Work Text:
Aaron, already jittery, nearly falls entirely out of his chair when Alexander clatters into the room, full-force, full-volume, waving a newspaper around and shouting something that Aaron’s brain is too ?!?!?!!!?????!!!!?!?!??!?!?!!!?!!?!??? to process.
“I mean, can you even believe it? It’s such bullshit, like how could this even happen --”
He’s having a hard time focusing, or catching his breath, and shit he is having a panic attack, right here at work, and he fumbles for something to cling to -- the edge of his desk, apparently -- and Alexander, oblivious, is still gesticulating with and shouting about the paper. Aaron is pretty sure it has nothing to do with him specifically, but rather that he was simply an available audience. He hears the name of the current president several times in a scathing tone, and so, yes, okay, definitely not about him, but he’s so loud, why is he so loud --
“Aaron, dude, fuck, are you okay?”
Aaron tries to be casual, wave away his question, but his hand is visibly shaking and his smile is more a pained baring of the teeth. Alex goes much more still and much more quiet, and says, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m not upset with you,” and he sounds like he’s going to start off on a nervous ramble, but Aaron forces words out of his mouth to cut him off.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I have anxiety, it’s not your fault.”
“Well, shit, kinda! How inconsiderate, just barging in here and yelling about the state of the world without even thinking about how that would affect you? That’s kinda shitty of me!”
Aaron does not disagree, but keeps that to himself. He thinks it is implied.
“Look, I -- I’m sorry. I -- what can I do? How can I help, can I make this up to you? What do you need?”
“Slow it with the questions,” Aaron says. “I just need time. Quiet.”
“Do you need to go home? I’ll talk to Wash for you, you don’t even have to worry about a thing, I promise, and --”
“Alexander,” says Aaron, “I’m going to be okay. I just need a little while to calm down.” He reaches for his bag, tries to feel around for his medicine, but he grows concerned -- and a bit more panicked -- when he can’t feel the cylindrical bottle in there. “Shit,” he mutters.
“What?”
“Forgot my meds.”
“You should go home if you need to,” Alexander urges. “Seriously. I’ll take you, if you need a ride.”
It is tempting. It’s very tempting, when Aaron thinks about the fact that he won’t have to work on all the things that are stressing him out, which probably led to this in the whole first place. He doesn’t have the energy to argue, and he did take the bus, and he finds himself packing up his things to go home barely a half-hour after he’d arrived at work.
Alex fiddles with the radio, lands on a classical station and looks to Aaron nervously for approval. Aaron nods in acquiescence, and then the awkward silence -- soundtracked by a flute concerto -- is nearly as anxiety-inducing as the shouting had been earlier.
“I’m really sorry,” Alexander says, about halfway through the drive, apparently unable to keep quiet any longer. “I won’t do anything like that again.”
“You didn’t know,” says Aaron. “I’m not upset with you. Thank you for taking me home.”
“Of course,” says Alex. “Do you need anything else?” he adds, as they approach Aaron’s place.
“Not that I can think of right now,” Aaron says. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” says Alex, “anything you need.”
Maybe Aaron isn’t thinking straight, from his anxiety, or maybe since he is panicky enough that it doesn’t matter if he does something else ridiculous -- he leans over and kisses Alexander on the cheek, quickly. Alexander’s eyebrows jump up and he looks at Aaron in incredulous delight.
“I do need some alone time, but -- if you want to talk later,” Aaron starts.
“Yeah! Yes, yes, of course, I’ll text you? I’ll text you. I’ll talk to you later,” Alex says.
Aaron smiles at him, and finds it comes more easily than he had expected. “Talk to you later, Alex. Drive safe.”
“I will!”
And seemingly on impulse, he reaches out and takes Aaron’s hand, and presses a kiss to his knuckles.
Aaron’s returning smile is no effort, at that, and as he goes up to his apartment, he can’t stop thinking of the soft press of lips to skin. Even as he curls up beneath his covers and tries to get his heart rate normal, though his chest still feels tight, and his hands are still shaky, he finds himself eagerly anticipating Alexander’s text, and he thinks that maybe, everything will be okay.