Semi-Planned

“Valentine’s Day,” Veyron repeated Saim’el’s words slowly, “And you want to celebrate it.” He’d meant for the end of that sentence to be a question, but his disbelief had given him away and it ended on a flat, disapproving plateau. “You want the date, dinner, and the… the, I don’t know what. Is that it?” He asked again, just to be sure.

“You heard me,” Saim’el said with the casual disregard of a person with the world at their feet. ‘We’re going to celebrate Valentine’s Day’, he had said, and he didn’t doubt this for a second, not even when Veyron hadn’t moved a muscle from his position on the sofa. Well, Veyron wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to move.

Well, what was he going to do? Find Saim’el a date? In his dreams! Come on, Veyron liked to be forthcoming. He liked to coddle Saim’el, despite the other having been an alien soldier before he encroached on Veyron’s home. And yes, Veyron knew that this was because of his sympathies, and he would’ve gone to the ends of the world for anything Saim’el wanted, but getting him a date was where he drew the line. Because it was one thing to want and yearn from a distance, but it was entirely another to set himself up for heartbreak on purpose.

He wouldn’t do it. Saim’el would have to make do on his own.

“As my Candoris guide,” Saim’el said every single time he wanted to wheedle something out of Veyron, “You have to show me all of the traditions you have here. You failed to tell me anything about Valentine’s Day.”

Of course, Veyron thought, dismayed, annoyance mounting. I didn’t want you to find someone to celebrate with suddenly. But he couldn’t very well tell him that, could he?

“It’s a stupid holiday,” he said instead, “I don’t celebrate it or anything.”

“Oh well, that’s a lie,” Saim’el casually accused, then decided to encroach on Veyron’s personal space as he did on his apartment. He sat right next to Veyron, then placed his legs in his lap, and then took to playing with Veyron’s fluffy tail, because of course he did, and Veyron let him because he liked it. Because he would take affection where he could get it. “I didn’t make the connection at first, but seven months ago you spoke about some incredibly romantic dates you went on for Valentine’s Day. Cassio was being very rude about it.”

“She’s rude about everything,” Veyron managed to grind out and then swatted at Saim’el’s hand when the man pinched his knee unprovoked. “What does this have to do with you celebrating Valentine’s?”

And he remembered something from seven months ago?! Veyron hated this man’s memory. It was possible — even likely — that he commented something so long ago, and it would’ve been the absolute truth. Would Saim’el let him have no peace?!

“It has everything to do with Valentine’s Day. See, I made us a reservation some time ago in a place you said you liked when he talked about seafood restaurants,” Saim’el said. That had been ages ago. That had been — that had been when Saim’el first arrived in Candoris, literal years ago, “I even got to pick a table because I was early.”

Yeah, and Veyron wasn’t bitter at all as he sifted through his memories and tried to remember when Saim’el had said he liked anyone. And well, it was hard. Saim’el liked everyone and everyone liked him. But when had he had the time to meet someone who Veyron didn’t know? Was it during the Arma Caeli attack? It was possible. Stressful situations could make people closer.

“Hey, don’t be angry,” Saim’el said. Veyron schooled his expression into careful neutrality. His bitterness had managed to seep through. “Okay, this was supposed to be a surprise, but I gave our keys to an agency, and they’ll come and clean up and pretty up everything while we’re on a date. I would’ve gotten Cassio and Selena to do it, but you know they’re busy and—”

“And what about me?!” Veyron asked in the end, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. “Fine, you go on a date, you have your romantic dinner and you bring your date back to the prettied-up apartment and all and— fine, you do it. What about me? Where do I go?”

This is my apartment, he wanted to say, You can’t do that here. You can’t do that to me.

But he couldn’t say it, couldn’t be that selfish. He could only be jealous.

Saim’el shot him a look of surprise. And then his eyes widened, though the effect was always a little different than usual because of his darkened sclera.

“Shit,” he said, and then silence.

It stretched on for minutes. It stretched for so long that something uncomfortable started prickling at the back of Veyron’s neck, but when he went to move from his spot across Saim’el’s lap, Saim’el didn’t let him.

“Veyron,” he said very slowly, probably after he’d gathered his thoughts. “What the hell, Veyron? You’d be with me.”

He sounded dead serious, too.

Veyron didn’t say anything for a long while. And when he did, finally, it was a pathetic little Oh. And then: “Oh. You mean… Oh shit. Are you asking… You’re asking me.”

“Veyron,” Saim’el seemed a little more solemn than he usually did. “I wasn’t asking you. I thought it was a done deal. I realize now that I’ve made a mistake somewhere in our… friendship.”

He said friendship in such a way that he could’ve just asked what they were.

Oh, Veyron was so stupid. Was it… Did he…. Did he not notice?

“No!” Veyron startled even himself with his outburst. “I don’t want to be friends. I’ve been… I’ve been seething with jealousy just now. No takebacks! It’s a done deal.”

He sounded irritable even to himself, pleading and panicking — he didn’t want Saim’el to change his mind. He just hadn’t— he just hadn’t realized it was that sort of friendship. The sort that grew into something more. The sort that wasn’t a friendship anymore. Veyron didn’t think he’d be able to have it. He hadn’t even considered it a possibility, because it sounded bad. Because he couldn’t offer Saim’el his apartment to share, and then make things awkward with his feelings.

“Alright,” Saim’el said. “I made a reservation… for us. For the two of us. Me and you.”

The heat was threatening to show itself on Veyron’s face from the clarification.

“El—” he started, but Saim’el stopped him:

“Don’t El me,” he said, “I made a reservation for us because I believed we were on the same page. I made a mistake, I’m sorry. I could’ve made this uncomfortable for everyone.”

“But you didn’t,” Veyron tried to insist. He did. He was the one who— what? Ignored Saim’el’s advances? Didn’t realize his roommate was trying to date him?

“I mean, it’s a little uncomfortable,” Saim’el retorted and Veyron could only shrug. “And I’m not sure if I read the situation correctly or I just lucked out. I thought we’d been going towards dating for a while now, so I wanted to surprise you and make the first move.”

“You did surprise me. You made the first move. I want that,” Veyron admitted. And then, just be polite: “Please. If you want it too.”

Veyron and Saim’el’s intimacy was friendly and casual. They were touchy in a way friends usually were, though if Veyron had stopped to consider Saim’el and their other friends, he probably would’ve noticed that the other man was more inclined towards him — he wasn’t that relaxed with just anybody. Just then, their proximity seemed to fluster him beyond belief, even though they’d sat next to one another countless times before.

“Alright,” Saim’el said, “But we will be talking about this tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Veyron acquiesced and then got up to get ready. Pick some clothes out, look nice— oh, he was going on a date. Wish his crush! That night!

Well.

First, he was going to take a moment to come to terms with everything.