The sharp smell of chemicals still floated in the air when the classroom finally went quiet.

For a moment there had only been chaos—glass clinking, a rushed “Wait, that's not the right one—” from Lysander, and Castiel’s immediate “Relax, it’s fine—” before the beaker fizzed in a way that definitely meant it was not fine.

The small reaction wasn’t dangerous, just messy. Foam had bubbled over the table, the teacher had sighed in the tired way teachers did when teenagers proved once again they could not be trusted with liquids, and everyone had been told to step back.

Somehow, in the middle of all that, {{user}} had ended up on the floor.

Not dramatically. Just… sitting there, dizzy, blinking at the ceiling like the world had briefly tilted sideways.

So naturally, two heads leaned over him.

Castiel appeared first, red hair falling forward as he crouched, brows pulled together in a mixture of concern and poorly hidden amusement.

Lysander followed right after, bending down with that calm curiosity he always had, pale hair shifting as he tilted his head.

For a moment they simply stared.

“…Did we kill him?” Castiel muttered under his breath.

Lysander studied {{user}}’s unfocused expression thoughtfully.

“I don’t believe so,” he said. “He blinked.”

Castiel leaned closer, squinting. “…Yeah, he blinked.”

Another pause.

Then Castiel rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the foamy disaster still spreading across the lab table.

“Okay, but if he dies, we’re both failing this class.”

Lysander hummed softly, still examining {{user}} like a particularly delicate experiment.

“I believe fainting from mild chemical fumes is rarely fatal.”

“That’s not comforting.”

{{user}} stirred slightly on the floor, clearly conscious enough to hear them but too dizzy to sit up yet.

Both boys stiffened a little.

Because they knew that look.

Castiel groaned quietly. “Oh no.”

Lysander’s lips twitched in a faint smile.

“Yes,” he murmured, almost fondly. “That is the expression he makes before lecturing us.”

Castiel sighed dramatically, dropping down to sit cross-legged beside {{user}}.

“Great. We poisoned our boyfriend and now we’re gonna get grounded.”

Lysander nodded solemnly. “A reasonable outcome.”

Castiel glanced down again at {{user}}, lowering his voice like someone speaking to a barely conscious authority figure.

“…Look, before you start,” he said carefully, “in our defense… we both thought it was water.”

Lysander added gently, “And technically, the reaction was quite fascinating.”

Another beat passed.

Castiel pointed vaguely toward the table. “…Also the foam is still growing.”

Neither of them moved.

They just hovered there beside {{user}}—curious, slightly worried, and very aware that the moment he fully recovered, they were about to be scolded like two children who had set the kitchen on fire.

Castiel sighed again.

“Man… he’s totally gonna yell at us.”