Chapter Text
The door to the lab slammed open — if the lab had a door, but the entire space was open to the elements of the bay, the wind, and Juan’s fury.
Foolish looked up from his microscope, shoulders hunched and goggles absolutely not properly covering his eyes. He heard the furious steps rushing up the stairs before followed by the elegant screech of his boss. After several weeks, he was used to the racket, but this look…Foolish took a deep breath and straightened, wincing as his spine groaned. He needed to prepare for whatever —
“—Foolish. Foolish!” Juan’s cheeks were painted an angry red, or did he just run here? It was hard to tell as both consisted of heavy breaths and heated skin.
An image flashed behind Foolish’s eyes.
Soft sheets, messy hair, smooth skin, his name like a plea on pouty lips…
“You need a door here!” Juan was saying as Foolish tuned back in. Such random and vivid thoughts were dangerous and unwelcome. He would definitely never ponder of the idea ever again.
Foolish shoved the goggles up his head until they got stuck on the mouth of his hood. “Yeah, that’d be nice and all, if people didn’t keep destroying it every time I try and —“
“Yeah, yeah, I just need to slam something!”
A huffing chuckle escaped Foolish’s lips. He immediately looked around for something his boss could slam.
Hard wall, firm grip, scorching dark eyes, heaving breaths—
Goddamn, what is wrong with him?
He snatched up a book from the table and held it out to Juan, hoping the shorter didn’t notice the darkening of his own cheeks. “Here, slam this.”
Juan looked at the book as if it was a horrid plague Foolish was trying to hand him instead. His disgusted look rose to Foolish’s face and deepened further. Then flitted down to his chest.
He knew it was coming before Juan slapped both hands down on his torso. A resounding smack crackled between them. Foolish looked down at him with a raised brow.
Juan did it again.
Foolish let him hit him two more times before easily stepping out of reach.
“Feel better?”
“No.” Juan rounded Foolish’s messy workspace and lifted himself onto the table, on the one tiny spot still empty. “We have a humongous problem.”
Foolish pulled the goggles off his head, shucking them onto the table and folded his arms. Juan’s eyes flashed down before back up.
“We?”
Juan nodded. His breathing was settling back to normal, but his cheeks were still smeared red.
“And what have we done now?”
Juan silently wrestled with his internal thoughts, but Foolish was patient.
“Graf—“
And Foolish knew.
“You didn’t…”
Juan slipped off the table, his ass catching on some scattered papers that fell to the floor in a sad flutter. Foolish looked on tiredly.
“It’s so hard, man!” Juan yelled, fingers balled into fists at his sides.
Foolish pressed his fingers into the space between his brows, praying for every drop of patience in existence to deal with this man. He might have to dip into his reserves, and then his reserve’s reserves.
“So you have another date.”
It wasn’t a question, because he knew the answer. This man couldn’t say no to anyone, but Foolish himself, to save his own life.
Juan was now pacing in front of him, shoes slapping on the floor. “No, no more dates.” His eyes rose to Foolish on one of his passes, then quickly looked away. His cheeks pinked further. “Is worse.”
Foolish raised a brow. “Worse than another date with a guy you don’t have feelings for? Yeah, alright.”
Juan stopped in his tracks and stomped a foot like a petulant child. “Is serious, Foolish!”
“I hear ya, I hear ya. Just tell me what’s going on and- and, yeah, I’m sure we can figure it out. Surely.”
Juan nodded again and again, and turned away, biting a finger nail.
“I did a bad thing, Foolish. I…I think I fucked up.”
The smaller man’s shoulders were raised to and brushing his earlobes, muscles taut beneath his shirt.
Those muscles beneath his fingers, his claws tracing each divot—
Holy shit, stop it brain.
“Is someone dead?” Foolish asked instead, ignoring the gruffness of his own voice. Juan spun around and glared at him. Foolish raised his hands in innocence. “Alright, okay. Just say it. Just say what you did. It’s fine, Juan. Come on—“
“You’re my boyfriend!”
Time slowed.
One. The water of the bay lapped against the island’s salty sand.
Two. Wind twisted through the open air above them.
Three. Juan’s breath caught in his throat and his cheeks grew worrying shades of red.
Foolish exploded in a choking, gasping, coughing mess. Hunching over his legs, grasping his knees, hacking his lungs out into the deepslate. He saw through his teary vision that Juan grew closer, hand poised to thump against his back. Foolish sliced a hand upwards and warded him off. If Juan touched him, he would probably implode this time.
Juan backed away two, three, four steps twiddling his fingers in front of him. It sobered Foolish back up quickly.
His voice was hoarse and raw when he spoke, but he pushed through the words, “What do you mean I’m your boyfriend?”
Juan spoke quickly this time. “Well, Graf, he think’s there’s some other reason why I don’t want to date him. I did tell him no more! I did, be proud, I did it, Foolish. But he doesn’t believe I just, don’t like him, but that there’s some- something else. Or, well, or someone else.”
The words settled over Foolish like a wet cloth. His eyes squinted at the smaller. “He thinks we’re dating, doesn’t he?”
Juan was already nodding and speaking before Foolish finished, “He think’s we’re dating.”
“Fuck.”
“Si, fuck.”