Work Text:
“When’d you realize you liked me?”
Gene asked one night when at Sam’s flat, over a dinner of takeout and cheap wine that Sam never got around to drinking.
“When you told me your name,” Sam responded, taking another bite out of food in the Styrofoam container. “When did you?”
Gene didn’t answer at first. He just took another drink of wine from his glass, seemingly reluctant to answer. After a moment of tense silence, he answered.
“I knew the first time we argued. I first acknowledged it when you were held at gunpoint in that old factory.”
Sam smiled.