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It’s dark inside the storage room. There aren't any windows, the only light peeking through is from the crevices of the closed door. Multiple racks of random items are neatly organized in rows along the walls and spreading out in aisles. Near the door, there’s a dusty wooden workbench that looks like it hasn't been used in a while, creaking slightly from where Wemmbu is sat comfortably on it, legs dangling over the edge.
For now, everything was calm, quiet.
There were no plans being sketched out, no Law guards attacking, no bickering among District 13 members over some stupid disagreements or past quarrels. Everyone was likely settling down for the night, having last minute meetings or grabbing something to snack on. Even with the calmer atmosphere, Wemmbu still finds it to be too much, very aware of too many people in one base and the dread that comes with what is coming in a few days.
So, he resorts to a secluded room. Here, he can finally catch a break from everyone, everything, just for a little bit.
Just him.
But where he goes, a certain “combat master” always follows.
Wemmbu had feigned boredom and claimed he wanted to explore the massive bunker. Parrot, usually sharp and observant, seemed too tired to argue—leading this operation and all—and let Wemmbu do his own thing. He also didn’t argue when said combat master followed not long after.
On the outside, it looked like this certain someone was looking for a certain rematch he wouldn’t shut up about whenever they were in public.
Rivals.
So why would two people who infamously hated the other willingly lock themselves in a storage room together?
Well.
His boyfriend occupies the space between Wemmbu’s long legs, pressed close to the edge of the workbench. Flame’s warm hands rest comfortably against his hips, gently stroking the hem of Wemmbu’s loose hoodie and fingers brushing against the skin underneath.
There's no sound to alert anyone of their presence, save for the soft, wet sounds of lips meeting and breaths being shared, barely audible. Wemmbu’s arms wind around and behind Flame’s neck, tracing his locks one by one. Their bodies fit perfectly together, every part pressed close and each of them melting further into the kiss.
Rivals indeed.
Wemmbu’s legs are locked around Flame’s hips, bringing them impossibly closer. There was no need for urgency, no reason to make this quick like the many other times they had in the past, barely managing stolen kisses and quiet moments.
In here, they could be together.
He sighs contently against Flame’s lips, tilting his head for a deeper angle. There was always this rush of adrenaline that came with being close to Flame, the same rush Wemmbu used to get when they were on opposite sides of the battlefield. He cherishes moments like this deeply.
“We…we shouldn’t be gone for too long,” Flame murmurs lowly, pulling back. Their faces are inches apart, noses brushing with the proximity.
“It hasn’t been that long.”
Flame pulls back further to check his watch, frowning. “It's been almost an hour, bro.”
“Not long enough.” With that last statement, Wemmbu tightens his hold on Flame’s neck and pulls him back in for another kiss. He can feel the smile against his lips as the argument dies within him.
Neither of them hear the door open until there’s a startled gasp behind them.
Wemmbu’s eyes flew open the second Flame’s did, amber meeting violet momentarily before they sprung apart. Wemmbu untangled his arms and legs from Flame’s body and they both whipped around to identify the intruder standing in the doorway.
Of course he was on blanket duty.
Stupid Parrot told him to get stupid blankets from the stupid storage room. Except, the thing is, Spoke has no idea where the stupid storage room is because this base is so stupidly huge and Parrot never gave him directions. Like, who even needs a base this big? We don’t even go in half of these rooms. Spoke thought, exasperated. He'd already checked all the doors down the main hallway, so he wandered around until he found another long one that’s closer to what he assumes is the back of the bunker.
Spoke groaned dramatically, eyeing the many doors lining the hallway. Blankets. Where the hell do I find blankets in a nuclear chamber?
He nearly gave up, four doors down and nothing. Until, the one furthest down the hallway had potential. Labeled ‘Storage Room.’
Finally!
Opening the door, Spoke noticed it was pretty dark, the only light spilling into the room emitting from the hallway. There were multiple shelves spread out across the area and in aisles, filled with canned food, spare armor sets, various hygiene supplies, and—blankets!
He also spotted the edge of a work desk pushed near the door in his peripheral. He stepped fully into the room intent on his mission until—gasp.
Oh.
Spoke didn’t expect company.
It took him a good minute to process what he was seeing.
Wemmbu was sitting on the edge of the work desk, arms wrapped around Flamefrags neck and legs hooked around his broad hips. Flame’s hands were roaming his—rivals?—waist calmly, their faces pressed very close together, which gave him a hint that they weren’t just talking. Except that was only for a brief moment, until they both spotted him. Or heard him. Yeah, that gasp wasn’t exactly nonchalant.
Oops.
Now they stood—or, Wemmbu was still on the desk—with a bit more distance between them, Flame straightening his shirt as he took a large step backwards. They both had this look on their faces that reminded Spoke of when he would catch his sister sneaking into the cookie jar when she wasn’t supposed to—caught red handed. Except red hands—yes, he knows it's just a saying— their faces were flushed a light red.
“Oh that's—uh, oh…okay.” He went through at least twenty different emotions at once. Instead of processing them, he just blurted dumbly, “I need…blankets.”
Wemmbu and Flame just stared at him, still in shock.
Now that Spoke was really looking, he noted that Wemmbu lowkey looked a mess. His long, usually straight hair that Spoke only ever saw in a ponytail, was fully down and all frizzed up, framing his face at awkward angles. Flame looked a little less a mess, but his lips were a bit swollen and—oh my god, his blindfold’s gone. He spotted the dark fabric sitting a few inches behind where Wemmbu was sitting. So, he thought, they definitely weren't talking.
Holy shit.
He just caught Flamefrags and Wemmbu making out in a storage room. The two people who, as far as he knew, hated each other.
A knowing grin breaks onto Spoke’s face, “Rivals, huh?”
One moment he’s standing in the doorway, and the next he is suddenly pushed against the wall with a muscled forearm pressed against his neck.
“Hey!”
“Spoke,” Flame says threateningly, amber eyes boring into him, “if you say a word—”
He yelps again, struggling against his opponent as he struggles to breathe. Then—the pressure is gone and Spoke takes in a large breath, still caught off guard by the sudden movement.
Wemmbu has a hand wrapped firmly against Flame’s arm a few feet away, now standing fully. The demon’s purple-black eyes are locked onto Flame’s as they speak in low, hushed voices. A few times his eyes would flicker to Spoke, then back to Flame, and again.
Spoke just watched curiously.
He notices how Flame visibly relaxes a bit, mumbling back to his not-rival. Wemmbu’s hand drops from his arm as he combs through his hair, trying to look presentable as they whisper.
After a long, agonizing minute, the pair finally turns to Spoke. Wemmbu is pressed close against Flame, leaning on a hip with his arms crossed.
“Spoke, you think you could, like, not let this—” the demon waved a hand lazily to indicate him and Flame, “get out to the others? We’re trying to…stay low.”
The void-being just grins again, suspicions now definitely confirmed. How ironic—the two most powerful players who made themselves out to be sworn enemies to the whole server, were a couple. A love affiliated, in a relationship-type, god’s damned couple.
He sees Flame tense again at his expression. Just to tease, Spoke says, “Yeah…I guess I can do that…but you owe me—”
He’s cut off when Flame pushes him toward the hallway, growls “Shut up,” and abruptly closes the door on him, the sound of a lock clicking into place.
And once again, Spoke is standing alone in the empty, abnormally large hallway.
Chuckling to himself upon this new discovery, he makes his way back to the group. In the middle of the base, the large platform held multiple players who were chatting, getting ready to settle in for the night. He spots Parrot discussing whatever with Theo and Egg.
The avian turns when Spoke approaches, eyes drifting downwards expectantly. An exasperated look appears on his face.
“Dude, where are the blankets?”
Spoke’s brain short-circuits. Then he remembered.
Damn it!