You can blame my 6 year old sister for the line about peeling carrots. She does that when I'm trying to cook. It's most irritating.
"Robbie? Are you avoiding me?" Sportacus called as he slid out of the tube into the main room of Robbie's residence and vaulted over the chair. The chair was, rather unusually, unoccupied, as Robbie was over at a bench, inventing ... something.
"'M busy," he replied.
"You haven't been out in three days."
"I just said, I'm busy. I might be a genius, but sometimes things take time to do."
"Funny, because your sudden onslaught of work isn't the only odd occurrence of the last three days. Stephanie hasn't mentioned baby photos once, even though for the week before she nagged me for one every time she saw me. Also, my ship logged a 'voice print not recognised' error three days ago, and the last time it did that was when you nearly crashed it into the Mayor's house." He crossed his arms over his chest and glared sternly at Robbie.
"Stephanie decided that since you weren't giving up a baby photo, she was going to take one. She talked me into helping her break into the airship, and ... we discovered why you were keeping the baby photos from us."
"You've been avoiding me because you found out I'm trans," Sportacus said coldly, though his heart was in his boots.
"No! Of course not. I really am very busy." He put the mallet down. "It's not working right. I'm considering asking Pixel for help." He rolled his shoulders a few times to loosen them, to no apparent effect.
"Come here," Sportacus said, tugging him in the direction of the catwalk, positioning him in front of the bottom step, and standing on the step to massage his shoulders.
"Ooh," Robbie cooed, going so liquid that Sportacus suspected only the hands on his shoulders were keeping him upright. "I don't suppose you'd consider being my live-in masseuse," he suggested, as Sportacus continued to rub the tension away.
"I already have a day job, I'm afraid," Sportacus replied.
"I'm sure you could fit in a massage or two between rescues."
"I can do that anyway if you ask nicely, no need to employ me to do it."
"How do you manage to be so nice all the time? Even when I want to be sociable, I end up grumpy after not very long, and I have to leave."
"We're different people, that's all. I need to help people, always have. I drove my mother crazy when I was young, wanting to help her cook, but not doing a very good job. Peeling away half the carrot, but still managing to leave skin, that sort of thing. I suspect I'd have ended up doing something like this even if Mama and Papa hadn't adopted me, putting me in line to be Sportacus Ten."
Robbie turned around, his grey, purple-painted eyes hooded in a manner half-way between seductive and lethargic. Sportacus had gotten used to pretending to not notice Robbie's advances, and it took him a second to realise that Robbie knew now, so the professional need to remain closeted no longer meant that he had to avoid this particular intimate attachment. They moved into each other's arms, the step equalising their heights so that Robbie didn't need to bend over. Eyes closed, lips about to touch, heart beating so fast in anticipation, and ... the crystal went off. They startled apart, both staring at the glowing crystal momentarily.
"Sorry. Got to go," Sportacus said, dropped a peck on Robbie's lips, and ran off.
Yes, I'm evil. Bwahaha. More soonish.