Chapter 12: No reaction/Chain reaction

Alfred was quietly setting up the experiment for today's class. His hands were quivering, and he continuously had to steady his grip in order not to break anything. Ivan hadn't arrived yet. Which meant he was either still sick, waiting to make a dramatic entrance, or…or he was pissed.

Which he couldn't be—he simply wasn't allowed to! Alfred had confessed his feelings, and, and…didn't he deserve Ivan's love now? Or at least his not-being-disinterested? He had said he would do his best to win Ivan's love. The least his Russian sweetheart could do was give him a chance. There was simply no other way—he felt something like a hot coal in his throat at the mere thought of Ivan not wanting to have anything to do with him. What if last night's kiss had been the only one he'd ever get, both the first and last sweet taste of those feather-soft lips?

"Dammit," he cursed, letting out a hiss when he did almost drop an Erlenmeyer. They hadn't even gotten past first base yet! He was never going to live through this sexual frustration if Ivan gave up on him now. He was—

The sound of a door creaking open. Alfred whirled towards it, the item this time slipping through his fingers for real. The sound of breaking glass didn't rise above the distant white noise in his ears as he looked at Ivan wide-eyed, the other staring back, still standing in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob.

Several seconds passed like that, before amethyst pools wandered down, a fine frown finding its way to his face. "You broke something. You will have to pay for that yourself, you know."

Alfred seemed to snap out of some sort of trance, gasping and instantly kneeling down to start picking up the pieces. "I-I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention…I'll take care of it, no worries!"

Ivan rolled his eyes, then closed the door behind him and walked further in. Alfred secretly continued watching him as he scraped the pieces of his broken heart together—uh, broken instrument, that is. Ivan didn't seem to behave any different than he did on other days, the fever having disappeared from his round cheeks, gaze focussed on something playing in his mind and his alone. His step was heavy and purposeful, and he didn't spare Alfred a single glance.

Finishing up and throwing all the shards into the garbage bin, Alfred scraped his throat. "So you're feeling better then?"

Ivan was unpacking his things, back turned towards him "Da, much better. It was simply a cold."

"Good, good," Alfred said distractedly, heart fluttering anxiously. "You managed to get that work done?"

Another curd nod, Ivan obviously not paying much attention to him. Alfred felt some of his usual bravado shrink to the size of a grape, dropping through the bottom of his stomach. Still, he was nothing if not persistent, and he refused to leave things at that. Vagueness and guessing had never been his forte, after all. The world was for the brave.

He scraped his throat. "So uh…about last night—"

Ivan pointed somewhere behind him, not even bothering to look around. "Can you get my lab coat for me?"

Alfred blinked, followed the finger to a conspicuous white coat, innocently waiting to be worn. When Ivan wagged his finger insistently, he seemed to become aware that he had muscles, and jerkily moved forward. "Oh—right. Sure. Gotcha."

The blond quickly walked over and gathered the garment in his arms, eyes never leaving that broad, slightly hunched back. As he was walking towards him, he let out a shaky chuckle. "So uh, as I was saying, about—"

Ivan held out his hand, cutting the other off. Alfred felt the raisin sink through several layers of intestines as he parted with the coat, watching how Ivan slid it on in one fluid motion. As he did so, his formless sweater was hunched up ever so slightly, revealing a patch of milky white plush above the rim of his pants. Immediately Alfred felt his blood boil and resolve harden.

"Ivan, I really wanna talk to you about—"

"We should get ready for class," Ivan mumbled, more to himself than to Alfred, as if he was barely aware of the other's presence. He turned back to the table, inspecting the equipment.

Alfred scowled, running around to appear at the man's other side. "Yo Ivan, what I'm trying to say is that—"

"Where did I put my papers?" Ivan whispered, once again turning his head. This time, Alfred snapped.

Scooting to the other side of the desk, he angrily slammed his hands down on the surface. The loud bang echoed throughout the empty room, resonating from hollow walls. Finally, the other turned his head just enough for electric blue to clash with burning amethyst, one bearing a look of surprise, the other donning one of impatience.

"Ivan Braginsky, don't ignore me!"

Ivan blinked owlishly, then shrugged one shoulder. "I wasn't trying to ignore you," he simply said, but Alfred could see the hint of apprehensiveness behind his tepid demeanour.

Alfred balled his hands to fists, growling. "Dammit, if you're that bothered by me kissing you, you should just spit it out!"

Ivan defiantly crossed his arms, averting his gaze with an air of self-inflicted antipathy. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

Alfred only felt himself grow more agitated with each passing second, each action of avoiding the subject, avoiding him, the revulsion having come straight out of nowhere. He felt like shoving all equipment from the desk in a dramatic gesture, but his wallet couldn't exactly afford that. So instead, he walked around it again, coming to stand right in front of his idol, his tutor, his friend and most of all, desired love interest. Ivan had to look at him.

"You don't wanna talk about it, or you feel like there is nothing to talk about?" Alfred asked for clarification, voice fiercer than ever. "Because it did happen, whether you like it or not!"

Finally, Ivan lost his cool. It happened just like that, like snapping your fingers, blinking. One moment he was still avoiding Alfred's gaze, mouth twitching with annoyance, fingers drumming on his arm. The next, he was towering over the smaller boy, eyes cold and dark and smouldering, the wide clothes hanging about him only making him seem more of a dangerous predator ready to strike.

Alfred momentarily forgot how to breathe. Oh God, if only Ivan were to take him right then, right there, he wouldn't even care if he was killed after. How could one man both be adorably blundering and wildly erotic?

"Tell me, Alfred," the Russian hissed, mother tongue slipping into his tones, making Alfred melt even more. He only hoped his expression wasn't too slutty right now—but seeing as Ivan was still mad, he was probably in luck.

"What exactly do you hope to gain from kissing me?"

At these words, Alfred paused. Was that question…for real? Wasn't it plain and painfully obvious for the world to see? However, Ivan seemed serious, not letting down the fierce façade he'd set up for one bit.

"Um…" Alfred tried, eyes shifting left and right. "Like…maybe for you to kiss me back would be nice?" That was usually the expectation.

Ivan slammed his hand down on the desk, making the glass vials and tubes shake ominously. Alfred had performed the exact same action just a moment ago, and yet it seemed so much more intimidating when Ivan did it.

"Is this a joke to you? Are my troubles funny?"

Alfred slowly began putting his hands up, shaking his head. "Dude, I seriously have no idea what you're talking abou—"

"Yesterday!" Ivan's voice almost shook the room with its intensity. "I was sick, I let you into the safety of my apartment. I tell you secrets I have never told anyone before." Something became more emotional in his hardened glare, almost fragile, delicately dancing the line of what was said and what was meant. "You took advantage of my moment of weakness, to, to…to what?! Did you have hidden camera?"

"No!"

"Then did you simply want to force a first kiss upon me, because it is pathetic for someone my age not to have kissed before?"

"No—I mean, well I—"

Ivan grabbed the other by the collar, almost lifting him off the ground. Their noses were mere inches apart, and Alfred could count Ivan's eyelashes.

"Tell me the truth. What other intentions could you have? Why on earth would you pester me like that, after making me think you were my friend, after—" He could go on. On and on and on, until there was nothing but emptiness left. He wanted to vent it all onto his lab partner, his only friend in this entire institute, or at least, that's what he had thought. How naïve of him, how childlike in hope and dreams.

Luckily, Alfred thought differently.

"Ivan!" he said, boldly capturing the other's shoulders, gaze unfaltering as he braved the storm of Ivan's rage. "I have literally no idea why you'd think I would kiss you just to make fun of you, or whatever else you were thinking. I told you exactly what I feel yesterday! It wasn't a lie, wasn't a joke, I really, really, like you!"

Ivan's expression became more stubborn, not bothering to put Alfred to the ground just yet. "Liar. You are simply playing again."

"No way!" Alfred yelped, leaning forward in an attempt to kiss him a second time. Now Ivan did let go, if only to step back.

"Stop that!" he hissed, sound like angry wasps buzzing in his mouth.

Alfred spread his arms wide, a gesture of open surrender. "I have no idea how I could make it more clear to you! I like you! I would love to go on dates with you! What's so weird about that?"

Ivan glared at him with tiny slits for eyes, calculating. He slowly tilted his head to the side. "How can I trust you are telling the truth?" he asked suspiciously, tasting every vowel as if he hadn't even begun to think of the implications of Alfred actually liking him—what that would mean for him as a person.

"You're just gonna have to trust me," Alfred said, feeling like his life depended on Ivan accepting the truth for what it was. He honestly couldn't believe he had been worrying about Ivan rejecting him just a few minutes ago, and in truth, he couldn't for the life of him figure out whether this outcome was better or worse.

"I said I wanted to work with you. And I started to work with you. And tell me—have I let you down on that part?"

Ivan tilted his head to the other side. "…I suppose not."

"Good. Then I tell you I wanna be your friend. I wanna know about you, and spend time with you. Tell me Ivan, what did I do to keep to that promise?"

Ivan's anger began to melt a little, making place for a borderline captivating confusion. "You…asked me questions about me and tried to spend time with me." It was as if slowly, there was something of an idea, a tiny bud, that had only now begun to develop in his mind.

Alfred took a step closer, deeming it safe to approach the beast now that it had calmed down a bit. His heart was still hammering furiously against his ribs, probably bruising them on the inside. It was worth it. He prayed to God it was worth it.

"And now," he said, looking straight up, into those eyes that were wide with wonder, just a moment ago having been so hot they could kill. "I'm telling you I'd like to date you. I wanna kiss you, and be with you, and have se-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…perate experiments with you that aren't for class!" Nice save. Real smooth. He was a lady killer. Of guys.

Only, he wasn't smooth enough. Because Ivan was gaping at him open-mouthed, cheeks first pink, then a deep crimson, a stark contrast to the pale porcelain his skin was made of.

"You want to do what with me?" he asked, as if the mere concept was completely alien to him.

Only, before Alfred could even think about explaining himself, the door was opened and the first of his classmates began filing into the room. Ivan was still staring, and Alfred felt like his own face was more than a little warm. Were they matching right now?

A couple of curious stares were sent their way. His toes felt numb. Were toes supposed to do that? Was this how you confessed your undying boner for you one true love?

Was the second Deadpool going to be as good as the first one?

God only knew.