Work Text:
the company-mandated “team building” night was dante’s latest attempt at keeping the bus from falling apart at the seams. after the last Intervallo left everyone raw and snappy, the manager had declared that everyone - sinners and lce staff alike - was going to a dingy backstreet bar whether they liked it or not. the place was nothing special: sticky floors, flickering neon that buzzed like dying insects, and a smell of stale beer mixed with the faint metallic tang of the city’s perpetual rain leaking through the cracked windows.
yi sang had slipped into the corner booth almost the moment they arrived, folding his long frame into the shadows like he belonged there. he nursed a glass of heavily watered-down soju, turning it slowly in his hands, watching the cheap liquid catch the weak light. across from him, Hohenheim had claimed the seat with his usual dramatic slouch, one arm draped over the backrest, legs spread like he owned the whole damn booth. their knees brushed under the scarred wooden table. neither of them pulled away. they never did anymore.
to the rest of the noisy group scattered across the bar, it probably looked like nothing - just two socially exhausted researchers stuck together because no one else wanted to sit with the quiet poet or the arrogant mad scientist. only they knew the truth. months of stolen moments, careful brushes of fingers in the lab, quiet nights where yi sang would rest his head against hohenheim’s shoulder when no one was looking. a secret, subtle thing they guarded closely in a place like the company.
hohenheim tilted his glass, swirling the amber liquid with a bored flick of his wrist. “this is ridiculous,” he muttered, voice low enough that only yi sang could hear. “forcing a bunch of walking disasters to drink together doesn’t fix trauma. it just gives us new trauma to share.” his eyes flicked up, catching yi sang’s gaze for a beat longer than casual.
yi sang’s lips curved into the tiniest, softest smile - the kind he only really let show when they were like this.
“perhaps the executive manager simply wishes for us to practice being human again,” he replied quietly, his voice carrying that dreamy, distant quality he used in public. but his foot shifted under the table, pressing lightly against hohenheim’s ankle in a hidden little hello.
hohenheim snorted, though the sound lacked any real bite. “practice. right. as if any of us remember how.” he took a slow sip, then slid his half-empty glass across the table toward yi sang. “yours looks even weaker than the last one. trade.”
5heir fingers met as yi sang accepted it. a deliberate, lingering brush - thumb grazing knuckle for just a second too long. the small spark of contact sent a familiar warmth through both of them, hidden in the middle of all the chaos around them.
it was such a small thing. but yi sang’s fingers brushed his when he accepted the glass, and that was enough. a secret little current passed between them, hidden in plain sight.
the rest of the group was loud. heathcliff was arguing with ishmael near the dartboard. don quixote had somehow convinced ryōshū to arm-wrestle. faust was explaining quantum probability to a visibly suffering sinclair. no one was paying attention to the two researchers in the corner.
after another round of awkward small talk that mostly consisted of Hohenheim mocking the bar’s terrible music and yi sang humming noncommittally, hohenheim jerked his head toward the back door.
“smoke break,” he muttered. “you coming?”
yi sang nodded once.
the alley behind the bar was narrow and damp, the kind of place that collected puddles even when it hadn’t rained in days. a single flickering bulb buzzed overhead.
hohenheim leaned against the brick wall and fished out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. he lit one, took a long drag, then offered it to yi sang without a word.
their fingers touched again as yi sang accepted it. he brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling slowly, eyes half-lidded. when he exhaled, the smoke curled between them like a shared secret.
they didn’t talk for a while. merely passed the cigarette back and forth in comfortable silence. hohenheim’s shoulder bumped yi sang’s. he let himself lean in a little, their arms pressed together.
“you’ve been quiet tonight,” hohenheim said eventually, voice low. “Even for you.”
yi sang turned his head slightly. the orange glow of the cigarette lit the sharp line of his cheekbone. “i find the noise… taxing. but this is nice with you.”
hohenheim’s mouth twitched. he looked away, pretending to watch the steam rising from a nearby vent. “sap.”
“you wear your quiet amusement like a beautifully tailored mask.”
“tch.” but hohenheim didn’t deny it. he took the cigarette back, his fingers lingering against yi sang’s longer than needed. the casual touches were how they did this - always subtle, always deniable. a knee under the table, a shared cigarette, or a coat thrown over shoulders when the bus got too cold. never anything that would draw eyes in a place like the city.
still, tonight felt different. maybe it was the alcohol buzzing warmly in their veins, maybe it was how exhausted they both were after weeks of mirror calibrations and distortion incidents. whatever it was, the air between them felt thicker.
hohenheim exhaled a long plume of smoke toward the sky. “sometimes i wonder how the hell we ended up like this. two burnt out geniuses sneaking around like teenagers.”
yi sang’s quiet laugh was barely audible. “a fitting irony, perhaps. we who once believed ourselves above such… ordinary entanglements.”
hohenheim glanced at him. the fondness in his eyes was unmistakable up close. “you’re not ordinary. never have been.”
“neither are you.” yi sang’s voice dropped even softer. “though you try very hard to appear… abrasive.”
“keeps people away.” hohenheim smirked, but it softened at the edges. “except you. you never took the hint.”
“i found this trait of yours… charming. in its own way.”
hohenheim barked out a short laugh and bumped their shoulders again, harder this time. the cigarette had burned down to the filter. he flicked it away and immediately lit another one, offering the first drag to yi sang like always.
they passed it slower this time. each brush of fingers felt deliberate. the awkward silences stretched longer, but they weren’t uncomfortable. they were full. heavy with everything they couldn’t say out loud in public.
at some point the silences grew heavier, warmer. yi sang turned to face him fully. the weak alley light caught in his eyes, making them look deep and liquid, full of things he rarely said out loud. hohenheim swallowed hard, throat suddenly tight.
“Staring now, aren’t we?” Hohenheim asked playfully, voice low and rough.
“so are you,” yi sang answered, just as soft.
another long beat stretched between them, thick with everything they kept carefully hidden during the day. hohenheim reached up slowly, thumb brushing a stray speck of ash from yi sang’s cheek. the touch lingered, warm skin against warm skin. yi sang leaned into it without hesitation, eyes fluttering half-closed.
“damn it,” hohenheim breathed, the words barely audible.
he cupped the back of Yi Sang’s neck, fingers threading into soft dark hair, and pulled him in.
the kiss wasn’t smooth or practiced. It was messy in the best way - teeth clicking lightly at first from the urgency, the taste of cheap soju and shared cigarette smoke mingling on their tongues. hohenheim kissed like he did everything. impatient, a little rough around the edges, one hand gripping yi sang’s waist like he was afraid the moment might slip away into the city’s gray indifference. yi sang answered with that quiet intensity of his, softer but no less hungry, one hand fisting gently in the front of hohenheim’s lab coat while the other slid up to cup his jaw, thumb stroking the stubble there.
they stumbled back a step until hohenheim’s back hit the brick wall with a dull thud. the impact didn’t stop them. rain had started falling lightly, cool droplets landing on their heated cheeks and necks, but neither cared. hohenheim tilted his head, deepening the kiss with a low, needy sound rumbling in his chest. yi sang made a small, breathless noise against his mouth that sent heat rushing through both of them. their bodies pressed closer, legs tangling slightly, hands exploring with familiar but still-shy reverence.
it felt like months of careful distance finally cracking open. the awkward silences from earlier transformed into something warmer, more alive. hohenheim’s fingers tightened in yi sang’s hair, not painful, just grounding. yi sang responded by pressing even closer, their chests flush, hearts beating hard against each other through layers of clothing.
when they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together. raindrops clung to their lashes. yi sang’s smile was small, crooked, and utterly devastating in its honesty.
“…we should probably go back inside before someone notices we’ve been gone too long,” he whispered, voice husky.
hohenheim groaned softly, eyes still closed, reluctant to let go. “five more minutes.”
yi sang’s fingers traced the line of hohenheim’s jaw with gentle affection. “...ten.”
they stayed like that for a long while, trading lazy, slower kisses as the rain picked up around them. just two brilliant, exhausted disasters stealing warmth and comfort in a filthy alley, wrapped up in each other like the rest of the City didn’t exist.
eventually they slipped back into the bar, hair slightly damp, lips a little swollen. no one seemed to notice. or if they did, they didn’t comment.
under the table, their knees pressed together again. This time, hohenheim hooked his ankle around yi sang’s.