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Saps, Flux notes with irritation, is late. Again.
It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last, and when he sweeps in some time later with a wash of warm air and a jingle of the bell above the door, that irritation - frustratingly enough - drains away faster than water through a sieve.
Saps’ shaggy mop of white hair falls across his forehead in waves, heedless of the hot weather, freckles smattered across the bridge of his nose like stars against his tan skin and his golden eyes find Flux with a startling accuracy.
It’s unprofessional, Flux thinks, the tardiness, his presentation, and he sweeps his gaze over Saps: his worn cargo shorts, his faded t-shirt, the loose button up thrown on top. His hands are adorned in rings and a silver chain sits around his neck. He looks like he’s dressed to go run some errands, or maybe to a backyard barbeque, not like he’s handling thousands of dollars’ worth of precious metals and stones.
All of it stands in stark contrast to Flux’s own outfit - his long dark dress trousers and pressed deep purple button up. Flux likes to hold his employees to the same standards, but Saps technically isn’t his employee. He’s been freelancing for as long as Flux has known him, moving through elite circles to source his most upscale stock. Anything from vintage rings to art deco pieces to old Edwardian jewellery.
Still, he muses, it’s also unprofessional for him to be staring at his not really employee like this.
Flux looks away, chest stuttering and notices with that same years old irritation that swells back to life with force, that Saps hasn’t actually got the new stock with him.
“Didn’t fancy actually bringing anything in with you?” he asks dryly, eyebrow raising.
Saps grins, that honey crooked one that has Flux’s heart skipping a beat, eyes crinkling up in the corners. “I knew I was forgetting something. Do you want to give me a hand?”
Staring at him, Flux can’t help the incredulous look that slides over his features, trying to work out Saps’ motive. At most he’ll come back in with a bag, maybe a box. It’s not something he needs help with at all, there’s no reason he should be asking in the first place. And honestly, Flux is not keen on leaving his nice, air-conditioned shop floor for the sticky streets and blazing sun. “Not particularly.”
“You’re no fun,” he pouts playfully, stepping closer to Flux until they’re almost chest to chest. “Really, you look like you haven’t gone outside in months. Some sun would look good on you.”
Flux pinks at the brashness of his words, acutely aware of the heat pouring off Saps’ body, the citrussy undercurrent of his aftershave. “I’m perfectly happy in here thank you,” he replies staunchly, trying to will away the sudden rush of blood rising in his cheeks.
Saps nods slowly, eyes wandering down Flux’s chest, something unreadable in his gaze. He pinches the fabric of Flux’s shirt between his forefinger and thumb, and Flux is abruptly torn between wanting to pull him closer, press a bruising kiss to his lips or smack him away, complaining about how long he’s spent ironing this shirt only for Saps to come along and crease it.
He does neither, caught in the indecision when Saps speaks, voice low, “I love this colour, it really brings out your eyes.”
The air between them turns electric and charged, and Flux has never been so grateful that his shop is empty right now. He has a consultation in an hour but right now he feels two seconds away from giving in to his first thought; of shoving Saps up against the closest wall, fingers tangling through his stupid unprofessional t-shirt as their lips slide over one another in a hot press of lust and hunger.
The shiver that runs down his spine is embarrassingly visible, the flush suffusing through his cheeks only darkening and Saps smirks at him. He’s been caught, they both know it. This attraction, a live wire tension between them, sparking and deadly has been building for months. Longer than Flux can ignore it, and Saps has only been getting bolder with it.
Swatting Saps’ hand away, Flux manages to keep his voice even. “Go and get the stuff out of your van, you idiot. I’ll meet you in my office.”
And with that he pivots on his heel, heart pounding, resolutely ignoring any kind of retort Saps can come up with until he’s out of earshot.
Away from Saps’ prying eyes, the cool dark air of his office washes over him as he steps in, woodsy and calming. He takes a breath, trying to calm his heart down to something approaching normal and turns on the lamp sat on his antique wooden desk. The dark leather top is in pristine condition and he runs his hand across it, the texture ridged under his fingertips. He’s worked hard to keep it in good condition, and its sturdy solid frame has been home to many of his meetings with Saps.
Flux drops into his chair and fights the urge to bury his face in his hands, left to wonder what the fuck he’s actually doing with Saps. They’ve been dancing around one another for so long that it all feels a little ridiculous. Like a string pulled taut, on the edge of snapping, and all Flux needs to do is respond to the white-hot signals Saps has been sending out like flares. Warring indecision plagues him, and it leaves them suspended in an agonising limbo, too afraid to take the leap and tip the scales in their favour.
Speak of the devil, Saps lets himself in, a box balanced in one hand, halting Flux’s thoughts in their tracks. He places it down beside the desk and digs through it with careful hands, plucking out the items he wants. When they’re all spread across the surface in front of Flux, Saps settles into the comfy leather chair across from him, legs stretching out to knock into Flux’s foot. He doesn’t move away.
“I think you’re really going to like this selection. I've done good,” Saps says, leaning back with a satisfied look. It borders on the verge of smug, and Flux would like nothing more than to wipe it off his face. With either a punch or a kiss, he doesn’t care.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he warns, but lurking just below the surface he already knows Saps will have done well. He’s got a knack for it and it’s one of the main reasons Flux keeps him around. Him being easy on the eyes is just an added bonus.
They get to work. Slipping into business mode is a cloak they both wear well, the teasing, flirtatious banter fizzling out as they parse through the pieces Saps has curated. They’ve worked alongside one another long enough that sometimes it feels like Saps has crawled inside Flux’s mind and made a home there. Like he’s picked through the scattered images and thoughts and twisted them into something tangible. He knows exactly what Flux looks for in a piece, and every time he comes back with something better.
Inspecting them closely, Flux can’t help the lick of satisfaction coiling in his chest. There’s a range of rings across eras, across price brackets, different styles and cuts and stones. All real, sourced authentically, and haggled down to a decent price by the sharp man in front of him. They sparkle and glint in the soft lamplight. Despite it all, there truly is no one else Flux would trust enough with this job.
Flux’s favourite piece of the lot turns out to be a striking art deco ring: white gold, set with a hexagonal garnet. The stone is mounted in delicate lace filigree, but it’s the deep wine red that sets it apart from all the others. Flux’s clients mainly come to him for engagement rings, unique and vintage, something that can’t be found at a regular high-end store, and this stunning piece fits right in.
“I've saved the best ‘til last,” Saps cuts through the easy silence, eyes bright.
“Is that so?” he hums, attention still drawn to the ring in his hand.
Looking up, Flux notes the tap of Saps’ fingers against the arm of his chair, a curious tic. The ring joins the others, back in the ornate box Saps pulled it out of.
“Yes. Come here.”
Flux gets up and moves to the other side of the desk, perching on the edge of it. Suddenly, he’s towering above Saps, and he catches the bob of his throat as Saps swallows, his fleeting golden gaze flickering up to meet Flux’s before he digs into his pocket.
The ring box he pushes into Flux’s hand is simple, a velvet black and Flux doesn’t know what to expect. Saps has never done this before. He’s straying from their routine, and the continuing tap of his finger leaves Flux wanting to reach out and close his hand around Saps’.
With trepidation, Flux unlatches the clasp and flicks it open. He inhales, staring at the white gold ring, a purple emerald cut stone framed by smaller black stones. They’re set into a wide, delicately engraved band, the contours of the metal meeting in a gentle V shape around the purple stone. It looks to be more modern than the rest of his collection but it’s gorgeous. Sourcing more masculine rings is always more difficult and Flux imagines it would’ve taken Saps hours to find.
“Holy shit,” he breathes.
“It’s not for your shop,” Saps says softly, the tapping finally falling still to scratch at his arm instead.
Flux tears his gaze away from the box. A piece like this could fetch thousands. “What do you mean?”
A pause. Saps swallows. “I bought it for you.”
“For me?”
“Yeah. You always have so much coming through, but you never keep any of it for yourself, even when you fall in love with something. I just- I don’t know,” he falters. “I saw it and I thought of you.”
"That's- wow. How much was it?"
Saps shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. It's a gift."
"You can't be serious; this would've cost a fortune." He holds it up to the light, watches it warp and refract. "Purple sapphire and onyx?"
"Yeah. I thought it'd go nicely with your signet ring."
Sliding it onto his middle finger, he's not surprised to find it fits like a glove. And Saps is right, it does match perfectly with his onyx signet ring. The new chunky, engraved band offsets the thinner, vintage one he wears on his pinkie finger. It's the only piece he's allowed himself to keep, a little gift to himself after the first few weeks of opening the shop.
"It's beautiful Saps, thank you," he murmurs, chest feeling strangely tight.
"Let's see it." Saps reaches out, his fingers closing delicately around Flux's, twisting his hand so the ring shines under the light. Flux's breath catches at the contact, a burning heat radiating from Saps' skin. It's such a candid gesture, yet Flux can feel himself go hot under the collar, drawn to the way his pale skin stands out against Saps' palm.
Looking up, he finds Saps' golden eyes boring into him, soft and so heart wrenchingly sincere that Flux can't help it. It's like gravity pulls him in as he leans down, fingers tangling through Saps' shirt and he makes a small noise as their lips meet, arching up to meet Flux, hands settling on his waist.
Everything's burning: Saps' mouth against his, his fingers clenching tighter around Flux's hips, the heat building under his collar only intensifying and they kiss like they're starving, like they'll never break for air again. The ring sits heavy on Flux's finger and he presses closer to Saps as all those instants, all the flirting and stolen glances narrow down into this moment right here, right now.
When they part, breathing heavy in the quiet air, a rosiness to Saps' cheeks, Flux looks away. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."
Saps tilts his head, kiss-pink lips curving into a soft smile. "I've got some idea."
Rolling his eyes, Flux straightens, smoothing down the front of his shirt. On instinct, he leans forward and sweeps a stray strand of hair out of Saps' face, marvelling at just how silky it is. He wants nothing more than to sink his fingers into it and capture Saps’ mouth again. Instead, Flux runs a thumb over Saps' cheekbone, freckles disappearing under his touch and Saps' heavy gaze bores into him. It feels like he’s pulling Flux apart and examining the inner workings of his soul. Under the scrutiny, Flux pulls back, settling against his desk once more.
"Thank you for all of these. You've done a lovely job as usual."
"I told you," Saps says roguishly, hooking his foot around Flux's ankle in an effort to drag him closer. Flux lets him, but some of that confidence seems to drain away as Saps chews on his lip, and Flux can almost see the cogs turning in his mind. A moment later, softer, he says, "There's an exclusive trading floor in the city next week and I was just thinking, do you want to come to it with me? It's invite only and they'll have some insanely rare gems there and I know you’ve had a couple of designs in mind-"
“Are you asking me out on a date?” Flux teases, and there’s something so endearing about seeing Saps this flustered.
“I- well, yes, I was thinking of it as a date. If you’d like it to be,” he answers cautiously.
"I'd love to.” A tension Flux hadn’t noticed suddenly leeches from Saps’ shoulders as he takes a quiet breath, avoiding Flux’s gaze. The tips of his ears have gone red. Emboldened, Flux grins. “You’re cute you know.”
Gaze snapping back, Saps immediately denies it. “I am not cute!”
Flux laughs at the put out look on his face. “You are. You’re all bold and flirty and then the second it actually comes to asking me out you get all shy. That’s cute.”
“Fuck off,” he retorts, getting to his feet. Saps crowds in close, their positions effectively reversed and now it’s Flux looking up at Saps. He’s everywhere all at once and in seconds Flux has lost any upper hand he had. Voice low, Saps says, “And I’m certainly not shy.”
“Whatever you say,” he breathes, their faces only inches apart.
Flux leans into Saps’ hands when they slide down his sides, completely past caring about his meticulously ironed shirt. His eyes keep flicking down to Flux’s lips, and more than anything he’d like to stay here and lose the afternoon with Saps, but there’s things to do around the shop and he’s got a client coming in less than twenty minutes. He pulls back before Saps can close the distance between them.
“Nope,” Flux says, placing a hand against Saps’ chest. He pushes Saps away gently, catching the tiny frown that immediately forms. “Come help me list these rings so I can get them out on the shop floor."
“You’ve literally got employees to do that,” Saps grumbles, but he follows Flux anyway, reaching out to grab hold of Flux’s hand. His thumb sweeps over the new band settled there.