To the accounting department, please return this paper as soon as you can, with the confirmation it is all good and completed (unless something else is needed), so I can send it to the planning team. Thanks, Peter.
He signed the message, and put it in the envelope. He threw his pen back in its pot, with all the others, and Peter looked at the unfinished scale model that was placed on his desk, sighing. There was no way he would have time to get it to the planning team in time, but at least he could go and put it in the reserve, to store it in a safe place. And to make more space on his desk. He had some other work to do, that required his desk, yet, it was fully occupied by the model.
Peter sighed a second time. Well, he would take it down now, and he would put the paper to the accounting department in the meantime. He nonetheless hated how boring it sounded, and he felt so lazy to do it he almost sat down back on his seat, to just look at the window.
It was still the middle of the afternoon, and he had had no breaks since the beginning of the day. He didn’t even stop to eat something, and he was hopelessly starving now. Maybe he could stop by the cafeteria, and grab something. Peter wouldn’t do that often, especially when all his friends were out, in mission, because he hated eating alone at a table, but he could still… grab it, and eat it up here. Yeah, he would definitely do that.
Sirius was somewhere out in France, James and Regulus were sent to Sydney to help the arrest of a bunch of criminals, Remus was on holidays — much to Sirius’ dismay, who wanted to be on holiday break at the same time as him.
Lily was still out in the city, chasing after that Ghost named thief, once again. A thief that had kept stealing random things during these last months, before signing “for my flower” on the scene of the theft. Lily told Peter she thought Ghost’s messages was about her, and honestly, Peter didn’t know at all if it was possible. But Lily looked determined to catch that thief, so he guessed it was a good thing.
Mary and Marlene were sent to Scotland in order to assist and protect a local politician. And Peter was left here alone. All the other people of his generation left weren’t close enough to him for Peter to eat with them without it being extremely awkward.
Maybe he could take this as an opportunity to make new friends, you’d say. Well, Peter didn’t really feel like so. He was not really good at making new friends, and he sort of hated that stage where people didn’t really know each other but still hang out together. Peter found that very uncomfortable.
Don’t get him wrong, though, Peter loved the Order’s headquarters, and the people in it. Whether it was the spies, or the analysts or the other props makers. They were full of things to discover, and if you lost yourself in these big hallways, you’d definitely find something interesting, or someone willing to share something with you, despite the confidentiality of it all. But it always felt lonely to Peter when his friends were gone; he sometimes regretted he couldn’t fight on the first line, and go on missions like his friends. He sometimes regretted that he was just a simple props maker. He knew his work was crucial, but yet, he could not help but wonder if it was really fair he got to stay there and not his friends.
At first, he was really afraid of them not coming back; Peter wasn’t of a very brave and bold nature, to his opinion, but with time, he got used to it — he got used to the idea of his friends risking their lives out there without him being able to do anything about it. He just ignored everything, and despite being very aware of everything — it was basically his job to be very aware of the risks —, he chose to stay distant about these things that made him stress like hell. So it would limit his worry.
It was not like he was their parents or their mentor, anyway, and he knew his friends were perfectly able to survive by themselves. And if anything happened, it was Peter’s work to make sure their weapons and accessories were here to help them go through it. It was a bit as if Peter was always here to give them a hand. Now, Peter didn’t worry anymore. Well, not as much as he used to.
Now, he knew his friends would eventually come back. They all, in the Order, knew the deal anyway. They all knew the risks. They were all trained. Well trained. Sometime since their teen years. That was a cold fact but it wasn’t a lie. They were more than trained. There was no reason to worry.
However, a few weeks ago, when one of the spies came back all injured, Peter somehow had to face his old worries.
Xenophilius wasn’t a person he really talked to before.
His first impression of him had been him, bloody, being brought in the middle of the hall by two people Peter had never seen before, dressed in the agents’ uniform, being held because he really struggled to walk. Xenophilius had even left a trail of blood behind him. He collapsed in the middle of the room, and people rushed to get him help.
To be fair, he probably only talked to him a few times in years of service, to talk about details of an outfit, or maybe of a few accessories. Like all the other spies. Peter wasn’t a close friend of him, and he completely ignored if he was friends with anyone, closely or not. He didn’t care until then, to be honest, and even now, Peter did not really care who Xenophilius was friends with.
Peter just got to wonder, a few times, why he was the one charged to stay with him during his convalescence, and not one of the potential said-friends.
It seemed Xenophilius didn’t have friends, or no close ones. Or they were in missions too. But Peter ignored who they were, and he couldn’t check on the register. Peter knew Xenophilius was sometimes hanging out with Narcissa. Who was often hanging out in Frank’s office, with Alice. Sometimes, Peter would hear their names together. But that was it, and he was not even fully sure of it. So maybe Xenophilius was a friend of a friend; nothing more. And it was hypothetical.
When Flitwick, Xenophilius’ mentor, told Peter he was going to take care of him, it seemed he didn’t really had two thoughts about it. Peter was probably the first one Flitwick saw when he exited Xenophilius’ hospital bedroom, hence Peter having to take care of Xenophilius, completely randomly.
What made Peter even more afraid for his own friends, and the risks they were taking during missions, was Xenophilius’ state when he was brought in the Order’s headquarters two weeks ago. He was looking pathetic, on the line between life and death, and Peter had audibly gasped at the sight. And the only thing Xenophilius had done seeing Peter’s gasp was smile crookedly and collapse into unconsciousness. For days. The fool.
This had been his second impression of Xenophilius.
For two weeks, he had then been charged with being sure Xenophilius would have someone next to him when he woke up — bollocks, if you asked Peter —, and someone to talk to, while his mission partners and friends were still on service. Xenophilius woke up one week ago, and Peter almost regretted his state of unconsciousness. He almost preferred when Xenophilius was silently sleeping in his hospital bed.
Because Xenophilius was, in fact, an incorrigible prat.
Peter didn’t hate people, in general. He was yet on a thin line to hate Xenophilius. Well, he was mostly frustrating to talk to, and that was a fucking feat, knowing he had been mostly laying down for their firsts interactions. Peter now chose to simply ignore him.
Xenophilius was infuriating. He was always joking around with Peter, always seeming highly interested in making a fool out of him, always pretending to read into him easily — and the worse was that he did. He was incredibly good at guessing Peter’s inner dynamics, and it seemed they were funny, because Xenophilius took great interest in analysing Peter, when he was in convalescence.
He probably only had this to do, which sounds miserable, and didn’t help Peter with wanting to continue to hang out with him; there was no way he would become the toy to someone bored. He had standards for friendships, thank you very much.
Xenophilius even continued to try to analyse every thing Peter did after he did better. He continued teasing him, as if to prove him he was reading him much better than Peter was himself. But he felt better, so Peter guessed it was good news, at least.
Now Xenophilius was able to walk but doctors told him to stay in his bedroom. He hated that, and to be fair, Peter was amused by it. Xenophilius always said Peter was his only interesting visit of the day. So Peter used it against him sometimes, when he was pissing him off too much. Most of the time, Peter would just continue his scale models in silence, or sketch things to sew later. And Xenophilius looked at him in silence too — with an impossible grin on his face. Analysing him, for sure.
At first, Peter hated it, to be forced into this room to “take care” of him. All of this, just to sit together in silence. But with time, he sopped considering those awkward moments and silences, and started ignoring them instead. He was now purely and simply ignoring Xenophilius, as much as he could. They could end up friends in the end; maybe. But what a strange friendship.
Peter felt way too weird around him; it was very disturbing to stay around someone who seems to have you completely figured out. Ignoring him allowed Peter to have a few barriers. At least the illusion of it.
Peter grabbed the model on his desk carefully, and he walked to his door, before closing it behind him. He whistled a song on his way to the lift. He was definitely going to grab something at the cafeteria; he was starving, and his stomach rumbled a bit.
On his way to the lift, Peter saw Frank, waving to him with a box full of stuff, and a bag of food. Frank was always willing to share anything he had. Peter guessed he was getting all of this to his office. Maybe to share with Alice and Narcissa. The thought made him smile, but somehow it also sent him back to his loneliness. These three definitely had something going on.
Peter sighed, and he clicked on the lift’s button, awkwardly, because his hands were occupied with his model. He had to make sure he was not going to break it all dumbly. The thing took him hours to complete.
“Hey, Peter,” that annoying voice called, and Peter closed his eyes tightly, as a reflex, and sighed in anticipation.
Then he opened his eyes, and saw Xenophilius walking the last steps to him, before standing next to him. Waiting with him for the lift now. He still had his bandages on his hands and very few ones on his face, but most of his bruises were gone, at least the big and visible ones he had at the very beginning.
“I was about to knock on your office’ door, but you weren’t there.”
“Yeah,” Peter said, looking ahead of him, toward the doors of the lift, who stayed closed, avoiding his gaze. “Well, I am here. How did you find me?” he made the mistake to ask.
“Frank told me.”
Damn. Peter hated that Frank was willing to share anything, even information. It was a good thing Frank was not sent directly on missions. He would fail miserable at torture, and keeping confidentialinformation, Peter thought.
Peter shook his head. “What do you want, Xenophilius?”
Xenophilius shrugged at Peter’s question, and the lift made a ‘ting’ noise, announcing its arriving. “Spend time with you? I miss you.”
“Aren’t you supposed to stay in your bedroom?” Peter retorted, entering the lift, and then finally meeting Xenophilius’ eyes. The latter followed him inside the lift’s cabin. They were of a strange mix between grey and green, and they made him look like a ghost under the white light of the lift.
His eyes were smiling. He had that goddamn grin on his face. Peter found it pretty, at some point, when he didn’t know Xenophilius yet, when the latter hadn’t said anything yet. When Peter was still trying to get to know him. His smile was pretty because it looked sincere and it was always making his eyes spark. But now, Peter knew it was just his smile of “I-know-better-than-you”, a smile that seemed arrogant to him, and he now decided it was just straight up infuriating.
The doors of the lift closed behind them, but Peter knew he was responsible for Xenophilius. He somehow hated it. It was stupid; Xenophilius didn’t need anyone, and especially not Peter to be responsible for him. He was doing good by himself already. Xenophilius was not really listening to anyone, despite being twenty-two years old, already.
The lift started to move down.
“You have to go back to your bedroom,” Peter sighed, trying to carry his model only with one arm, to click on the lift’s buttons, in order to make the cabin stop to the next floor. Xenophilius really needed to stay in his room. Or Peter would be held responsible if anything happened. “Come on,” Peter let out softly, to himself, starting to feel annoyed by the fact that the lift wouldn’t stop, and continued to descend.
The lift had already started its descent, but Peter kept clicking on the buttons, out of frustration, knowing it wasn’t going to work better, but doing it anyway.
Suddenly, the lift stopped, in a shrieking noise, followed by several thumps, and then, a silence.
“What,” Peter let out, his breath escaping his lips at the same time, as he looked up.
“Oh,” Xenophilius said, surprised, but when Peter looked at him, meeting his gaze again, he didn’t look that surprised nor panicked.
“Ar— Are we stuck here?” Peter asked, slightly scared.
He suddenly feared the lift would drop completely, and make them fall for several floors, making them die for sure. He grabbed his scale model with both hands, his eyes still wide open. His heart was beating fast and hard in his chest, threatening to jump out of his rib cage.
“I think we are.”
“Damn it, you should have stayed in your room, Xenophilius!” Peter, completely stressed out, snapped, and he knew it sounded more aggressive than he meant it.
“Ah, it’s boring to stay in a room for days, you know,” he said, still smiling, now visibly slightly amused by Peter’s reaction. He put his hands in his pockets. “I’m sick of only doctors visiting me. And I thought you weren’t coming today.”
“It’s not funny…” Peter said, trying to ignore Xenophilius’ obvious teasing. He was trying to calm his stress, but he was failing. He was feeling his heart race already. Peter was looking at the floor, trying to focus on something else.
He was really stuck in a lift with Xenophilius Lovegood, and somehow the Universe had thought it was a nice idea. It was not.
“Maybe call the security,” and Xenophilius’ voice wasn’t as mischievous as it was seconds ago. It seemed he had started to notice Peter’s distress.
Peter looked up to him again, and he was surprised to find a genuinely concerned look in his eyes.
“Well, I can’t,” Peter replied, showing his hands full, with the scale model. “Can you do it instead?” he asked, and it felt weird to ask something to him.
“Yeah, of course,” Xenophilius said with a little downward smile. He clicked on the button to call the security, and a sizzling noise cut the silence. A few seconds passed, before Xenophilius started to talk. “Hello, hum, we are stuck in a lift, is there someone?”
Peter looked expectantly to the button board, where the answer was supposed to come from, but only the sizzling noise answered them.
“Try again?” Peter said, a bit of fear peeking in his voice, but also curiosity on why no one was answering them.
The Order’s headquarters were full of agents but also of staff people who knew very well how to do their jobs. And there was always someone at the security post, so why no one was answering?
“Please, is there someone?” Xenophilius asked again. “We’re two, and we’re stuck in one of the lifts.”
But still, no answer. Only the sizzling, so Xenophilius released the button, and the sizzling stopped. He turned his head to Peter, with a sorry look on his face, and he shrugged.
“Well, they’re going to realise we disappeared, at some point,” he noted. “They’re going to come and help us then.”
Peter closed his eyes shut in frustration again. “Yeah, but how long will this take?”
To be fair, Peter never knew he would be scared in that sort of situation, but he would never have expected to be stuck in a lift like that.
He tried to think about something, to ease his stress; anything. Peter roamed his mind in order to find something fun or calm to think about, anything that would distract his rational and analytic mind from thinking about 10 thousand different ways they could die right now.
Peter’s mind settled for how being stuck in elevators was shown in romantic comedies. In movies, it was always at this point that the main character and the love interest had meaningful conversations, and discovered so much about each other, and experienced such a deep connection that they fell in love. Peter loved romantic movies. But they weren’t in one, and even if they were…
Xenophilius.
Peter studied his face for a bit, since Xenophilius didn’t bother feeling ashamed when he did the same. Xenophilius was always looking at Peter. To analyse him, or whatever bullshit lie he would say as an excuse. Even though actually, Peter had no clue why he was so interested in looking at him.
Xenophilius was pretty, yes.
If Peter had to think of it this way… Well. He had those very blond hair, curling weirdly and reaching his shoulders. He would always pass his hands in it, and so, Xenophilius always had spikes in his hair. He also had pretty eyes. Light ones. And a pale skin. Maybe he was the first one to get sunburnt in summer. Peter didn’t know; but it would be a fun anecdote. He was tall, taller than Peter, and he had sharp features. The little bandage he had on his cheek somehow managed to make it look more defined. He was definitely conventionally attractive.
He was wearing a white t-shirt. It made him look even paler. Maybe he still needed rest too, and that was also playing a part in what made him look like a ghost. Even the crystal he was wearing as a necklace was kind of clear-white. Maybe it was his favourite colour. Or maybe not; Peter never bothered to ask. Surrounded by the dark brown coloured walls, covered in carpet, he truly looked out of place, all in white.
Peter would never tell Xenophilius out loud, but he was attractive. Peter found beauty in people easily, but Xenophilius had a thing that made Peter curious about him. He was weird, and he was smart, and despite it making Peter feel strange, he knew Xenophilius was one of a kind. He would probably never see anyone else like him. But would that mean they would fall in love, like in a movie? Hell no.
Firstly, Peter wasn’t falling in love with people easily. Almost not at all. Not at all, even. Peter didn’t really know what it meant to “fall in love with someone”. He couldn’t remember the last time he ever felt anything that could be romantic love. Yet, he could fuck with him, now that he was looking at him; that was what he wanted to say. He could fuck with him. He could fuck with him.
Xenophilius wasn’t in a state as bad as he was two weeks ago, and so Peter could see better what he looked like. Pretty, indeed, now that he took time to look at him. Yes. Alright. Big News.
“I know you think I’m hot right now, but if you want to stare so bad,” Xenophilius crossed his arms on his chest. “You could have done it before, instead of ignoring me,” he added, and a smile could be heard in his voice very distinctly.
And there it was. Secondly, they would not fall in love like in a movie, because Xenophilius was an infuriating prick, despite his looks, and he always said things like that, that made Peter snort in “I-can’t-believe-you’ve-just-said-that”.
“I was not thinking you’re hot.”
“What were you thinking then?” and Xenophilius leaned against the wall of the lift, tilting slowly his head, a smirk pointing at the side of his lips.
“Not that. This attempt to distract me from stress is lowkey pathetic. You just look selfish,” Peter said, crouching down, only paying attention to his model while doing so.
Then, he put it next to him softly, and he extended his legs in front of him, taking great care in not touching Xenophilius’. Peter looked at his feet, and he felt Xenophilius’ eyes on him, as always; he was used to it by now. He knew Xenophilius’ eyes were running on his face, on his neck, on his body, leaving a burning feeling everywhere they were looking. Peter was a bit flattered by it, and yet he hated it at the same time.
It always gave him the feeling of being looked at, as if Xenophilius was staring somewhere inside of him, and he was feeling way too bare under the gaze of someone that was almost a stranger to him. Almost. Peter knew very few things about Xenophilius, but they’ve spent weeks together still. His light eyes may have had something to do with this feeling.
“Yet it’s working,” Xenophilius said, and Peter looked up to meet his gaze. He had his mischievous grin again.
He slowly crouched in front of Peter, letting himself slide along the carpeted wall. A few strands of his hair stayed stuck on the carpeted wall, because of static electricity. Peter snorted, repressing a smile.
“It is not.”
“You’re not as scared anymore though.”
Peter rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “If I die in this lift with you, crashing on the ground because you weren’t able to respect the doctors’ advices, that will not be the pinnacle of my life, let me tell you about it…” Peter sighed.
It was then Xenophilius’ turn to snort, his smirk still on his lips. “I’ll tell you a second time, since you seem to have forgotten. I was out of my room because I was searching for you,” he tilted his head at that, holding the eye contact with Peter. Who looked away, because Xenophilius had a very intense stare, as specified earlier. “And because I felt like a rat, staying in this room for days. It’s awful, you can’t imagine.”
Xenophilius threw his head back, resting it against the soft fabric on the walls. His white hair was somehow displayed on the brown carpeting, and Peter was suddenly seized with the urge to draw it. He looked away instead, because his eyes were starting to dangerously follow the line of his throat.
“The doctors said you have to rest for a reason. And I’m responsible for you,” he added, biting the inside of his cheeks. “Please, don’t give me more problems to deal with. I already asked you.”
Xenophilius smiled without moving his head. “Don’t worry for me, then.”
“I’m not worried for you,” Peter retorted, staring at his scale model, thinking of a few things to improve it. Maybe he could add plexiglass to make the windows. It was a scale model of the headquarters of a fraud organisation, that a few agents already planned on dismantling, in a few weeks.
“It’s okay if you are,” Xenophilius laughed softly, still smirking.
Peter stared at him, speechless. He wanted to retort that, no, in fact, he was not worried for himin the slightest bit. That he was really infuriating. That… anything.
“Maybe if you weren’t such a dick.”
Xenophilius then frankly laughed, and his voice was a bit raspy. He didn’t answer anything. Instead he stared at Peter — as usual —, and he licked his lips. Peter looked away again.
He decided it would be a better idea to focus on something else than Xenophilius, to avoid panicking. The prick was right, his distraction — aka, him saying shit — worked for Peter’s stress, but Peter had no envy to focus on Xenophilius. Not to be analysed by what he would say without thinking twice, and not to end up finding him attractive by looking at him for too long.
So Peter started to remove the entry stairs of his scale model, and since he was struggling a bit, he reached for his cutter in his trousers’ back pocket, taking it out, and cutting the edges of the little stairs. The model was unfinished, and Peter had planned to put it away to continue some other work he had, but since he was stuck here with this scale model, he might as well take the opportunity to finish it.
The little stairs weren’t accurate. They weren’t as big as Peter had made them, and didn’t have as many steps. But doing it, earlier in the day, he had thought he would cut them later. Now he had time to correct that. After that, he would also try to sculpt the trees. Purely for decorative purposes. But it would add a bit of realism to it, since, for the moment, they looked like polystyrene balls, on top of sticks, too round and too straight to look like real trees. If he had the materials with him, he would have add some fake moss, to make it even more realistic, but, well. He didn’t have them.
Once Peter was done with his stairs, he put them back where they were supposed to be. He was grateful the double side adhesive tape was still kind of sticky, and allowed the stairs to be put back to their place. He looked at it, satisfied, before starting to carve the trees, getting closer to the model. He was not really sitting anymore; his knees were on the floor, and he was crouching, leaning forward. He got his eyes closer to his scale model.
But it casted a shadow on it; Peter let out a low frustrated grunt at this, he moving again, without the shadow wasting the clear light, and he resumed his thing again. Then he carved his trees, focused on defining the foliage of it. Once he finished the first one, he pulled his face away from it, to look from afar. It looked good. He leaned forward again.
Oh, maybe he would also carve the details around the windows and the doors, after that, and—
His flow of thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a light cough from his side. And Peter heard Xenophilius’ quiet breath, and he remembered suddenly he was not alone, stuck in this lift. He looked at Xenophilius, prepared to see a mocking grin, and what he saw made him open his eyes slightly wider.
Because Xenophilius was looking at him with a look of high interest.
“Sorry,” he said, and that surprised Peter even more. He didn’t know Xenophilius was able to say that. Peter stayed silent for a few seconds, before asking the question that was scratching the back of his head.
“Have you been staring at me since earlier?”
“Yes,” Xenophilius said, shamelessly, shrugging his shoulders, as if it was very obvious. He didn’t add anything else. “You’re the only one here with me, so yes.”
Peter sighed. “And why you’re always looking at me? Even when there’s doctors in the room.” He wanted to see Xenophilius loose his cool, even just for a second. He wanted to destabilise him.
“Because you’re interesting.”
“For real,” Peter replied, not buying it. “You always say that. Will you ever change your answer?”
Peter remembered the first time he asked the same question to Xenophilius. They’ve had this conversation countless times.
Xenophilius stares at Peter for entire minutes. Peter notices. He asks why. Xenophilius gives a reply that is always a variant of what he said here: “you’re interesting”.
Peter should have known that; he would need more to destabilise Xenophilius.
The first time the latter answered something like that to this question (“Why you’re looking at me?”), Peter had smiled, amused by his answer. The second time, he had frowned, feeling like déjà-vu. The third time, he had just ignored Xenophilius; and he kept doing it for all the following times. Deciding Xenophilius was making fun of him, and that he wouldn’t be his toy.
“Because you’re still interesting.”
“People ever stop to be interesting?” Peter asked, focusing on his second tree. He hated small talk. Yet he was a bit interested in Xenophilius way to think. He never really asked the questions back. Now he had nothing else to do, since they were stuck.
“Yes.”
Peter rolled his eyes.
“They quickly stop being interesting. Pretty often, in fact,” Xenophilius continued, his voice clear, and with no arrogance in his tone.
“And not me?” Peter asked, without thinking, still focused on carving his trees.
“No, not you,” he replied, his voice low. Peter was looking at his scale model, and not at Xenophilius, but he felt the change in his voice, somehow.
Peter rolled his eyes again, an umpteenth time, with a wry smile. “You’re such a smooth talker. I bet everyone falls under your spell, when you say that to them.”
He cut a very thin piece of polystyrene with his cutter, and he felt proud, of his accuracy, and satisfied, because the piece came out easily, like a piece of butter. He smiled to himself, forgetting about Xenophilius again for an instant.
“I don’t say that to anyone.”
Peter turned his head to Xenophilius. “Oh, my. You tell them that sentence, too? I don’t say that to anyone, only to you,” he repeated with a smirk. “Come on, do better.”
Xenophilius chuckled. “It’s up to you to believe me,” and saying that, he leaned a bit forward, sort of casually, and yet the way he looked at Peter was all but casual.
Peter’s smirk faded a bit, because Xenophilius eyes were deeply staring into his, and it made Peter’s inside feel all messy suddenly. He looked away, stunned, biting nervously the side of his bottom lip.
“Why am I even interesting?” Peter asked after a few seconds, praying for his nervousness not to be visible.
There was also this; ignoring and avoiding Xenophilius made it somehow easier too. Because he was intense in his way to stare at Peter, and the latter ignored completely how to deal with it. He already struggled to look at people in the eye for too long. But Xenophilius seemed to be his polar opposite, since he loved to stare at Peter. All the fucking time.
“Oh, I could make a long list.”
It made Peter’s chest flutter again.
“All I have is time,” He replied to Xenophilius, hoping his sentence was casual enough.
Xenophilius was sitting with his legs crossed, still studying Peter’s face as if it was some sort of painting with a lot of details. He smiled at Peter. A confident smile. A I-know-something-you-don’t smile.
“Can you please stop staring at me?” Peter blurted out, blinking. “I think you probably know my face by heart already, with all your staring.”
To hell a casual facade, Peter knew his cheeks were red now, but he hoped it was just a burning sensation, and not something visible. Peter leaned down again, to continue his tree carving but as he started to get his hand closer, he noticed he was now shaking a bit.
“You’re too flustered for that, Peter,” Xenophilius said, pursing his lips with an almost sorry tone. He was grinning anyway when Peter looked back at him. He was pointing at his shaking hand holding the cutter next to the tree.
“Are you seriously forced to voice that out loud?” Peter said calmly, but feeling his burning blush extend to the nape of his neck, looking at Xenophilius’ infuriating and badly repressed grin.
Xenophilius just shrugged, and Peter saw his tongue pushing against the inner of his cheek; the gesture made him look hotter, somehow.
Peter sighed, retracting the blade of his cutter. He then sat against the wall of the lift again. The carpeting was soft against the nape of his neck, and somehow it was calming. He sighed a second time. He was feeling Xenophilius’ eyes on him again. At this point…
The thing was, it wasn’t even making him uncomfortable. Peter just wished he was a bit more attractive, to give him a real reason to stare. His external appearance was not really appealing, to his opinion, and even if he accepted it years ago, he was fine with it. He was mid; he looked normal. He developed his personality instead, and he was friends with people understanding, tolerating, sticking around him enough. People who wouldn’t care about his appearance. Peter found those friends with his years of working for The Order, it was the result of his hard work to find meaningful friendships.
He had been recruited three years ago, when he was still a engineering student. He had taken the job, and he had continued his studies in parallel. Like Mary, one of his friends. She was also a student. She studied physics. Sometimes they discussed about stuff together their other friends didn’t understand for a bit, and they laughed about it. They also had very interesting conversations, apart from the ones they had for laughs, and the sake of their friends bewilderment. She was very smart.
There was also Remus. He was also very smart. A bit traumatised. But if there was someone for who Peter would never feel too worried, it was him, because he knew Remus would survive probably everything. His computer equipment often gave Peter cold sweats, for the designs of his outfits and accessories, but since they knew each other, he had always managed to make it work. He tried to teach Peter a few tricks on how to hack networks, or on how to crack basically anything on the internet, but Peter always forgot. Remus didn’t speak a lot, but he always listened to Peter’s rant about his new ideas for his scale models.
James was basically friends with everyone, even poor Frank, who didn’t quite understand why James was so determined to joke with him, and make him laugh — just like he did to everyone around him —, so it was nothing too surprising he was also Peter’s friend. Peter was actually very glad to have James as a friend. Because he was a bit terrifying during missions, from what he heard, even if he had a hard time to picture the all smiley, all happy, golden retriever James being the complete opposite in a mission, to be fair. But, he was also glad he was his friend because James was a fantastic person to be around. He would never make you feel like you didn’t belong next to him.
Surprisingly, Peter was also sort of friends with the Black brothers. Especially Sirius, the older one. They were both known in The Order, because they were both very efficient, and they’ve been here since they were young. Frank once showed Peter their statistics. Indeed they were efficient. Terrifying too, in a way. Sirius often told him about missions, and Peter often told him to stop with a laugh, because it reminded him why himself didn’t go on missions. It was surprising someone like Sirius was friends with someone like Peter, yet they worked together. Sirius always loved the fancy accessories and tricks Peter put in his equipment.
If he was less close with the three girls that shared their bedroom’s level, Marlene always had something to smoke or to drink, and several times, they ended up smoking on the roof, despite it being forbidden — Peter was persuaded The Order was pretending not to see, because the amount of cameras on the roof was insane, to prevent any intrusion. They talked about the vastness of the universe and the uselessness of life.
Lily was the one that lived here for the longest. Longer than the Black brothers. She knew everything and everyone in The Order, and she was the one who helped Mary and Peter to find their benchmarks. She showed Peter a few secret passages. And she always baked late at night, filling their hallway with a good smell of cookies. There was always something baked by Lily Evans to eat in the middle of the night, if you had night cravings.
Peter looked up at Xenophilius; he wondered if all his try-harding was to become Peter’s friend. Was he so determined to stick around him? Why? He decided to play into his game of looks. He only had this to do, since the deadass in front of him made him unable to do his work. And well, the security didn’t try to contact them yet. Peter wondered what was going on for no one to take their call for help.
Peter was no really comfortable with staring into someone’s eyes, but there was something stronger than his embarrassment, and it was his determination and his focus. He would stare into Xenophilius’ eyes and make him look away.
Xenophilius held his gaze. A smile slowly, very slowly, bloomed on his face. Peter had one of his legs folded against him, and his arms crossed around his knee lazily.
“See?” Xenophilius said after a minute. He didn’t look away. “That’s a one of the reasons on my list of what makes you interesting.”
“That bloody list,” Peter let out. “Why am I interesting, then. Tell me.”
“You’re always scared to look people in the eye, yet you can’t resist a challenge. That’s one of the reasons.”
“It’s just that I have nothing else to do,” Peter denied, focusing his attention on not blinking, nor letting any hint on his face that would make Xenophilius feel like he had guessed anything — but he was a bit right, Peter had to admit. He had guessed the right thing, infuriatingly as usual. But he wouldn’t let Xenophilius know that.
“You have your scale model.”
Peter didn’t know what to say. If he admitted out loud that he couldn’t do it because his hands were shaking, it would have been like admitting Xenophilius had any effect on him. He wouldn’t let him know that either.
Peter looked right at Xenophilius’ eyes, focusing on him like he had done on his scale model just before. He needed to focus on something or he would start to think about how they were stuck in a lift, and how it could literally fall from one minute to the next, and how dangerous it was, and how they could literally die anytime soon.
So, instead of refraining his eyes like he did before, Peter plunged into Xenophilius’ gaze. And surprisingly, the more he looked into his eyes, the less uncomfortable he felt. At some point, he noticed the silence, and the lack of lift music, but it didn’t really matter, because he was starting to feel like home in Xenophilius’ eyes.
“This, is also a reason you’re interesting to me,” Xenophilius started again after a few minutes. Peter had almost forgot about that sodding list, but he was now lowkey eager to know more about it. “You’re always extremely serious and focused on what you’re doing. It’s something I’ve noticed.”
“If what I’m doing really is interesting,” Peter said lowly, not really getting his point. “There’s no reason for me to not be interested. But is that detail really interesting about me?”
“It is. You’re very focused. It shows passion,” Xenophilius continued without an ounce of shame. “This is attractive.”
Peter almost broke the eye contact, because of how surprised he was. All he did was open his eyes wider, raising his eyebrows. He immediately felt the heat back on his cheeks. He wanted to put his cold hands on it, to cool them, but it would be like admitting something Peter wasn’t ready to admit yet. Instead he fidgeted distractedly with his fingers.
Xenophilius’ downward smile grew a bit wider. Peter felt so bare it was almost horrible, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Then the blond’s grin faded a bit.
“You’re also very conscious of your body in space.”
“I’m not!” Peter chuckled, an incredulous smile on his lips, and some bitterness peeked through his voice without him doing it on purpose. “I don’t mind my body.”
But he was tightening his grip around his knee already. He had hoped for his body not to have weird angles several times already, since they’ve been stuck in that lift. Especially when he had been leaning down to carve his trees. Peter wondered how Xenophilius could see that. He felt a bit embarrassed. His body was fine. But…
“I wasn’t fully sure,” Xenophilius admitted, his smile gone. He had a safe neutral expression on his face. “But now I am. I know you don’t trust how you look.”
Peter felt suddenly highly embarrassed and ashamed. He was fuming. How could he dare say that? Anger was burning on his cheeks and on the nape of his neck, and he suddenly wanted to punch Xenophilius in the face. He really was toying with Peter, and the latter hated that. He wasn’t used to be played with; he was used to the opposite, at most.
With a bitter smile, his cheeks burning even more than before, he replied. “And how is that even a thing that makes me interesting? I mean, we don’t all have the chance to have a body like yours,” he snapped, his anger growing within seconds. “There’s no need to tell me my body doesn’t look good.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Sounded just like it,” Peter retorted, now filled with the desire to look away. But there was no was he was letting that twat win to such a trivial game. “You might as well tell me I’m insecure about my body. I already know I’m fat, thank you. I deal with it.”
Xenophilius didn’t look away. He frowned briefly, before getting his neutral expression back.
“I didn’t,” he started, leaning forward. “Say that,” and he put his elbows on his knees, since he’s been sitting cross-legged during this whole time. He then put his chin in his right hand, frowning a bit.
The lift wasn’t that big. So now, Xenophilius was closer to Peter than before; his face was only a dozen centimetres away. Maybe a bit more, but not a lot. And even if Peter couldn’t see Xenophilius’ whole face, he was still able to see his defined cheekbones, and his sharp eyebrows. And his long eyelashes, as blond — almost white — as his hair. And the little scar above his right eye, that shone slightly on his pale skin, under the white light. How the bandages were wrapping his wounds and his bruises that were still left.
Peter stayed perfectly still despite still feeling angry at him for what he’d just say, because everything was Xenophilius. He was close, close, close, and even if Xenophilius had just insulted him instants ago, he could feel his warmth now, how he smelled, and Peter suddenly felt like the burn on his skin might make him pass out. Because he knew he was blushing hard. Of anger, of frustration, but also of horniness. And he was ashamed of that last one. Because it wasn’t right.
After moments of staring, jealousy started to make its way to Peter’s mind. Xenophilius was always dishevelled, and wearing basic stuff — for the period of time he had been able to frequent him —, yet he was effortlessly pretty. It was unfair. He was skinny. He was tall. Blonde. And smart. And fucking good at flirting, out of nowhere. Peter was not all of this, and it made him jealous, suddenly. Because that boy seemed unaware of the struggle it was, not to be pretty to everyone at first sight.
Seconds passed, and then maybe minutes, during which Peter felt like that eye contact thing was becoming a big deal. He felt like there was something strong linking them, something invisible and immaterial, something that refrained him from looking away. As if it was too late to look away now. Too late because it was too strong.
“Are you mad at me, now?” Xenophilius asked, tilting very slightly his head. He was confident, asking that question, but he was genuinely asking. Peter envied that, how naturally it was for him.
“Yes,” Peter said, quickly. It was true.
“May I ask why,” Xenophilius continued, apparently oblivious — for once.
Peter snorted lightly. “I said it already. You basically said I was insecure about my body,” Then, Peter added, with a sarcastic tone, slightly raising an eyebrow. “Thanks.”
“You know, it’s okay to be fat,” Xenophilius shrugged. He had a little smile at the corner of his lips.
Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It would make him loose the bet, and he even wondered for a split second if Xenophilius wasn’t saying shit like that for Peter to look away for a brief instant, and lose against him. Peter bit his inner cheek, before answering.
“Say that to everyone, Xenophilius,” he retorted, his voice still bitter and ironic. “Society doesn’t share your point of view.”
Xenophilius smiled at his name. “Well,” he shrugged again, his voice full of humour. He didn’t seem scared of Peter’s sarcasm. “If you need someone to kick these idiot’s asses, I volunteer.”
Peter snorted, yet he felt his bitterness melt a bit. Xenophilius was fully grinning now, as if he was proud of himself in anticipation. Peter was expecting him to say some batshit thing already.
“And that makes more place for kisses,” he added, faintly licking his bottom lip, but Peter saw it in his peripheric vision. They were too close for him not to notice.
He was absolutely not embarrassed by what he was saying and it was a bit fascinating to Peter. Well, he would have been fascinated if he wasn’t already busy blushing again because of what Xenophilius was implying. More place for kisses. And that, was on his list of what was making Peter interesting to him. All of his resentment was gone, far gone. And the nape of Peter’s neck was really, really burning him. He wanted to take his hoodie off so bad, because he was literally feeling too warm inside, but it would make him lose.
Peter wasn’t even the type to blush that much. On the contrary, even, he was rather considered cold and distant by everyone he had ever met. They’d always say, “oh, I thought you didn’t really like me, at first”, or “I was lowkey scared of you”. Xenophilius probably decided it was going to be the end of this. Peter definitely preferred when he was asleep all the time, and couldn’t make him blush like an idiot.
A little strand of white hair escaped from behind Xenophilius’ ear, and slowly fell on his forehead, casting a curled shadow on his face. And damn, Peter never thought it would have been something he’d find hot, but Xenophilius putting it back behind his ear just as slowly, without looking at anything but Peter, did something to him. I could have done it too, he thought, accompanied with the image of him putting Xenophilius’ hair behind his ear. Peter tried to bury that thought as soon as he realised what he was thinking.
“Corny,” he said instead, with a frown. It was the only thing Peter was able to say without his voice betraying him.
His teeth were biting the skin of his mouth and of his lips, and they started to be truly abused now. Xenophilius made him nervous. Peter wanted to give up the eye contact game. He was very bad at it. He preferred when it was boring, and when they were sitting in silence. He wanted to carve his trees, instead of having to hold Xenophilius’ burning gaze. Even his kind and seemingly sincere smile looked insolent to Peter.
His chest was raising slightly more than it had been before, and he couldn’t even do anything about it. After a several dozens of seconds, Peter felt correct again.
“You only have pick-up lines, or what?” he said, desperate for Xenophilius to look away. But it seemed he had no intention to do that; it seemed Xenophilius was a master at keeping eye contact.
So he smiled at Peter’s obvious attack, and he answered. “Do you want me to continue the list of what makes you very interesting?” he asked instead, and Peter felt like Xenophilius’ face was getting closer saying that sentence.
Peter sighed. “No.”
Xenophilius chuckled. “Alright.”
They stared at each other for minutes again, in silence. Minutes during which Peter felt like Xenophilius was relaxing more and more. As if he was contemplating a bit, losing himself in Peter eyes, and the sight was quite odd, even if not unpleasant. Peter relaxed too, surprisingly.
And then, Peter’s stomach rumbled. He had almost forgot he had not eaten yet.
“Ah,” he let out, for himself, disappointment and frustration peeking in his voice. He almost looked away from Xenophilius’ eyes, while putting his hand on his belly, as a reflex.
A hint of shame found its way in Peter’s thoughts, still. Peter, the fat boy, he’s hungry again. Peter pursed his lips together. He didn’t think that always, but somehow Xenophilius had planted the seed earlier.
“You’re hungry?” the other boy asked, genuinely.
“Yes,” Peter answered lowly, pursing his lips, grabbing the fabric of his hoodie with the hand on his stomach.
Xenophilius nodded, before breaking the eye contact, to Peter’s biggest surprise. He turned around a bit, searching for something behind him with his hand. And then, from the back pocket of his trousers, he pulled a cereal bar. Peter was still looking at him when Xenophilius looked back at Peter with a smile. Then, he held it out for Peter to grab. And the latter blinked at him, confused and surprised.
Peter however took the bar slowly, looking at it. His stomach rumbled again, and Xenophilius smiled, leaning back on his hands, still sitting with his legs crossed. His face was now far, it seemed, and Peter felt colder. Cooler maybe.
“You always carry a cutter with you,” he said. “Well here’s what I always carry,” he tilted his chin a bit, to point at the cereal bar. “That’s all I have though. But you can eat it. I already ate at lunch, and I have dozen boxes in my room.”
“In your convalescence room, you mean?”
“Yeah,” Xenophilius said.
Peter didn’t answer anything else, but nodded, before opening it, and taking a bite, under the smile of the other in front of him. He was about to take a second bite, when a sizzling noise interrupted his movement.
“—ello? Hello?”
Peter and Xenophilius exchanged a glance full of hope. Then Xenophilius quickly got up, to push the right button on the board. Before he could even reach the button, the sizzling started again.
“—s there someone? Please, answ—”
Xenophilius pushed the button, before speaking. “Hello? We are two, and we are stuck inside, yes.”
Two seconds passed, two seconds that felt like eternity.
“Oh, my! Are you alright?” the voice asked, and the sizzling sound was a bit uncomfortable to the ears.
Xenophilius looked at Peter, who shrugged to him. Xenophilius looked back at his button board.
“We are alright,” he confirmed.
Two other seconds.
“—o are you two?”
“Sorry?” Xenophilius asked, a slightly confused expression on his face.
“Who are you? Who is inside the lift?”
“Ah,” the blond said, before pushing the button again. “Peter Pettigrew,” he said without an hesitation, and Peter was surprised he knew his family name. “And Xenophilius Lovegood.”
The microphone sizzled a bit again, without it being audible. Xenophilius gave Peter a confused look, and Peter just shrugged again.
“—going to reactivate the lifts. You two are stuck on the third floor. You should be able to reach the second floor in a few minutes. —”
Peter frankly smiled. He was glad they would get to exit this lift cabin, that was very tiny for two people.
“Thanks,” Xenophilius replied, and he released the button, before sitting back down in front of Peter. “Now we wait, right?”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” Peter simply said, taking the last bites of the cereal bar. Then he put the paper of the bar in his pocket, at the back of his trousers, along his cutter.
It felt weird not having to stare into Xenophilius’ eyes now. Instead, he looked at his scale model, next to him, and tried to get the polystyrene crumbs off it. Then his eyes fell on the tree he half carved. He kind of wanted to keep it like that. It was a cute tree. And also an ugly tree. Peter let out a little laugh through his nose.
“What’s funny?” Xenophilius asked, and Peter looked back at him with his smile.
“Nothing,” he replied, smiling harder.
A comfortable silence followed for a few dozen seconds. Peter looked at the ceiling. The lights were not that bright, and he closed his eyes for an instant. He opened his eyes, to glance quickly at the other in front of him, and he was not even looking at Peter anymore. He was looking at the carpeted floor, lost in his thoughts. Peter closed his eyes again, wondering what could be inside of the head of someone like Xenophilius.
Maybe Peter did not fall in love with Xenophilius on that lift, as if they were in a movie, but he sure knew more about him now. Or did he? Xenophilius didn’t really talked about himself. Yet Peter felt like they had bonded, somehow. But over what. An eye contact game? A list of things that were supposed to justify Xenophilius staring? Peter wondered how he had the sensation to know Xenophilius better despite him only talking about Peter.
Lost in his thoughts, Peter was a bit startled when the lift started moving again. The gravity seemed to glue his organs together for a split second, before it coming back to normal. Then the lift stopped at the second floor, just like the person they talked to earlier said. Peter stood up before the doors opened, just like Xenophilius, and when they opened, Peter was still trying to grab his scale model without damaging it. He finally got it, and he exited the lift cabin after Xenophilius.
“Oh, Xenophilius, you’re not supposed to be there!” Flitwick’s voice said, before Peter got to see where he was standing. “You’re supposed to stay in your room, and rest,” he added, with a fake-reproach tone.
Mr. Flitwick was standing right next to Xenophilius. Peter was lowkey blinded by the brightness of the hallway’s light, for a second, and he blinked a bit. He heard Xenophilius sigh, and he smiled at it. The blond was obviously going to answer something, to justify his walk out of his bedroom — Peter had to admit, it must have been very boring and sort of annoying to have to stay dumbly in a room for weeks without anything to do —, but his mentor interrupted him, putting a hand on his shoulder, lightly.
“I heard it was someone who activated the intrusion algorithm without doing it on purpose. A few things went down, and the lifts are always stopping. You know, just in case—” Flitwick said quickly.
“In case someone wants to escape, they’re slowed down.” Xenophilius completed. “They have to take the stairs, I know,” he added, as if it was common knowledge. To that, Flitwick nodded proudly, before changing his facial expression completely in the matter of a second, to something more interrogative.
“Why were you in this lift anyway?” Flitwick asked, glancing at the interior of the lift, as the doors were closing themselves. He then acknowledged Peter, and smiled to him. No hint of suspicious tinted his voice, when he then said “Peter! Fortunately, he was with you, what a coincidence.”
“Hello, sir,” Peter nodded slightly with a polite smile, still holding his scale model with both his hands.
“I was bored, I can’t stay in a room all the time,” Xenophilius complained, rolling his eyes. It made Peter smile, of a funny crooked smile.
“Well, doctors said you had to rest.”
Xenophilius rolled his eyes again, sharing an annoyed look with an amused Peter. It was funny to see him like that with his mentor. Peter never really got the opportunity to see them together. He never saw Flitwick again, after the day he decided Peter would be the perfect bedside watchman. Peter concluded with time they just didn’t came to Xenophilius’ room at the same hours.
“That mission put you in a terrible state,” he added, his hand in Xenophilius’ back, guiding him somewhere — his bedroom, Peter guessed. “You would have died, if they had not intervened. Next time—” and Peter didn’t get the end of the sentence, because they were too far.
He was just grinning mindlessly, staring at Xenophilius’ back, seeing him disappear at a corner, thinking that he would definitely go spend more time in Xenophilius’ bedroom. Maybe.
Peter walked to the storage room, instead of taking the lift, and he put his scale model there, waving at a few people he vaguely knew from here and there, and he took the stairs again, to go back to his office, as if nothing happened. In the stairs, he saw Xenophilius’ mentor again. Peter hesitated to apostrophe him. He almost didn’t do it.
“Oh, sir,” Peter said, as Flitwick was going down, and Peter up. It caused the mentor to lift his face to Peter, with interest, and smile. Peter then realised it was too late to not say what he wanted to say. “I thought it might be better to ask you, so you don’t worry,” he started, “But maybe Xenophilius could stay rest in my office? So he’d feel less lonely.”
“Oh… I don’t know,” Flitwick said at first. He looked like he thought genuinely about it. “I don’t see the issue,” he said after a little pause. “But is there a bed or something?” he asked, seeming worried for his pupil.
Flitwick’s relationship with Xenophilius reminded Peter of the one between McGonagall, and Sirius and Regulus. Peter knew McGonagall, who was their mentor, and also the mentor of Remus, James, Lily, Marlene, Mary and others, was different with the Black brothers than her other pupils. She was also behaving differently with Lily. Since the two brothers had lost their parents when they were young, and Lily too, in a house fire. She was a bit of a mother figure for them. Peter also knew McGonagall had already lost a lot of her pupils in missions.
So seeing Flitwick so worried for Xenophilius made him wonder if they had the same kind of bond, or not. The thought made Peter smile slightly.
“There are very comfortable seats. Yesterday, I visited him, he was doing very good. And today too. He’s getting better.”
Flitwick smiled a bit. “Well, then, I don’t see any issue. I’ll tell the doctors about it.”
“Thanks, sir.”
“You’re welcome, Peter,” Flitwick answered, with a smile, before walking away, disappearing under the stairs.
And Peter came back to his office, took his cafeteria card, and went grab something. He ate it, before heading to Xenophilius’ bedroom.
✭✮✭
“Oh, you’re saving me, Peter. You truly are.”
Peter rolled his eyes, not answering.
“You missed me?” Xenophilius said, as Peter was opening the door to his office. He could hear the smirk in his voice. “You’re already addicted to me—”
“Don’t make me regret this,” Peter replied, turning around, after succeedingly unlocking the lock. Xenophilius was just behind him.
A few days after asking Flitwick, Xenophilius was finally in Peter’s office. The doctors agreed, but it took a few days for them to be sure Xenophilius was alright enough.
“Hm? Please don’t annoy me already, I haven’t even opened the door yet,” he added, with an innocent smile to Xenophilius, despite the tone of his voice full of threat, smacking him lightly with his key. “I can still tell Flitwick the seats aren’t comfortable enough for your royal ass to sit, and that you won’t be able to rest to your fullest.”
Xenophilius opened his eyes slightly wider, and tilted his head a bit to the side, surprised by Peter’s confidence. But he nodded anyway, a little smile at the corner of his lips, and with a gest of the hand, he mimed closing a zip on his mouth.
Peter rolled his eyes, but it was light. Then he opened the door of his office, and stepped inside. He knew Xenophilius was following shortly after him. Peter walked to his desk, and he put his keys on top of a big pile of paper that he had put there earlier, before walking to his storage place, to take out another project to finish. He took the sketches he was searching for out of the storage place, and he closed it behind him. Xenophilius was standing in the middle of his office, arms at his sides, looking around him with interest.
“So that’s where you work.”
“Yes,” Peter replied.
Xenophilius brought his gaze back on him, and without a surprise, he had a light smirk on his lips. “Interesting.”
“Do you have any other words to describe me other than ‘interesting’?”
“Gorgeous,” Xenophilius immediately replied, his smirk vanishing, as if he was totally serious. He maybe was. It made the nape of Peter’s neck burn.
“Ha, ha.”
Xenophilius didn’t smile. He just stared at him. Peter shook his head, slightly incredulous. He pointed at the big armchair in the corner of his office.
“You can sit there. And rest.”
“I will,” Xenophilius smirked, walking to it, and winking to Peter on his way.
“Be quiet, and behave. Or else, I—”
“You’ll tell Flitwick. I know,” he completed his sentence, sitting in the armchair, smiling softly.
“Good.”
Peter sat at his desk. He worked for several hours, continuing his sketch, and then, he worked on another scale model, of a new prop this time. Xenophilius stayed for all these hours. He tried to stare at Peter, but at some point he fell asleep, and, when the sun was starting to set, Peter took him back to his room, even though Xenophilius was very reluctant to follow him out of his office.
“Can’t I just stay with you for the rest of the evening?” his voice was almost pleading. Peter thought he was being dramatic.
“No. You heard Flitwick. It wouldn’t be smart, and you need rest.”
Xenophilius winced a bit. “I don’t need that much rest.”
“You do,” Peter started walking anyway, ignoring Xenophilius little tantrum.
And the latter followed after him. Peter could almost hear him grumble in his head, even though Xenophilius wasn’t technically saying anything. Once they were in front of his door, he tried to escape it one more time, but Peter gave him a glare, and Xenophilius complied. He managed to make Peter promise he would come back the next day. Peter promised, to make him finally enter his bedroom.
And like that, they spent several afternoons in Peter’s office, instead of the cold and blank room Xenophilius was forced to rest in; indeed, now Peter realised it, the room was gloomy despite the white walls, and it gave off a strange vibe. He would probably have gone crazy if he was forced to stay there alone with only doctors from time to time to visit him. And a very mildly motivated engineer visiting him too; Peter hadn’t been a huge help, he realised that too now. His visits probably weren’t the best, despite Xenophilius claims.
Like that, Peter found himself promising to himself that he would try harder to be Xenophilius’ friend. That he would try.
✭✮✭
“Are you never bored?”
“I am,” Peter says, nodding to himself without lifting his eyes from his scale model. He’s painting the walls of the building he made. “But never when I paint. Never when I work on my models.”
Xenophilius nodded in the corner of his eye.
“If you’re bored,” Peter added, “You can go back to you room,” With a little wry smile, he lifted his head to look at the blonde. “I’ll be more than glad to escort you back to your room.”
Peter was joking about that, but after a week of having Xenophilius with him, every day, in his office, during his usual lonely afternoons, talking to him, trying to destabilise him or to deconcentrate him, by staring at him, jokingly flirting or asking questions about the sense of the universe, he was getting used to his presence. He was doing more than getting used. He was starting to enjoy it.
“Hm,” Said Xenophilius, who didn’t seem to believe his bullshit. “I’m not bored. Thank you,” And he curled up a bit more on the armchair, with a look at Peter.
Peter chuckled through his nose, lightly, before focusing back on his scale model, trying to give the walls a concreate aspect. He didn’t take his aerograph from his reserve, where he kept all his stuff to paint and create his models, and now, he was forced to hand-paint it all. It was taking him a huge and pointless amount of time, it was frustrating. After a few minutes, a dozen, he lost his patience: he had just made a umpteenth mess in one of the surfaces.
“Xeno, can you bring me the aerograph, please?”
Xenophilius lifted his face in interest. He was quiet in his corner not answering Peter’s question, so the latter looked at him.
“Hm? Please? Can you bring me the aerograph? I’m too lazy to stand,” Peter admitted. Then clicked. “Oh, you’re too tired to—” And he pushed his seat, to stand up.
But Xenophilius stood up quickly. “No, no, no, no. Don’t worry. I’ll get it for you. Where is it?” He had a soft smile on his face; one that looks a bit proud, but not as arrogant as usual, Peter would say.
Peter sat back for a second. “Hm. Third drawer, in the cupboard on the left when you enter the reserve. Third drawer starting from the top. You can’t miss it, it’s next to a lot of little pots of paint.”
Xenophilius nodded, and walked to the reserve, disappearing in it. Peter watched him go. He wondered if Xenophilius wasn’t bored here, even if he pretended the contrary; he was acting weird suddenly.
“Is it a sort of silver flute-looking pen?” Xenophilius said from the other side of the room. His voice was a bit muffled by the walls between them, but Peter could hear the sound of a drawer being opened and rummaged.
“Yes,” He replied with a smile.
When he came back from the reserve with Peter’s aerograph in his hands, Xenophilius had a mix between a fascinated expression — looking at the aerograph attentively, as if he had never seen one before —, and a smug one — as if this little object held some answers.
“Can you give it to me?” Peter looked down at his scale model, holding out his hand open, for Xenophilius to give him the aerograph.
Actually, he had some paint in one of the drawers of his desk, so maybe he could use some… He opened the said drawer, distractedly, his hand still held out—
Then he realised his hand was still empty. He looked up at the other.
“What are you doing?” Peter asked, raising his eyebrows in anticipation. “Can you give it to me, please, Xenophilius?” He insisted, in case Xenophilius wanted a proper polite sentence.
But he only grinned wryly at him, sat on Peter’s desk, and said. “Take it.”
“Xeno, what are you doing.”
He tilted his head as an answer, as if to say: Go ahead, take it from my hands.
“Really?” Peter asked, slowly getting up, sighing. He wanted to smile, chuckle, but he tried to hide it. “You’re a child.”
“I’m not,” Xenophilius wasn’t stopping himself from smiling, on the opposite.
Peter took a breath, and he tried to grab it. But Xenophilius held it further, and dodged Peter’s hand. He smiled smugly at that, as if he was very glad to do this.
So Peter tried to reach for it, leaning on the desk, and getting closer to the other boy, rolling his eyes to show his annoyance. But it was still too far. Peter tried to grab it a third time, but Xenophilius was easily keeping it out of his reach; they were close now, their chests almost touching, their faces at only a few centimetres from one another, and Peter had to admit it, his eyes drifted — for a split second, okay? — to Xenophilius’ lips. They quickly darted back to the latter’s eyes.
Oh, his eyes looked so light from where Peter stood. He stared defiantly into Xenophilius’ eyes, knowing that the idiot probably enjoyed this kind of defiance; he was definitely bored. For him to start this kind of game… The thing was.
Peter was the shy and introverted type. But once he was comfortable with the people he was around, he could be the most daring, the most audacious man known to earth. And so he smirked. And everything happened very quickly.
He kissed Xenophilius.
No, first, he grabbed his shirt, he pulled him closer, quickly, and their lips crashed together. It wasn’t the all cheesy kiss, but Peter put his heart into it; creating a real diversion. Or else, what would it be for? Xenophilius’ lips were a bit dry, and kissing him was a bit different from the people Peter usually kissed, but he tasted like the cereal bar he gave him the other day; his lips were sweet. Peter kissed his smile, and Xenophilius didn’t back off suddenly; he reciprocated it, his smile staying on his lips, as if he had also predicted that, the prick.
Their lips moved together, and one of Peter’s hands slid to Xenophilius’ side, fiddling with his shirt, and he had a ridiculously tiny waist. He was almost jealous. But no, truly, he was only glad to have the opportunity to feel it under his hands at least once. It was something to experience, he guessed.
His other hand discreetly reached for the aerograph, blindly, clumsily, and since Xenophilius had relaxed, his hand was reachable again. Peter took advantage of that, and he grabbed his hand, grabbing the aerograph awkwardly, but yanking it away from his hand anyway.
And even if Xenophilius was in the middle of intensifying the kiss, biting Peter’s bottom lip, Peter moved back with a smirk, seeing how Xenophilius was chasing after his lips.
“Oh,” Peter innocently said, feeling incredibly powerful and euphoric, suddenly. “You have a weak point, I see.”
“You,” Xenophilius said without an hesitation, shrugging as if it was a normal thing to say — as he always did when he dropped bombs like this one. “Is it that hard to believe?”
Peter blinked. But the other was already pulling him closer by the waist, his hands on his lower back. Xenophilius kissed him quickly. And then he smiled at Peter, his hands sliding off his body already, and Peter kind of missed them, even if he wouldn’t admit that out loud. Xenophilius was a good kisser, alright.
Xenophilius stood up from the desk, and walked nonchalantly to his armchair. He curled on it again, crossing his arms on his legs. Peter thought he was hard to read. He raised an eyebrow at him, but Xenophilius only smiled calmly. As if all of this was perfectly normal.
And to Peter, it honestly wasn’t big deal; he was just used to people actually making a big deal of kisses and stuff. Wanting to talk about it if it happened, or needing to know “where they stood”, needing to “put a label on what they were”. Peter usually didn’t mind. He just expected Xenophilius not to be the exception, but now that he thought of it, of course he was the exception. Good. It was easier this way for Peter.
He sat on his desk chair, quietly, and he painted his scale model for the rest of the afternoon; the silence was comfortable, and neither of them spoke. As it happened sometimes. After the sun set, Peter walked him to his bedroom.
Xenophilius gave him a knowing smile just before closing the door.
✭✮✭
“Oh,” Xenophilius cooed, with a fake-cheesy tone, rubbing his nose against Peter’s. The wind on the tarmac was hitting the two of them softly. “But you’re going to miss me, right?”
He didn’t have as many bandages on his face and on his body as several weeks ago. He was almost completely covered in them six weeks before that, and now, he only had a vague one on his left wrist. And it was almost completely healed.
Peter stayed there, but he looked at him through lidded eyes, eyebrows raised. “Really?” He asked jokingly, wondering why he had to do this right now. “What if I don’t.”
“I know you’re lying,” He laughed, his eyes shining with mischief.
Alright, maybe Peter was going to miss him a bit. In other words, he was going to worry himself sick. For his friends, he’s already worrying way too much for his own good, but knowing how Xenophilius was, he was probably going to hurt himself or perhaps, completely destroy his body like the other time — so six weeks ago.
Maybe, even, he was going to hurt himself on purpose to come back to Peter quicker.
“You’re like a princess waiting for the valiant knight in her tower.”
Peter chuckled at that. “Who’s the princess, between us…”
And Xenophilius laughed too. “Hmm…” He pretended to think. Peter gave him a peck, to stop him in his tracks; it was definitely not something to torture one’s mind for, and Xenophilius was the best to do just that: think very hard about random and sometimes quite pointless questions that no one really asked.
“So… You two…” Sirius’ voice suddenly got Peter out of his little bubble. “You’re an actual thing?”
And Peter turned to look at his friends, looking at him and Xenophilius with a lot of interest. Regulus was rolling his eyes, elbowing his big brother.
“Shut up. Don’t you see they’re having a moment? You truly lack tact—”
James grabbed Regulus by the waist, chuckling, because Regulus had started smacking his brother’s shoulder, and Sirius was the type to easily go for an argument, especially with his little brother.
Peter only shrugged. Marlene had a downward smile, full of mischief, and Lily next to her wasn’t better. These two exchanged knowing looks; Mary was smiling simply next to these two as if she was any better. Peter knew these three were the same. Mary was just better at hiding it. He knew that tonight, in their dorm, they would gossip about it.
They were about to go on a mission. Something short, McGonagall had said. Peter hoped nothing too bad would happen, but to be honest, he kind of trusted them on this one. It was simply some surveillance, and they would mostly stay at great distance from the crowd, and of anyone actually. Surveillance missions were mostly infiltration training. Easy peasy, like James said.
It was nothing really, but Xenophilius insisted he wanted a goodbye kiss. Too cheesy for Peter. But it was making him laugh. In the meantime, Peter’s friends had walked away a bit, preparing the last details before getting inside the jet.
“You’re going to miss me, hm?” Xenophilius teased, knowing exactly what Peter was going to answer, but saying it anyway. After all these weeks of ‘observation’, plus all the time he spent in Peter’s office, he probably knew his by heart now.
“Xeno. You can’t keep your hands off of me,” Peter grinned. Xenophilius’ hands were on his waist. The latter loved to put his hands on him, truly. And it felt surprisingly good. “Are you going to miss me?”
“I will.”
Peter shook his head, throwing his head back faintly to laugh. Xenophilius stole another kiss. If he had to admit it, yes, maybe he would miss him a bit, for these eight hours they would have to spend without each other. But that, he would never admit it out loud, because… well. Xenophilius probably had already guessed it.