Page 131 of Smart Ass

Oliver

Oliver wouldn’t exactly call himself impatient for Ben to get home.

He’d been thinking for a while that it would be good for Ben to talk with Evan, just like he did with Quincy. They were both very new to being in a relationship, but Oliver was a thousand percent in, and Ben still seemed to jump or go stiff sometimes when Oliver said anything too “lovey-dovey,” as Ben put it.

That was alright, though. He had the rest of their lives to show Ben exactly how serious he was.

Still, it was good for Ben to have someone else to talk to. He felt something warm and precious when he zoomed in from the grainy security camera in the cafe.

He could see that Ben was getting quite the talking to from Evan. Oliver kept wanting to chuckle at the expressions on Ben’s face.

Getting him to talk about his feelings was worse than pulling teeth.

Oliver had to say he was intrigued, though, when the two of them suddenly dashed off from the cafe.

He was itching to peek at Evan’s phone—it would only take a moment of concentration—but he restrained himself. He needed to give Ben some privacy.

Not too much, though. He was pretty sure that Ben loved having him hover and track him just as much as Oliver did.

A tether constantly stringing them together as Dom and sub.

Oliver idly poked around at some possible bots he was considering while Ben and Evan drove across town.

They stopped at… a cooking supply store?

Huh. Maybe they were getting a present for Quincy.

Evan came out carrying two large bags, but it didn’t escape Oliver’s notice that Ben was holding something, too. Probably nothing important, though. Ben owned exactly four plates, three bowls, and six spoons. None of them matched.

Oliver kept a fond eye on Ben and Evan as they drove back, humming a song he’d been composing. Ben looked relaxed and excited in equal measure.

Maybe Oliver should make a coffee date with Evan a weekly requirement.

When Ben hugged Evan goodbye and raced in the door, he was practically bouncing.

Oliver loved all of Ben’s moods, from feisty to sleepy, but this might be one of his favorites.

He thought he’d prepared himself for pretty much anything that could come out of Ben’s mouth, which started with underwater homes, moved through dragon dildos, and could have ended anywhere…

But he was still floored when Ben spoke. “Oliver! I got you something! I mean—” Ben suddenly went still and blushed adorably. “I hope it’ll work. I dunno. It’s supposed to be a present.”

“If you got it for me, I’ll love it.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “We’ll see. It might not even do anything.” He started pulling out boxes of… digital food thermometers?

“What are those?” Oliver asked.

Ben beamed up at him. “Remember when you were first egregiously lying to yourself about being a spark?”

Yes, he did. It had been a confusing time. “I remember that brats deserve punishments…”

Ben was undeterred. “You kept telling me that your temperature sensors were wrong, right? Like, you were interpreting fear as cold, anger as hot, and happiness as warmth.”

“Yeah?” It still confused him.

“So that means you feel temperature. Pressure doesn’t mean anything to you, but temperature is built into your senses.”

Oliver considered that. He supposed it was true. He was certainly aware that Ben’s apartment was comfortably cool right now. He hadn’t even thought about it with his relief at regaining vision and hearing, but he’d actually regained that other sense, too, when he connected with Ben’s thermostat.