heatwave
About this short story: m/f, dramatic trans male lead, good-in-a-crisis female lead, slice of life, domestic (sort of) bliss
DJ’s room is so sweltering hot that he might actually die.
He’s lying spread out across his mattress, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore the sweat sliding down from his temples into his ears. (Super attractive, he knows.) He’s been willing himself to get off his ass and into the shower for the past fifteen minutes, but he never claimed to be strong, and moving in this heat would take more strength than he possesses.
“I curse every person involved in progressing global warming, including myself,” he mutters darkly. He would lift a hand to shake his fist at the ceiling, but even that would be too much effort. “And I curse T, as much as I love T, for making my body feel ten times hotter than it used to.”
At least getting top surgery a few months ago means no more underboob sweat—and the ability to be topless always without people being idiots about it. Although, to be fair, he used to lie around the house topless even before his surgery anyway.
He hears the front door open and shut, then footsteps start coming slowly down the hallway towards his room. Maybe it’s the Grim Reaper, here to tell him it’s time to succumb to the city-wide heatwave.
“DJ, are you alive?”
DJ perks up at the sound of his girlfriend Zeena’s voice. He lifts his head and gasps when he realizes she’s holding a huge box. A furniture-size box. The possibility of what’s inside the box is enough to have him sitting up in bed.
“What did you bring? Is it going to save us?” DJ asks hopefully.
Zeena pushes her sweaty hair off her forehead, and she looks so beautiful even with a red face and her hair damp with sweat that DJ’s heart aches. He thought the I-can’t-believe-how-much-I-love-you chest pangs would go away after dating someone for eight months, but they haven’t. He’s just as knocked off his feet by Zeena now as he was the first day they met.
She grins at him as she rips the box open. “I’m about to become your favorite person.”
“What do you mean, ‘become’?” DJ demands, offended. He climbs off the bed and gives her a kiss. “You already were my favorite person. Now turn this damn box around so I can see what’s inside.”
Zeena gestures for him to hold onto the box. “Let me get this out. You’re gonna die when you see.”
DJ holds the box both obediently and impatiently as Zeena lifts the object up slightly so she can take it out of the box. When DJ sees what she’s holding, he gasps so hard that he almost chokes. “Oh my God, Zeena.”
It’s a standing fan, one of those really powerful bladeless ones that might as well be AC and costs way too much money. DJ’s about to sink to his knees and start crying.
“Happy heatwave day,” Zeena says, bending down to plug the fan in. The air in the room immediately cools down, and DJ actually is crying now. Zeena laughs, hugs him, and says fondly, “You’re such a drama king.”
“I love you,” DJ tells her through his tears. “Thank you. I thought I was gonna die.”
“I know, baby,” Zeena cups his cheek affectionately, and now that the room is actually cooler, DJ doesn’t have to slap her hand away. “You looked like you were on death’s door.”
“Yeah, and,” DJ adds, “it was too hot to cuddle, which is my nightmare.”
Zeena closes the bedroom door to keep the cool air in and nods towards the attached bathroom. “Let’s take a shower, then we can change your rancid sheets and cuddle.”
“My sheets are not rancid.”
“Do you not smell the inside of your room right now?”
DJ sighs defeatedly and takes Zeena’s hand so he can pull her towards the bathroom. “Fine. But I’m changing the sheets by myself. You’ve already done enough, buying the miracle fan and lugging it all the way in here.”
Zeena snickers and drops a kiss to the back of DJ’s neck. “That’s what I like to hear.”
ong, and moving in this heat would take more strength than he possesses.
“I curse every person involved in progressing global warming, including myself,” he mutters darkly. He would lift a hand to shake his fist at the ceiling, but even that would be too much effort. “And I curse T, as much as I love T, for making my body feel ten times hotter than it used to.”
At least getting top surgery a few months ago means no more underboob sweat—and the ability to be topless always without people being idiots about it. Although, to be fair, he used to lie around the house topless even before his surgery anyway.
He hears the front door open and shut, then footsteps start coming slowly down the hallway towards his room. Maybe it’s the Grim Reaper, here to tell him it’s time to succumb to the city-wide heatwave.
“DJ, are you alive?”
DJ perks up at the sound of his girlfriend Zeena’s voice. He lifts his head and gasps when he realizes she’s holding a huge box. A furniture-size box. The possibility of what’s inside the box is enough to have him sitting up in bed.
“What did you bring? Is it going to save us?” DJ asks hopefully.
Zeena pushes her sweaty hair off her forehead, and she looks so beautiful even with a red face and her hair damp with sweat that DJ’s heart aches. He thought the I-can’t-believe-how-much-I-love-you chest pangs would go away after dating someone for eight months, but they haven’t. He’s just as knocked off his feet by Zeena now as he was the first day they met.
She grins at him as she rips the box open. “I’m about to become your favorite person.”
“What do you mean, ‘become’?” DJ demands, offended. He climbs off the bed and gives her a kiss. “You already were my favorite person. Now turn this damn box around so I can see what’s inside.”
Zeena gestures for him to hold onto the box. “Let me get this out. You’re gonna die when you see.”
DJ holds the box both obediently and impatiently as Zeena lifts the object up slightly so she can take it out of the box. When DJ sees what she’s holding, he gasps so hard that he almost chokes. “Oh my God, Zeena.”
It’s a standing fan, one of those really powerful bladeless ones that might as well be AC and costs way too much money. DJ’s about to sink to his knees and start crying.
“Happy heatwave day,” Zeena says, bending down to plug the fan in. The air in the room immediately cools down, and DJ actually is crying now. Zeena laughs, hugs him, and says fondly, “You’re such a drama king.”
“I love you,” DJ tells her through his tears. “Thank you. I thought I was gonna die.”
“I know, baby,” Zeena cups his cheek affectionately, and now that the room is actually cooler, DJ doesn’t have to slap her hand away. “You looked like you were on death’s door.”
“Yeah, and,” DJ adds, “it was too hot to cuddle, which is my nightmare.”
Zeena closes the bedroom door to keep the cool air in and nods towards the attached bathroom. “Let’s take a shower, then we can change your rancid sheets and cuddle.”
“My sheets are not rancid.”
“Do you not smell the inside of your room right now?”
DJ sighs defeatedly and takes Zeena’s hand so he can pull her towards the bathroom. “Fine. But I’m changing the sheets by myself. You’ve already done enough, buying the miracle fan and lugging it all the way in here.”
Zeena snickers and drops a kiss to the back of DJ’s neck. “That’s what I like to hear.”