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linnell gave the interviewer a tight lipped smile, silently regretting the three cups of coffee he’d made earlier, and all the glasses of water he’d been offered over the course of the interview.
damn his politeness.
and here comes another one.
he fanned his knees as casually as he could while trying to answer her questions, a shaky hand bringing the glass to his mouth.
talking so much makes one rather parched.
a bead of condensation ran down his hand, and along his fingers. linnell closed his eyes, trying to reel back any feelings of weakness, nodding gently as he listened.
finally, she thanked him for his time, outstretching a hand to shake. he took hers tightly, almost too tightly. as he rose to stand, he kept his lanky legs surreptitiously pressed together, locking his ankle across the other one as he leaned on the couch. he waved her goodbye as the door shut, and once he was sure she was gone, his composure slipped.
linnell grimaced as he held himself tightly with a single hand, muttering curses under his breath. his knees buckled, and his grip on the back of the couch tightened. he felt stuck, he couldn’t leave, he couldn’t even sit back down.
the door handle shook slightly, and he turned to look so quickly it almost hurt his neck.
salvation comes in the strangest ways, now doesn’t it?
“hey! how’d it… go…” flansburgh entered the room, his face falling immediately at the sight.
“help.” linnell whispered to him, his usually clear voice now strained. “if i move… it’s all gonna end up on the floor. i don’t wanna— i’m not gonna…”
“hey, hey, it’s okay. you won’t.” flans looked around frantically, before his eyes settled on the coffee table. “the glasses… would you feel… comfortable with that?”
“i don’t… really have the luxury to choose, do i?” linnell furrowed his eyebrows, the tense, awkward smile returning to his face.
“right, right.” flans grabbed the two just in case, moving them closer. “do you mind… um. y’know.” he gave a very vague gesticulation, but it was enough for linnell to read and comply to almost immediately.
flans looked at him with a new sheepishness. it wasn’t something he was totally unfamiliar with, the specific situation left him in a peculiar spot.
the hurried nature of the undoing of his clothes while he swayed his hips, the light clinking of his belt buckle against the metal button of his jeans, the way his lips parted with little gasps before his breathing hitched. flans couldn’t help it, but his face started to heat up.
“d-do you… want me to hold it for you?” the concerned side eye that linnell gave made him wince. “the glass! the glass, i meant.”
“yes, yeah, yeah. that’s fine… please, just hurry.” the desperation in his voice made it come out almost as a whine.
flans sat down on the couch next to him, nearly eye level with his waist. he held the glass up and in place, and with a glance over his glasses, he gave him a comforting smile.
“okay, you’re all good, you can—” he didn’t even get to finish his sentence as linnell let go into the glass.
“hah, thank you…” his shoulders slumped, and a long moan drew itself from his throat.
flans couldn't help but watch. he needed to, or else the glass would overflow, as it very quickly came close to doing. they were the short kind, the ones one would imagine whiskey in, so not much space was allotted.
swiftly, he swapped glasses, catching the last few seconds before it was over. they were very warm in his hands, but he noticed he was holding them a bit longer than he realistically needed to.
it was deathly quiet, he could feel the embarrassment radiating off of his friend.
“hey,” he broke the silence, setting them down nearby. “feeling better?”
“yeah, i’m… really sorry, i didn’t—” linnell muttered, getting himself back in order, but choosing not to meet his eyes.
“it’s all good! really, it’s okay. much rather help you than, y’know. you hurt yourself.”