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Another boring day, another errand that Wriothelsey has to run for Meriopede. Just when he thought he was going to have the misfortune of enjoying a wonderful day drinking Fonta and looking at the star magnolias in full bloom.
The rippling waters of the canal pass underneath the bridge Wriothelsey was standing on, carrying with itself the white blossoms. Fresh springtime sent and gentle sunlight showers the wolf with its magnetic blessing.
His phone keeps buzzing in his hand, making it hard to concentrate on eating his sandwich when he has to keep responding.
Navia showers him with emojis and messages asking where he is spending his lunch at and he’s struggling to respond to each one, otherwise he might never hear the end of it. Given that she has gotten custody of Antoine, their Kawasaki motorbike that was shared between her and Clorinde, the blonde was bound to find him soon.
Ah, how much he wanted this peace to last a little longer.
Dressed in a black turtleneck and jeans, Wriothesley would have been the epitome of normalcy, if it wasn’t for the height at which he tread. A couple strangers paused as they passed, looking at him when he shoves his phone with an annoyed expression and turns to leave.
It’s nothing but an ordinary day for the Duke of Meriopede, one of the most renowned technology companies in Fontaine.
They made everything that could work on electricity, starting from fridges and ending on watches and were famous for the fact Wriothelsey had implemented a bizarre, as described by the many newspapers and online articles, procedure. One which involved hiring convicts to keep them integrated in normal society. Those who were convicted for minor crimes at least.
It was natural for people to recognise him in public, which is why he drew his sunglasses over his eyes again and took a large bite out of his sandwich.
“Ah-”
The softest sound.
Wriothelsey turns just in time to see someone trip over themselves, fighting to hold their footing only to drop half of what they were carrying. Cars drive past them slowly, but the wind picks up one of the pages and blows it against Wriothesley’s leg.
Nobody stops to help and few people turn. The white-haired man, possibly elderly, scrambles to pick up the pages he had dropped before they scatter. Wriothesley kneels and begins picking up whatever came his way. A half-interested glance tells him these are research papers about…
The other man’s fingers touch over his glove as they reach for the same page.
‘The Secret Language of the Fotainian Leisurely Otter’ says the bold centered text at the front of the page Wriothelsey picks up. There’s a bunch of them in his other hand, so this one joins them as he uses his thigh as a surface to straighten them up again.
“While carrying so many books, you should really watch your—”
He looks up, a little flustered and very worried that the person he was talking to was freaked out by him, stunned mute. Instead of a white-haired grandpa he meets eye to eye with a pretty, young man wearing glasses low on the bridge of his nose.
While he had beautiful features, light freckles dusted over his cheeks accentuated by the crimson of a sincere blush, the man also had high cheekbones and a pointy chin - a jawline that was sculpted to be both handsome and pretty. Especially with the hair which brushed across it, after the stranger tucked a lock behind his vermilion ear.
“...step.”
“Y-Yeah, thank you.” He responds. Both of them slowly stand up.
The man collects his papers and the book that went flying from Wriothesley and their fingers blush again. This time the wolf flinches, his ears folding back in caution when electricity zips down his spine.
It seems they can feel it as well because the stranger tucks his hands close to his body, hugging the materials against his chest. He finally looks up at Wriothesley and their small smiles freeze on their faces as something shifts within the air.
His eyelashes are long and pale as his hair and his eyes are the most gorgeous sea-blue he’d ever encountered. Within them he sees unmistakable shyness, but that doesn’t stop him from staring, mesmerized.
Cute.
The thought surfaces, sudden and with a pop like a cork out a champagne bottle. He wanted to introduce himself. Wanted to see a little bit more of this handsome fairy that stumbled pretty much into his arms.
He wanted to introduce himself so badly, he didn’t even feel when his lips had begun moving.
“I’m Wriothesley.”
“Neuvillette.” He responds, a sparkle in his eyes, “Thank you for helping me, Wriothelsey, but I must—”
Wriotheley almost purred at the sound of his name coming from those rosy lips, almost as sweet-looking as the white peaches that grew around the Fontaine orchards. All the while Neuvillette’s face grew increasingly paler as he watches the trolley he was meant to catch roll past them, not even stopping at the empty station as it proceeded to turn the corner.
“That was the last one…” He laments, the headache that’s been trying to convince him the food in his stomach was not a right decision after pulling an all-nighter, beginning to take over.
“What? The tram?” Wriothesley perks his ears, looking at the forlorn Neuvillette as he realizes what had transpired.
“The next one is in an hour… That’s too late for me. God, taxies at this hour will be a nightmare.”
“Are you in a rush to get somewhere?”
“Ah—” Neuvillette squeezes his eyes and pinches the space between them as if overcome by a great burden, “I’m presenting at the University of Fontaine today… Or at least, I was. But now I don’t know if I can find an alternative to get there.”
“My car is nearby, want a lift?”
“I’m sure you have much better things to do.” Neuvillette begins taking slow steps away, as if he’s not all that sure on how to finish the conversation, “Than to bother driving some random person to the other end of town.”
Wriothesley follows, with a figurative tail tucked between his legs.
Just then Navia’s bike appears among the cars that are parked by the sidewalk. Neuvillette startles, but Wriothesley heaves the happiest sigh he’d ever exhaled in the presence of his colleague and friend.
“You’re just on time, actually.” He tells her, throwing her the keys to his car before she’d even taken off her helmet.
“What? I just arrived!” She complains when he approaches, “I know that smug face, Wrio, you’re going to be in big trouble if Clorinde finds out I lost you from my sight ag… Who is that?”
Navia, whose sixth sense was almost sharper than any other, notices Neuvillette awkwardly lingering in the periphery of their talking circle, hesitant both to leave and to speak. She hops off her bike the second her sight makes a direct line between the pretty professor and her employer.
“Oh. Emergency?”
“We need to go to UF. Mind if I take this boy for a ride?”
Navia laughs at the double meaning behind those words and Neuvillette turns even redder than he was before. His heart was going to beat out of his chest as he was trying to hype himself up to ask for this fantastically handsome man’s phone details. Instead, he realizes that he’s blocking the sidewalk traffic by standing in the middle of it, and is condemned to approach at the gorgeous blonde jaguar’s beckon.
“Who am I to obstruct knowledge? I only wish I could come with you for the presentation Dr. Neuvillette.”
“Do we know each other?” He asks, while Wriothelsey heels the motorbike off the kickstand and turns the key in the engine.
“Oh! No. I’m Navia, but it’s my girlfriend loves visiting your aquarium. She’s also a follower of your theory about the past lives of jellyfish.”
“Time is ticking.”
Navia rolls her eyes at the prompt, “May I?” She offers the helmet.
Neuvillette hesitantly takes off his glasses and she slides the protective gear on his head. It smells faintly of feminine perfume and flowers - sweet and refreshing especially around the car fumes that would make Neuvillette’s temples pulsing on a good day.
The visor pops up and she says, “Don’t be startled. He’s a brute in looks, but he’s gentle. Also. Hold. On. Tight.”
Neuvillette thinks that Wriothesley was no brute no matter how he twists and turns this perfect figure of masculinity he met by chance. If anything, this person was close to a dog with his fluffy ears and messy hair - dressed for comfort and warmth despite the dark colors.
Neuvillette nods twice sharply in understanding, shifting the stack of paper and books in his hands to create an iron hold. He sits behind Wriothesley, slipping easily into place, although the seat was obviously made for a second person that would be smaller in stature.
Heeding the warning, he plasters himself against the strong back, laying his head between the shoulderblades that flex when they finally move, sliding in line with the cars.
Whether or not he hears the apology about the breach in privacy, Wriothesley drives safely under a wave of green lights that follows them almost entirely to the University. The entire time he thinks about the purr of the engine beneath them, the touch of the body behind him and the fist which is curled around his waist, clinging in a way that he’d rarely felt anybody do.
Dr. Neuvillette drops jaws as he arrives at the front yard at the back of a purple matte bike. Even more so when the other man turns to help him out of his helmet and they talk a little more.
In front of the whole University, Professor Neuvillette asks the man one head taller than him for his phone number, watches as he inputs the number of his own and receives a quick call.
“Right on time, are we?” Wriothesley asks.
“Very much so. The hall is probably not even vacated yet.”
“Good luck with the presentation, then. Message me… Whenever you’d like.”
Neuvillette stands back a little and pushes his glasses back on his nose when Wriothesley takes a wide U turn and disappears into traffic. The faint smell of his cologne still clings to his collar from how close they rubbed together.
Neuvillette’s ears are still hot when he enters the lecture hall and begins setting up the presentation.