Work Text:
It’s just another day at the lab. Dennis is off working on his latest experiment and Gauram offered to brew a new pot of coffee, before fleeing to the offshoot kitchen.
It’s just Amar and me here for now. As usual it’s a pleasant sort of silence, just the soft humming of equipment and keyboards clicking in the background.
“Dude, what?” I hear him murmur under his breath.
“What’s up?” Amar looks up from his screen and at me, there’s a slight frown settled between his thick eyebrows.
“Nothing.”
We both return to our work, or well, Amar does. I try to, but from my rigid handwashing the skin on my palms dried out and is now slowly peeling loose. It feels horrible against the already sticky surface of my desk.
I’m about to reach for my top drawer, having stashed it to the brim with alcohol wipes, when Amar speaks up again.
“I just got some stupid announcement, you probably got it too.”
I redirect my hands to the computer, almost knocking over my brand new ‘Jeremy Garcia’ nameplate, and open my mailbox. Amar’s right, there’s a very long email about how the company drones aren’t allowed to be used for ballgames. While skimming through the unnecessarily long text I feel his presence behind me.
“How did they figure that one out?”
“Probably the security cameras they have hanging everywhere.” Amar points out.
“Right.” I turn my chair around to face him and pick lightly at the loose skin of my hands. “I doubt we’ll get in real trouble though, or they wouldn’t have made it a general announcement.”
Amar shrugs halfheartedly and his gaze falls down on my fingers.
“You shouldn’t do that.” At first I assume he’s talking about my stance towards playing with company equipment, but I soon realise it’s about the pulling on my skin.
Before I get the chance to defend myself he walks off. His neatly tucked shirt pulls loose as he bends forward to search through his leather bag.
He grabs Gautam’s chair to sit on and plops himself down in front of me. “Give me your hands.”
I hesitate, I don’t like the feeling of lotions sticking to my fingers, it’s like artificial sweat.
Instead of waiting for my answer he reaches for my wrist and gently pulls my left hand towards him. From a small tube he squirts a droplet of a mystery substance on my palm.
“Thanks.” I say to be polite, even if I’m still unsure how happy I really am with it.
Amar starts to lightly rub it into my dry skin. His hands are surprisingly soft as they pass over the lines of my neatly cleaned hands. It’s not as bad as I expected. In fact, the gentleness with which he caresses my palms is rather nice. My opinion on the oily substance is still undecided.
As if we’ve been here a thousand times before I hand him my right hand while he graciously places the left one on my lap. “You should take care of your hands if you ever want to beat Gautam at drone-ball.”
“Oh please, I know he did something.”
Amar laughs a bit. “For sure, I can’t believe you didn’t immediately notice the targeting system activating.”
“That bastard.”
I snap my head up, only now looking up from the way he massages my hands. His face is a lot closer than I expected, I’m honestly surprised I didn’t smack straight into his chin.
“It’s your own fault for making a bet and expecting him to play fair.”
I should be offended at the jab, but I get distracted when I smell his breath. Coffee with too much honey, just how he likes it, and I can’t help but drag a little more of it into my lungs.
“I’ll get back at him for that.” I add halfheartedly. The back and forth competition I have with Gautam is slowly sinking lower and lower on my list of priorities, and by the time I notice Amar’s eyes trailing the outline of my mouth it’s pretty much hit the bottom.
It’s the last push I needed to give in to my growing want and close the distance.
His lips are even softer than his hands. Warm and full as they graze gently over my sensitive skin. I can taste the caution on his mouth as he can probably do with mine.
My heart is racing with something anxiety adjacent, but it doesn’t make me want to wash my hands. Still, I don’t get to linger on it when Amar laces his fingers through my hair. The tips of his which graze over my scalp and tension leaves my shoulders as quickly as it came.
His upper lip presses lightly against my mustache when his mouth opens. Without thinking I mirror him and before I know it we’re making out.
I’m unsure of how much time passed with our lips slotted close and our tongues dancing together. All I know is that when I pull back his deep brown eyes look into mine.
My lips are covered in a thin layer of our saliva. I should hate it. All the bacteria and stickiness that comes with it has often prevented me from kissing people at all, so why? Why doesn’t it bother me?
“I…” My mind is still swimming through the details of what just transpired, but the echoes of heavy footsteps in the hallway makes me pull back in a panic.
“Shit.” Amar whispers and he sits up straight, pretending he was helping me with something. Anything really.
“Can you guys believe that Dennis fiddled with the coffeemaker again? It took me ten minutes just to turn it on.” Guatam’s loud voice filled the suddenly too small office. He strides in with his perfectly tailored suit and striped tie, holding a tray with three steaming mugs of coffee.
He halts when he looks at Amar and me, wearing faux-put-together expressions. “Why are you two looking so pale? Did somebody die?”