“Out of the way.” Austin murmurs, and the subtle clink of bottles passes by you swiftly as he hauls over boxes towards his desk. You don’t see it, but he’s smirking to himself, one hand scrubbing at his face while he peeks towards your direction for any sign of a reaction. There’s none—usually this is always the case, but today your head lifts a fraction to send an irritated glance his way. As soon as it comes, the grin on his lips falls flat.

Alright. He doesn’t really know what he was expecting with that one. Austin smiles helplessly, the very epitome of twiddling thumbs, and tries to will his mind to focus on what’d he’d been trying to do in the first place.

He hates the idea of keeping things secret between the two of you. Austin wants you to look at him the way you look at him at his apartment, all soft and sweet and lazy. Here, at this stale lab, all you can afford him is the subtle press of your head against his shoulder at the vending machines.

Still, what’s so hard about keeping a secret relationship—secret?