Work Text:
“Alright, I’m off.”
Mobile shrugged his corduroy jacket on and slipped his feet into his comfortable loafers. He closed his eyes, reeling in his emotions to add to the tranquil space that was his home office.
“You’re leaving already? That felt quick.”
“I know, but the astral plane can’t maintain itself, unfortunately.”
Wallace huffed.
“You’d think there’d be more psychics in Canada to do this so you can get a break for once.”
Laughing, Mobile pulled his boyfriend towards him into a tight hug. He would miss Wallace while he was gone—working in the astral plane was no fun and games. It was incredibly lonely, cold, and taxing on the mind. If Mobile had his way, he would already be working at Nintendo so he could make even more money and have more time for Wallace.
He’d sent the application in a few weeks ago, thanks to Wallace’s incessant encouragement. Mobile joked that Wallace only wanted him to work there because he’d be even more of his sugar daddy. But, much to his surprise, Wallace said, “No, guy. I think you’d enjoy it more, and it’d be so easy for you that you wouldn’t have to worry about your brain melting out of your ears.”
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours, Wallace.”
Wallace grinned against his boyfriend’s shoulder, his hands coming up to Mobile’s head to pet it. He slightly pushed his hips against Mobile, intentions clearly showing he was against Mobile leaving.
“Then we can continue where we left off?”
The psychic flushed—he probably won’t ever get used to Wallace’s suggestiveness.
“Of course,” Mobile pulled back to look at Wallace’s face. He had his typical grin, but it looked softer than usual, and his eyes were downturned. “Here.”
Mobile leaned in, with Wallace doing the same. They shared a brief kiss and sighed in tandem when they felt the same sparks they felt that night at the club; where they were dancing together under rainbow strobe lights, sweating and feeling loose from the alcohol they’d been drinking together. Pulling away, Mobile knocked his forehead against Wallace’s and closed his eyes. Despite his office being his designated work area, the real tranquil place would always be here, in Wallace’s arms, with bright sparks still dancing behind his eyelids.