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Closing the door behind him with his hip, Sal drops his backpack and stretches his arms high into the sky. His back is killing him, but it's his own fault for checking so many books out from the library. A heavy bag and a long walk home does nothing for the shoulders, especially after a long study sesh in said library.
Hunching over a table for two hours was probably not the best idea. He can rest easy now though, he thinks with a smile, and leave what's heavy behind for a time. He's home. Even when he's in pain, that counts for something.
He goes through the motions he always does when he gets back: takes a trip to the bathroom, grabs a juice pouch, and checks to make sure Gizmo has eaten. Then he stumbles into his room, closing his door so he can remove the mask and let his face breathe for minute-
"Hi, Sally."
"AAIAIEHH-" Sal drops his prosthetic, heart pounding wildly, and stares with wide eyes at the intruder - his boyfriend. "Wh- Travis?"
And it is him, right there on the floor, staring up at Sal with equally frightened eyes. There's lines around his big brown eyes that spell danger, the same lines that appear just before a panic attack. "I'm sorry, I-"
"No, you're alright." Sal hurries to hush him, picking up his mask slowly and carefully. "I just didn't know you were here. You're so quiet."
Travis sits up, balances his journal on his lap, and shrugs. He still looks nervous, but obviously much better than just seconds ago. "It's an acquired trait. I- um. I didn't feel like being quiet at home, so I told my father I'm spending the night. Is that okay?"
"Of course!" Exhaling, Sal puts his mask on the bedside table. "I actually feel better knowing you're here. I worry sometimes."
A silence fills the space then, a brief pause in the rhythm of the exchange, like a hole being punctured in the casual air of their conversation. It's always an awkward transition with Travis, but one worth the growing pains.
Then Travis' eyes rise from the carpet to meet his, looking sad. "You don't have to worry," he says softly. "I know how to get by."
He knows it's supposed to make him feel better, but Sal's heart only aches. "I know, angel. You're strong and so smart, but it's hard not to worry about the people I care about. About you."
Travis' face stays sad, making him almost want to apologize. It's not like he wants to be wringing his hands together in worry. He'd much rather be wringing his hands around Kenneth Phelps' neck. As it is, he can't go asphyxiating any preachers, but he can't apologize either. Travis doesn't need sorries right now.
So instead he sits next to Travis and smiles as honestly as he knows how. "What are you writing, handsome?"
Travis snorts derisively, but Sal can see the way his lips fight a smile, his shoulders hunched bashfully in that way that means he's blushing. His bangs hang cutely in his face, covering parts of his eye. "It's stupid…"
"Nothing you make could ever be stupid."
"Yeah, okay." Another snort, this time more well-humored. "Don't laugh at me, but it's from that show Todd had us watch."
"Star Trek? Whoa, are you writing Star Trek fanfiction?"
Travis' wide eyes look at him (just look, cat-like and unsure), his dark lashes sitting short and soft against his cheeks. "You're not gonna shame me?"
"Why would I?" It's genuine, but also a little challenging. Sal doesn't get why people are such dicks about such ordinary human things like clothing, art, and love. "You should show Todd, he might like to read it."
Shifting in his spot, Travis huffs softly. "Maybe. It's going to need a lot of work first, though. It's-" He looks at Sal through the corner of his eye. "Can I tell you what it's about?"
"I love hearing about your writing! Yes, dude!"
"I'm your boyfriend. Don't call me dude." Travis' raised eyebrow makes Sal laugh - and he doesn't miss the way Travis' mouth twitches up at the sound. "Anyways, it's about Spock and McCoy swapping bodies. They learn about what it's like to be the other, y'know? Leonard gets a call from Spock's father and like, has to deal with Spock's weird bispecies struggle and then Spock has to deal with an emergency about Leonard's estranged daughter."
"Oh, wow!" Sal has no idea what he's talking about.
"Yeah, so, it's pretty cool writing for Joanna and Sarek. Sarek is a fun character, because I get to write him as a better version of my dad."
"Oh! Does it- help you?"
"Hm?" Travis raises an eyebrow again, looking at the ceiling in thought. "...Yes, I think so. It helps me think about the stuff he's done and rationalize that he's not really doing his best. Sarek wasn't doing his best either, but there was love there. Y'know?"
"Not really. I have no idea who Sarek is." That makes Travis laugh. "But it definitely sounds like it's healing, so I absolutely support it."
"Might as well get something therapeutic from it, right? I mean, most of the stuff in the story is just an excuse for Spock and McCoy to kiss."
Sal nods sagely. "Of course. So it must be."
The giggle fit that takes Travis makes him grin. "Of course, yeah. I want it to feel real though, you know? Like, yeah, they can just get nasty in the captain's chair on an impossibly abandoned bridge, but then I don't get an excuse to make Spock's mom a badass."
Sal grins. It's amazing to see Travis so excited about a project. He's been trying a lot of different kinds of art - painting with Travis, sewing and sketching with Ashley, alternative fashion with Maple - but so far, writing has been the most successful. It's cool to see him branching out too.
"Usually you just write poems," Sal says, kissing Travis' cheek. "I'm excited to see you writing more stuff."
Travis bites his lip. "Hopefully it's not too bad. Poems are very different from stories."
"I bet it's amazing."
"...Thanks." And then Travis surprises him with a rare kiss of his own, lips warm and soft against his own scarred ones. "Do you want a back rub, by the way? I'll bet you were stupid and didn't put your books in your locker. Again."
Sal laughs. "Okay, that's fair. I just forget!"
"Well, remember!" Travis stands, grunting as his legs protest at the sudden movement. There's a new bruise on his leg that Sal can see from this angle, just above his knee, that makes his chest ache again. "Now get on the bed before you die of scoliosis."
"I don't think that's how scoliosis works."
Travis blows air through his nose, hands on his hips. "Do you want rubbies or not?"
"Please don't say rubbies." But he takes his shirt off and lays down on the bed anyways. "It's okay if you'd rather work on your fanfiction."
"Spock and Leonard will be fine without me," he snarks back. "And anyways, my fingers are cramping from holding the pen too long. This'll be good for both of us."
"Alright. Thank you."
"Yeah, yeah."
The smile in his voice is clear though, loud even with Sal's face tucked into the fold of his arms, and it makes Sal smile too. This position is going to be a little uncomfortable after a while, once his face starts to stick to the skin of his arms - which Travis apparently knows, because he pulls the pillow out from beneath his arms and puts it under his face instead.
"Thanks, angel," he breathes. It still leaves his heart aflutter to see Travis so casually responding to his scars - to his needs which have gone quietly ignored and brushed away for so long. "You're the best, you know."
Travis scoffs. "Hardly. I'm just giving you the care you deserve, nuts for brains. Now is the ache up here or lower down?"
Sal grins into his pillow. It really is good to be home.