#baldmann

“That,” Henry breathed, “was pretty good.”

Doug had to agree. When they’d first started ducking into empty rooms during their lunch, their escapades had been awkward, clumsy, and as a whole relatively mediocre. It wasn’t perfect even now—sex never would be—but the awkwardness had gone away, for the most part, and they were able to laugh about their mishaps. It was all getting better with practice.

With some effort, Doug tore himself away from Henry. He’d have to grab some water. “I…can go back first, if you want.” He liked to think that no one from the office knew what they got up to during their breaks, and it helped if he and Henry weren’t always coming and going at the same time. Of course, with both of them now drenched in each other’s sweat, it would be hard to cover it up, but some people liked to go running during their lunch hours. Maybe Doug and Henry could pretend to be active today.

“If you have to,” Henry said with a mock groan. “I’d rather you just stay here with me.”

Doug felt a blush creep around his collar. “Just go,” he said, though he was smiling. He took a step toward Henry, meaning to pull the man into a hug. Unfortunately, he was still unsteady from their most recent exertions. He tripped over his pants and barrelled forward, headbutting Henry in the chest and knocking him over. “Shit! Are you okay?!”

Henry blinked up at him, looking bewildered—as if he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten where he was. Doug cringed. Apparently, the awkwardness was still around sometimes. He was so stupid. How had he even managed to reach this level of clumsiness? Doug’s face was now scarlet, mortification making his gut twist. “I’m sorry…”

With mild shakiness, Henry managed to pull himself to his feet. Doug suddenly realized he hadn’t actually offered to help the man up. Great. He shivered a bit as he looked at Henry, his own panic making it impossible for him to decipher his coworker’s expression. It was quite surprising, therefore, when Henry wrapped his arms around him.

“Relax, Dougy,” he murmured. “I’m fine.” His embrace was solid, safe—even if they were both soggy. Doug melted into the hug.

After a few moments, Henry pulled back, kissing Doug on the forehead. “Get to work, kid.” He wore a small smile that Doug returned.

“Right. I’ll…see you.”

“See you.”

(I have no idea what ask meme this may have come from, but I do know that it corresponds to the drabble I’ve had sitting in drafts for months of Doug switching Henry’s coffee to decaf.)      It had been awhile since Henry's first visit to Doug's doomed universe, and since then they'd developed a pattern. They'd worked out exactly how the multiverse travel had happened, and Henry had fallen into a habit of visiting when he had the chance. Being a workaholic, it wasn’t often, but Doug appreciated every moment of it.

      When he did finally end up in Doug’s universe, it was usually because he was so exhausted that he couldn’t keep working if he wanted to. Still, he was persistent and, despite being shaky and exhausted, he refused to sleep. He’d brought paperwork with him that he insisted he was going to finish, and Doug had been sent to the break room to retrieve coffee for the task.

Everything had gotten so confusing as She took over, Her thin fingers of poison forcing themselves into human throats, into weak bodies. The scientists around him had fallen, choking, to the ground, some tripping over him as he crawled in a panic to safety. Well, “safety” was a relative term, but he’d still managed to drag himself out of immediate danger. Just himself.

Doug couldn’t remember where Henry had stood or how exactly he’d reacted when it was all too late. He could have been one of those who’d tripped over Doug; he could have died in seconds, breathing in too much air too quickly as he tried in vain to stabilize the computer. Even before it had all gone wrong, Doug couldn’t remember his last words to Henry. He couldn’t remember the last expression he’d seen on Henry’s face. As his memory faded further, he couldn’t even remember the exact colour of Henry’s eyes.

Still, he could remember their sparkle.

Even as his brain grew cloudy, Doug remembered vividly how Henry’s eyes had lit up when there’d been a change in progress with GLaDOS. Any change was an event worth celebration for Henry, no matter how small. He remembered the way Henry glowed under praise from the boss—and, strangely, under praise from Doug himself. He remembered brightness.

He remembered the thin shade that had covered Henry’s gaze at times, like a distant and unknowable question. It had always made itself present whenever Doug was caught up in thinking about what things would be like if Henry kissed him, if Henry held him close, if Henry agreed to be a fixture of his life—and not just as a coworker. Doug had never been able to muster the courage to ask, of course; there was no chance Henry could have ever wanted him anyway.

Yet sometimes, Doug had thought Henry might. The nervous programmer had wondered often about the question in Henry’s eyes, occasionally allowing himself to imagine that it had been brought about by Henry’s own insecurities. The balding man was far more confident than he ever would be, but maybe…just maybe, he had been nervous, too. Maybe Henry had wanted Doug just as much as Doug had wanted him, and he’d simply been too afraid to ask.

Maybe not.

It didn’t matter, anyway. It was too late; whatever Henry’s last words to him had been, they certainly hadn’t been “I love you.” Wherever Henry had gone, he would never see Doug again. His eyes were surely darkened now, by his own perpetually-closed eyelids instead of love—if the body even remained. If those eyes had held a question, it would not be unanswered in this life.