Work Text:
The door to the cramped apartment was pushed open slowly. A man surveyed the area, and when he found nothing, made tentative steps inside, shutting the creaky door behind him. He let out an exhausted sigh.
Agent Ulgrin had a long day at work. He always did—but today specifically was unusually long and tedious. Walking around the same bland, monochrome hallways every single day was exhausting—especially when he had to take a D-Class to testing, or something along those lines. By far, there was no better way to ruin Ulgrin’s evening other than escorting. He huffed at the thought.
Ulgrin dropped his work bag to the floor near the entrance of the apartment, kicking off his combat boots and slipping off his jacket. January this year was unforgivably cold, and it was hard to get anywhere without bundling up. He nudged his boots to the side, walking towards their dinner table and hanging his jacket on the back of one of the chairs. The agent took a second, groaning at nothing in particular, then slowly made his way to their sofa, plopping down with one last huff.
Ulgrin glanced down at his palms. He still had his gloves on, and god, his hands ached horribly. With every flex of his knuckles, his hands began to sting more and more. He inhaled, carefully tugging on the Velcro straps and pulling off the gloves.
As he stared at his hands, the number of bruises, scratches and blisters on his knuckles became very apparent. Some were bleeding a bit—it looked bad. Ulgrin cursed under his breath, but he’d definitely had worse. This wasn’t too bad, right? Just some bruises from training, not a big deal. It wasn’t like he was going to patch them up—what was he, a toddler? These injuries were nothing, and definitely not something worth wasting their medical supply on. He tightened his fists one last time, like he was testing his tolerance to the stinging.
As Ulgrin did this, the small creaking of a door came from the other side of the apartment. He stopped, looking up at where the noise came from. He did his best to hide his hands, tucking them under his legs.
Another man—significantly smaller—stood in the doorway leading to their bedroom, his short brown hair tied up in a small ponytail. He had on his glasses, lined with orange frames, and he was dressed in a collared shirt and tie. He was glancing down at his watch, but as he looked up, he spotted Ulgrin on their couch. He grinned excitedly, taking a step forward.
“Ulgrin,” he said, smiling wildly. He stared expectantly at the other man, who let out a huff, smiling back. Ulgrin extended his arms invitingly, letting his lover run into a tight embrace. The two laughed for a brief moment, gazing into each other’s eyes. They were still smiling when the smaller of the two spoke up again, now situated on his lover’s lap. “Hi, I missed you.”
“Hello, Dr. Walker,” Ulgrin teased, snickering at his boyfriend’s deadpan face. “Benjamin, sorry,” he corrected himself.
“You were gone for ages!” Benjamin complained, leaning into the agent’s chest. “What am I supposed to do when you’re not here, huh?!”
Ulgrin’s eyes softened at his lover’s slightly disappointed tone. “I’m sorry. I-I tried to hurry, I promise.”
Benjamin stared thoughtfully at his lover, giggling as he noticed his face get red. He leaned forward, pecking Ulgrin lightly on the tip of his nose, then pulling back as quickly as he had leaned in. The agent’s face exploded into an adorable flush. He looked away, embarrassed.
“What’d you do at work?” The researcher changed the subject, unhooking himself from his lover’s lap and moving next to him. He leaned onto his shoulder.
“Same stuff as usual, I guess. Squad and I hit the gym after work, so y’know.”
“Tired?”
Ulgrin sighed, then nodded. Benjamin pouted sympathetically, holding out a hand. The agent stared, closing his mouth into a straight line. He looked at his boyfriend, who was smiling. If he took any longer to respond to his request, he would get suspicious. Ulgrin laughed nervously.
“Uh, my hands are kinda sweaty.”
“ … Oh.” He looked slightly disappointed, again. “I promise I don’t mind. Please?”
The agent sat completely still for a second. He knew what would happen if he gave his lover his hand—he’d ask how it happened, he’d be all concerned, he’d make a big deal out of it—fuck, Ulgrin would hate that. At the same time, however, he knew the consequences of not showing Benjamin. He thought for a moment, glancing down at the tempting hand that his boyfriend was offering. He let out a huff, giving in to the irresistible offer. How could he ever say no to someone like Benjamin?
He watched as the researcher’s expression changed to one of immediate worry. He took his hand, brushing his thumb over the back of it in an attempt to soothe some kind of pain. Benjamin’s eyes darted up to his boyfriend’s, who was looking away. Preemptively, Ulgrin gave an explanation.
“They’re just from… training. They don’t hurt.”
Benjamin sighed softly. “Some of them are open. Let me get some disinfectant, alright?”
Reluctantly, Ulgrin agreed, keeping his eyes on his lover as he got up, making his way to their restroom. His stomach twisted with unease. Was Benjamin angry with him? His eyes darted down to his hands; they were shaking a little, but the lingering feeling of his lover’s warmth still remained.
It didn’t take long for Benjamin to return, medical supply in his arms. He had that same warm smile on his face, though it seemed more gentle. He sat back on the couch—right next to Ulgrin—dumping the materials on the coffee table in front of them. “Hands out, please.”
The agent complied, flinching as Benjamin’s warm hands made contact with his cold ones. He took a cotton ball from his pile of supplies, dotting a little bit of disinfectant on it, then carefully dabbing it onto Ulgrin’s injuries, who winced. His hands tensed up for a moment, but the careful touch of the smaller man calmed him down. He glanced down, tentatively observing his lover. He seemed very concentrated, attempting to be as gentle as he possibly could be. The sight of Benjamin in this situation made him feel a little red. Ben was always so sweet and careful with him—sometimes Ulgrin felt like he didn’t deserve it. His day-to-day life was stressful and callous, but coming home to his boyfriend always made everything feel better.
After a minute, Benjamin finished with the cotton ball, tossing it to the side with the other supplies. He brought both of Ulgrin’s hands up to his face and, very softly, kissed the backs of them, avoiding any scratches or bruises. Ulgrin felt his face light up, a flustered squeak escaping his mouth. He clamped his jaw shut in a desperate attempt to stifle any other noises he made. The researcher giggled at his boyfriend’s embarrassed state, leaning forward to give him a peck on the forehead. Ulgrin felt like he was about to explode.
“I love you, y’know that?” Benjamin inquired, grinning. Ulgrin nodded messily, watching as he turned to grab some bandages from the pile he brought, rolling out about 20 inches. Taking his boyfriend’s wrist, Benjamin began to wrap his hand in the bandage. He was concentrated, again, and would occasionally stop to push up his glasses. Ulgrin, meanwhile, was all but melting at the touch. No one was ever this considerate, this gentle with him. He felt a little silly thinking about his partner like this—of course Ben was nice to him—but the way he treated him was so foreign. He was just about finished with the first hand, but Ulgrin didn’t want him to stop.
With one last wrap, Benjamin tucked the end piece of the bandage in. He looked at the larger man’s hand, smiling at his handiwork. He glanced up at Ulgrin. “Does that feel okay? It’s not too loose, is it?”
The agent shook his head. “It’s good—it’s perfect.”
“I’m pretty proud of it myself,” he beamed. “Can I do the other hand now? Or do you need a second?”
Ulgrin nodded, almost too excitedly. With that, the process started again: 20 inches of bandage, Benjamin taking his hand in his own, the slow yet precise wrapping. Ulgrin didn’t understand why he was reacting this way—he felt stupid being all soft like this. They had been dating for… months at this point, and yet the very feeling of such minimal contact made the agent turn pink.
“You’re real pretty,” the researcher spoke suddenly, knocking Ulgrin out of his trance. “So pretty… so handsome.”
“I-I,” he tripped over his words. “What makes you say that?”
Benjamin scoffed. “C’mon, have you seen yourself?” Ulgrin figured that he would hate being called a word like that—pretty, god, it was so feminine sounding—but when Benjamin said it…
With that, the researcher finished the second hand, giving it one last kiss as he let Ulgrin pull it away. The agent stared down at his hands, which were now carefully wrapped up. He flexed his knuckles a bit, glancing back at Ben, who was smiling, though looked a little concerned.
“So,” he cleared his throat, “ … how did you hurt yourself?”
Ulgrin tensed, looking away to stare at everything except the smaller man. His unrelenting eye contact was almost overwhelming. “Training. I said it already.”
Benjamin huffed. “You have training every day, and it’s never this bad.” His smile had faded, and with it, the volume in the room. “If something happened, you can tell me.”
The agent knew that. It was something that his boyfriend told him every time this happened. He knew he could talk to him, it’s not like he didn’t trust him—it was hard to explain. Ulgrin let out a breath. “I was trying to prove a point, that’s all. I just went too hard.”
A sigh, and Ulgrin noticed the other man leaning closer. He hardly had time to react before his lips were on his own, and that familiar fuzzy feeling enveloped his entire body. He was frozen for longer than he would have liked to admit, unable to muster up any sort of movement. Fumbling with his hands, he decided to rest them on Benjamin’s waist, holding them in place. He had never quite gotten used to kissing, humiliatingly enough. He figured that after the first time, the overwhelming warmth would die down—but apparently not. He didn’t care; it wasn’t like he wanted it to, anyway.
When the two separated, both were beet red—though Ulgrin was significantly more so. Benjamin certainly took note of his lover’s state, giggling at his flush. “You okay, hun?”
“Y-yeah—” Ulgrin tried to speak, cutting himself off when his voice cracked. If it were possible, he would’ve gotten even redder. “Yes.”
Benjamin hummed, lighting up. “I was thinking pizza for dinner tonight! How’s that sound?”
“Good—yes, that sounds great.”
With that, the smaller man stood up, making his way to their small kitchen—which only consisted of a countertop, stove, a sink and some cabinets. As he watched, Ulgrin couldn’t help but wonder what his lover saw in him. He almost scoffed—sometimes, it felt like his thought patterns were nothing more than, ‘What’s Benjamin doing? Is Benjamin okay? What does Benjamin think?’ As shameful as it was, Ulgrin didn’t want those thoughts to change. Just thinking about his boyfriend made him feel all fuzzy and warm, like what it felt like when they kissed, if only a fraction.
The researcher suddenly shouted over his shoulder. “We only have cheese, is that alright?”
Ulgrin—out of his own control—smiled. “That’s fine.”
He was completely head-over-heels for Dr. Walker, and he didn't mind at all.