Caerulum (BL)

[one]

a/n: hey guys, welcome to my story! i wrote this 14k oneshot for ScribbleHub's Spring BL Anthology which i'm now crossposting to wattpad. it's a silly little scientist x gangster type fling so don't take it too seriously and enjoy the ride. i'll have all 3 chapters up by the end of the day!

first song i have up is "blue" by troye sivan for aeton. 

the cover art for this story was a commission done by the very talented valiantxvillainous (twitter @ trashcanxval)!

—

"Date me."

"What?"

"Make me your boyfriend."

The shorter of the two just scoffs, giving his companion a once over behind his glasses before drawling, "I don't have time for that."

"Sure ya do. You're always callin' me over to help with experiments, right?" the second shrugs, his tone light. "Sounds less fishy if we're goin' out already."

"Work and dating shouldn't mix."

"Yeah? It ain't like yer gonna fall in love with me anytime soon."

Cyril pauses at the crosswalk to study the person beside him. Although he and Aeton are only one month apart in terms of age, the other easily towers half a foot over him, his messy hair tied up in a wild ponytail that cascades down his back. There's a plaster on his cheek that covers a cut, remnants of this afternoon's weapons trial. It's an imperfection on the otherwise flawless face with piercing golden eyes and sharp, angular brows. His careless slouch, sukajan jacket, and barely visible tattoo peeking from the wrist mark him as a native of the streets: in other words, a common gangster.

In comparison, the young scientist with his dark-rimmed spectacles, white lab coat, and collared shirt tucked primly into his trousers oozes authority and self-restraint. His features are soft where Aeton's are hard, his gaze cloudy with the myriad thoughts that plague a constant, intellectual pursuit of curiosity.

"You were chosen as a test subject to further my research," Cyril says coolly. "Not to make forays into my personal life."

His "test subject" only smirks and casually leans over. "Uh-huh," Aeton agrees, "As long as ya honor yer end of our contract."

"I see." A flicker of understanding passed through Cyril's features before he looked askance at him. "You are overdue for a reward after your efforts. What would you like this time? Another new toy? Perhaps the prototype for the latest model would do?"

"Nah, nothin' with that much paperwork," Aeton says languidly as he rests his chin on that oh-so-pristine shoulder covered in the white lab coat.

"Oh?" Cyril is a little impatient as he shrugs Aeton off. "Then a direct transfer of payment is sufficient. I'll ask the R&D department to calculate the appropriate bonus based on your recent performance."

Aeton resisted the urge to roll his eyes. When it came to science, Cyril was centuries ahead of the curve, but for things like picking up cues in conversations, he was hopeless.

"Go on a date with me!" he repeats, this time with a trace of a whine.

"No." The rejection is immediate. "I told you, I'm not inter—"

"Just one," Aeton interrupts. "No strings, no relationships. I'll pay for dinner an' everything." He can see the gears turning in Cyril's head as the young scientist digests his words. The next second, Cyril reveals a puzzled expression.

"What benefits does that give you?" Cyril asks. "My tastes are expensive and very particular. You would be losing money on a pointless exercise."

"It's for my mental health!" Aeton cuts in quickly. After six years of working with this guy, even his fight-addled brains had picked up snatches of jargon here and there. "Ya know I perform better when I'm less irritable, yeah? Humor me for once."