Chapter 7: How to date a molecule
Alfred thought it would have been very awkward to go on a date with the guy he'd had a wet dream about the previous night. That he would die of mortification, the evidence of his escapades written on his more than guilty forehead. Well, awkward it was. Only, for all the wrong reasons. The first being his brother of course, who had not only shown up right when things started getting a little interesting, but who had also thoroughly yanked the ears off his head with questions when he attempted to leave for his lunch date in neat clothes. Secondly, there was the fact that Ivan was completely ignoring him.
Technically, Alfred should be used to it by now. Used to the Russian saving his attention for his work instead of for Alfred. Still, he had hoped Ivan would show a little more interest now that they had sort of bonded. At this rate, Ivan wouldn't be his before the blond had finished his studies, and Alfred was anything but a patient man.
"What are you looking at?" Ivan asked suddenly, without tearing his gaze from the papers. It was like he had invisible eyes on top of his head!
"Nothing, not you!" Alfred quickly peeped, cold sweat breaking out. Ivan looked up for just a moment, eyes filled with mirth, before immediately looking back down to continue his work. Alfred sighed in relief, and then felt a pang of annoyance. He wanted Ivan to pay attention to him, not his stupid work!
"So…you come here often?" the blond attempted to start a conversation, letting his gaze trail over the busily chattering heads of his fellow students and a few stray professors. With a shock he realised Ivan had opted for a table at the side of the large room—maybe to give them some privacy? On the other hand, if Ivan had chosen a table in the centre, Alfred would have reasoned it away as Ivan showing off his date, so it was a win-win situation for Alfred regardless of the Russian's true intentions.
"Only when I forget to bring lunch," Ivan mumbled over the papers he was correcting. A small tsk escaped those fine lips, and Alfred felt a goofy smile grow when the other frowned and bent over to indicate a mistake with his red pen, the boy loving that little frown and a flash of pink tongue slipping over the man's lower lip. He had it so, so incredibly bad.
"I could bring you lunch if you forget your own," Alfred mumbled breathlessly, eyes clinging to the other's form.
"What?" Ivan asked, blinking as he looked up, obviously not really focused on his companion.
Alfred's mouth opened, wanting to laugh it off as a joke, then closed. He swallowed. "I-I mean, if you forget to bring lunch again, I could go get you some, so you won't have to lose time. That way you're done earlier in the evening!" (And we can go on more dates.)
Ivan stared at him incredulously, as if Alfred was the biggest moron he'd ever seen. "How would you know when I forget to bring it? We do not have chemistry every day. You would have to go out of your way and check on me every day around lunchtime if you wanted to fulfil that promise."
Before Alfred could respond with a "no problem, my pleasure!", Ivan leant in, eyes big and dark and oh God why was he leaning in was this it?
"Would it not hurt your own studies if you were to involve yourself with such a tedious task?" He jabbed the pen at Alfred's chest, and Alfred was certain the other could hear his heart thundering out of his body.
"I have enough time to study!" he squeaked. Coughing into his hand, he leant forward as well, enthusiastically continuing his rambles. "Think about it, there's only pros to this idea! No more running to the cafeteria, meaning more time for your work, Igettoseeyoueveryday, you can finish up at more human times, and really I'd be—"
"What was that?"
Alfred blinked. "What was what?"
"That part in the middle."
Sweat.
"What part."
"About you seeing me every day."
Waterfall running down his neck.
"Uh…"
"What is that about? Are you certain this is not an elaborate plan to further occupy my time and make sure I lose my job?"
Alfred was ready to start apologising, pleading for his life, he knew he'd screwed it up—until he saw the mirth in Ivan's eyes. He was joking. Ivan Braginsky was actually joking! Huh. What do you know.
Alfred grinned widely as he bent over the table, hands placed on top. "Oh yeah, definitely!" But just as he steeled himself for another funny response, or, who knows, maybe a hint of flirtation? Ivan sat back up again, diving head-first into his paperwork once more.
"That would be very bad. Now please, finish your meal. I have to go back lest I waste even more time."
And just like that, he began packing his things, placing his unfinished sandwich between strong teeth as he rose. Alfred stared at him open-mouthed, feeling himself shrink a little as he was so coldly left behind. Had he said something wrong? Had that joke not been a joke after all? What had happened to suddenly ruin the perfect mood? He thought he was finally getting the hang of it, dammit!
He felt himself shrivel even further as Ivan hurried off, not looking back once, his half-empty cup of tea abandoned before the blond's shimmering eyes and quivering lip.
