Chapter Text
It was a wonder that Fern was offered a position as a professor. It was even more of a wonder that they’d kept that job for nearly 4 years. They detested children. It didn’t matter that these children were adult children, they were still annoying little brats who asked far too many questions (though questions on topic, at the very least). They sighed miserably, rubbing their temples as the last few students left the room. Fern thought the worst part about their job was the fact that these brats all adored them. Well, that, or the other professor they shared the classroom with.
The two educators alternated use of the room by class, and they often ran into each other while entering or leaving. Something about the other teacher just utterly pissed Fern off. Maybe it was his blindingly bright smile. Maybe it was his overly enthusiastic “hello”s and “goodbye”s. Maybe it was those stupid red glasses he wore. Whatever it was, they knew that they did not like Professor Ilao.
The history professor walked into the classroom with his overly-bright smile. Fern only glared in response. It also pissed them off that he was constantly trying to initiate small talk.
“How were your gremlins today?” he asked brightly.
Fern stared witheringly at him, attempting to remove Ilao from their line of vision, and with a tiny frown of sadness, was failing miserably.
“They’ve been worse,” they responded coldly.
“Oh? I'm sure they'll be better tomorrow!” His whole person seemed to be glowing.
He must've been blind. Blind, and incredibly stupid. Fern stared dumbfounded at the man before them. They had made it glaringly obvious that they did not want him in their presence, and yet, there he stood, making conversation as if the two of them were the best of friends. God, it made their blood boil.
“What do you want, Ilao?” Fern asked bluntly.
The other professor jolted at the question.
“Ah, yes,” he stuttered. “There's- There's a staff meeting in like, 10 minutes.”
“And you couldn’t’ve, oh, I don't know, emailed me?” Fern retorted.
“It's not like I had time!”
“Uh huh. Next thing you're gonna tell me is that those glasses of yours are adorable.”
Ilao gasped.
“Don't bring my glasses into this!” he hissed. “We are mature adults and are above such childish remarks anyway.”
Fern snorted.
“Maybe you are, but I'm not. Those glasses are an affront to fashion,” they quipped mirthfully.
“A-are not!”
It was obvious that he was beginning to doubt himself, however, as he took off his glasses and inspected them nervously. They weren't that ugly, were they?
Fern sighed.
“They're not terribly atrocious. Just put them back on so we can get to the meeting on time,” they huffed.
…And it was the most utterly boring staff meeting ever. Like it always was. Fern’s eyes were glazed in a hundred-yard-stare, completely unaware of everything going on around them (which wasn't much anyway). A sharp pain in their shin jolted them awake from their journey through the fourth dimension. Fucking glasses had kicked them awake. Hard. And worse, the dean was glaring at them in annoyance.
“I’m sorry,” they blurted out briskly, wincing at the pain coursing through their bruising shin. “Could you please repeat that?”
The dean looked exhausted.
“Professor Fern, I understand that you don't exactly want to be here, but please try to remain lucid enough to respond to people the first time. None of us want to be here, but this meeting would go faster if you stayed awake,” she scolded. “I was simply asking if there were any materials or accommodations the science department needs.”
Fern answered as best they could, then desperately fought sleep as the world’s longest meeting continued its course around them. They glanced over toward Ilao in a vaguely thankful manner. He was staring at them. Staring at them. What was this guy's problem? They'd already told him that his glasses weren't ugly anyway (although, not exactly like that…), so what was his deal? Fern furrowed their brows and pouted slightly, which caused Professor Ilao to let out a strange sort of wheezing sound. His face was such a vivid shade of pink that Fern was beginning to feel a little concerned for the poor guy. What was this guy’s issue?
It was only until after the meeting ended that Fern had realized they'd been staring at Ilao throughout the whole meeting. They paused for a moment. Ilao vexed the hell out of them, yet they couldn't help but feel drawn to him. It only aggravated them further. He was absolutely messing with their head, making them question, well, everything.
They leaned against the wall just outside the staff room door, pinching the bridge of their nose just above their glasses and sighed. Why did everything suddenly get so confusing? A shadow suddenly appeared over their face, and the stark contrast between dark and light roused them from their muddled state. It was him.
Ilao was standing in front of them, abnormally awkward and fidgety. It was unlike him to be nervous, yet the man standing before Fern looked as tense as a cat in front of a cucumber and exquisitely pink. They almost giggled at the sight. Giggled?
The other professor opened his mouth as if to say something, shut it, then opened it again, indecisive of what he should say or if he should say anything. Fern noted that he looked remarkably like an agitated Pac-Man. Another bubble of laughter caught in their throat. Why the hell were they laughing?
After a few painfully, agonizingly long minutes of Ilao kicking his feet and evading speech, he finally shoved a business card into Fern's free hand. It was his business card. Fern stared at it, dumbfounded. They confirmed their suspicions from just hours before: Ilao was incredibly stupid. They looked up with a bewildered smirk on their face.
“Ilao, we work in the same building,” they teased.
Except, when they looked up, he was gone. Fern stared at the business card, chuckling to themself. Ilao was a fool. A charming fool, but a fool all the same. They flipped the card over to see if there was a picture of him, but to their utmost disappointment there wasn't. But, there was an address scrawled in what Fern could only imagine was Ilao’s handwriting, and a message underneath.
Meet me here @ 8!
Fern gaped in a moment of dread. 8 pm on a school night? They groaned as they left the office building, feeling their eyebags get heavier and heavier with each step they took. Fern checked their watch. It was 7:30. They had to leave now if they wanted a chance to be on time.
They put the address into the GPS as they got in their car and started the ignition, placing their hands at ten and two on the steering wheel where they belonged. Fern paused, rested their forehead on the wheel, and huffed a long sigh. Why on earth were they doing this? They then began to repeatedly beat their head against said wheel in an attempt to bash some sense into their head. They should get out of the car and go home. Ilao was annoying. They turned the ignition off. Fern stepped out onto the sidewalk, intently walking toward the building. Yes, they hated Ilao.
Or did they?
They were standing right outside their apartment door, arm extending to the knob. Suddenly, they swore loudly and ran back to their car, driving to the damned place where they knew Ilao was waiting for them.
By the time Fern had pulled into the parking lot, it was 8:01. They were late. They swore again as they hurriedly exited the car and walked into what appeared to be a bar. And there he was. Waiting for them like they knew he was.
“I knew you'd be late,” Ilao smiled.
Fern only pouted in annoyance, crossing their arms as they sat down next to him at the bar. The familiar pinkness had returned to Ilao’s face.
“You're really cute when you pout like that,” Ilao said softly.
Fern froze.
“Did you just flirt with me?” Fern asked, appalled.
“Have been for three years, but thanks for noticing…”
“You… you what?!” Fern’s voice cracked.
“Yeah, honestly I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever notice…”
“…Three years?”
“Maybe even a bit longer. Brain gets foggy, y’know.”
Fern held their face in their hands, elbows resting on the bar. Three years? Maybe they were the stupid one. And Ilao, of all people, flirting with them? Well, the idea wasn't necessarily unwelcome…
“You're pretty cute sometimes too, Ilao,” they tried.
Ilao pinked ever further.
“Please, call me Arcade,” he said gently.
Fern made a show of huffing in annoyance, but it was clear they were joking. They loved the idea of calling him by his first name.
“Fine. You're pretty cute sometimes too, Arcade,” they chuckled.
It was Fern’s turn to blush. It had just occurred to them what they were saying. How mortifying. There they were, in public, calling the very man they despised mere hours before “pretty cute.” Arcade took one of Fern’s hands off their face and laced his fingers with theirs, resting them on the bar. Oh, what the fuck.
The first round of beers went down quickly as both professors awkwardly sat in silence, incredibly aware of the barrier they'd just crossed. Arcade’s second and third followed in rapid succession, until finally he was just drunk enough to forget the embarrassment. The two flirted with each other constantly. Shamelessly. It was almost disgusting in a deliciously sweet way.
Fern was so smitten that they hadn't realized that Arcade had kept drinking. They loved the attention, and they loved being around Arcade. Why did they hate him so much? He was lovely, and they had no idea why they decided to dislike him in the first place.
It was only when Arcade had passed out cold that Fern had realized Arcade had downed at least four tankards of the vilely cheap beer.
“Oi, glasses,” the bartender grumbled. “Grab your boyfriend and take him home. He's taking up space for customers.”
Fern jolted. Boyfriend?
“Not my boyfriend,” they huffed.
“Fine. Husband, fiancé, partner, whatever. Get him out.”
Fern flushed. Fiancé? Husband? This was too much. They glared at the bartender as they pulled one of Arcade’s arms over his shoulder, heaving as they grabbed his legs to carry him bridal-style.
“Not in a relationship with him,” they said firmly. “...Yet.”
They kept their glare sharply on the bartender as they carried Arcade out to their car. Wrestling an inebriated body into a car seat was a lot more difficult than it seemed, Fern noted.
The drive home was quiet, with occasional, tiny sounds from Arcade as he stirred slightly then fell back asleep. It wasn't long before Fern pulled up to their apartment building. They swore quietly realizing they'd have to lug the imbecile beside them up 2 flights of stairs.
“Always the science teachers,” Fern muttered as they carried Arcade into their apartment.
They flopped him onto their bed and rolled him onto his side, kneeling to take off the offending red glasses they found themselves becoming more and more fond of, and placing them onto their bedside table. Arcade stirred slightly and blinked a few times before opening their eyes and adjusting to the new setting. There was a very fuzzy blob in front of him that was somehow comforting, and somehow, he knew it was Fern.
Fern sighed as Arcade opened his eyes, looking down at the drunk disaster lying in their bed. An idiotic, dopey smile filled his face revealing the most charming dimples. It was almost endearing in the most annoying way possible. What Fern had said at the bar was true: sometimes, Arcade was really cute. And there he was, this intoxicated idiot, looking absolutely, unnecessarily, infuriatingly adorable.
A warm hand on their cheek startled Fern, whose attention snapped from Arcade’s dimples to his hand. He pulled them closer to himself until their noses were mere centimeters apart. His eyes met Fern’s, seeking permission. Fern’s eyes responded before their mind could, and Arcade’s lips met theirs softly. His lips were softer than they expected, almost like marshmallows on a warm summer day. Fern broke away in surprise. Kissing Arcade was… lovely. Arcade pulled them back in, warm breath skimming over their lips, taunting them. He inched closer, closer, and ever so closer before finally closing the distance between the two of them.
Fern melted into it, pressing their lips into his. Arcade tasted like fresh pavlova and cheap beer, and the flavor was intoxicating, bittersweet and delicious. Fern slid their hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to themself hungrily.
God, he smelled good too. He smelled like sunshine and warm blankets, so comforting and inviting. How they had the strength to pull away and breathe, they never knew. Arcade was looking up at them smiling softly, his big, brown eyes crinkling at the corners. Fern sighed. They needed to let him sleep. They gave him a small peck on the forehead as they stood up, walking over to their bedroom door.
“Goodnight, Arcade,” they whispered.
Arcade responded with a snore. Fern chuckled quietly to themself as they closed the door behind them. A night on the couch was worth whatever this was. They sighed as they flopped onto the plush piece of furniture, dragging a blanket over themself. It wasn't long before Fern found themself in a deep slumber, full of dreams or memories (they weren't quite sure) of sickly sweetness and butterflies.
They woke up that morning to the smell of bacon sizzling and the sound of birds chirping outside their window, no recollection of what they dreamt. Their senses jolted them awake. Bacon?
Fern pushed themself up into a sitting position, craning their neck slightly to see what was going on in the kitchen. Arcade stood over the stove flipping bacon in a pan, sans pants. The boxers he sported bore the most atrocious pattern: Goofy heads, but in weird angles scattered all over the place that made absolutely no aesthetic sense whatsoever. Fern couldn't fight the cackle that bubbled in their chest and escaped from their lips. Arcade jumped, startled by the sudden sound.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked sadly.
“What the hell are your pants?” Fern managed between giggles of pure delight.
Arcade looked down.
“What’s wrong with my pants?” he responded, voice cracking.
Fern took a deep breath.
“They're fine. They're cute,” they smiled. “They match your ugly glasses.”
Fern began giggling again, not at all in a malicious way.
“You told me they weren't ugly!” Arcade said, a hint of betrayal lying in his voice.
“Ah, but I only said they weren't, what was it? ‘Terribly atrocious?’” Fern teased.
“That's it, no bacon for you!”
Fern pushed themself off the couch and ambled over behind Arcade, wrapping their arms around his middle and resting their chin on his shoulder.
“Aw, come on, love,” they murmured. “Don't be like that…”
“You're just sucking up to me because you want your bacon,” Arcade grumbled jokingly. Fern didn't have to look very hard to see the pink tinting his face.
“What?” Fern asked in mock surprise. “Whatever do you mean by that?”
Fern giggled, then pecked him on the cheek and retreated to the small kitchen table, awaiting their very deserved bacon. Arcade delivered their plate, the bacon still sizzling freshly. He then served himself and sat across from Fern, smiling. There was still a light blush on his cheeks.
“Um, Fern,” he began, looking down at his plate. “What are we?”
Fern blinked.
“Well I’d assumed we were partners at this point,” they answered honestly. Arcade’s blush had returned in full force. “But if you're uncomfortable with that, then I’m not sure.”
“Partners?” he echoed.
“Yes. Like boyfriends.”
“Boyfriends?” his eyes widened.
“Are you uncomfortable with that?” Fern asked, beginning to worry they'd overstepped.
Arcade shook his head, then chuckled. Fern cocked their head in confusion.
“I just didn't think I'd make it this far, that's all,” he sighed.
“Well, you don't have to worry, because I’m gonna be the best boyfriend ever,” Fern said confidantly.
“Not if I’m the best boyfriend ever,” Arcade giggled.
Fern stood up, crossing their arms.
“Oh yeah?” they said in mock annoyance.
Arcade stood in front of them, hands on hips.
“Oh, yeah,” he nodded. “Watch this.”
Gently, he cupped Fern’s cheek in one hand, pulling them closer to himself.
“Nuh uh, you did that last night,” Fern huffed. “It doesn't count.”
They removed his hand from their cheek and brought his palm to their lips, kissing it softly before letting it go. Tenderly, they lifted Arcade’s chin with their hand, pulling him in close. Arcade wrapped his arms around their shoulders, shortening the distance between them. Then, a knock.
“Professor Fern?” It was a student’s voice. “Is there class today?”
Fern swore. Loudly.
“No, I'm cancelling classes today,” they said. “I’m sick. I forgot to send an email.”
“Oh, okay then!” the student behind the door replied. “Get better soon Professor Fern!”
Fern didn't have the energy to thank them. They looked up at Arcade, who had pulled them even closer to himself. They giggled at him.
“Now, where were we?” they asked slyly.
“I think we were about here,” Arcade responded, pulling Fern so close that their noses brushed.
“Hmm, I think we were actually here,” Fern corrected, brushing their lips against Arcade’s.
They pulled away, giving Arcade the most adorable nose-crinkling smile. He positively melted at the sight.
“God, I have the best boyfriend ever,” he affirmed.
“Told you,” Fern giggled, nuzzling into his chest.