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zeggyzone · 5 months ago

Text

off-air | isekko

iso/gekko (valorant) tags: love confessions, domestic fluff, feelings realization, snuggling & cuddling, might be ooc, cross-posted on ao3

synopsis: while iso is trying to blow off some steam after a stressful day, gekko texts him. fifteen minutes later, he's in his best friend's room on wash day. bonding ensues.

sfw. 5.1k words.

notes: - most of this was written at 3-5 am, so if you see any grammatical errors, *no you didn't.* - iso and gekko have a pre-existing friendship; a close one at that! they have platonically held hands, hugged, all of that while trying to break iso out of his shell :) - sorry if it's out of character - i also wrote this while listening to iso and gekko's canonical spotify playlists, along with the isekko playlist made by lili on spotify! - the name of this fic in my documents is "The Oneshot Where Iso and Gekko Confess Over A Bathtub On A Random Tuesday" hahaha

STOKYO DRIFT, Cemetary Drive I said I’m ready to cash out I said I’m ready to– I said I’m ready to– I said I’m ready to–

Iso exhales.

Just a round at the Range. It’s that simple. Blow off some steam, Zhao Yu.

It’s that simple. No strings attached. It was just him, his Raging Hunter (which he customized with the help of Raze just a while back– she helped everyone with it at one point, and Iso was on her supposed list of clientele), and a bunch of robot dummies.

Truth be told, Iso didn’t even know why he was here. In recent meetings with Sage, he found himself sitting across from her in her own bed, talking about the nightmares he experiences on the daily. The gunfire, the blood, the flashes of violet.

Especially the gunfire.

Yet here he was, Raging Hunter in his hand, doing the one thing he knows how to do in a last-ditch effort to calm himself down. He pulls back the hammer with his thumb, exhaling as he flicks his arm towards the ‘start’ button, squeezing the trigger ever so slightly–

Bzzt.

What.

Iso tries to ignore the buzzing in his front pocket, gently vibrating against his side. He steadies his aim, but it buzzes again, and he sighs, holstering his Raging Hunter, and pulling out his phone.

SECURE SERVER_VAL.VP // PRIVATE MESSAGE: GEKKO-ISO

GEKKO [15:41 UTC]

yo yo yo can u help me clean wings ?

Iso blinks.

You have to send five back-to-back texts to get that point across?

ISO [15:42 UTC]

Why so sudden ?

GEKKO [15:42 UTC]

yk how he gets and he likes u Hes fussing so fuckin bad rn holy shit

[SYSTEM] Gekko sent an image. [A 0.5x photo. Gekko looks disgruntled at the camera. He’s in a black shirt, and you can see Wingman crawling out of the tub.]

Iso almost laughs.

ISO [15:42 UTC]

Let me clean up. Ill be there in 15

GEKKO [15:43 UTC]

THANK YOU DUDE I was going actually crazy you are like a life saver

ISO [15:42 UTC]

👍

Thumbs-up? Thumbs-up?

Holy shit.

Iso unholsters his sidearm, putting on the safety as he makes his way to the teleporter, walking through it with a shudder (he’ll never get used to it) and making another healthy stride toward the locker room. He passes Omen’s desk, glancing at his bonsai tree left with a refilled watering can as he puts four of his fingers on the handle, the fingerprint scanner whirring and clicking the locker open with a little green light. Iso puts away his gun in the tiny mold left in the back part of the locker.

On the little hanger for his mission outfit, he has a woven bracelet Gekko made him a few weeks prior; red, purple, white, and black in nature. He took it off before training. It means quite a bit to him, and he would hate to mess it up.

He goes to close his locker, looking at it for a moment, hesitating, then closing it.

He was going to help bathe Wingman– he doesn’t want to get it dirty.

Iso’s sneakers pitter against the floor, narrow steps suddenly growing heavy as he approached Gekko’s door. He knocks, putting his hands in his pockets immediately after.

Gekko doesn’t seem to notice, as Iso hears small Spanish curse words leave his lips behind the muffled door. Iso shrugs, pushing the sliding door open with a small huff. He closes it behind him and walks towards Gekko’s bathroom door, generously left open for his incoming guest.

The sight is comedic. Wingman is hurdled over his owner’s shoulder, trying to squirm his way out of Gekko’s grip, both hands reaching outward like a baby trying to reach something. Gekko has his hands on Wingman’s chubby jelly sides, holding him back with an iron grip. Wingman suddenly falls limp at the sight of Iso, except for the grabby hands that continue. Gekko turns around, confused.

“Oh, shit, you’re here.” His eyes widen, letting go of Wingman. He hops down to climb Iso like a jungle gym, and Iso picks him up before his pants get any soap on them, walking over to the tub once again, and placing Wingman in.

“Let me take off my jacket. I can’t really help with all this stuff on–” Iso says, turning on his heel. Gekko gives him an acknowledging ‘aight’ and very gently scolds Wingman to stay.

Iso walks to Gekko’s bed (his radivore sling was notably discarded on the bed— a pair of eyes look at him) tugging his hoodie over his head. He neatly lies it on the end of Gekko’s bed, having done so quite a few times before (Gekko often called Iso up for a friendly hangout that consisted of Iso knocking out a few hours into their gaming sessions). He looks at the gloves on his hands, removing them with the tiniest bit of clamminess.

He feels weird without them.

He tucks them into the pockets of the hoodie, sliding over to Gekko’s post, and kneeling on the bathmat. Wingman looks up at Iso expectantly. “I’ve never… washed a radivore before.”

“All good. It’s pretty damn simple if you ask me. Just lather the little guy up with some soap until he’s extra squeaky clean. It’s the same for the rest of my crew.” Gekko explains, handing Iso the soap along with a little glove with bristles. Gekko has one on his non-dominant hand. “And you literally can’t mess this up. Bro loves you.”

Iso nods, taking it. “Pfft, I hope so,” he responds, feeling the warm water against his one bare hand.

He’s not particularly used to having his gloves off. Sure, he takes them off when he has to, but otherwise, they stay on. He feels practically naked without them. The same goes for his headphones. His little earbuds are in his ears, playing music low enough to the point where he can still understand what Gekko is saying.

UBER EATS, Northside Hollow & Ethan Ross

Gekko watches as Iso puts on the glove. He places his bare hand to hold Wingman gently as Iso puts a generous amount of soap on the garment, lathering it on Wingman’s jelly head. He watches attentively, folding his arms on the edge of the bathtub to rest his head in. Gekko takes in the sight in front of him; Iso, in his bathroom, washing his little buddy with all of the benignity in the world.

Iso glances toward Gekko, a small huff leaving his lips, “So you called me here to do your dirty work for you?”

“No, I called you here to be Wingman’s .. uhh, social … buffer. He likes you. I’m using my resources to my advantage! Boom.” Gekko moves his hands to the best of his ability despite resting on them– his animated self refuses to go unseen even in a moment of exhaustion. “He’s been fussy all day,” Gekko reaches his gloved hand to lather some soap on the radivore’s back, “but the second you show up,” a short breath, “se convierte en un angelito.”

Iso understood ‘convierte’ and ‘angelito’ when placed together. He assumed from context clues… “He turns into an angel.”

He stifles a laugh.

…

“Hey,”

Gekko blinks, “What’s good?”

“I’ve been wanting to ask–” he keeps his gaze on Wingman, but he can feel Gekko staring him down, “–we never exchanged names. Of course, we have our callsigns, but … that’s different. I just feel since we’ve been hanging out so often we should refer to each other as something more … uh, friendlier than … Gekko. Or Iso.”

“Oh?” Gekko furrows his brows, running his bare hand through his prickly green hair, “Damn, you’re right,”

It was… odd, admittedly, but, when he really thought about it, Iso was right. How many weeks has it been? Hell, it’s probably been a bit more than a few months. He’s been hanging out with this guy almost non-stop and yet, they don’t know each other’s actual names.

Iso knocks him free from his thoughts. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I’m so down. Just, how do we like, go about this? Like… yo, man, my name is blah, blah, blah.”

Iso offers a playful smile, “Rock, paper, scissors for it?” he asks, swatting his bare hand in the air to remove excess droplets, drying it to the best of his ability. “If I lose, I go first. And vice versa.” He holds his fist out to indicate the beginning of the game.

Gekko laughs, a small grin on his face as he puts his fist up. “Oh, you’re on.”

“Aight– rock, paper, scissors, shoot–!”

Iso plays paper.

Gekko plays scissors. “Tough luck.”

Iso lets out a small laugh, returning to washing Wingman. He keeps his gaze on the radivore, feeling Gekko’s eyes burn into him like fire.

“My full name is Li Zhao Yu.” Iso makes sure to accentuate every letter.

“Li … Zhao Yu,” Gekko repeats it back to him, getting a few of the syllables wrong, but Iso is quick to correct him— gently, of course.

“Shit, that’s cool. So, it’d be just Zhao Yu, right?” He asks after the mild training, lifting his head up from the side of the tub, holding himself up by his chin.

“Yeah, basically.” Iso shrugs, returning to washing Wingman.

“Yo, could I mash those together? I think that’d be a pretty sick nickname,” before Iso could say anything, Gekko spits out, “Zhayu. It’s like, not even that different, but, it sounds cool as fuck, right?”

Iso looks at Gekko, eyes wide.

“I don’t have to use it if you don’t wanna—“

“No,” Iso says almost immediately, “I mean— no, I like it. I just haven’t had someone give me a nickname in— I don’t know— forever,” Iso admits with a small laugh, rinsing Wingman. “It’s nice. I like it.”

Gekko lets out the tiniest sigh of relief, “Good. I didn’t wanna like, overstep.”

Iso nods followed by a small hum of acknowledgement. “It’s your turn.”

“Oh, yeah— we doin’ full names, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh man,” Gekko says between a laugh, pushing himself to sit up straight. He reaches over for the towel on the counter, holding it and awaiting Iso to hold him up, clearing his throat, “My full, legal, name is Mateo Armendáriz De la Fuente.”

“… what.”

Gekko laughs even harder than last time, “Dude, that’s why I asked. It’s kind of a mouthful.” He bites back a laugh, “You can just call me Mateo.”

“Mateo … Armen—what? Woah, you’re right,” Iso says with a tiny laugh punctuating the end of his sentence, “if you think you butchered my name, I wouldn’t even know where to begin with yours.”

He then realizes the meaning behind his words, quick to defend himself, “I’m not saying your name is weird or anything— it’s just hard for me to pronounce— or uh, remember, in that sense.”

“Maybe I should just stick to Mateo.”

Gekko laughs, thankfully.

“I’ll learn your full name, trust me,” Iso says, drying off Wingman like a little baby.

“I know, man.”

“But, now that I’m looking at you… you really do strike me as a Mateo.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gekko raises a brow, a little smile on his lips.

“Oh— nothing, it just— makes sense?” Iso quickly explains, not wanting to offend.

“Dude, you’re chill. I’m just playin’.”

Iso blinks, turning back to Wingman. “One more thing,”

“Yeah?”

“Where did your crew’s names come from?” Iso asks out of the blue, holding Wingman up in the air next to his head, making him face Gekko with him.

“Honestly, most of them kinda just … came to me,” Gekko admits, not having an exact answer. “I kinda named them based on their whole ability thing—? I dunno how to explain it.”

“Dizzy has that plasma thing— and guess what! Makes people dizzy. Get it?” He shrugs, “Wingman’s kinda self-explanatory. He’s my wingman.”

“Then, uh, Thrash. She was kind of the more aggressive outta-all of them? And if we’re goin’ back to the whole ability-based-name-thing, Mosh seems pretty self-explanatory too, yeah?”

“I guess— makes more sense now,” Iso shrugs. “And that’s pretty cu—“

Cool.

“— cu-ool,” Iso catches himself, making a weird new word in trying to save himself from that embarrassment.

He quickly holds up Wingman for Gekko to dry, and lest Iso’s anticipations, Gekko doesn’t take Wingman from his hands, just running the towel on Wingman to dry him off.

Iso feels Gekko’s hands against his, hindered by the towel between them as he holds Wingman while Gekko pats him down to dry the little guy. A tiny rosyness creeps up to the round of Iso’s cheeks as he watches Gekko’s hands, hyper-aware of the fact that they would be touching if it weren’t for the towel working as a barrier.

Iso looks away, tapping his finger on Wingman as gently as he can to the beat of the song playing in his earbuds.

Gekko’s eyes flick up to Iso midway through the task, and he smiles. Gekko smiles up at Iso and he returns it without a second thought.

“Yo, you’re all red, amigo.”

No fucking way.

“Há? No, am I? I’m not, no, it’s just the light, no?” Iso sprints through his words, looking at Gekko everywhere but his eyes. He utters a curse in Chinese, tilting his head away in an effort to hide his supposed blush. “Sorry.”

backseat, jungle bobby & lentra.

“Pfft,” Gekko lets out the tiniest giggle, “It’s aight.”

Iso comes back to reality when Wingman shimmies out of his grip, running back to the harness on Gekko’s bed. He almost begs the little radivore to stay– to save him from this terrible situation. He thinks he could die.

Instead, Iso looks at the radivore harness like a broken man, and Gekko laughs even harder, forcing Iso to get up.

“I’m grabbing my hoodie.” He announces, shuffling towards the bed.

“Oh, come on– I don’t mean to tease–”

Iso rolls his eyes, falling onto Gekko’s bed, face first. He grabs his hoodie– gently pushing Gekko’s harness out of the way– now pulling the pull-over up under his chin as a pillow.

He didn’t want to believe he was in love with his best friend, but Iso knew he was too far gone to even deny it anymore. The way Gekko laughed, the way he teased him, the jokes he made, and the considerate things he did for him, whether it be making little woven bracelets or buying him Boba whenever he went out— that was all casual, right? It had to be.

Gekko walks out– Iso doesn’t notice– and sits near the headboard, looking down at him with yet another teasing grin. It’s fucking lethal.

Then, with that smile, Iso realizes.

Of fucking course it wasn’t.

Iso averts his gaze, jaw dropped as he came to that realization.

“Relax, bro. You’re gonna pop a blood vessel.” He hears Gekko say.

Iso shoves his face into his hoodie. There’s silence until Gekko asks the burning question,

“Were you going to say that it was cute, or am I crazy?”

Iso groans. “Do we really– do we really have to talk about this now??” He says with half of his speech muffled as he finally peeks up from his hoodie, blush flaring into his pale skin.

“I mean, you’ve slipped up a lot like that before. I dunno why you’re tweakin’ right now,” Gekko shrugs.

That sentence makes Iso’s heart drop.

“I’ve what.”

Gekko looks at Iso and is met with a beautiful picture; he’s resting on his bed (his!) and his eyes are a bright violet, looking at Gekko with a wide expression. If Gekko could peer into his mind, he’d only find that Iso is so embarrassed that he might as well have been stripped bare in public– but despite all of it, he finds Iso sprawled like this endearing. It’s hilarious, even– how did Iso not notice Gekko noticing all of the little moments? The stolen glances, the lingering touches, the late-night talks– Gekko almost laughs at his obliviousness.

The silence is almost suffocating, so Gekko begins, “Zhayu,” a breath, “you’re not as slick as you think.”

Gekko looks at Iso’s hands, and they’re balled into tight fists, and when he looks into those raging violet eyes again, they’re twitching.

“And…” Iso sounds out of breath, “You never told me?!”

Gekko blinks. Then he howls.

“No! Don’t laugh–!“ Iso pushes himself up, kneeling on the bed in a position that would definitely make his feet numb later, “Gekk– Mateo. How long? And— just how many times have I slipped up like this around you?” Iso curses just a few seconds after the delivery of that sentence, running a hand through his hair, forehead moist.

Gekko sits up straight, adjusting his sitting stance into crisscrossed, looking away as he puckers his lips, drumming his hands on his thighs, “Man, you know… like… was I supposed to count?”

Iso’s eyebrows drop.

“Mateo, I will strangle you right here, right now.” Iso threatens, but his hands don’t move from his knees. Gekko looks at him with a dubious look, and Iso realizes he isn’t exactly feeding into the whole ‘fear factor’ of it. He’s quick to lift up his hands in front of him and exaggerate the motion as if he’s moving Gekko’s head back and forth like a maraca.

It’s silent.

Then, it’s enough to make Gekko fall into a giggle fit. Then, Iso gets mad that he’s not taking his threat seriously. Then, Iso is so mad that he starts laughing. Hard.

He’s hurled over on his knees, holding his stomach as he falls onto his side, just next to Gekko’s knee, and his gut hurts. His gut hurts from laughing, and Iso realizes he’s laughing with no one better than Gekko himself. Iso cough-laughs, covering his mouth. Gekko is hitting himself with his fist, smack dab in the chest to stop himself from coughing. Iso remembers the little ‘I lowkey have asthma’ and one last laugh bubbles out from his throat.

He looks at where the woven bracelet Gekko made him a few weeks ago would be and imagines it; purple, white, red, and black, all woven together to create a sense of Iso in itself.

He feels naked. Yet the mirage reminds him that he would protect it with his life.

Gekko deflates, his arms lining up behind him to keep himself steady. His head falls to where Iso’s head is, then his unusually bare wrist.

“Where’s your bracelet?” He asks, reaching over, and tapping on the little pulse point where it would be. “I thought you liked it.”

“I didn’t want to mess it up when we cleaned Wingman,” Iso breathes, his voice tired.

Gekko hums.

Iso blinks.

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” Iso says blankly, feeling Gekko’s fingers brush up against his wrist ever so slightly as he retreats them back to hold himself up. Iso’s fingers twitch with anticipation. He bites his lip softly, looking at Gekko’s surprisingly soft hands, despite them looking so rough.

Iso keeps half of his face in the sheets, left cheek squished up against the surface. He rests on the bed, getting comfortable with Gekko at his side, legs crossed and looking at him like he is a piece of valuable, fragile treasure and not the cold-hearted ‘Dead Lilac’ killer everyone made him out to be.

No, Iso corrects himself, not everyone. Me.

Iso is who makes himself out to be the Dead Lilac. He leaves that behind today; hopefully forever.

“And you’re mine, querido.” Gekko breathes, his foreign tongue slipping. Gekko registers what he said seconds later, quick to change the subject, “You look like a cat like this.”

Iso mumbles, “Querido? What does that…” But he gives up halfway through the question, mostly because he knows Gekko won’t tell him what it means. “A cat?” He instead asks, raising a brow. Gekko flicks his cheek, and he mumbles a small “ow” as soon as the stinging feeling occurs. “I’m not going to meow if that’s what you’re asking.”

A chuckle, “That sucks.”

“Ew, you want me to meow?” Iso feigns a laugh, hiding his full face in the sheets to muffle the tiny effervesce, before coming back to look up at Gekko. “You’re so weird, Mateo.”

“Hater.”

Iso sticks his tongue out, lifting his right arm to flick Gekko’s nose.

“Ow.”

Then it’s quiet. Iso hates quiet.

“Teo. I want to ask you something.”

supernova, Godly the Ruler.

Gekko feels like he knows what’s coming. “Ask away.”

“Have you ever thought about …” Iso pauses, looking away to regain some of the composure that he lost as he began the sentence, “Have you ever thought about us? And what we are?” Iso exhales, unaware he is holding his breath. “Because I don’t know what we are at this very moment.”

Iso had avoided eye contact for so long. He brings himself to look at Gekko, and he looks at him the second the look in his best friend’s eyes alters.

“I have.” A deep breath, “Many times.”

“What do you think about? What are we?” Iso asks.

He quickly adds to the end, “To you?”

“I…” Gekko purses his lips, “Well, right now. We’re just homies, yeah?”

“At the moment … I’d say so.”

Iso looks at where the bracelet would be— a fond reminder of their camaraderie. Then he looks into Gekko’s eyes and finds the same unreadable look. He looks at Iso’s wrist with such fondness. Happiness. Content. A secret fourth thing. Iso finds comfort in it.

“What about everything else you’ve thought of?”

“You really wanna know?”

“Do you want to tell me?” Iso asks, avoiding Gekko’s gaze, and he realizes that their two hands are almost grazing— holding each other. Iso��s hand twitches again. “If so, yes.”

“Pfft,” Iso swears he sees a mischievous glint in Gekko’s eyes, “Least serious… uuh…”

“I’ve thought of kissing you.”

Iso’s face distorts, pursing his lips as he shoots up from his lying position. “Least serious?! That’s the most uncasual thing I can think of!” He almost shouts out of pure shock. He’s not angry, just confused.

Gekko belly laughs, his hand smacking onto his stomach to support himself, “I’m playin’! There’s stuff before that, tonto.”

Iso wants to smack him for messing with him like that. That thought is wiped when he sees the red against Gekko’s ears and he’s done for. Smitten.

“And… compared to other shit, I think that’s pretty tame.”

…

“You’re so gross.” Iso blurts out.

“What? You wanted the truth, so you got the truth,” Gekko holds his hands up in defense before falling next to him again, “and to give you the whole truth, if I were to tell you what I’m thinking now, it’d be... that… ay…” Gekko’s right hand returns to his face, covering his mouth and trailing down his jaw, “maybe there have been times I’ve thought about us– and not as what we said we were a few minutes ago.”

Iso understands those connotations. He looks in the middle of their laps, almost touching. He exhales.

“I would say that the thought is mutual.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” A pause, “... Yes.”

“Mateo, I—“ Iso purses his lips. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“You welcomed me. Open arms. I don’t know if you… if you knew, but, you invited me anyway. I didn’t know if you were just like that with everyone, but– either way, you– you are just… perfect. I got to know you and I was like, how could anyone ever hate this guy? You’re everything, you’re all that there is right, and, wǒ qù, I can’t even fucking describe–”

It’s hot. Then Iso realizes why.

Gekko leans in, pressing their lips together in a tender, soft embrace. Iso’s lips are the tiniest bit chapped against Gekko’s fairly soft ones, and he eats it all up. He relishes the feeling of his lips on Gekko’s— his best friend.

He stays like that for a hot minute, pulling away and looking at Gekko like a lost kitty who had found homage in him. He catches his breath.

“... I didn’t know how to shut you up–”

“Oh my God.” Iso smacks Gekko’s shoulder and in return, he pokes him in the side.

Iso jolts, letting out a quiet yelp— one that’s a bit out of character for his assassin background.

Then Gekko has a devious look on his face.

Was the fabled ‘Dead Lilac’ … ticklish?

Iso quickly covers his mouth in embarrassment, grip tightening as he realizes the noise he just let out. He looks at Gekko.

“No way.”

“No. It wasn’t anything. That wasn’t me, it was … Thrash—“ Iso quickly tries to back himself up, hand slipping from his mouth and immediately going to cover his sides as a last defense.

“Uh-huh. And where is Thrash?” He asks, nudging his head towards his harness as his hand reaches over to an exposed part of Iso’s side.

“Mateo!” Iso quickly scrambles away, rolling over to the other side of the bed, getting on his knees, and holding his left arm in front of him, creating distance between them as his right arm wraps around his own waist, trying to protect himself from an impending tickle attack.

“I will wrestle you on this bed and win.”

“I have little siblings and cousins. Fuckin’ bring it.”

And then he pounces.

The tickle match is full of empty threats, foreign curses, and lots of giggles. Too many. There was a cackle here and there, maybe even a snort. By the time it ended, Gekko fell from his place on top of Iso, lying next to him with a few laughter-filled coughs. Iso catches his breath.

“Mateo,”

A breathless “Yeah?”

“I wanna be your boyfriend.”

Iso’s headphones die.

A deep breath, “Can I?”

Iso stares at the ceiling. He notices Gekko is, too.

It’s quiet. So fucking quiet.

But Iso can handle it now.

Gekko is next to him, their arms are touching, and the silence isn't deafening for once. He feels the energy in the room and it doesn’t suffocate him, if anything, he’s breathing better.

“Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Iso turns on his side. Gekko faces him.

Iso’s tired expression shifts into a happy, close-eyed smile as he tackles Gekko into a bear hug, invariably pushing him down onto the bed, putting his full body weight onto the poor guy, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.”

Gekko let out an involuntary gasp as Iso suddenly tackled him down onto the bed, nearly winding him as felt Iso’s full weight. He laughed softly, the air knocked out of him as he lay there under, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around Iso and holding him tightly against his chest.

“Yeah, mi corazón,” he said softly, “Thank you.”

“Corazón,” Iso exhales against Gekko’s neck, pushing himself off from the top, “what does that mean?” He asks, breathing against Gekko’s chest, cheek squished against it. He holds him softer now, breathing in Gekko’s cologne.

“My heart,” Gekko says, a careful hand running up Iso’s clothed back, drawing small circles, “you are my heart, Zhao Yu.”

“If I am your heart,” he feels Gekko’s heartbeat against his cheek, “then, you are my treasure,” Iso smiles, “bǎo bèi.”

“Bǎo bèi…” he repeats sleepily, “mi tesoro.” Gekko breathes.

“I love it when you speak Spanish, Teo.” Iso says, nickname rolling off his tongue tiredly. “I don’t understand it, but it’s…” a huff, “nice.”

Gekko has a feeling he wanted to say something else, “Yeah?”

Iso realizes he’s fucking done for (again), “¿Te gusta cuando hablo español, mi tesoro?”

“Augh, stop it,” Iso rolls his eyes, pushing Gekko’s face back by his chin, looking away, laughing just a little bit. “You’re such a tease, sha bī.”

“Aww, is that another cute nickname?”

“No. I called you an idiot.”

“Oh. Chúpamela.” Gekko deadpans, flicking Iso’s forehead with little to no remorse.

Iso laughs and realizes that this is all he has ever wanted. This was bliss, and Iso has felt this way for as long as he was in Gekko’s presence. He moves ever so slightly, just so he can smell Gekko’s cologne, and his new boyfriend allows it. It smells of lemon zest with the faint undertones of green apple and vanilla. Iso swears that he can smell the tiniest bit of cedarwood. That combination with Gekko’s personal musk makes him dizzy. (Pun intended)

“You smell good.”

“You like my cologne? I wanted to try a new one.” Gekko says breathily, drumming the pads of his fingers on Iso’s back in a rhythmic pattern.

“I know. You smelled different.” Iso mumbles, inhaling. “I like this one better, though. The other one was too…” He thinks of a descriptor, “Smoky.”

“I used to layer two colognes,” Gekko admits, “The footnotes on it were tobacco, vanilla, then uhh… truffle, I think.”

“Too smoky.”

“It was a gift from Brimstone. I felt kinda bad,” He mumbled, “I’d feel better if he taught me how the hell he got his score so high in the video games in the basement.”

“You’re still trying to beat it?”

“Yeah.”

“… wait, you noticed that I changed my cologne?” Gekko blinks, looking down at Iso, who looks up to him bashfully.

“Maybe,” he exhales, adjusting his position to face away from Gekko, “it’s a very discernible smell— anyone would notice.”

“Sure.”

Gekko slightly spoons Iso, resting his head atop his, breathing in. “Damn, your hair smells like…” he thinks, “Tangerines?” he says with a slight hint of confusion in his voice.

“It’s just my shampoo,” Iso hums, shifting himself to tilt his head up at Gekko, “I like tangerines.”

“Me too,” Gekko says.

Quietly, Iso asks, “We just gonna stay like this?”

“What time is it?”

Iso looks at the alarm clock to the side. Before he can speak, his stomach grumbles, which prompts Gekko to ask instead, “Have you eaten?”

“I had breakfast.”

“You need to eat.”

Iso exhales knowing there’s no stopping Gekko– he’s already getting up and Iso follows that action. It’s quick, it’s swift, and his new boyfriend grabs his wrist and pulls him up onto his feet, intertwining their hands. They’ve held hands before– you know, in cases where Gekko is dragging him through a crowd at a festival or Iso has to pull him away from getting distracted while the agents go shopping. But this was different. The old Iso would probably tug his hand away, but the new Iso is comforted by this scenario– better yet, he seeks it. He never wants to let go of it and he doesn’t think he ever will. Gekko’s touch is grounding and Iso feels his mind go quiet as their fingers interlace. His free hand comes to remove his headphones and awkwardly puts them in the case, shoving his hand into his pocket.

“Alright.”

He’s gotten used to this.

hope you enjoyed! it's my second valorant fic i've written, so hopefully i did them justice.

here's my twitter! check it out please i need moots (not just valorant) LMAO

#they make me sick #im ill #isekko world domination #valorant #isekko #iso valorant #gekko valorant #iso #gekko #iso x gekko #riot games #oneshot #mateo armendáriz de la fuente #mateo armendariz de la fuente #li zhao yu #lilypad: gekko #lilac: iso #apex predator: isekko

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