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Jude didn’t know how it started, and that was honestly the worst part. One second they were sitting quietly in the library (or at least trying to) and the next they were whisper-fighting over something so stupid neither of them could even agree on whose fault it was.
Sharp was leaning over the table, animated even when he tried to be quiet, hands moving too much for a place where the smallest noise earned death stares from strangers. Jude, meanwhile, sat back with his arms crossed, ears twitching every time Sharp’s voice rose above a whisper, pretending like this was the most annoying thing in the world instead of the highlight of his afternoon.
“You switched the files!” Sharp hissed, tapping Jude’s laptop screen accusingly. “I know I named them right!”
“You named them ‘finalfinalREALthisone.pdf’.” Jude shot back, deadpan. “That isn't a file system!”
“It made sense at the time!”
“It never makes sense at the time.”
Sharp scoffed, leaning closer. “You literally alphabetize your pens.”
“That’s called being organized.”
“That’s called being clinically ill.”
Jude’s ears flattened slightly. “Says the guy who falls for the most basic fucking pranks ever created.”
“That’s your fault, not mine!” Sharp whispered fiercely, jabbing a finger toward him. “And you’re deflecting.”
“I’m not deflecting!” Jude said. “I’m simply observing.”
“You’re being annoying.”
“You’re loud.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“You’re dramatic.”
Sharp stared at him like he was deciding whether to throw something, his expression shifting between offended and exasperated while Jude sat there looking smugly composed. Under the table, though, Jude’s foot bounced once, an impatient little thump against the carpet that gave away more than his face ever would. Sharp noticed immediately, narrowing his eyes.
“Oh my god.” he whispered. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. Your whole ‘I’m above this’ act is fake.”
“It’s called self-control.” Jude said smoothly.
“Sureee, bro.”
Jude huffed quietly, trying to ignore the way Sharp was leaning closer now, invading his space like he always did when he got worked up. They were supposed to be whispering, but their argument had picked up a rhythm; quick back-and-forth remarks, barely contained laughter hidden under insults, the kind of arguing that didn’t actually feel angry anymore.
And then Sharp paused mid-rant.
His expression shifted, like he’d noticed something for the first time, the slight tension in Jude’s shoulders, the way his ears were angled forward in annoyance, the tiny furrow between his brows.
The air changed without warning.
Sharp leaned in, voice dropping softer, quieter; still teasing, but suddenly different.
“You know… You’re actually kinda cute when you’re mad.”
Silence settled between them so fast it felt physical, like the air itself had thickened. The sounds of the library blurred into the background — distant page turns, quiet typing, someone coughing two tables over — all of it suddenly too far away compared to the words still hanging between them.
Jude just stared at Sharp, brain lagging behind what he’d said, trying to decide if he’d misheard or if reality had genuinely betrayed him like this. Across from him, Sharp blinked once, then again, looking equally confused, as if he hadn’t realized what had just come out of his mouth until the silence dragged on too long.
“What?” Sharp asked, genuinely puzzled.
And that was when Jude’s ears shot straight up.
It wasn’t subtle. It definitely wasn’t graceful. It was immediate and completely uncontrollable; an instinctive reaction that betrayed him before he could think, before he could shut it down, before he could pretend none of this affected him. The rest of him stayed perfectly still, but the damage was already done. Sharp’s eyes widened slowly as realization spread across his face, the same look someone got when they discovered a secret they definitely weren’t supposed to know.
“Oh my god.” he whispered.
“Don’t.” Jude said flatly, the warning coming out sharper than he intended, like he could cut the moment off before it got worse.
“Your ears just—”
“I said don’t.”
Jude’s foot thumped once under the table, the movement automatic and frustrated. The sound was softened by the carpet, but still obvious enough that Sharp definitely noticed, because his expression shifted instantly, confusion melting into delight. A slow grin spread across his face, bright and dangerous, like someone who’d just stumbled across the perfect weakness.
“Oh.” Sharp whispered, voice full of barely contained amusement. “Oh, this is gold.”
Jude looked away so fast it almost hurt, pretending to refocus on his notes like the conversation was over, like nothing had happened, like his heart wasn’t suddenly beating too fast for absolutely no reason. He could feel the heat crawling up his neck, and that alone was humiliating enough, but then his tail flicked once behind the chair, small and involuntary, completely ruining the act. He froze, hoping Sharp hadn’t seen it.
But then Sharp started to smile.
Shit.
Sharp definitely saw it.
The chair creaked slightly as Sharp leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing some private joke. “You’re blushing.”
“I’m not.” Jude said immediately, refusing to look at him.
“You are.” Sharp insisted, sounding delighted by the discovery.
“I’m going to throw this highlighter at your face.”
Sharp laughed softly, the sound warm and way too pleased with itself. Then he paused — like he was thinking, testing something in his head — before leaning in again. His voice dropped quieter this time, softer, almost careful.
“You’re cute.”
Jude froze.
There it was again, that same rush of heat, that same involuntary twitch in his ears, the way his brain just… stalled. The words weren’t loud or dramatic, but they hit anyway, slipping past every sarcastic defense he usually hid behind. He hated that Sharp noticed everything, hated that his body reacted faster than his pride could keep up, hated that every tiny movement gave him away.
And worst of all, somewhere under all the embarrassment and irritation, there was a small, quiet part of him that wanted to hear it again — just once more — to make sure it wasn’t an accident.
He cleared his throat, forcing himself to sit up straighter like posture alone could reset the situation. “You’re being weird,” he said, trying to sound bored, unimpressed, anything other than flustered. The words came out steadier than he felt, and for a second he thought maybe he’d successfully redirected the conversation back into safer territory.
“Am I?” Sharp leaned his chin on his hand, smirking openly now, like he could see right through the act. “You’re the one malfunctioning.”
Another thump echoed faintly beneath the table before Jude could stop it. The realization made him stiffen immediately. He glared across the table, ears twitching in irritation. “Stop making me do that.”
“I’m not doing anything.” Sharp said innocently, widening his eyes in a way that was obviously fake. His grin only grew sharper. “You’re just… reacting.”
Jude tried to ignore him, forcing his gaze back down to his laptop like the assignment on the screen mattered more than the disaster unfolding across from him. It didn’t help. The words blurred together almost instantly, attention slipping every time Sharp shifted in his seat or leaned closer. His ears refused to flatten properly, stuck halfway upright like they couldn’t decide whether he was annoyed or embarrassed, and that indecision made everything worse. He could practically feel Sharp watching for every tiny movement now, waiting for another reaction.
The silence stretched just long enough to feel dangerous.
When Jude finally glanced up again, Sharp was studying him, not laughing this time, just looking, expression softer around the edges like curiosity had temporarily replaced amusement.
“You know,” Sharp said more carefully, voice quieter than before, “I didn’t think you’d get flustered this easily.”
“That's because I don’t.” Jude muttered immediately, almost too fast, because admitting anything else felt like losing.
Sharp hummed softly, unconvinced. “Really?” He tilted his head, watching Jude with a kind of deliberate patience that made Jude nervous. “Then why do you look like you want me to say it again?”
Jude’s tail went completely still.
The sudden stillness felt louder than the earlier thumps somehow, like his whole body had paused at once. He swallowed, refusing to react, refusing to give Sharp the satisfaction. “…Say what?” he asked, voice carefully neutral.
Sharp leaned closer, slow enough that Jude noticed every inch of movement, until his voice was barely above a whisper.
“Cute.”
Jude’s foot slammed against the floor before he could stop himself.
The sound cracked through the quiet library, loud enough that three people nearby looked up with matching expressions of irritation. Jude froze, mortified, while Sharp nearly choked trying not to laugh, shoulders shaking with silent amusement. Heat rushed up Jude’s neck again; he dropped a hand over his face, ears burning hot enough that hiding them felt impossible.
“I hate you.” he muttered through his fingers.
“Sure you do.” Sharp said, grin wide and unbearably pleased with himself, like he’d just won an argument without even trying.
Jude didn’t answer. He just stared down at his laptop, pretending to work, trying to ignore the way his heart refused to calm down, because the worst part, the absolutely worst part, was that he was already waiting for Sharp to say it again.