Chapter Text
Stanley couldn’t believe what had happened. If he had known earlier that it would be this easy, he would’ve done it in a heartbeat. Somehow, Xeno’s sharp mind, his maddening smirk, the rare warmth that slipped through in the quietest of moments—all of it now belonged to him alone.
It all started last month, on a Saturday, when they’d planned to meet up to test out Xeno’s new gun models, just like old times.
6 am.
Me: What type of shooting targets should I bring? You got any preferences?
8 am.
Me: Xeno, you there? I called you a few times, but the line’s dead
10 am
Me: I’m heading over now. I’ll just bring the usual
11 am
Me: Xenoo, you here yet?
Me: Lol. Can’t believe you of all people are late. I’m adding this to my calendar
Me: Why can’t I reach you? Your lines still dead
Me: You here??
Me: Seriously, where are you? Are you okay?
Me: Xeno, where the fuck are you. You’re worrying me
Stanley ground the cigarette between his teeth, jaw working against the filter. He couldn’t sit still anymore. Seriously? That control freak, late? Something had to have gone wrong. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he yanked the gearshift into drive with a little more force than necessary and sped toward the scientist's place.
He’d been knocking for what felt like forever—five minutes, maybe more. Each rap of his knuckles echoed down the hallway, sharp and impatient. Hell, it had gotten to the point that someone inside the building had almost called security until a neighbor recognized him. His fist was practically on autopilot at this point.
Just where in the world could Xeno be? Did something come up? Is he hurt? Maybe that idiot worked himself into collapsing again or—
Interrupting his inner monologue, the lock finally clicked. Stanley braced himself for something catastrophic, but to his relief, Xeno was fine, just… in his favorite black silk pajama set.
His usually sleek, meticulously combed hair ruffled and drooped down to his shoulders, looking like he had just fought a losing battle with a pillow, and dark, heavy eyebags framed his dazed gaze, making him look less like the poised, elegant genius Stanley was used to and more like a cat that had just rolled out of bed. Damn, somehow he looked even cuter this way.
“Xeno… Were you asleep…?” He asked in pure disbelief.
Stanley watched silently as the other processed the situation in real time. The scientist blinked blearily at him, then at the clock on the wall, and back again—twice—like maybe the numbers were lying to him. Then realization hit, flooding his face with pure horror.
“I— Sorry, I was up texting last night… Give me a moment, Stanley.” He apologized in what was the most defeated expression Stanley had seen in years, eyes wide enough to look like he was appalled with himself. Turning on his heel, he rushed back to his room without another word.
Texting? Really? Not some astrophysics journal? Not even his beloved space documentaries?
Now this was a day truly worthy of being marked on his calendar. Not only was he late, but Xeno, who avoided socialization like a cat running from water, had actually gotten distracted by texting of all things. With a small smirk, Stanley filed the anomaly away, making a mental note to tease him about this later.
With that, he headed to the kitchen. The guy could get ready while Stanley made him something to eat—whatever they had planned could wait. Xeno neglected meals enough as is, and judging by his dejected expression, he probably needed some cheering up.
A while later, the scientist emerged, looking marginally more like himself. “What are you making?”
“Cheeseburger. You should eat.” Stanley said, sliding the plate across the table.
“Oh, how elegant.” Xeno murmured, eyeing his favorite food that was normally saved for special occasions.
Yep, not only was he a control freak, but also a bit of a health freak, too. A two-in-one special. How appetizing. While Xeno was eating, he kept himself busy, loading his car’s trunk with Xeno’s various mechanical bits and railgun parts.
Coming back inside, he caught Xeno typing on his phone with a small smile, quickly hidden when their eyes met.
Huh. Strange.
Not only that, but on the ride over, it became clear the scientist was waiting for something, or more accurately... someone. His gaze kept flicking to his phone, checking it every few minutes. Xeno had never acted like this. Even as chubby-cheeked shit machines (kids), he’d always scoffed at the idea of being hooked to a screen. He’d always said that texting was tedious and inelegant, and didn’t think twice about blocking anyone who cluttered his notifications.
I mean… It was probably nothing, right? just some new research article, maybe. Yeah. That had to be it. No need for him to worry.
-
Stanley would quickly be proven wrong.
When they reached the field, Xeno immediately slipped into his element, swiftly assembling intricate machinery with the kind of mesmerizing precision that came from years of practice and obsession. Each component clicked into place smoothly under his careful touch, his eyes sharp and focused as he adjusted dials and calibrated the equipment.
Meanwhile, Stanley moved around the perimeter, setting up the shooting targets with methodical efficiency, making sure the spacing was perfect. He wasn’t exactly helpful unless you counted looking cool while pulling the trigger of some type of gun.
Once Stanley finished setting up the last of the targets, he wiped the sweat from his brow and turned back toward Xeno, who worked near the car, only to see the man glued to his phone again with a grin. Not a polite smile. Not passing amusement. But the kind of smile that made his eyes brighten, unguarded and stupidly adorable.
The sight stopped him dead in his tracks. Stanley’s fingers twitched against the trigger of the rifle in his hands, wanting to shoot the damn screen. Whoa there, too far. He took a breath.
Still, just what the hell was Xeno looking at to earn that expression? To actually be late for once in his life? For him not to pay attention to Stanley?
With every glance Xeno took at his phone after that, a cigarette crushed under Stanley’s teeth. He’d lost count of how many were replaced already. Great, there went his 15 dollars. He resorted to venting his frustrations onto the poor paper targets across from him, shredding one target after another with perfect precision, and just like that, the sun had started to dip towards the horizon.
The ride home fell into silence. Not their usual comfortable quiet, but a tense stillness that stretched too long between them. Stanley couldn’t help but notice Xeno’s perplexed stare from the corner of his eye.
Fuck. Just why was he acting like some crazy, possessive lunatic? His hand instinctively reached for another cig, but with a sharp scowl, he settled for a tight grip on the steering wheel instead.
-
Eventually, they reached Xeno’s place, and the scientist settled on the sofa, laptop propped in his lap and a coffee in hand. The man practically lived on the bitter drink, regardless of whether it was night or day. So much for nagging him about cigarettes, though one was substantially worse than the other.
Stanley decided to take a shower, needing to cool his head. Dry and dressed, he wrapped a towel around his neck and reached for the door handle, feeling significantly better—only to freeze, a sound stopping him cold.
A giggle.
It was soft, delicate, almost unfamiliar... but unmistakably Xeno’s.
The cold shower he had taken moments ago now amounted to nothing, an intense scorching heat rushing to his head. He nearly broke the damn door off its hinges, but in a rare moment of intellect over instinct, he paused.
He had to know what Xeno was looking at, even if it meant sneaking across his apartment. Demanding answers wouldn’t do much, so with a steadying breath, he slid into the hallway, peering his head out just far enough to see the living room. Just a bit of reconnaissance, child's play compared to the missions he was used to.
From across the hallway, there Xeno was. At first glance, he seemed to be working, but his fingers glided over the keyboard a bit too eagerly, each keystroke crisp and deliberate.
Then— ding —a reply flashed back.
Xeno’s smile deepened into a slow, genuine grin, his eyes beaming with something unnamed as he tracked the words spilling across the screen. He took a lazy sip of coffee, steam curling past his face… and then, paused mid-swallow.
“...Do I want kids?” He murmured aloud, as if testing the words on his tongue.
Stanley didn’t remember deciding to move. That was his breaking point.
One moment he was watching, the next he was on his feet, storming forward like a soldier breaching a target zone. Instinct trumped intellect after all. Old habits die hard.
With no conscious thought, no weighing of consequences—in two quick steps, he loomed over the sofa, effectively pinning the smaller man with proximity alone, jaw clenched so tight it ached.
“Xeno,” he said, his voice low and edged with danger, “Just who the fuck have you been texting all day?”
The scientist blinked, his deep obsidian eyes looking up at Stanley as if he’d barely noticed he was there. “...What’s wrong?” he asked, tone perfectly casual.
This asshole.
What’s wrong? Everything was wrong. Kids. Xeno wants kids. What the actual fuck. Dear god, this was driving him mad.
Not only that, but the constant glances at his phone, the secretive smiles… He had already had his battle with science and came to terms with the fact that the bastard would always hold an irreplaceable part of Xeno’s heart, but letting someone—not something—pull his attention away so completely? That was unforgivable.
How the hell could he not be fucking ballistic—
…
Wait, why was he acting like this? Xeno was just… texting someone. Enjoying a conversation. That’s all. It's not like he was his boyfriend or something. In the end, they were just friends.
Sure, Xeno was his everything, someone he’d let ruin him without a second thought, someone he’d do anything for, but that's all Stanley was to him, nothing more. And friends had no right to be acting like this.
The ache in Stanley’s chest tightened at the word, sharp and unwelcome. His grip on the sofa loosened, shoulders dropping just enough for him to take a hesitant step back.
“Sorry. It’s nothing.” He muttered, gaze lowered somewhere on the floor.
“...Stanley, are you jealous?” Xeno said softly, words deceptively casual like a scalpel dressed in silk.
“What?” His head snapped back up in disbelief, caught in the sheer absurdity of the question.
Jealous…? Why the hell would he be jealous?
Jealousy meant wanting something for yourself. Claiming it. Guarding it. That couldn’t be it… right? But something in the scientist's calm, analytical gaze made his heart beat with overwhelming clarity.
…Shit.
As the silence stretched, Xeno raised an eyebrow, the faintest flicker of intrigue sharpening his features, the kind of look a researcher gave when an unlikely hypothesis showed signs of proof. His gaze lingered, unblinking, as though running silent calculations in the background, formulating theories Stanley would rather not see confirmed.
Xeno finally muttered, “No, never mind. It’s nothing,” with the same dismissiveness one might give a puzzling variable—filed away, but not forgotten.
And with a silent sigh of relief, the minutes that followed passed in a blur, and soon, Stanley was gone. He had planned to stay the night, but he couldn’t. Not like this.
Exhaling sharply, he dropped his head against the wheel of his car, the horn blaring in response. Heat rushed to his face before he could stop it—burning, traitorous color flooding his cheeks. The realization didn’t come gently; it crashed into him with the inevitability of a sniper’s bullet, too fast to dodge.
He was jealous. And it wasn’t because of ego. Or control. Or even loyalty.
He was jealous because—God help him—he loved that insufferable bastard.
The truth settled over him like a weight, shattering the carefully erected walls Stanley had built to protect their friendship from the dangerous territory his feelings threatened to invade. The very idea of confessing, of risking everything for something so uncertain, filled him with dread.
Yet, no matter how hard he tried to steady himself, his heart kept hammering, loud and insistent, as if it already knew the answer he was too afraid to voice.
Oh shit. He was doomed. Beyond doomed.