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If there was ever a time that was the absolute, uncontested worst time to come with basically no provocation, Olruggio thought, of course he would be the unlucky witch to discover exactly what that moment was.
Qifrey stared down at him, eye wide, and— Olly wasn't sure whether to thank him or kill him— did not move from where his thigh was pressed between Olly's legs and his body held Olly down against the floor of Beldaruit's atelier.
Not quite halfway across the room, Beldaruit crossed his arms and frowned at the apprentices roughhousing on the floor (as far as he could tell). "Really, Qifrey, you don't have to be so childish about it. Let poor Olruggio get up, you brute."
"I'm fine," Olly lied, his cracking voice betraying him. "Qifrey won this one, I definitely lost." He thanked his lucky stars that the older witch apparently hadn't realized exactly why Olly had cried out so loudly. Qifrey absolutely had realized, and— Olly bit back a gasp as his friend pressed a little harder against Olly's already-ruined leggings— as usual, he was not going to let an opportunity to make Olly suffer escape untaken.
"Boys these days," Beldaruit sighed. "When I was your age, I never wrestled my friends on the floor."
"When you were my age you were already in a sealchair," Qifrey pointed out, looking up to make a face at his master. "I'm not going to hurt him, you don't have to watch us like that."
"I wasn't planning on staying," Beldaruit said. "I just wanted to let you know that I'll be out with Vinanna late tonight. I'd say behave, but what would be the point?"
"None whatsoever," Qifrey said pleasantly. "Bye, Master. Don't drink so much you walk your sealchair into a wall again."
"That was once, ages ago," Beldaruit said, his voice growing fainter as he left the atelier, "I knew I never should have told you about that…"
When the door closed behind him, Olruggio pushed at Qifrey's shoulders with all the strength left in him. "Get off me."
"Yeah," Qifrey said, scrambling off only to resume staring at Olly from right beside him. "So, um, you—"
"Can we please not discuss this," Olly sighed, wondering if he might possibly drop dead if he just wished for it to happen hard enough.
"I'd say yes if you hadn't just come when I pinned you down," Qifrey said in his best trying-to-be-reasonable voice. "Did I, uh… was that my fault, or…?"
"No," Olly lied. "I'm just oversensitive. We're teenagers, you should get that. Don't worry about it."
Qifrey looked… disappointed? That couldn't be right. "Oh," he said, "okay, yeah. Never mind, then."
Olly pushed himself up to sitting, grimacing at the sticky mess cooling in his leggings now that Qifrey's body heat wasn't pressed there too. "Could I maybe borrow some clothes though?"
"Yeah. Um, I'll give them to you through the bathroom door."
Scurrying off to said room like something small and guilty, Olly dropped his head against the wall and groaned. Yeah, he was definitely going to admit that it was completely Qifrey's fault he went off like a shot the second Qifrey's leg had pressed between Olly's. Right before he walked into the ocean, Qifrey style, taking his pathetic lust for his best friend to the bottom of the ocean where he belonged.
"Olly?" A tap on the door preceded Qifrey's hand poking through holding a pair of white leggings. "Here."
"Cheers," Olly said, snatching them and only then peeling off his ruined ones, which he used to wipe himself more or less clean before donning the replacements. When he came out, his own clothing balled up in one hand, he found Qifrey leaning on the opposite wall waiting for him.
"Are you sure it wasn't my fault?"
"You're actin' like you want me to say it was," Olly said. The way Qifrey's face reddened was enough of an answer. "Why, were you tryin' to make me embarrass myself like that?"
"I was— no, not like that, just—" Qifrey looked down at his folded hands, fingers laced nervously. "You, um. Kind of said my name."
"No shit, you'd just tackled me." Olly swallowed. "No. Just drop it, will you?"
"Okay, Olly," Qifrey murmured. "Sorry. I thought maybe— never mind."
"Thought maybe what? Do I owe you one, now?" Olly meant it to come out scathing. It sounded more like pleading.
Qifrey stared at him silently for a moment before abruptly turning away. "Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed. "Like you could ever knock me down like that." The back of his neck was bright red. For one instant of pure insanity, Olly imagined pressing his lips there.
"Course not," he said roughly. "Not unless you let me."
The ensuing silence was deafening.