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Ted Spankoffski hated wearing his glasses.
They were ill-fitting, for one. They were always sliding down the bridge of his nose,causing him to constantly have to push them back up every five minutes. The frames were tight at his temples, causing him to always have a dull headache whenever he bothered to wear them. And none of that was even mentioning the way that they dug into the side of his head, tugging against his hair.
And, honestly, he felt like they made him look ugly. The whole vibe that he was always going for was sleazeball, not a fucking nerd. Next think he knew, he was going to be wearing suspenders like his nerdy fucking brother. Nobody wants to check out a guy wearing glasses.
But, wearing his glasses did have a few benefits. He could actually see the world around him a little better. He could read the labels on the food in the fridge without holding it right up to his face, he could read emails on his computer without enlarging the font a bunch, and he could notice a fuck ton of other details that otherwise would’ve flown completely under the radar for him.
Or, in the case of his inspection of Paul, he could notice the very obvious red lipstick stains around Paul’s lips, no doubt leftover residue from his barista girlfriend during his coffee run earlier.
Paul seemed to be unaware of it. Well, Ted assumed. He didn’t think Paul was the type of guy to be super loud and proud with that sort of shit, displaying it for the entire office to see. He’d assumed that, after about 15 minutes, Paul would’ve caught himself in the reflection of his computer screen, scurried to the bathroom, and wiped it off.
Well, he hadn’t. And now Ted was being tempted with the very low hanging fruit of Paul, sitting at the tables in the break room, the lipstick stains still very visible on him. There was nobody else in the room, so God was pretty much begging Ted to tease Paul. What else was a good friend supposed to do? Not point it out? Not tease his friend a little (Or a lot) about it? Nope, that was stupid. Ted needed to do what was the best for the greater good.
“Hey, Paul,” He started, doing his best to seem innocent. He was leaning against the cabinets, studying Paul from afar. “You go to Beanies earlier?”
“Hm?” Paul perked up, looking over at Ted. “Yeah, why– oh, shoot, I didn’t get you anything, did I? My bad.”
“Nah, nah,” Ted deflected. “It’s fine. Didn’t want anything. Beanies is shit anyways.”
“Yeah,” Paul agreed, chuckling softly. “Wait, how’d you know I went to Beanies?”
“I mean, I could have seen your coffee cup,” Ted suggested, pushing off of the cabinets and slowly walking towards Paul like a predator circling his prey, enjoying the confused expression on Paul’s face. “Or, I could’ve just looked at you.”
“You could’ve just looked at me?” Paul repeated, staring at him confusedly. “What’s that mean?”
“Have you noticed that I’m wearing my glasses today?” Ted questioned, smirking, enjoying taking his time in his teasing. It was a practiced craft, really.
“Yeah?” Paul shrugged. “They look good on you, Ted.”
“O–oh, thanks,” Ted sputtered, not expecting that response in the slightest. He took a deep breath in, clearing his mind. “I meant, these glasses, they allow me to see a lot of small details that I might not have seen otherwise. Or, in your case, maybe not small details.”
“What do you mean?” Paul furrowed his eyebrows, still blissfully unaware.
“C’mon, Ted,” Ted supplied, looking Paul up and down for added effect. “You haven’t noticed it on, say, the rim of your mug?”
Paul looked down at the mug of coffee that he’d poured himself, where faint traces of the red lipstick that painted Paul’s lips could be seen in the exact spot that Paul had been taking a sip. Paul placed a gentle hand to his lips, and brought it away from him to find the same red tint on his mug on the tips of his fingers.
“Fuck,” Paul swore. “Lipstick? Seriously?”
“I know,” Ted agreed gleefully, finally reaching the table and sitting down on it right next to Paul’s seat. “Lipstick? Seriously, Paul?”
“And you– you saw this?” Paul asked, worried. “You didn’t think to, I don’t know, say anything to me?”
“Where's the fun in that?” Ted shrugged his shoulders, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I could’ve told you, but then I would’ve had to miss watching you walk around the office with your lips painted like a party clown.”
“Okay, okay, Ted–” Paul started anxiously, rubbing the tips of his fingers against the corner of his mouth and staring at the amount of red that returned on his lips. “Okay, just– shut up, alright?”
“Really, how did you not notice that, man?” Ted continued, ignoring Paul’s protests. “You look like a Dracula, man. I mean, it’s not that far off, considering you were just sucking on–”
“Shut the fuck up,” Paul ordered. “I’m already concerned enough without you talking. You think anyone noticed?”
“I don’t know, Paul, do you think anyone has eyes?” Ted laughed cruelly. “I probably didn’t even need to be wearing my glasses to notice it, I mean, Jesus Christ.”
“I don’t know why I even asked.” Paul sighed, falling back in his chair.
“I mean, I did hear Bill and Charlotte whispering something about an oblivious coworker earlier, but that couldn’t have been about you,” Ted fibbed. Lying wasn’t that bad when it was in pursuit of getting a reaction, right? That was probably in the bible somewhere. Especially when he could tell that Paul was so close to his breaking point.
“What if Davidson saw?” Paul asked, mostly to himself at that point, having realized long ago that Ted would have nothing good to contribute. “Shit, then he’ll know that–”
“That you’re hookin' up on company time?” Ted finished. “It’s an admirable effort, horndog to horndog. I mean, I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to get caught, unless that's your thing, but you’re really takin’ a stand against the man.”
“I don’t want to take a stand against the man,” Paul lamented, failing in his effort to ignore Ted. “I just want to blend in.”
“Well, then maybe the red lipstick wasn’t the best choice,” Ted teased. “Maybe tell your hookup at Beanies to wear lip gloss next time?”
“Ted,” Paul hissed. “Are you capable of being quiet for, like, 30 seconds?”
“I’m capable of it,” Ted insisted. “But why should I? Teasing you is fun. Being quiet isn’t.”
“Ted, just– if you don’t fucking shut up, I’m going to–” Paul paused. “Jesus, just be quiet, alright?”
“No, c’mon, finish your sentence,” Ted urged. “You’re going to what?”
“I’m not going to do that, Ted.” Paul rolled his eyes.
“Why, you scared?” Ted couldn’t say what exactly it was that was motivating him to continue. He knew that his game hadn’t gone exactly as he had wanted it to, that he was pretty much fighting a losing battle. But still, there was something telling him to keep pushing.
“I’m not scared,” Paul responded, sitting up in his seat. “Listen, I get that you’re jealous, or whatever–”
“W–what?” Ted blinked his eyes, as if he might’ve imagined the whole thing. Jealous? He wasn’t jealous. He didn’t do jealous. He, Ted Spankoffski, wanted to kiss Paul? Nope. He didn’t want that at all. He never wondered how that might feel. Nope. Never. “Why would I be jealous of that fuckin’ barista? She lives for tips, Ted. And she doesn’t even sing for them!”
“The barista?” Paul’s lips curled into a smirk, and immediately, Ted realized his error. Embarrassment slammed into him. “I kind of thought you’d be jealous of me, Ted, considering that I got to make out with a hot woman.”
“That’s– that’s what I said! I’m jealous of you,” Ted backtracked, digging his hole deeper and deeper.
“No, you didn’t,” Paul corrected, his voice now eerily calm. “You were talking about being jealous of her.”
“W–which I’m not!” Ted exclaimed, trying his best to keep what little of his composure that he had left.
“Aren’t you?” Paul suggested. “Because it seems a lot like you are. You came in here, teasing me, but the second I turn the attention on you, you fluster.”
“That’s not– not what’s happening,” Ted responded dumbly, gripping the table beneath him. “You’re reading into things, man.”
“Am I?” Paul stood up from his seat, slowly pushing it into the table, as if he had all of the time in the world. “You sure you don’t with that your lips were the ones leaving marks on me?”
“P–paul,” Ted breathed, focusing all of his energy on not turning as red as humanly possible (and failing). This could not be happening. No way. “Stop, seriously.”
“What, I thought this was the game you wanted to play?” Paul moved, until he was standing right infront of Ted, standing over him. “Harassing each other, teasing when you’re asked to stop. That’s the game, right?”
“No, Paul, it’s–”
“Or,” Paul continued, cutting Ted off. “Is that only the game when you’re in control? Is it only fun when you’re the one pushing? When you’re the one who is able to fluster others?”
“Stop, dude,” Ted begged, trying to spare himself from more humiliation.
“If you earnestly want me to stop, to leave and pretend this never happened,” Paul proposed, placing his hands on either side of Ted and drumming his fingers on the table. “I’ll go. But I suspect that isn’t what you want. Is it?”
Ted paused. On one hand, having Paul so easily read him, being on the receiving end of the teasing that he had so easily perpetuated earlier, was humiliating. On the other hand, he definitely didn’t want it to stop.
“Care to give me an answer?” Paul tapped Ted’s wrist with his finger once, prompting him.
“Fuck, Paul, just– just do whatever, I don’t–” Ted’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the table tighter, screwing his eyes shut.
“Hey,” Paul brought a hand up to Ted’s jaw, moving his head down. “Look at me, Ted.”
Ted opened his eyes cautiously, looking at Paul.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” Paul asked. “No teasing, no funny quip about my lipstick stains?”
“N–no,” Ted stuttered, doing his best to not completely crumble under Ted’s gentle yet firm touch on his chin.
“Good,” Paul asserted. “It’s about to be on you, anyways.”
With that, Paul brought his other hand up to Ted’s jaw and pulled him in for a bruising kiss, hungry and passionate. Ted’s mustache scratched at Paul’s upper lip as his fingertips dug into the stubble on Ted’s chin. Ted kept his hands firmly gripping the table, as if he might topple over if he didn’t have something to steady himself on, allowing Paul to maintain full control of the kiss as he explored his mouth.
After a few minutes, Paul pulled away, breathing heavily and resting his forehead on Ted’s.
“Fuck, Ted, you–” Paul took a breath in. “You look so fucking good with my lipstick on you.”
“Technically, it’s your little barista's lipstick, but–” Ted cut himself off when Paul tightened his grip on his jaw. “W–whatever, I don’t give a fuck.”
“Good,” Paul replied, lowering his hands back down to the table. “Not to, um, ruin the vibe or anything, but we’ve definitely been in here for longer than our break.”
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Ted acknowledged. “Davidson is going to bust in here any minute now looking for us.”
“Yeah, um–” Paul paused. “Yeah, okay. I’m going to… go back to my desk?”
“Yeah, I’ll, um, clean this lipstick off,” Ted figured, shrugging. “Make sure nobody sees me.”
“I don’t mind,” Paul admitted, bringing his thumb up to Ted’s lips and smearing the lipstick that had come off onto Ted’s face across his cheek. “Not if you don’t. Think you look a hell of alot better with this lipstick on you.”
“Huh?” Ted questioned, not expecting that response.
“Might look even better in it after work,” Paul suggested, stepping away from the table and leaving a very flustered Ted at the table as he turned to walk out the door.
“Paul, you–” Ted started, a bit too loud, before lowering his voice. “Are you trying to give me a fuckin’ boner at work? Because it’s working!”
“Bye, Teddy.” Paul waved to him as he left the room, leaving a very hot and bothered Ted alone on the table.
And, great, he was half-chubbing with another guy’s (and girls) lipstick on his face in his office break room.
Perfect.