[ ficlet ] let the sinners pay their sins [ Turkey/Greece, Hetalia ]
Title: let the sinners pay their sins
Author: frostberryjam
Word Count: 650
Rated: G
Pairing: Turkey/Greece (Axis Powers Hetalia)
Warnings: None -- unless human names count.
Summary: AU: Being a professor in the same department as your ex can be… tricky.
Author Notes: Takes place in the same universe as this France/Spain ficlet. I don’t know, maybe I should actually delve into it. But then -- the AU would swallow me whole and then where would we be? Written for inuyashacooks, who chose Turkey/Greece -- College -- Scent. (Small, but never the less related note; Herakles teaches Philosophy. Turkey, Middle Eastern Studies.)
It had been his mother’s opinion that the sense of smell was often the most overlooked of all the senses. Herakles had never quite known how to reply to that apart from a vague agreement. She’d regarded him with exasperation before a small, Mona Lisa smile adorned her face, and she had chuckled and promised that he’d get it one day.
He got it now. And it was pissing him off.
He shouldn’t have been at all aware of the other professor’s presence. The headphones were on at full blast, his back was to the door, and he had never lifted his eyes from the book in his hands. There was no way he should have been able to sense Sadiq entering his office.
Except Sadiq smelled like incense, dark and smoky, like thyme and something spicy, as well as of cigarettes and faded cologne, as if he’d shrugged on clothes that he’d worn before and the cologne lingered on them. The point was that Herakles was able to identify one man by scent alone and it discerned him. He’d had other lovers, and friends who he loved, and none had managed to imprint themselves so acutely onto all his senses.
It irritated him that Sadiq somehow had managed to make Herakles aware of his presence on all five sensory planes. If there was a sixth, as his next lesson planned to discuss in his Philosophy 101, then Sadiq would soon be attempting to worm his way into that too, before Herakles could stop him.
Booted feet entered his line of vision. Herakles parted his lips in an inaudible, resigned exhale. Dark fingers slid across the pages, blocking the text. The book was summarily yanked out of his hands.
It wasn’t like he’d been able to focus on reading anyway. Herakles deliberately took his time in removing his headphones and regarded the man as if he were an invader on his turf. Which Sadiq Annan was, even if they shared offices right across from one another.
“Don’tcha ever go home?” Sadiq asked him, teeth white against his lips. Herakles glanced out the window, noticing for the first time that it was almost sundown.
He’d overstayed office hours. Again. Herakles lifted a shoulder in reply and accepted the cup of coffee shoved into his face. “I like my schedule.”
“What schedule?” Sadiq rolled his eyes and leaned against the desk, careful not to knock over anything. Their subjects often meant they shared resources. Half of Herakles’s books were in Sadiq’s office right at that moment. The man took a sip of his own coffee, the cup looking small in his hands. “I think you just need someone to be there.”
Herakles frowned and stood up from the reading chair. “Sorry?”
“To be there. Someone. Then you’d go home.” Sadiq gave him an odd, thin smile. His tone was silky and carried a hint of sarcasm. “You need someone taking care of you.”
Herakles made a soft sound that from anyone else it would have sounded like a snort. He ran a hand through his hair, trying not to fall for the man‘s bait.
He failed.
“Are you implying something?”
“No, I’m telling you something.” Sadiq set the cup of coffee down and moved closer. Herakles was too distracted by how well those black jeans fit the man to react until Sadiq was in front of him.
He lifted his gaze, pointedly keeping his own expression bland.
“I’m telling you to settle down with me already.”
Herakles examined him under lowered eyelashes, voice drier than gravel. “Because that worked out so wonderfully the first time.”
Sadiq shrugged, unapologetic. “I could have treated you nicer. But I’ve been making up for it.” He touched Herakles’s wrist, the one still holding the cup of coffee. Herakles inhaled deeply, cologne and incense in his lungs. He held his breath, savoring the heady scent.
Then he exhaled and pressed the coffee back into Sadiq’s hand. “Keep working on it.” He told his ex-boyfriend and left without bothering to lock up his office.
Author: frostberryjam
Word Count: 650
Rated: G
Pairing: Turkey/Greece (Axis Powers Hetalia)
Warnings: None -- unless human names count.
Summary: AU: Being a professor in the same department as your ex can be… tricky.
Author Notes: Takes place in the same universe as this France/Spain ficlet. I don’t know, maybe I should actually delve into it. But then -- the AU would swallow me whole and then where would we be? Written for inuyashacooks, who chose Turkey/Greece -- College -- Scent. (Small, but never the less related note; Herakles teaches Philosophy. Turkey, Middle Eastern Studies.)
It had been his mother’s opinion that the sense of smell was often the most overlooked of all the senses. Herakles had never quite known how to reply to that apart from a vague agreement. She’d regarded him with exasperation before a small, Mona Lisa smile adorned her face, and she had chuckled and promised that he’d get it one day.
He got it now. And it was pissing him off.
He shouldn’t have been at all aware of the other professor’s presence. The headphones were on at full blast, his back was to the door, and he had never lifted his eyes from the book in his hands. There was no way he should have been able to sense Sadiq entering his office.
Except Sadiq smelled like incense, dark and smoky, like thyme and something spicy, as well as of cigarettes and faded cologne, as if he’d shrugged on clothes that he’d worn before and the cologne lingered on them. The point was that Herakles was able to identify one man by scent alone and it discerned him. He’d had other lovers, and friends who he loved, and none had managed to imprint themselves so acutely onto all his senses.
It irritated him that Sadiq somehow had managed to make Herakles aware of his presence on all five sensory planes. If there was a sixth, as his next lesson planned to discuss in his Philosophy 101, then Sadiq would soon be attempting to worm his way into that too, before Herakles could stop him.
Booted feet entered his line of vision. Herakles parted his lips in an inaudible, resigned exhale. Dark fingers slid across the pages, blocking the text. The book was summarily yanked out of his hands.
It wasn’t like he’d been able to focus on reading anyway. Herakles deliberately took his time in removing his headphones and regarded the man as if he were an invader on his turf. Which Sadiq Annan was, even if they shared offices right across from one another.
“Don’tcha ever go home?” Sadiq asked him, teeth white against his lips. Herakles glanced out the window, noticing for the first time that it was almost sundown.
He’d overstayed office hours. Again. Herakles lifted a shoulder in reply and accepted the cup of coffee shoved into his face. “I like my schedule.”
“What schedule?” Sadiq rolled his eyes and leaned against the desk, careful not to knock over anything. Their subjects often meant they shared resources. Half of Herakles’s books were in Sadiq’s office right at that moment. The man took a sip of his own coffee, the cup looking small in his hands. “I think you just need someone to be there.”
Herakles frowned and stood up from the reading chair. “Sorry?”
“To be there. Someone. Then you’d go home.” Sadiq gave him an odd, thin smile. His tone was silky and carried a hint of sarcasm. “You need someone taking care of you.”
Herakles made a soft sound that from anyone else it would have sounded like a snort. He ran a hand through his hair, trying not to fall for the man‘s bait.
He failed.
“Are you implying something?”
“No, I’m telling you something.” Sadiq set the cup of coffee down and moved closer. Herakles was too distracted by how well those black jeans fit the man to react until Sadiq was in front of him.
He lifted his gaze, pointedly keeping his own expression bland.
“I’m telling you to settle down with me already.”
Herakles examined him under lowered eyelashes, voice drier than gravel. “Because that worked out so wonderfully the first time.”
Sadiq shrugged, unapologetic. “I could have treated you nicer. But I’ve been making up for it.” He touched Herakles’s wrist, the one still holding the cup of coffee. Herakles inhaled deeply, cologne and incense in his lungs. He held his breath, savoring the heady scent.
Then he exhaled and pressed the coffee back into Sadiq’s hand. “Keep working on it.” He told his ex-boyfriend and left without bothering to lock up his office.