade.
“Uhuh….” It's all Bunny said for the moment. He was thinking of so many things that he ended up thinking nothing at all– there was a hazy blankness inside the bone-dome where there was usually non-stop chatter, getting translated to electrical signals and impulses full-time to keep up the endless stream of conversation that rushed out of Bunny’s ever-talking mouth like a flood.
He was thinking, now, of electrical impulses, trying to see if he remembered anything about the biology of neurology (blah, blah, blah) when Henry shifted on top of him– is he going to get off? – no. No, he didn’t roll off him yet, he was only readjusting. But Bunny could still feel him, motionless but sated, so he wondered why Henry was still– well, maybe he’s resting . He put in a lot of effort, after all.
The thought made him feel a sudden and unexpected surge of irritation with himself. A why the hell would I say that kind of moment.
“Your cooperation is appreciated,” Henry muttered from where his face was buried into the pillow, over Bunny’s shoulder. When he spoke, Bunny felt the stern corners of Henry’s lips move against the side of his neck.
“You’re putting my name in the assignment now , aren’t you?” It came out breathless, and sounded less bossy and more pathetic than Bunny would have liked. He was still panting. God, I’m in awful shape.
“Of course,” came Henry’s professional reply, “I wouldn’t dare plagiarize.”
A pause. Then Bunny said: “Plagiarize. That’s a funny word. I plagiarized a whole essay once from an encyclopedia. Sixth grade. Mr. Dunker said I was a natural historian. He thought my work was original.” Bunny snickered proudly at the memory. Unfortunately, the humor was lost on Henry. Bunny wondered if Henry was the sort of bookworm, front-bencher, goody-two stereotype who looked down on those who– god forbid – had some fun with their lives. Bunny felt Henry exhale through his nose–in derision, presumably. He sounded a bit like a horse. That silence had a tendency to be suffocating. What’s worse is I know that anecdote was funny. And I get no laughs for it. But then something else occurred to him. Oh but what if that snort was his way of laughing? Like a smug horse. Say, he really does remind you of a horse, doesn’t he? Certainly got the package for it too.
Why the hell did I think that.
The mattress creaked pitifully when Henry adjusted again, and this brought Bunny back out of his head; and this awareness slapped him in the face with a sudden and overwhelming awareness of his condition. The sheets, thin, stained, sticking to his sweaty body, the surge of musk in his nostrils, the heat (and weight, mind you, the fella’s 6’5!) of Henry on top of him– it felt smothering. Bunny squirmed. He felt a flash of annoyance. “You gonna get up,” he said. “Or are you planning on staying there all night.”
The rude question-statement didn’t receive the immediate, embarrassed response Bunny had been hoping to get. At first, Henry didn’t even react so for a good few moments, Bunny was wondering if Henry had even heard him. He was about to speak again when Henry finally moved– bracing a hand on the mattress beside Bunny’s body– and raised his torso a little. He wasn’t looking at Bunny– well, not at his eyes, at least, which both relieved and annoyed him.
“Right. Yes.”
He said this, and raised his hips, pulling them back– in a quick slide it was over. He leaned back and immediately made a face, nose wrinkling delicately.
“Well, I bet yours is uglier.” Bunny said indignantly.
“No, you idiot,” Henry was not quick to insults, especially not such casual and childish ones, but something about Bunny’s petulant charm just brought out a side of him that was so….informal.
“And mine’s probably bigger. So there.”
Henry laughed. “I didn’t react to anything of yours, Bunny. Why would I be reacting now? I simply found the sensation to be a little grotesque. With how…sticky it seems to have gotten.”
“That’s your own fault,” said Bunny, always belligerent. “You were the one who rushed it, anyways. It’s not like I asked you to be an animal about it.”
“You’re the one who made the mess, Bunny.”
“Me? You ’re the one who came inside, bastard.”
“It’s a scientific process,” Henry was on his side now, propped up on an elbow, wearing a self-assured sort of smirk. “There are variables you clearly weren’t anticipating.”
“Right. ‘Scientific process’” mockingly imitated Bunny. “Oh, come off it. ‘Variables'? 'Anticipating'? ‘Gratuitous’? What sort of nerd talks that way anyways?”
“I didn’t even say gratuitous, Bunny.” Henry said lazily, and Bunny thought he kind of looked like a sleepy bear. ( Or horse, continuing from our previous discussion. )
“Ugh, ‘Grotesque’ . Whatever. It means the same goddamn thing."
“It absolutely does not.” Henry said calmly. He sat up suddenly, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, giving Bunny a clear view of his wide, muscled back. Bunny watched the muscles that were coiled like a snake just under the skin, moving slowly and sinuously, as Henry reached for his glasses, cleaned them, and put them on. Had I been a woman , Bunny thought to himself, I’d trap that man with a baby .
Why the hell did I think that.
“At least as this goddamn assignment is over and done with. I couldn’t spend another minute in that godawful library.” Bunny mumbled. He was staring at the ceiling now. He didn’t want to look at Henry’s back anymore. What the hell possessed me to think that.
He felt he needed to say something else, just to fill the room with noise. “I don’t know what I’d do if I spent all my time studying Latin.”
There was a pause. When Henry spoke again, he was standing now, buttoning up his shirt.
“You don’t understand the language.” He said, and then more to himself, “You don’t have the linguistic capacity.”
“You know what I do have? A girlfriend.” (This snarky response was shot at Henry very quickly, because ever since Bunny had found out Henry didn’t have one, he’d used it to ‘win’ any arguments since. Henry moved on seamlessly, speaking over him. )
“And what do you mean ‘another minute’?” and Bunny hated how he could hear the quotations in Henry’s voice, “You hardly step a foot in there.” He leaned over in a swift movement, reaching for his trousers and underwear, and began to dress himself.
“So what?!” Bunny, exasperated. “That library makes me sick. All those books stacked up like that, it’s depressing.” He had curled to sit up, with his legs folded, but the image of a library was so daunting that it struck psychic damage and Bunny fell flat on his back, arms spread out like he’d been sniped. By now, Henry had tucked in his shirt and was combing his hair in the mirror.
“I would suggest taking a shower,” Henry said, breaking the silence.
“You gonna carry me there, too?” muttered Bunny with his arm over his eyes. Henry looked amused, briefly, Bunny missed that look.
“I’m sure your legs still work.” Then, quietly, “I wasn’t that rough, surely.”
“I bet I can’t even walk.” Bunny responded, voice thick with petulance. “Everything hurts, I’m sore all over, it was torture, absolute torture-“ In all honestly, he was feeling too good right now. He knew he’d feel cruddy and awful tomorrow, sore in places that should never ever be sore in a young man’s life, but right now he didn’t care.
Henry stood there, shaking his head. He didn’t bother putting his tie and coat on, because he’d be under the shower in a while anyway (he had a time-sensitive errand to run first.) “And don’t get too comfortable, Bunny. I want you to jot down everything relevant to our assignment. I have yet to compile the first draft.”
That got Bunny’s attention, he was sitting up in a flash.
“Hey,” he said, voice now lacking its previous playfulness. “Hey. I thought that was a team project. I did almost half of that, right? I did my part.”
Henry scoffed, looking at him in the mirror as he fixed his shirt. “I said the physical aspect was half the work. For the both of us. You were paying attention before, right? Did you keep the requirements in mind when we were engaged in intimacy?"
“Oh, god, you sound like a teacher.” Bunny, now fully up, scooted up the bed to be more perpendicular. He had an anguished expression. That was the thing with Henry– the bastard always sounded so educated, so proper, in everything he said. It made Bunny feel all wrong, feel like a dumb kid in comparison- he was, wasn’t he? Bunny had pulled a sheet up to cover his body, and he was sitting there in a way which he knew made him look pouty, which oddly worked with his boyish face but was incongruent with his size and age. (Henry did keep forgetting how old Bunny was….)
“Bunny. You did remember to mentally log your experience and thoughts, didn’t you?”
Bunny felt his face heat up.
Bunny was quiet for so long now that it was clear the answer to this question was ‘no’.
“Maybe,” he responded after a long silence, when it was useless and quite obvious that he was lying.
Surprisingly, Henry didn’t look too bothered by it. He didn’t even look disappointed. He simply collected his items.
“Oh, well, Bunny. I’ll do the write-up for us.”
Bunny suddenly went very quiet, which, if one knew him long enough, was unusual. Bunny went quiet when he was either trying to think, which happened very infrequently, or when he was plotting to be a brat. In this case, he was scheming on testing his luck, checking if Henry’s boundaries really were so lax. (He’d expected at least a glare, or a stern lecture!)
“And….and you’re going to put me as an equal co-author,” he said slowly, watching Henry carefully. Henry remained stoic as he headed for the door.
“Naturally, Bunny.”
“…Wait, seriously?” Bunny said, voice pitched high. He couldn’t hold the cheer inside himself, and had Henry been looking at him, he’d have seen the exact moment Bunny perked up and began glowing, like a bulb had been lit up inside him. The old man’s mighty generous , he thought, watching him go, realizing with a rush that he could probably get away with anything now.
When he was alone, he felt his muscles ache again, the sweat drying on his body- a nasty feeling, now that he was off the high of being with Henry- but for some reason, he found himself grinning at the memory of it all- how Henry had moaned because of him, how his breath had felt on his shoulder, the way everything had felt so urgent…..
I probably did better than I thought I did , he thought to himself happily, stepping under the shower, still deep in thought. It’s why he wants to do the writing part on his own. Because I was fantastic.
Even the odd little shower thought that crept up on him couldn’t ruin his mood……but it was odd. When Bunny thought about the specifics, when he tried to remember what assignment they’d even had, the things Henry had told him (“Julian forgot to tell us during class, but there’s an assignment…”), he couldn’t really make sense of anything. The topic had been far too bold if it had to be done this way. But then, Julian’s pretty unconventional . And yes, they’d already handed in their one and only assignment for the semester two weeks ago. Maybe it was bonus work . (Aw yeah, extra grades for finals!)
He hummed some old Sinatra, scrubbing away, light as air now that the goddamn assignment was out of the way. Poor Henry! He snickered to himself. What a sucker.