Work Text:
Marcel peeks over the wall of his cubicle for the hundredth time in the last 10 minutes he supposes- he blushes at the thought that anybody could be clued in on how obsessive he’s being. And Marcel should already know, it’s only half past ten and the boy with the blue eyes and tanned skin doesn’t come around until almost 11.
And he does know, he really does, but it’s kind of hard to be practical when his eyes turn to hearts and his glasses fog up and Louis keeps reaching in to run a hand through the front of his gelled hair because ‘it’s gelled but it’s still so soft’ and Marcel does completely wish he could record that and make it the background music to his life.
Marcel must sit there and stare off into nothingness for a good ten minutes because someone is behind him and breathing rather loudly and “oh!”. Marcell jumps when he turns around because it’s only Louis and he’s leaning against the wall of his cubicle with a smirk on his face- Marcell colors cherry red.
“Hard at work, I presume.” He suggests, half of his mouth coming into a breathtaking smile and Marcel is finding it hard not to stare and drool.
Marcel looks to the floor with a chuckle, and Louis joins in- the un-gelled hairs on the back of his neck stands up and he desperately wishes he could record that and play it in his head like a mantra.
Louis sits on the edge of Marcel’s desk, and hands him a warm styrofoam cup of liquid.
Marcel sips, Louis speaks examining the only picture on his desk that he’s surely asked him about before. “I figured I’d get you tea today, since you said coffee after 10 gives you headaches.”
Marcel burns his tongue on the hot liquid because frick he’d forgotten he’d said that and frick Louis is so sweet and cute and funny and frick his mouth is burning and so is his hand. “Ow” his voice breaks, and Louis whips his head around.
Louis is taking the cup from his hands, coming off the desk to squat next to Marcel’s chair and wrapping his hands in a towel. “Careful, don’t want to hurt yourself under my watch- they’ll have to fire me.” Louis whispers.
“No-”Marcel let’s out a choked sound, because no Louis can’t be fired.
Louis elicits a soft chuckle and Marcel meets his eyes. “Kidding, M.” Marcel let’s out a soft sigh at the nickname.
Louis’ eyes are so blue, and Marcel is wondering what it’s like to wake up to those blue eyes and to make those blue eyes water from laughing too hard. And he’s leaning in, eyes going back and forth between Louis’ lips and his eyes, and he’s wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips when- “Louis!” Someone in the office is calling for him and Marcel’s face drops as Louis stands up, because his ten minutes are over and they’ve both got jobs to do.
“Coming Annie!” Louis calls back, his body is half way out of the cubicle.
Marcel bites his cheek, beginning to roll his chair back under his desk.
Louis’ is unwinding the towel from Marcel’s hand, running his fingertips through the front of Marcel’s swoop with a half smile and then his going toward the exit of the cubicle.
His foot kicks up the locks of the wheels on his coffee cart, and he’s doing that cute half smile Marcel loves when he says “Bye M” and begins to push his cart through the rest of the cubicles on Marcel’s floor before he’s heading toward the elevator.
Marcel would curse himself, if he ever cursed that is, for not spilling his tea earlier. And like ninety-five percent of the time after Louis is gone, his head is swimming and he can smell Louis’ shampoo and he doesn’t get anything done.
___
When 4pm rolls around, everyone on his floor is gone except Marcel- who’d been phoned for at 2:30 and given a task that “only he could do”- which Marcel probably thinks means, “you’re the only one who would actually do it”.
He’s in the middle of checking his grammar on the word document when there is a knock on the side of his cubicle. “Yes.” He calls.
It takes him a minute to register that no one responds back to him, he stops his intense re-reading of the same paragraph and turns around.
He gasps, because all his sees before his eyes are closing and there are lips pressed to his are the familiar blue eyes.
Louis is kissing him. His has himself sat on Marcel’s legs, thighs trapping him, and he is holding both sides of his face as his kisses him. Marcel sits there dumbly, his hands stuck gripping either armrest of his chair and Louis is kissing him for a good thirty seconds before he actually comprehends and begins kissing him back.
Marcel doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing, but when they break away for air- Louis is grinning down at him and Marcel feels dizzy and more than a little high.
“I meant to do that earlier.” Louis whispers, and his voice is more raspy yet softer around the edges. And Marcell nods because he knows what he means. And Louis is getting up off Marcel’s lap and sitting on his desk and looking at the books he has.
“Umm. Lou” He stutters, because he is actually there wringing his hands together and grinning as he sits on Marcel’s desk and that’s all he’s ever really wanted.
Marcel doesn’t finish his sentence, because he’s getting up from his chair and cupping Louis’ face and he’s kissing him- and Marcel mentally corrects himself, because that was all he’s ever really wanted.